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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
Cncyclopaetna Bntauiuta:
OR, A
DICTIONARY
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS
LITERATURE;
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
jllustratcti tout) ntarlp Sif Inmljfrti afngrabmgs.
VOL. XIX.
INDOCTI DISCANT; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY;
AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, 90, CHEAPSIDE,
LONDON.
1823.
Encyclopaedia Britannic a
SCRIPTURE continued from last Volume.
Scripture. 1EREMIAH was called to tlie prophetic office in the
1 v—' 13th year of the reign of Josiah the son of Amon,
Jeremiah 337^» 628, and continued to prophecy
upwards of 40 years, during the reigns, of the degene¬
rate princes of Judah, to whom he boldly threatened
those marks of the divine vengeance which their rebelli¬
ous conduct drew on themselves and their country. Af¬
ter the destruction of Jerusalem by the Chaldeans, he
was suffered by Nebuchadnezzar to remain in the deso¬
late land of Judea to lament the calamities of his infatu¬
ated countrymen. He was afterwards, as he himself in¬
forms us, carried with his disciple Baruch into Egypt,
by Johanan the son of Kareah.
It appears from several passages that Jeremiah com¬
mitted his prophecies to writing. In the 36th chapter
we are informed, that the prophet was commanded to
Write upon a roll all the prophecies which he had ut¬
tered 5 and when the roll was destroyed by Jehoiakim
the king, Jeremiah dictated the same prophecies to
Baruch, who wrote them together with many additional
circumstances. Jhe works ol Jeremiah extend to the
last verse of the 51st chapter j in which we have these
words, “ Thus far the words of Jeremiah.” The 5 2d
chapter was therefore added by some other writer. It
is, however, a very important supplement, as it illustrates
the accomplishment of Jeremiah’s prophecies respectini;
^ the fate of Zedekiah.
chronolo- ^'lie Prophecies of Jeremiah are not arranged in the
gical ar- chronological order in which they were delivered,
rangement What has occasioned this transposition cannot now be
Jf ‘S wn* determined. It is generally maintained, that if we con¬
sult their dates, they ought to be thus placed :
In the reign of Josiah the first 12 chapters.
In the reign of Jehoiakim, chapters xiii. xx. xxi. v.
xi, 14.J xxii. xxiii. xxv. xxvi. xxxv. xxxvi. xlv.— xlix.
33-
In the reign of Zedekiah, chap, xxii 1 — 10. xxiv.
xxvii. xxxiv. xxxvii. xxxix. *lix. 34—39. 1. and li.
Under the government of Gedallah, chapters xl. xliv.
Jhe prophecies which related to the Gentiles were con¬
tained in the 46th and five following chapters, being gcri tur
placed at the end, as in some measure unconnected with U- v .JL
the rest. But in some copies of the Septuagint these six
chapters follow immediately after the 13th verse of the
25th chapter.
Jeremiah, though deficient neither in elegance nor
sublimity, must give place in both to Isaiah. Jerome
seems to object against him a sort of rusticity of lan¬
guage, no vestige of which Dr Lowth was able to dis¬
cover. His sentiments, it is true, are'not always the
most elevated, nor are his periods always neat and com¬
pact 5 but these are faults common to those writers whose
principal aim is to excite the gentler affections, and to
call forth the tear of sympathy or sorrow. This obser¬
vation is very strongly exemplified in the Lamentations,
where these are the prevailing passions j it is, however,
frequently instanced in the prophecies of this author,
and most of all in the beginning of the book (l), which
is chiefly poetical. The middle of it is almost entirely
historical. The latter part, again, consisting of the last
six chapters, is altogether poetical (m) ; it contains se¬
veral different predictions, which are distinctly marked j
and in these the prophet approaches very near the subli¬
mity of Isaiah. On the whole, however, not above half
the book of Jeremiah is poetical.
1 he book of Lamentations, as we are informed ifiyiic book
the title, was composed by Jeremiah. We shall presenter Lamer
to 0111 reader an account of this elegiac poem from thetations.
elegant pen of Dr Lowth.
The Lamentations of Jeremiah (for the title is pro¬
perly and significantly plural) consist of a number of
plaintive effusions, composed on the plan of the funeral
dirges, all on the same subject, and uttered without
connection as they rose in the mind, in a long course
of separate stanzas. Ihese have afterwards been put
together, and formed into a collection or correspondent
whole. If any reader, however, should expect to find
in them an artificial and 'methodical arrangement of the
general subject, a regular disposition of the parts, a per¬
fect connection and orderly succession in the matter,
and
^ \ rT t^G 'V*10^e c^aP- ix. chap. xiv. 17, &c. xx. 14—18.
exordium P' ~U' *“ Ver' J9- Chap- ^ l>roperl? W°”gs ^mentations, to which it serves as
Vot. XIX. Part I. f
an
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture.
How di-
■vided.
Loivth.
59
The sub¬
ject and
beauty of
it.
* Josephus
Jerome,
Usserius,
See.
and with aU this an uninterrupted series of elegance
and correctness, he will really expect what was hjre.gn
to the prophet’s design. In the character ot a mourn
er he celebrates in plaintive strains the obsequ.es ol his
rained country : wLever presented itse l to ns mind
in the midst of desolation and m.sery, whatever struck
Mm as particularly wretched and calamitous, whatever
the instant sentiment of sorrow dictated, he pours forth
inVkind of spontaneous effusion. He frequently pauses,
■ind as it were, ruminates upon the same obje ,
"ItW 'varies ’and illustrates the same thought vv, h
difl’erent imagery, and a different cho.ee >"JuaSe;
so that the whole bears rather the appearance ot an ac
cumulation of corresponding sentiments, than an accu¬
rate and connected series ot different ideas, arrang t
the fmm of a regular treatise. There .s, however, no
wild incoherency in the poem •, the transitions are easy
A'The work is divided into five parts: in the first, se¬
cond, and fourth chapters, the prophet addresses the
people in his own person, or introduces Jerusalem ^
speaking. In the third chapter a chorus of the Jew
is Represented. In the fifth the whole captive Jews
pour forth their united complaints to Almighty God.
Each of these five parts is distributed into 22 stanza.,
according to the number of the letters ot the alphabet.
In the first three chapters these stantf:lS
lines. In the first four chapters the initial letter o
each period follows the order of the alphabet , an
in the third chapter each verse of the same stanza be¬
gins with the same letter. In the fourth chapter a !
the stanzas are evidently disticbs, as also in the fifth.
Which is not acrostic. The intention of the acrostic
was to assist the memory to retain sentences not much
connected. It deserves to he remarked, that the verses
of the first four chapters are longer by almost one half
than Hebrew verses generally are : The length of th
seems to be on an average about 12 syllables. The
prophet appears to have chosen this measure as being
solemn and melancholy. . . . , ,
“ That the subject of the Lamentations is the destruc¬
tion of the holv city and temple, the overthrow ot the
state, the extermination of the people •, and that these
events are described as actually accomplished, and not
in the style of prediction merely, must be evident to
every reader *, though some authors of considerable re¬
putation* have imagined this poem to have been com¬
posed on the death of King Josiali. The prophet, in¬
deed, has so copiously, so tenderly, and poetically, be¬
wailed the misfortunes of his country, that he seems
completely to have fulfilled the .office and duty ot a
mourner. In my opinion, there is not extant any poem
which displays such a happy and splendid selection ot
imagery in so concentrated a state. W hat can be more
elegant and poetical, than the description of that once
flourishing city, lately chief among the nations, sitting
in the character of a female, solitary, afflicted, in a state
of widowhood, deserted by her friends, betrayed by her
dearest connections, imploring relief, and seeking con¬
solation in vain? What a beautiful personification is that
of “ the ways of Sion mourning because none are come
to her solemn feasts?” How tender and pathetic are the
following complaints ?
Chap. i. Is this nothing to all you who pass along the way ? be-
iT, id, hold and see,
If there be any sorrmv, like unto n,y sorrow, which la Script*.
inflicted on me ; . , , p „ v:0_
Which Jehovah inflicted on me in the day of the
Mnce of his wrath. , , , _„ ,
My children are desolate, because the enemy was stiong.
But to detail its beauties would he to transcribe the en-
“Ezetelwas carried to Babylon as a captive and re
ceived the first revelations trom heaven, ■" the hkhy. ^
of Jehoiltkim’s captivity, J • • 595' i jg
Ezekiel is sometimes distributed under different heads.
In the three first chapters the commission ot the piophe
is described. From the fourth to the thirty-second
chapter inclusive, the calamities that befel the ene.me^o
the Jews are predicted viz. the Ammonites, the Moab¬
ites, and Philistines. Hie ruin of lyre and ot oidon,
and the fall of Egypt, are particularly foretold j prophe¬
cies which have been fulfilled in the most literal and
astonishing manner, as we have been often assured by
the relation of historians and travellers. From the 32
chapter to the 40th he inveighs against the hypocrisy
and murmuring spirit of his countrymen, admonishing
them to resignation by promises of deliverance. In
the 38th and 39th chapters he undoubtedly predicts the
final return of" the Jews from their dispersion in the lat¬
ter days, but in a language so obscure that it cannot be
understood till the event take place. Ihe nine last
chapters of this book furnish the description ot a very
remarkable vision of a new temple and city, ot a new
religion and polity. .
“Ezekiel is much inferior to Jeremiah in elegance •,Character
in sublimity he is not even excelled by Isaiah : but Ins as a writer,
sublimity is of a totally different kind. He is deep,
vehement, tragical} the only sensation he affects to ex¬
cite is the terrible j his sentiments are elevated, fervid,
full of fire, indignant j his imagery is crowded, magni¬
ficent, terrific, sometimes almost to disgust : his lan¬
guage is pompous, solemn, austere, rough, and at times
unpolished : he employs frequent repetitions, not for
the sake of grace or elegance, but from the vehemence
of passion and indignation. Whatever subject he treats
of, that he sedulously pursues, from that he rarely de¬
parts, but cleaves as it were to it; whence the connec¬
tion is in general evident and well preserved. In many
respects he is perhaps excelled by the other prophets j
but in that species of composition to which he seems
by nature adapted, the forcible, the impetuous, the
great and solemn, not one of the sacred writers is supe¬
rior to him. His diction is sufficiently perspicuous ; all
his obscurity consists in the nature of the subject. V i-
sions (as for instance, among others, those of Hosea,
Amos, and Jeremiah) are necessarily dark and confused.
The greater part of Ezekiel, towards the middle of the
hook especially, is poetical, whether we regard the mat¬
ter or the diction. His periods, however, are frequent¬
ly so rude and incompact, that I am often at a loss
how to pronounce concerning his performance in this
respect.
“ Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, as far as relates to
style, may be said to hold the same rank among the He¬
brews, as Homer, Simonides, and iEschylus among the
Greeks.”
Lou/th,
S'cripture.
62
Daniel.
63
Ckaracter
of his pro¬
phecies.
64
Their au¬
thenticity.
SCttlPTURE.
So full an account of Daniel and his writings has
been already given under the article Daniel, that little
remains to be said on that subject. Daniel flourished
during the successive reigns of several Babylonish and
Median kings to the conquest of Babylon by Cyrus.
The events recorded in the 6th chapter were contempo¬
rary with Darius the Mede ; but in the 7th and 8th
chapters Daniel returns to an earlier period to relate the
visions which he beheld in the three first years of Bel¬
shazzar’s reign j and those which follow in the four last
chapters were revealed to him in the reign of Darius.
The last six chapters are composed of prophecies deliver¬
ed at difl’erent times 5 all of which are in some degree
connected as parts of one great scheme. They extend
through many ages, and furnish the most striking de¬
scription of-the fall of successive kingdoms, which were
to be introductory to the establishment of the Messiah’s
reign. They characterize in descriptive terms the four
great monarchies of the world, to be succeeded by
“ that kingdom which should not be destroyed.”
The whole book of Daniel being no more than a
plain relation of facts, partly past and partly future,
must be excluded the class of poetical prophecy. Much
indeed of the parabolic imagery is introduced in that
book *, but the author introduces it as a prophet only ;
as visionary and allegorical symbols of objects and events,
totally untinctured with the true poetical colouring.
The Jews, indeed, would refuse to Daniel even the cha¬
racter of a prophet : but the arguments under which
they shelter this opinion are very futile •, for those
points which they maintain concerning the conditions
on which the gift of prophecy is imparted, the difl’er¬
ent gradations, and the discriminations between the true
prophecy and mere inspiration, are all trifling and ab¬
surd, without any foundation in the nature of things,
and totally destitute of scriptural authority. They add,
that Daniel was neither originally educated in the pro¬
phetic discipline and precepts, nor afterwards lived con¬
formably to the manner of the prophets. It is not,
however, easy to comprehend how this can diminish his
claim to a divine mission and inspiration ; it may pos¬
sibly enable us, indeed, to assign a reason for the dissi¬
milarity between the style of Daniel and that of the
other prophets, and for its possessing so little of the
diction and character of poetry, which the rest seem to
have imbibed in common from the schools and discip¬
line in which they were educated.
rlhe prophecies of Daniel appear so plain and intel¬
ligible after their accomplishment, that Porphyry, who
wrote in the 3d century, affirms, that they were written
after the events to which they refer took place. A
little reflection will show the absurdity of this suppo¬
sition. Some of the prophecies of Daniel clearly refer to
Antiochus Epiphanes, with whose oppressions the Jews
were too well acquainted. Had the book of Daniel
not made its appearance till after the death ofEpiphanes,
every Jew who read it must have discovered the forgery.
And what motive could induce them to receive it among
their sacred books ? It is impossible to conceive one.
Ibeir character was quite the reverse : their respect for
the Scripture had degenerated into superstition. But
we are not left to determine this important point from
the character ot the Jews ; we have access to more de¬
cisive evidence ; we are sure that the book of Daniel
contains prophecies, for some of them have been accom¬
plished since the time of Porphyry j particularly those Scripture.
respecting Antichrist; now, if it contains any prophe- '  
cies, who will take upon him to affirm that the divine
Spirit, which dictated these many centuries before they
were fulfilled, could not also have delivered prophecies
concerning Antiochus Epiphanes ?
The language in which the book of Daniel is com¬
posed proves that it was written about the time of the
Babylonish captivity. Part of it is pure Hebrew : a
language in which none of the Jewish books were com¬
posed after the age of Epiphanes. These are arguments
to a deist. To a Christian the internal marks of the
book itself will show the time in which it was written, ^ .
and the testimony of Ezekiel will prove Daniel to be , . f!.;
1 . 1 • j ^ 3*
at least bis contemporary *. <5-
The twelve minor prophets were so called, not from Twelve
any supposed inferiority in their writings, but on ac- m‘n01' Pra-
count of the small size of their works. Perhaps it was P!u'ts‘
for this reason that the Jews joined them together, and
considered them as one volume. These 12 prophets
presented in scattered hints a lively sketch of many par¬
ticulars relative to the history of Judah and of Israel, as Gray's Key
well as of other kingdoms ; they prophecy with histori-^0 t)ie Old
cal exactness the fate of Babylon, of Nineveh, of Tyre, Testament‘
of Sidon, and of Damascus. The three last prophets
especially illustrate many circumstances at a period when
the historical pages of Scripture are closed, and when
profane writers are entirely wanting. At first the
Jewish prophets appeared only as single lights, and fol¬
lowed each other in individual succession j but they be¬
came more numerous about the time of the captivity.
The light of inspiration was collected into one blaze,
previous to its suspension j and it served to keep alive
the expectations of the Jews during the awful interval
which prevailed between the expiration of prophecy and
its grand completion on the advent of Christ. 6(>
Hosea has been supposed the most ancient of the I 2 Prophecies
minor prophets. He flourished in the reign of Jero-of Hosea.
boam II. king of Israel, and during the successive reigns
of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Ju¬
dah. He was therefore nearly contemporary with I-
saiah, Amos, and Jonah. The prophecies of Hosea be¬
ing scattered through the book without date or con¬
nection, cannot with any certainty be chronologically
arranged. ’ ^
Hosea is the first in order of the minor prophets, and Character
is perhaps, Jonah excepted, the most ancient of themoftheir
all. His style exhibits the appearance of very remote
antiquity; it is pointed, energetic, and concise. It
bears a distinguished mark of poetical composition, in
that pristine brevity and condensation which is obser¬
vable in the sentences, and which later writers have in
some measure neglected. This peculiarity has not esca¬
ped the observation of Jerome : “ He is altogether (says
he, speaking of this prophet) laconic and sententious.”
But this very circumstance, which anciently was sup¬
posed no doubt to impart uncommon force anil elegance,
in the present ruinous state of the Hebrew literature is
productive of so much obscurity, that although the ge¬
neral subject of this writer be sufficiently obvious, he is
the most difficult and perplexed of all the prophets.
There is, however, another reason for the obscurity of
his style : Hosea prophesied during the reigns of the
four kings of Judah, Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, Tnd Heze¬
kiah. The duration of his ministry, therefore, in what-
A 2 ever
4
Scripture.
68
Prophecies
of J oel.
S C R I'P T U R E.
ever manner we calculate, must include a very consider-
. i rlivio We have now only a small volume
^ contain his principal
prophecies 5 and these are extant in a continued senes
with no marks of distinction as to the ^es ‘n 'vh
thev were published, or the subjects of which they treat.
There is therefore, no cause to wonder if, hi perusing
i i’ n:„Q nf Hosea we sometimes'find ourselves in
L'siS predicament with those who consulted the scat-
tM As ^ specimen"of"Hosea’s style, we select the follow-
ing beautiful pathetic passage :
How shall I resign thee, O Ephraim !(
How shall I deliver thee up, O Israel .
How shall I resign thee as Admah .
How shall I make thee as Zeboim .
' My heart is changed within me ;
I am warmed also with repentance towards thee.
I will not do according to the fervour of my wrath ,
] will not return to destroy Ephraim .
Fm- T am God, and not man }
Holy in the midst of thee, though I inhab.t not thy cities.
Coneerning the date of the prophecy of Joel there
are various conjectures. The hook itself affords nothing
Rv which we can discover when the author lived, or
upon what occasion it was written. Joel speaks of a
great famine, and of mischiefs that happened in conse¬
quence of an inundation of locusts ; but nothing can he
Gathered from such general observations to enable us to
fix the period of his prophecy. St Jerome thinks (and
it is the General opinion) that Joel was contemporary
with Hosea. This is possibly true; but the founda¬
tion on which the opinion rests is very precarious,_ viz.
That when there is no proof of the time m winch a
prophet lived, we are to be guided in our conjectures
respecting it by that of the preceding prophet whose
epoch is better known. As this rule is not infallible, it
therefore ought not to hinder us from adopting any
other opinion that comes recommended by good rta
"ous Father Calmet places him under the reign of
Josiah, at the same time with Jerem.ah, and thinks it
JUSldU, . ollnrlPS IS the
69
Character
of their
style.
Lowth o»
Hebrew
Poetry,
Seot. 21.
iosiah. at Uie same , .
probable that the famine to which Joel alludes is tlie
same with that which Jeremiah predicted, ch. vni. 13.
The style of Joel is essentially different from that of
Hosea; but the general character of his ^tion thoig
of a different kind, is not less poetical. He is elegant,
perspicuous, copious, and fluenthe is also sublime, ani¬
mated and energetic. In the first and second chapters
he displays the full force of the prophetic poetry and
shows how naturally it inclines to the use of metaphois
allegories, and comparisons. Nor is the connection of
the matter less clear and evident than the complexion
of the style : this is exemplified in the display of e
impending evils wnich gave rise to the prophecy , the
exhortation to repentance •, the promises of happiness
and success both terrestrial and eternal to those who be¬
come truly penitent •, the restoration of the Israelites ,
and the vengeance to be taken of their adversaries. But
while we allow this just commendation to his perspi
cuity both in language and arrangement, we must not
deny that there is sometimes great obscurity observable
in his subject, and particularly m the latter part of tl
prophecy.
The following prophecy of a plague of locusts is de- Scripture.
scribed with great sublimity of expression :
For a nation hath gone up on my land,
Who are strong, and without number :
They have destroyed my vine, and have made my tig-
tree a broken branch. .
They have made it quite hare, and cast it away : the
branches thereof are made white. * Joel 1. 6,
The field is laid waste 5 the ground mourneth . 7.
Amos was contemporary with Hosea They both Prophecies
began to prophecy during the reigns of Uzziah over Amos.
Judah, and of Jeroboam II. over Israel. Amos saw
his first vision two years before the earthquake, which
Zechariah informs us happened in the days of Ezziah.
See Amos. ,, . .
Amos was a herdsman of Tekoa, a small town in the
territory of Judah, and a gatherer of sycamore fruit.
In the simplicity of former times, and m the happy cli¬
mates of the East, these were not considered as disho¬
nourable occupations. He was no prophet (as he in¬
formed Amaziah f), neither was he a prophet s son,f Amos va.
that is, he had no regular education in the schools of •
the prophets. . „ , • .
The prophecies of Amos consist of several distinct
. discourses, which chiefly respect the kingdon. of Israel |
yet sometimes the prophet inveighs against Judah, and
threatens the adjacent nations, the Syrians, I hiUstmes,
Tyrians, Edomites, Ammonites, and Moabites. _ 7I
Jerome calls Amos “ rude in speech, hut not m Their style,
knowledge U” applying Jo l.im what St Paul Justly
professes ot nimself §• “ Many (says Di ov\ ) _ jn jm0s.
followed the authority of Jerome in speaking of tlus^
prophet, as if he were indeed quite rude, meloquent, 6.
and destitute of all the embellishments of composition.
The matter is, however, far otherwise. Let any person
who has candour and perspicacity enough to judge, not
from the man but from his writings, open the volume
of his predictions, and he will, I think, agree with me,
that our shepherd ‘ is not a whit behind the very duel
of the prophets j|.’ He will agree, that as in sublimity „
and magnificence he is almost equal to the greatest, so
in splendour of diction and elegance of expression he is
scarcely inferior to any. The same celestial bpirit in¬
deed actuated Isaiah and Daniel in the court and Amos
in the sheep-folds 5 constantly selecting such interpre¬
ters of the divine will as were best adapted to the occa¬
sion, and sometimes ‘ from the mouth oi babes and suck¬
lings perfecting praise i’ occasionally employing the na-
tural eloquence of some, and occasionally making others
eloquent.” . ...
Mr Locke has observed, that the comparisons ot tins
prophet are chiefly drawn from lions and other animals
with which he was most accustomed •, hut the finest
images and allusions are drawn from scenes of nature.
There are many beautiful passages in the writings ot
Amos, of which we shall present one specimen:
Cor. xi.
2 Cor. xi.
Wo to them that are at ease in Zion,
And trust in the mountains of Samaria }
Who are named chief of the nations,
To whom the house ot Israel came.
Pass ye unto Calneh and see,
And from thence go to Hamath the Great 5
Scripture.
|j Ch. \i. i.
—5.
72
Of Obadiah
73
Of Jonah.
* 2 Kings
xiv. 25...
Matt. xii.
39. 41. xvi
4-
X.uke xi. 29
74
Of Micah.
f Jer. xxv.
iS— 24.
| Jos. Ant.
lib. x. c. 7.
Micah iii,
12.
jj Matt. ii.
5. John vii
42.
75
His style.
Then go down to Gath of the Philistines j
Are they better than these kingdoms ?
Or their borders greater than their borders?
Ye that put far away the evil day,
And cause the seat of violence to come near 5
That lie upon beds of ivory,
And stretch yourselves upon couches j
That eat the lambs out of the flock,
And the calves out of the midst of the stall;
That chant to the sound of the viol,
And like David devise instruments of music;
That drink wine in bowls,
And anoint yourselves with chief ointments;
But arc not grieved for the affliction of Joseph ||.
The writings of Obadiah, which consist of one chap¬
ter are composed with much beauty, and unfold a very
interesting scene of prophecy. Ot this prophet little
can be said, as the specimen of his genius is so short,
and the greater part of it included in one of the pro¬
phecies of Jeremiah. Compare Ob. 1—9. with Jer.
xlix. 14, 15, x6. See Obadiah.
Though Jonah be placed the sixth in the order of
the minor prophets both in the Hebrew and Septua-
gint, he is generally considered as the most ancient of
all the prophets, not excepting Hosea. He lived in the
kingdom of Israel, and prophesied to the ten tribes un¬
der the reign of Joash and Jeroboam. The book of
Jonah is chiefly historical, and contains nothing of poe¬
try but the prayer of the prophet. The sacred writers,
and our Lord himself, speak of Jonah as a prophet of
considerable eminence*. See Jonah.
Micah began to prophesy soon after Isaiah, Hosea,
Joel, and Amos ; and he prophesied between A. M.
3246, when Jotham began to reign, and A. M. 3305,
•when Hezekiah died. One of his predictions is saidf
to have saved the life of Jeremiah, who under the reign
of Jehoiakim would have been put to death for prophe¬
sying the destruction of the temple, had it not appeared
that Micah had foretold the same thing under Heze¬
kiah above 100 year's before J. Micah is mentioned as
a prophet in the book of Jeremiah and in the New Tes¬
tament j|. He is imitated by succeeding prophets (n),
as he himself had borrowed expressions from his pre¬
decessors (o). Our Saviour himself spoke in the lan¬
guage of this prophet (p).
The style of Micah is for the most part close, for¬
cible, pointed, and concise ; sometimes approaching the
obscurity of Hosea ; in many parts animated and sub¬
lime ; and in general truly poetical. In his prophecies
there is an elegant poem, which Dr Lowth thinks is a
citation from the answer of Balaam to the king of the
Moabites:
Wherewith shall I come before Jehovah ?
Wherewith shall I bow myself unto the High God ?
Shall I come before him with burnt-offerings,
With cal ves of a year old ?
Will Jehovah be pleased with thousands of rams ?
With ten thousands of rivers of oil ?
SCRIPTURE.
Shall I give my first-born for my transgression ?
The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ?
He hath showed thee, O man, what is good :
And what doth Jehovah require of thee,
But to do justice, and to love mercy,
And to be humble in walking with thy God ?
Scripture.
7<5
Josephus asserts, that Nahum lived in the time of of Nahum.
Jotham king of Judah ; in which case he may be sup¬
posed to have prophesied against Nineveh when Tig-
lath-Pileser king of Assyria carried captive the natives
of Galilee and others parts about A. M. 3264. It is,
however, probable, that his prophesies were delivered
in the reign of Hezekiah ; for he appears to speak of
the taking of No-Ammon a city of Egypt, and of the
insolent messengers of Sennacherib, as of things past;
and he likewise describes the people of Judah as still in
their own country, and desirous of celebrating their fes¬
tivals.
While Jerusalem was threatened by Sennacherib,
Nahum promised deliverance to Hezekiab, and predict¬
ed that Judah would soon celebrate her solemn feasts
secure from invasion, as her enemy would no more di¬
sturb her peace. In the second and third chapters Na¬
hum foretels the downfal of the Assyrian empire and
the final destruction of Nineveh, which was probably
accomplished by the Medes and Babylonians, whose
combined forces overpowered the Assyrians by surprise
“ while they were folden together as thorns, and while
they were drunken as drunkards,” when the gates of
the river were opened, the palace demolished, and an
“ over-running flood” assisted the conquerors in their
devastation ; who took an endless store of spoil of gold
and silver, making an utter end of the place of Nine¬
veh, of that vast and populous city, whose walls were
100 feet high, and so broad that three chariots could
pass abreast. Yet so completely was this celebrated
city destroyed, that even in the 2d century the spot on
which it stood could not be ascertained, every vestige
of it being gone.
It is impossible to read of the exact accomplishment
of the prophetic denunciations against the enemies of
the Jews, without reflecting on the astonishing proofs
which that nation enjoyed of the divine origin of their
religion. From the Babylonish captivity to the time
of Christ they had numberless instances of the fulfil¬
ment of their prophecies.
The character of Nahum as a writer is thus describ¬
ed by Dr Lowth : “ None of the minor prophets seem
to equal Nahum in boldness, ardour, and sublimity.
His prophecy, too, forms a regular and perfect poem ;
the exordium is not merely magnificent, it is truly ma¬
jestic ; the preparation for the destruction of Nineveh,
and the description of its downfal and desolation, are
expressed in the most vivid colours, and are hold and
luminous in the highest degree.”
As the prophet Habakkuk makes no mention of the of l/Jjak-
Assyrians, and speaks of the Chaldean invasions as nearkuk.
at hand, he probably lived after the destruction of the
Assyrian
(n) Compare Zephan. iii. 19. with Micah iv. 7. and Ezek. xxii. 27. with Micah iii. 11.
(o) Compare Micah iv. 1—3. and Isaiah ii. 2—4. Micah iv. 13. with Isaiah xli. 15.
(p) Compare Micah viii. 6. with Matt. x. 35, 36.
6 SCRIP
Scripture. Assyrian empire in the fall »f Nmev^ M. 3392. ^“s/ t ,lio„s Ima oppressions of the Jews ;
u_— 'and not long before the devastation ot Judea ny inco ^ , j _ J:,K „vnmkp. “ That a remnant v
chadnezzar. Habakkuk was then nearly contempora¬
ry with Jeremiah, and predicted the same events. A
general account of Habakkuk’s prophecies has already
been given under the word Habakkuk, which may be
consulted. We should, however, farther observe that
the prayer in the third chapter is a most beautiful and
perfect ode, possessing all the fire ot poetry and the pio-
found reverence of religion.
God came from Teman,
And the Holy One from Mount Paran:
His glory covered the heavens,
And the earth was full of his praise.
His brightness was as the light ^
Beams of glory issued from his side *,
And there was the hiding of his power.
Before him went the pestilence ; _
And burning coals went forth at his feet.
He stood and measured the earth j
He beheld and drove asunder the nations j
The everlasting mountains were scattered 5
The perpetual hills did bow.
The prophet illustrates this subject throughout with
equal sublimity •, selecting from such an assemblage of
miraculous incidents the most noble and important, dis¬
playing them in the most splendid colours, and embel-
lishing them with the sublimest imagery, figures and
diction j the dignity of which is so heightened and re-
!i Heb. x. commended by the superior elegance of the conclusion,
37- 38; tiiat were it not for a few shades which the hand ot
7.‘ time has apparently cast over it in two or three passages.
Act’s xiii. no composition of the kind would appear more elegant
41. 00m- or more perfect than this poem.
pare wiili Habakkuk is imitated by succeeding prophets, and
Hab- i* s‘ his words are borrowed by the evangelical writers ||.
Prophecies Zephaniah, who was contemporary with Jeremiah
of Zepha- prophesied in the reign of Josiah king of Judah j and
mail. j-rom the idolatry which he describes as prevailing at
that time, it is probable that his prophecies were deli¬
vered before the last reformation made hy that pious
prince A. M. 33^I* . , , T • i • e
The account which Zephaniah and Jeremiah give or
the. idolatries of their age is so similar, that St Isiodore
asserts, that Zephaniah abridged the descriptions of Je¬
remiah. But it is more probable that the prophecies
of Zephaniah were written some years before those of
bis contemporary ; for Jeremiah seems to represent the
abuses as partly removed which Zephaniah describes as
flagrant and excessive (o,).
In the first chapter Zephaniah denounces the wrath
of God against the idolaters who worshipped Baal and
the host of heaven, and against the violent and deceit¬
ful. In the second chapter the prophet threatens destruc¬
tion to the Philistines, the Moabites, the Ammonites,
and Ethiopians j and describes the fate of Nineveh in
emphatic terms : “ Flocks shall lie down in the midst
of her $ all the beasts of the nations, both the cormo¬
rant and bittern, shall lodge in her •, their voice shall
sing in the windows ; desolation shall be in the thresh-
TURK. . •, .
olds”’ In the third chapter the prophet inveighs Scripture;J
* ist the pollutions and oppressions of the Jews ; and v
concludes with the peomise “ That a would
he saved, and that mnltiphed blessings would be bestow¬
ed upon the penitent.” The style ot Zephaniah is poe¬
tical, but is not distinguished by any pecubat- ele-
gance or beauty, though generally animated and im-
^Haggai, the tenth of the minor prophets, was the Of Haggai.
first who flourished among the Jews after the Babylo¬
nish captivity. He began to prophecy in the second
year of Darius Hystaspes, about 520 years before
Christ. , „ TT . ,
The intention of the prophecy of Haggai was to en¬
courage the dispirited Jews to proceed with the build¬
ing of the temple. The only prediction mentioned re¬
fers to the Messiah, whom the prophet assures his coun¬
trymen would fill the new temple with glory. So well
was this prediction understood by the that they
looked with earnest expectation for the Messiah s ap¬
pearing in this temple till it was destroyed by the Ko-
mans. But as the victorious Messiah, whom they ex¬
pected, did not then appear, they have since applied the
prophecy to a third temple, which they hope to see
reared in some future period. _ _ _ T ,,
The style of Haggai, in the opinion ot Dr Eowth,
is prosaic. Dr Newcome, on the contrary, thinks that
a great part of it is poetical. s3
Zechariah was undoubtedly a contemporary ot Hag- ofZecha-
gai, and began to prophecy two months after him, in nab.
the eighth month of the second year of Darius Hys¬
taspes, A. M. 3484, being commissioned as we t as
Hago-ai to exhort the Jews to proceed in the building
of the temple after the interruption which the work
had suffered. We are informed by Ezra (vi. 14.), that
the Jews prospered through the prophesying of Zecha¬
riah and Haggai. .
Zechariah begins with general exhortations to Ins
countrymen, exciting them to repent from the evil
ways of their fathers, whom the prophets had admo¬
nished in vain. He describes angels of the Lord inter¬
ceding for mercy on Jerusalem and the desolate cities of
Judah, which had experienced the indignation of the
Most High for 70 years, while the neighbouring nations
were at peace. He declares, that the house of the
Lord should be built in Jerusalem, and that Zion should
be comforted. The prophet then represents the in¬
crease and prosperity of the Jews under several typical
figures. He elescribes the establishment of the Jewish
government and the coming of the Messiah. He ad¬
monishes those who observed solemn fasts without due
contrition, to execute justice, mercy, and compassion,
every man to his brother 5 not to oppress the widow
nor the fatherless, the stranger nor the poor. He pro¬
mises, that God would again show favour to Jerusalem ;
that their mournful fasts should be turned into cheerful
feasts ; and that the church of the Lord should be en¬
larged by the accession of many nations.
The 12th verse of the 11th chapter of this book,
which exhibits a prophetic description of some circum¬
stances afterwards fulfilled in our Saviour, appears to
be
(a) Compare Zephaniah i. 4, 5> 9' Jeremiah ii. 5^ 20, 32.
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture, be cited by St Matthew (xxvii. 9, lo.) as spoken by
' /'"—■'Jeremiah; and as the 11th, 12th, and 13th chapters
have been thought to contain some particulars more
suitable to the age of Jeremiah than to that of Zecha-
viah, some learned writers are of opinion that they were
written by the former prophet, and have been from si¬
milarity of subject joined by mistake to those of Zecha-
riah. But others are of opinion that St Matthew might
allude to some traditional prophecy of Jeremiah, or,
what is more probable, that the name of Jeremiah was
substituted by mistake in place of Zechariah.
The 12th, 13th, and 14th chapters contain prophe¬
cies which refer entirely to the Christian dispensation ;
the circumstances attending which he describes with a
clearness which indicated their near approach.
The style of Zechariah is so similar to that of Jere¬
miah, that the Jews were accustomed to remark that
the spirit of Jeremiah had passed into him. He is ge¬
nerally prosaic till towards the conclusion of his work,
when he becomes more elevated and poetical. The
■whole is beautifully connected by easy transitions, and
present and future scenes are blended with the greatest
delicacy.
81 Malachi was the last prophet that flourished under the
i a acm* jems[j dispensation; but neither the time in which he
lived, nor any particulars of his history, can now be as¬
certained. It is even uncertain whether the word Ma¬
ine hi be a proper name, or denote, as the Septuagint
have rendered it, his angel (r), that is, “ the angel of
the Lord.” Origen supposed, that Malachi was an an¬
gel incarnate, and not a man. The ancient Hebrews,
the Chaldee paraphrast, and St Jerome, are of opinion
he was the same person with Ezra: but if this was the
case, they ought to have assigned some reason for giv¬
ing two different names to the same person.
As it appears from the concurring testimony of all
the ancient Jesvish and Christian writers, that the light
of prophecy expired in Malachi, we may suppose that
the termination of his ministry coincided with the ac¬
complishment of the first seven weeks of Daniel’s pro¬
phecy, which was the period appointed for sealing the
vision and prophecy. This, according to Prideaux’s
account, took place in A. M. 3595 ; but, according
to the calculations of Bishop Lloyd, in A. M. 3607,
twelve years later. Whatever reckoning we prefer, it
must be allowed that Malachi completed the canon of
the Old Testament about 400 years before the birth of
Christ.
It appears certain that Malachi prophesied under
Nehemiah, and after Haggai and Zechariah, at a time
when great disorders reigned among the priests and
people of Judah, which are reproved by Malachi. He
inveighs against the priests (i. 6, &c. ii. 1, 2, &c.) ;
he reproaches the people with having taken strange wives
(ii. 11.); he reproves them for their inhumanity to¬
wards their brethren (ii. 10. iii. 5.); their too frequent¬
ly divorcing their wives ; their neglect of paying their
tithes and first-fruits (Mai. iii. 13.). He seems to al¬
lude to the covenant that Nehemiah renewed with the
Lord (iii. 10. and ii. 4, 5, &c.), assisted by the priests
and the chief of the nation. He speaks of the sacrifice
7
ol the new law, and of the abolition of those of the old, Solptinv.
in these words (i. 10, 11, 12, 13.) : “ I have no plea- 1 '
sure in you, saith the Lord of hosts, neither will I ac¬
cept an offering at your hand. For from the rising of
the sun, even unto the going down of the same, my
name shall be great among the Gentiles, and in every
place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure
offering : for my name shall be great among the Hea¬
then, saith the Lord of hosts.” He declares that the
Lord was weary with the impiety of Israel; and assures
them, that the Lord whom they sought should suddenly
come to his temple preceded by the messenger of the
covenant, who was to prepare his way ; that the Lord
when he appeared should purify the sons of Ijevi from
their unrighteousness, and refine them as metal from the
dross ; and that then the offering of Judah, the spiritual
sacrifice of the heart, should be pleasant to the Lord.
The prophet, like one who was delivering a last mes¬
sage, denounces destruction against the impenitent in
emphatic and alarming words. Fie encourages those
who feared the name of the Lord with the animating
promise, that the “ Sun of righteousness should arise
with salvation in his rays,” and render them triumphant
over the wicked. And now that prophecy was to cease,
and miracles were no more to be performed till the com¬
ing of the Messiah ; now that the Jews were to be left
to the guidance of their own reason, and the written in¬
structions of their prophets—Malachi exhorts them to
remember the law of Moses, which the Lord had re¬
vealed from Horeb for the sake of all Israel. At length
he seals up the prophecies of the Old Testament, bv
predicting the commencement of the new dispensation,
which should be ushered in by John the Baptist with
the power and spirit of Filijah ; who should turn the
hearts of fathers and children to repentance ; but if his
admonitions should be rejected, that the Lord would
smite the land with a curse.
The collection of writings composed after the ascen-NE\v Ti:»-
sion of Christ, and acknowledged by his followers to betamext.
divine, is known in general by the name of xaooj g.
This, title, though neither given by divine command, Title,
nor applied to these writings by the apostles, was adop¬
ted in a very early age, though the precise time of its
introduction is uncertain, it being justified by several
passages in Scripture*, and warranted by the authori-*
ty of St Fhiul in particular, who calls the sacred books ^ ^
before the time of Christ TruXcttu. Even long Heb/viii7
before that period, either the'whole of the Old Testa-8. ix. 15—
ment, or the five books of Moses, were entitled 2°-
or book of the covenant J. t 2 Cor. iii.
As the word 'SikQym admits of a two-fold interpreta- ^ 1 MaC‘ U
tion, we may translate this title either the New Cove-^’
nant or New Testament. The former translation must
be adopted, if respect be had to the texts of Scripture,
from which the name is borrowed, since those passages
evidently convey the idea of a covenant; and, besides
a being incapable of death can neither have made an
old nor make a new testament. It is likewise probable
that the earliest Greek disciples, who made use of this
expression, had no other notion in view than that of co¬
venant.
(r) -SKbo Malachi signifies properly my angel.
8
Scripture.
Importance
of the argu¬
ment from
the autlien
tieity of the
hooks.
Michaclis's
Introduc¬
tion to the
New Testa¬
ment.
S‘ C B I P
venant We, on tire contrary, arc accustomed to git e
hr tred collection tlie nnnte of -d -ce
it would be not only improper, but even abeurt, to jcak
of ,|,c Testament of God, we commonly » - 1
Testament of Christ •, an explanation 'vhich rem«
but half the difficulty, since the new only, and
. old, had Christ for its testator. ^Christianity,
In stating the evidence lor the truth of Chnstianity,
,1,or ling more worthy of considerat.on than b
authenticity of the books of thd New lestamen . 11 ,s
is the foundation on which all other ’
and if it is solid, the Christian religion is ulbestaMish^
ed The proofs for the authenticity of the IStr y
ment have this peculiar advantage that they are plam
and simple, and involve no metaphysical subti ties.-
Ever man’who can distinguish truth from fa-hood
must-see their force ; and if there are any so hi nded
bv preiudice, or corrupted by licentiousness, as to at¬
tempt by sophistry to elude them, their sophistry will be
easily detected by every map of common understanding,
who has read the historical evidence with candour am
attention. Instead, therefore, of declaiming against the
infidel, we solicit his attention to this subject, convinced
that where truth resides, it will shine with 80 consta
and clear a light, that the combined a
the deists since the beginning of the woild w II t
L able to extinguish or to obscure it. If the books o
the New Testament are really genuine, opposition wi
incite the Christian to bring forward the evidence , and
thus bv the united efforts of the deist and the Christian
the arguments will be stated with a 1 the dearness and
accuracy of which they are susceptible in so remaihable
'l E^rsurprising that the adversaries of Christianity
have not always made their first attacks m this quar¬
ter; for if they admit that the writings of the New
Testament are'as ancient as we affirm, and composed
by the persons to whom they are ascribed, they must
allow, if they reason fairly, that the Christian religion
The apostles frequently allude in their epistles to the
ffift of miracle's, which they had communicated to the
Christian converts bv the imposition of hands, in con¬
firmation of the doctrine delivered in their speeches and
writings, and sometimes to miracles which they them¬
selves had performed. Now if these epistles are really
'genuine, it is hardly possible to deny those miracles to
he true. The case is here entirely different from that
of an historian, who relates extraordinary events in the
course of his narrative, since either credulity or an ac¬
tual intention to deceive may induce him to describe as
true a series of falsehoods respecting a foreign land or
distant period. Even to the Evangelists might an ad¬
versary of the Christian religion make this objection :
hut to write to persons with whom we stand in the
nearest connection, “ I have not only performed mira¬
cles in your presence, but have likewise communicated
to you the same extraordinary endowments,” to write
in this manner, if nothing of the kind had ever hap¬
pened, would require such an incredible degree ot
effrontery, that he who possessed it would not only
expose himself to the utmost ridicule, hut by giving his
adversaries the fairest opportunity to detect his impos¬
ture, would ruin the cause which he attempted to sup¬
port.
5 crip tore.
P- 334-
■33*. 341
TURK. , . . ,
St Vanl’s First EijistSe to ti’.e Tliessalonians is all-
ot ,aL •. 1ri which be had preached the  
dressed to a community to winch he I v
gospel only three Sabbath Jars, when lie lias force, to
yi.b/the^cirt^oMhepoHac.ilnth,
ioTmeJ.'anTto the gifts of the Holy Spirit whioh li.
ing to5a community which he had iately established, he
could speak of miracles performed, and guts of the Holy
Ghost communicated, if no member of the society had
seen the one, or received the other .
To suppose that an impostor could write to the con¬
verts or adversaries of the new religion such epistles as
these with a degree of triumph over his opponents
and yet maintain his authority, implies jgnorance and
stupidity hardly to be believed. Credulous as the Chri¬
stians have been in later ages, and even so early as the
third century, no less severe were they in their inqui¬
ries, and guarded against deception, at the introduction
of Christianity. This character is given them even bv
Lucian, a writer of the second century, who Rented
Ids satire not only against certain Christians , "h°*De
had supplied Peregrinus with the means of su.isist- pCregrim,
ence, but also against heathen oracles and pretended J 13,
wonders. He relates of his impostor (Pseudomantis),
that he attempted nothing supernatural in the picsencc ...
of the Christians and Epicureans. I his Pseudomantis _
exclaims before the whole assembly, “ Away with the
Christians, away with.the Epicureans, and let those on¬
ly remain who believe in the Deity !” r?
<L) on which the populace took up stones, to drive
away the suspicious j while the other philosophers, I y-
thacroreans, Platonists, and Stoics, as credulous friends
and protectors of the cause, were permitted to re-
mH+is readily acknowledged that the arguments^
drawn from the authenticity of the New leatament^.^
only established the truth of the miracles performed by ^ ^ 32>
the apostles, and are not applicable to the miracles ot tom< iL
our Saviour; yet, if we admit the first three gospe s top. 332,
be genuine, tlie truth of the Christian religion will be *33- M4
proved from the prophecies of Jesus. lor if these go¬
spels were composed by Matthew, Mark, and Luke,
at the time in which all the primitive Christians affirm,
that is, previous to the destruction of Jerusalem, they
must be inspired •, for they contain a circumstantial
prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem, and determine
the period at which it was accomplished. Now it was
impossible that human sagacity could foresee that event j
for when it was predicted nothing was more impro¬
bable. The Jews were resolved to avoid an open re¬
bellion, well knowing the greatness of their danger, and
submitted to the oppressions of their governors in the
hope of obtaining redress from the court of Rome.
The circumstance which gave birth to these misfortunes
is so trifling in itself, that independent of its conse¬
quences, it would not deserve to be recorded. In the
narrow entrance to a synagogue in Caesarea, some per¬
son had made an offering of birds merely with a view
to irritate the Jews. The insult excited their indig¬
nation, and occasioned the shedding of blood. With¬
out this trifling accident, which no human wisdom
could foresee even the day before it happened, it is pos¬
sible that the uiophecy of Jesus would never have been
f Alexan-
2
SCRIP
Scripture, fulfilled. But Floras, who was then procurator of Ju-
^ v ' dea, converted this private quarrel into public hostili¬
ties, and compelled the Jewish nation to rebel contrary
to its wish and resolution, in order to avoid what the
Jews had threatened, an impeachment before the Ro¬
man emperor for his excessive cruelties. But even af-
ther this rebellion had broken out, the destruction of
the temple was a very improbable event. It was not
the practice of the Romans to destroy the magnificent
edifices of the nations which they subdued ; and of all
the Roman generals, none was more unlikely to de¬
molish so ancient and august a building as Titus Ves¬
pasian.
So important then is the question, Whether the books
of the New T-estament be genuine ? that the arguments
which prove their authenticity, prove also the truth of
the Christian religion. Let us now consider the evi¬
dence which proves the authenticity of the New' Te¬
stament.
Then an- receive the books of the New Testament as the
thenticity genuine works of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and
proved. Paul, for the same reason that we receive the writings
of Xenophon, of Polybius, of Plutarch, of Csesar, and
of Livy. We have the uninterrupted testimony of all
ages, and we have no reason to suspect imposition.
This argument is much stronger when applied to the
books of the New Testament than when applied to any
other writings •, for they were addressed to large socie¬
ties, were often read in their presence, and acknow¬
ledged by them to be the writings of the apostles.—
Whereas, the most eminent profane writings which still
remain were addressed only to individuals, or to no per¬
sons at all: and we have no authority to affirm that
they were read in public ; on the contrary, we know
that a liberal education was uncommon j books were
scarce, and the knowledge of them was confined to a
few individuals in every nation.
'1 he New Testament was read over three quarters
of the world, while profane writers were limited to one
nation or to one country. An uninterrupted succession
of writers from the apostolic ages to the present time
quote the sacred writings, or make allusions to them :
and these quotations and allusions are made not only by
friends hut by enemies. This cannot be asserted of even
the best classic authors. And it is highly probable, that
the translations of the New Testament were made so
early as the second century 5 and in a century or two
alter, they became very numerous. After this period,
it was impossible to forge new writings, or to corrupt
the sacred text, unless we can suppose that men of dif¬
ferent nations, of different sentiments and different lan¬
guages, and often exceedingly hostile to one another,
should all agree in one foigery. This argument is so
strong, that if we deny the authenticity of the New
Festament, we may with a thousand times more pro¬
priety reject all the other writings in the world : we
may even throw aside human testimony itself. But as
this subject is of great importance, we shall consider it
at more length ; and to enable our readers to judge with
the greater accuracy, we shall state, from the valuable
work of Michaelis, as translated by the judicious and
learned Mr Marsh, the reasons which may induce a cri-
J6 tic to suspect a work to be spurious.
Negatively, i. When doubts have been made from its first appear-
ance in the world, whether it proceeded from the au-
VOL. XIX. Part I. J
TUBE. 9
thor to whom it is ascribed. 2. When the immediate Scu’j tme.
friends of the pretended author, who were able to de- ' ^ 1
cide upon the subject, have denied it to be his produc- s7
tion. 3. When a long series of years has elapsed aF
ter his death, in which the book was unknown, and in provo'a11''
which it must unavoidably have been mentioned and took to be
quoted, had it really existed. 4. When the style is dif-spurious,
ferent from that of his other writings, or, in case no
other remain, different from that which might reason*
ably be expected. 5. When events are recorded which
happened later than the time of the pretended author.
6. When opinions are advanced which contradict those
he is known to maintain in his other writings. Though
this latter argument alone leads to no positive con¬
clusion, since every man is liable to change his opi¬
nion, or through forgetfulness to vary in the circum¬
stances ol the same relation, of which Josephus, in his
Antiquities and War of the Jews, affords a striking ex-
ample. _ ° 88
1. But it cannot be shown that any one doubted ofDo not sp¬
its authenticity in the period in which it first appeared. P1? to the
2. No ancient accounts are on record whence we may NewTesta«
conclude it to be spurious. 3. No considerable periodmCnt‘
elapsed^ after the death of the apostles, in which the
New Testament was unknown ; but, on the contrary, it
is mentioned by their very contemporaries, and the ac¬
counts of it in the second century are still more nume¬
rous. 4. No argument can be brought in its disfavour
from the nature of the style, it being exactly such as
might be expected from the apostles, not Attic hut
Jewish Greek. _ 5. No facts are recorded which hap¬
pened after their death. 6. No doctrines are main¬
tained which contradict the known tenets of the au¬
thors, since, beside the New Testament, no writings of
the apostles exist. But to the honour of the New Te¬
stament be it spoken, it contains numerous contradic¬
tions to the tenets and doctrines of the fathers in the se¬
cond and third century, whose morality was different
from that of the gospel, which recommends fortitude and
submission to unavoidable evils, but not that enthusiastic
ardour for martyrdom for which those centuries are di¬
stinguished ; it alludes to ceremonies which in the fol¬
lowing ages were either in disuse or totally unknown :
all which circumstances infallibly demonstrate that the
New Testament is not a production of either of those
centuries.
Me shall now consider the positive evidence for the Positivelyi
authenticity of the New Testament. These may be ar¬
ranged under the three following heads : 90
1. The impossibility of a forgery, arising from the hnpossibili-
nature of the thing itself. 2. The ancient Christian, ^ of a for-
Jewish, and Heathen testimony in its favour. 2. Its fery
own internal evidence. nature^of
1. T he impossibility of a forgery arising from the na-tke thing,
ture of the thing itself is evident. It is impossible to
establish forged writings as authentic in any place where
there are persons strongly inclined and well qualified to
detect the fraud. Now the Jews were the most violent
enemies of Christianity. They put the founder of it to
death ; they persecuted his disciples with implacable
fury j and they were anxious to stifle the new religion
in its birth. If the writings of the New Testament
had been forged, would not the Jews have detected the
imposture ? Is there a single instance on record where
a few individuals have imposed a history upon the world
^ against
SCRIP
!° t asa;nst the testimony of a whole nation ? Would the
2^2!^ inhabitants of Palestine have,received the gospels, if
they had not had sufficient evidence that Christ
reallv appeared among them, ami performet
cle, ascribed to I,in. ? Or would the churches of Rome
or of Corinth have acknowledged the epistles address^
to them as the genuine works ot Paul, it 1 .in '
Breached among them? We might as well think to
1 nvp that the history of the Reformation is the inven¬
tion of historians •, and that no revolution happened in
Great Britain during the last century.
^U^TThe second kinl .of evidence -hm -joduce
niony* to prove the authenticity ot the evy »
testimony of ancient writers, Christians, Jews, and
Previewing the evidence of testimony, it will not
be expected that we should begin at the present age,
and"ttce backwards the authors who have written on
this subject to the first ages of Christianity. 118 11
deed though a laborious task, could be performed in
the most complete manner; the whole series of authors,
numerous in every age, who have quoted from the books
of the New Testament, written commentaries upon
them translated them into different languages, or who
have’drawn up a list of them, could be exhibited so as
to form such a perfect body of evidence, that we imagine
even a jury of deists would find it impossible, upon a de¬
liberate and candid examination, to reject or disbelieve
it We do not, however, suppose that scepticism ia
yet arrived at so great a height as to render such a tedi¬
ous and circumstantial evidence necessary. 1 assing over
the intermediate space, therefore, we shall ascend at once
to the fourth century, when the evidence for the authpn-
ticitv of the New Testament was fully established, and
trace it back from that period to the age of the apostles.
We hope that this method of stating the evidence will
TURK. . . e .
i „m11 nfford more satisfaction, Scripture,
appear more natural, and will attorn mo ( 
than that which has been usually adopted.
It ifsirely more natoral, wl.en we mvest.gate tbe
truth of any fact which .lepemls on a ser.ee ^ ;
ny, to begin with those —“Sed.
CS way ;”e sM lean, from themselves the founda-
ion of Sr belief, and the characters of those Iron,
whom they derived it; and thus we ascend till we ar¬
rive at its origin. This mode of investigation w.ll
give more satisfaction to the deist than the nsnal way ;
and we believe no Christian, who is conlident o the
goodness of his cause, will he unwilling to grant any
proper concessions. The deist will thus have an oppor¬
tunity of examining, separately, what he will consider
L the weakest parts of the evidence, those which are
exhibited by the earliest Christian writers, consisting of
expressions, and not quotations, taken from the New
Testament. The Christian, on the other hand, ought
to wish, that these apparently weak parts of the^vr-
dence were distinctly examined, for they will afford an
irrefragable proof that the New lestament was not for¬
ged : and should the deist reject the evidence of those
early writers, it will be incumbent on him to account
for ‘the origin of the Christian religion, which he will
find more difficult than to admit the common hypc-
In the fourth century we could produce the testimo¬
nies of numerous witnesses to prove that the books of
the New Testament existed at that time ; but it will be
sufficient to mention their names, the time in which
they wrote, and the substance of their evidence. 1 ns
we shall present in a concise form in the following table,
which is taken from Jones’s New and I ull Method of
establishing the canon of the New Testament.
T/ie names of the
Writers.
I.
Athanasius bishop of A-
lexandria.
II.
Cyril bishop of Jerusa¬
lem.
III.
The bishops assembled
in the council of Lao
dicea.
IV.
Epipbanius bishop of Sa
lamis in Cyprus.
V.
Gregory Nazianzen bi
shop of Constantino¬
ple.
Times in
which they
lived.
A. C.
340,
364-
The variation or agreement
of their catalogues with ours now
received.
37°*
375-
The same perfectly with ours now
received.
The same with ours, only the Re¬
velation is omitted.
The Revelation is omitted.
The same with ours now received,
Omits the Revelation.
The books in which these catalogues
are.
Fragment. Epist. Testal. tom. ii. in
Synops. tom. i.
Catech. IV. § ult. p. ioi.
Canon LIX.
N. B. The Canons of this council
were not long afterwards recei¬
ved into the body of the canons
of the universal church.
Hceres. 76. cont. Anom. p. 399.
Carm. de veris et genuin. Scriptur
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture.
The Names of i he
Writers.
VI.
Pliilastrius bishop of
Brixia in Venice.
Times in
which they
lived.
380.
Jerome.
VII.
VIII.
Ruffin presbyter of Aqui-
legium.
IX.
Austin bishop of Hippo
in Africa.
X.
The XLIV bishops as¬
sembled in the third
council of Carthage.
The variation or agreement
of their catalogues with ours no w
received.
382.
39°'
394-
St Austin
was pre¬
sent at it.
The same with ours now received 5
except that he mentions only 13
of St Paul’s epistles (omitting
very probably the Epistle to the
Hebrews), and leaves out the
Revelation.
The same with ours ; except that
he speaks dubiously of the E-
pistle to the Hebrews $ though
in other parts of his writings he
receives it as canonical.
It perfectly agrees with ours.
It perfectly agrees with ours.
It perfectly agrees with ours.
The hooks in which these catalogues
Lib. de Hceres. Numb. 87.
Ep. ad Paulin. Tract. 6. p. 2. Also
commonly prefixed to the Latin
vulgar.
Expos, in Symb. Apostol. § 36. int.
Ep. Hieron. Par. 1. Tract. 3.
p. 110. et inter Op. Cypr. p. 575.
De Doctrin. Christ, lib. ii. c. 8.
Tom. Op. 3. p. 25.
Vid. Canon XLVII. et cap. ult.
P2
Testimo- We now go back to Eusebius, who wrote about the
nies ot the year ^ 1 3, and whose catalogue of the books of the New
Christians. Testament we shall mention at more length. “ Let us
observe (says he) the writings of the apostle John,
which are uncontradicted; and, first of all, must be men¬
tioned, as acknowledged of all, the gospel, according
to him, well known to all the churches under heaven.”
Paley's E- The author then proceeds to relate the occasions of
C/uistiaT writing the gospels, and the reasons for placing St John’s
nity.
93
Of Euse¬
bius.
the last, manifestly speaking of all the four as equal in
their authority, and in the certainty of their original.
The second passage is taken from a chapter, the title of
which is, “ Of the Scriptures universally acknowledged,
and of those that are not such.” Eusebius begins his
enumeration in the following manner: “In the first
place, are to be ranked the sacred four Gospels, then the
book of the Acts of the Apostles j after that are to be
reckoned the epistles of Paul: in the next place, that
called the first Epistle of John and the Epistle of Peter
are to be esteemed authentic: after this is to be placed,
if it be thought fit, the Revelation of John; about which
we shall observe the different opinions at proper seasons.
Of the controverted, but yet well known or approved
by the most, are that called the Epistle of James and
that of Jude, the second of Peter, and the second and
third of John, whether they were written by the evan¬
gelist or by another of the same name.” He then pro¬
ceeds to reckon up five others, not in our canon, which
he calls in one place spumous, in another controvert¬
ed; evidently meaning the same thing by these two
words (s).
A. 1). 290, Victorin bishop of Pettaw in Germany, OfYicto-
in a commentary upon this text of the Revelation, nn,
“ The first was like a lion, the second was like a calf,
the third like a man, and the fourth like a flying eagle,”
makes out, that by the four creatures are intended the
four gospels ; and to show the propriety of the symbols,
he recites the subject with which each evangelist opens
Ills history. The explication is fanciful, but the testi¬
mony positive. He also expressly cites the Acts of the
Apostles.
A. D. 230, Cyprian bishop of Carthage gives the Of Cypri-
fol lowing testimony: “ The church (says this father) an‘
is watered like Paradise by four rivers, that is, by four
gospels.” rl he Acts of the Apostles are also frequently
quoted by Cyprian under that name, and under the
name of the Divine ScripturesP In his various wri¬
tings are such frequent and copious citations of Scrip¬
ture, as to place this part of the testimony beyond con¬
troversy. Nor is there, in the works of this eminent
African bishop, one quotation of a spurious or apocry¬
phal Christian writing.” ^
A. D. 210, Origen is a most important evidence. Of Origen.
Nothing can be more peremptory upon the subject now
^ 2 under
(s) That Eusebius could not intend, by the word rendered spurious, what we at present mean by it, is evident
from a clause in this very chapter, where, speaking of the Gospels of Peter and Thomas, and Matthias and som«
others, he says. “ They are not so much as to be reckoned among the spurious, but are to be reiected as alto¬
gether absurd and impious.” Lard. Cred, vol. viii. p. 98.
97
OF Tertul-
iian-
J 2 s C II I P
Scripture under consideration, and, from a writer of 1m lcJjrmng
 v   ami information, nothing more satisfactory, than the -
claration of Origen, preserved in an extract of his wor s
hv Eusebius : “ That the four gospels alone are receiv¬
ed without dispute by the whole church of God under
heaven to which declaration is immediately subjoin¬
ed a brief history of the respective authors, to whom
they were then, as they are now, ascribed. 1 he senti¬
ments expressed concerning the gospels in all the wo. jv
of Orisen which remain, entirely correspond with the
testimony lure cited. His attestation to the Acts of
the Apostles is no less positive: “ And Luke also once
more sounds the trumpet, relating the Acts of the A-
ijostles ” That the scriptures were then universally
read, is plainly affirmed by this writer in a passage in
which he is repelling the objections of Celsus that
it is not in private books, or sncl, as are read by lew
only, and those studious persons, hut in books read by
every body, that it is written, The invisible things of
God from the creation of the world are dearly seen,
Ijeing understood by things that are made. It is to
no purpose to single out quotations of Scripture from
such a writer as this, might as well make a sdec-
tion of the quotations of Scripture m Dr Clarke s ser¬
mons. They are so thickly sown in the works ot Uri-
oen, that Dr Mill says, “ if we had all his works re¬
maining, we should have before us almost the whole
text of the Bible.’'
A. D. 104, Tertullian exhibits the number of the
gospels then received, the names of the evangelists,
and their proper designations, in one short sentence —
“ Among the apostles, John and Matthew teach us the
faith ; among apostolical men, Luke and Mark refresh
it ” The next passage to he taken from lertullian af¬
fords as complete an attestation to the authenticity of the
gospels as can he well imagined. After enumerating the
churches which had been founded by Paul at Corinth,
in Galatia, at Philippi, Thessalonica, and Ephesus the
church of Rome established by Peter and Paul, and other
churches derived from John, he proceeds thus: “ I say
then, that with them, but not with them only which are
apostolical, but with all who have fellowship with them
in the same faith, is that gospel of Luke received from
its first publication, which we so zealously maintain •,
and presently afterwards adds, “ 1 he same authority of
the apostolical churches will support the other gospels
which we have from them, and according to them, 1
mean John’s and Matthew’s, although that likewise
which Mark published may be said to be Peter’s, whose
interpreter Mark was.” In another place Tertullian
affirms, that the three other gospels, as well as St Luke’s,
were in the hands of the churches from the beginning.
This noble testimony proves incontestably the antiquity
of the gospels, and that they were universally received •,
that they were in the hands of all, and had been so from
the first. And this evidence appears not more than
j Years after the publication ol the hooks. Dr Lai d-
ner observes, “ that there are more and larger quota¬
tions of the small volume of the New Testament in this
one Christian author, than there are of all the works of
Cicero, in writers of all characters, for several ages.’’
Cflreiweus. A- I78’ Henaeus was bishop of Lyons, and is
mentioned by Tertullian, Eusebius, Jerome, and Pho-
tius. In his youth he had been a disciple of Polycarp,
TUBE. fi. if , .
who was a disciple of John. He asserts of himself and jScnptiae.
his contemporaries, that they were able to reckon up in ’ v
all the principal churches the succession of bishops to
their first institution. His testimony to the our gospels
and Acts of the Apostles is express and positive. VV e
have not received,” says Iremeus, “ the knowledge of
the way of our salvation by any others than those by
whom the gospel has been brought to us. 1 fe “
pel they first preached, and afterwards by Lie w.U of
God, committed to writing, that it might be for im
to come the foundation and ot our faith. l ot
after that our Lord rose horn the dead, and they (the
apostles) were endowed from above with the power o
the Holv Ghost coming down upon them, they received
a perfect knowledge of all things. I hey Lien wen
forth to all the ends of the earth, declaring to men the
blessing of heavenly peace, having all of them, and
every one alike, the gospel ol God. Matthew then,
among the Jews, wrote a gospel in their own language,
while Peter and Paul were preaching the gospel at
Home, and founding a church there. And alter their
exit, Mark also, the disciple and interpreter of Peter,
delivered to us in writing the things that had been
preached by Peter. And Luke, the companion ol
Paul, put down in a book the gospel preached by him
(Paul). Afterwards John, the disciple ol the Lord,
who also leaned upon his breast, likewise published a
gospel while he dwelt at Ephesus in Asia.” Lenaeus
then relates how Matthew begins bis gospel, how Mark
begins and ends his, and gives the supposed reasons lor
doinu- so. He enumerates at length all the passages ol
Christ’s history in Luke, which are not found in any of
the other evangelists. He states the particular design
with which St John composed his gospel, and accounts
for the doctrinal declarations which precede the narra¬
tive. If any modern divine should write a book upon:
the genuineness of the gospels, he could not assert it
more expressly, or state their original more distinctly,
than Iremeus hath done within little more than tocr
years after they were published.
Respecting the book of the Acts of the Apostles, and
its author, the testimony of Ireuseus is no less explicit.
Referring to the account of St Paul’s conversion and
vocation, in the ninth chapter of that book, “ Nor
can they (says he, meaning the parties with whom he
argues) show that he is not to be credited, who has re¬
lated to us the truth with the greatest exactness.” In
another place, he has actually collected the several texts,
in which the writer of the history is represented as ac¬
companying St Paul, which led him to exhibit a sum¬
mary of almost the whole of the last twelve chapters of
the book.
According to Lardner, Trenseus quotes twelve of
Paul’s epistles, naming their author; also the first
epistle of Peter, the two first epistles of John, and the
Revelation. The epistles of Paul which he omits are
those addressed to Philemon and the Hebrews. Euse¬
bius says, that he quotes the epistle to the Hebrew's,
though he does not ascribe it to Paul. The work, how¬
ever, is lost.
A. D. 172, Tatian, who is spoken of by Clemens of Tatian.
Alexandrinus, Origen, Eusebius, and Jerome, composed
a harmony of the four gospels, which he called Diatessa-
ron of the four. This title, as well as the work, is re¬
markable,
S C R I P T U R E.
SeiipUire. markable, because it sbott’s that tlien as well as now
‘—-•'v  there were four, and only four, gospels in general use
among Christians.
A. D. 170, the churches of Lyons and Vienne in
France sent an account of the sufferings of their martyrs
to the churches of Asia and Phrygia, which has been
preserved entire by Eusebius. And what carries in
some measure the testimony of these churches to a
higher age is, that they had now for their bishop Po-
thinus, who was 90 years old, and whose early life con¬
sequently must have immediately followed the times of
the apostles. In this epistle are exact references to the
gospels of Luke and John, and to the Acts of the
Apostles. The form of reference is the same as in all
the preceding articles. That from St John is in these
words . “ Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by
tbe Lord, that whosoever kilieth you, will think that he
« John doth God service
xyi. 2. Distinct references are also made toother books, viz.
Acts, Romans, Ephecians, Plulippians, 1 Timothy,
I0C 1 Peter, I John, Revelation.
Gf Justin A. D. 140, Justin Martyr composed several books,
Martyr. which are mentioned by his disciple Tatian, by Tertul-
lian, Methodius, Eusebius, Jerome, Epiphanius, and
Photius. In his writings between 20 and 30 quota¬
tions from the gospels and Acts of the Apostles are rec¬
koned up, which are clear, distinct, and copious 5 if each
verse be counted separately, a much greater number j if
each expression, still more. Jones, in his book on the
Canon of the New Testament, ventures to affirm that
he cites the hooks of which it consists, particularly the
four gospels, above 200 times.
We meet with quotations of three of the gospels
within the compass of half a page ; “ and in other
words, he says, Depart from me into outer darkness,
which the Father hath prepared for Satan and his An¬
gels,” (which is from Matthew xxv. 41.). “ And again
he said in other words, I give unto you power to tread
upon serpents and scorpions, and venomous beasts, and
upon all the power of the enemy.” (This from Luke
x. t 9.). “ And, before he was crucified, he said, The
son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected of
the Scribes and Pharisees, and be crucified, and rise
again the third day.” (This from Mark viii. 31.).
All the references in Justin are made without men¬
tioning the author; which proves that these books were
perfectly well known, and that there wTere no other ac¬
counts of Christ then extant, or, at least, no others so
received and credited as to make it necessary to add any
marks of distinction But although Justin mentions not
the authors names, he calls the books Memoirs composed
&y the Apostles; Memoirs composed by the Apostles and
their Companions; which descriptions the latter espe¬
cially, exactly suit the titles which the Gospels and
Acts of the Apostles now bear.
He informs us, in his first apology, that the Memoirs
of the Apostles, or the writings of the prophets, are read
according as the time allows; and, when the reader has
ended, the president makes a discourse, exhorting to the
imitation of such excellent things.
A few short observations will show the value of this
testimony. 1. The Memoirs of the Apostles, Justin in
another place expressly tells us are what are called gos¬
pels. Aud that they were the gospels which wre now
13
use is made certain by Justin’s numerous quotations of Scripture,
them, and his silence about any others. 2. He de- t——v—
scribes the general usage of the Christian church. 3.
He does not speak of it as recent or newly instituted,
but in the terms in which men speak of established
customs.
Justin ako makes such allusions to the following
hooks as shews that he had lead them : Romans, 1 Co¬
rinthian^, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians,
2 Thessalonians, Hebrews, 2 Peter ; and he ascribes
the Revelation to Jolyi the Apostle of Christ. I0I
A. D. 116, Papias, a hearer of John, and companion Of Papias.
of Pol ycarp, as Irenseus attests, and of the apostolical
age as all agree, in a passage quoted by Eusebius, from
a work now lost, expressly ascribes the two Jirst gospels
to Matthew and Mark ; and in a manner which proves
that these gospels must have publicly borne the names
of these authors at that time, and probably long before;
lor Papias does not say, that one gospel was written by
Matthew, and another by Mark ; but, assuming this as
perfectly well known, he tells us from what materials
Mark collected his account, viz. from Peter’s preaching,
and in what language Matthew wrote, viz. in Hebrew.
Whether Papias was well informed in this statement or
not, to the point for which this testimony is produced,
namely, that these books bore these names at this time,
his authority is complete.
Papias himself declares that he received his accounts
of Christianity from those who were acquainted with the
apostles, and that those accounts which he thus received
from the older Christians, and had committed to memory, $ p. f r
he inserted in his hooks. He farther adds, that he was 0^.
very solicitous to obtain every possible information,espe- ajmd. Eu-
cially to learn what tbe apostles said and preached, va-sf
luing such information more than what rvas written in
books *. c> 39^
A. D. 108, Polycarp was the bishop of Smyrna, and Of Poly¬
disciple of John the Apostle. This testimony concern-carp,
ing Polycarp is given by Irenaeus, who in his youth had
seen him. “ I can tell the place.” saith Irenaeus, “ in
which the blessed Polycarp sat and taught, and his go¬
ing out and coming in, and the manner of his life, and
the form of his person, and the discourses he made to
the people, and how he related his conversation with
John and others who had seen the Lord, and how he
related their sayings, and what he had heard concern¬
ing the Lord, both concerning his miracles and his doc¬
trine, as he had received them from the eye-witnesses of
the word of life, all which Polycarp related agreeable
to the scriptures ”
Of Polycarp, whose proximity to the age and country
and persons of the apostles is thus attested, we have one
undoubted epistle remaining; which, though a short
performance, contains nearly 40 clear allusions to the
books of the New Testament. This is strong evidence
of the respect which was paid to them by Christians of
that age. Amongst these, although the writings of Sfc-
Paul are more frequently used by Polycarp than other
parts of scripture, there are copious allusions to the gos¬
pel of St Matthew, some to passages found in the gospels
both of Matthew and Luke, and some which more
nearly resemble the words in Luke.
He thus fixes the authority of the Lord’s Prayer, and
the use of it among Christians. If, therefore, we pray
the
* Matt,
viii. i. i. 2
y. 74
SCRIP
the Lord to forgive us, we ought also to forgive. And
again, With supplication beseeching the all-seeing God
not to lead us into temptation.
In another place, he quotes the words of our Lord:
“ But remembering what the Lord said, teaching,
Judge not, that ye" be not judged. Forgive, and ye
shall be forgiven } be ye merciful, that ye may obtain
mercy ; with what measure ye mete, it shall be mea¬
sured to you again*.” Supposing Polycarp to have
had these words from the books in which we now tind
them, it is manifest that these books were considered
by him, and by his readers, as he thought, as authen¬
tic accounts of Christ’s discourses j and that this point
was incontestable. . . ,
He quotes also the following books, the first of which
he ascribes to St Paul: 1 Corinthians, Ephesians, 1 lu-
lippians, 1 and 2 Thessalonians j and makes evident
references to others, particularly to Acts, Romans, 2
Corinthians, Galatians, 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, 11 eter,
1 John. . . .
nf Icrnatius Ignatius, as it is testified by ancient Christian wn-
° 3 'tersf became bishop of Antioch about 37 years after
Christ’s ascension •, and therefore, from his time, and
place, and station, it is probable that he had known and
conversed with many of the apostles. Epistles of Ig¬
natius are referred to by Polycarp his contemporary.
Passages, found in the epistles now extant under his
name, are quoted by Xremeus, A. D. 187, by Or.gen,
A. H* 230 and the occasion of writing them is iuily
explained by Eusebius and Jerome. What are called
the smaller epistles of Ignatius are generally reckoned
the same which were read by Iremeus, Origen, and
Eusebius. ,
They are admitted as genuine by \ ossius, and have
been proved to be so by Bishop Pearson with a force of
argument which seems to admit of no reply. In these
epistles are undoubted allusions to Matt. m. 15. xi. 10.
to John iii. 8 •, and their venerable author, who often
speaks of St Paul in terms of the highest respect, once
quotes his epistle to the Ephesians by name.
Of Hermas. Near the conclusion of the epistle to the Romans,
St Paul, amongst others, sends the following salutation :
__R Salute Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermas, Patrobus,
Hermes, and the brethren which are with them.” Of
Hermas, who appears in this catalogue ot Roman Chri¬
stians as contemporary with St Paul, there is a book
still remaining, the authenticity of which cannot be
disputed. It is called the Shepherd, or Pastor oj ller-
tnas. Its antiquity is incontestable, from the quotations
of it in Irenseus, A. D. 178, Clement of Alexandria,
A. D. 194, Tertullian, A. D. 200, Origen, A. L>.
230. The notes of time extant in the epistle itself agree
with its title, and with the testimonies concerning it,
which intimate that it was written during the lifetime
of Clement. In this piece are tacit allusions to St
Matthew’s, St Luke’s, and St John’s gospels •, that is
to say, there are applications of thoughts and expres-
T U R E.
sions found in these gospels, without citing the place or Scripture..
writers from which they were taken. In this form :T;
pear in Hermas the confessing and denying ot Christ f P ' of*
the parable of the seed sown t i the comparison of L^ke
Christ’s disciples to little children •, the saying, “ he 8) 0.
that putteth away his wife, and marrieth another, com-1 Matt,
mitteth adultery § j” the singular expression, “ having
received all power from his Father,” is probably^an allu- ^ ,
sion to Matt, xxviii. 18. and Christ being the “ gate, ^ Lul4e ^
or only way of coming “to God,” is a plain allusion to 18.
John xiv. 6. x. 7. 9. There is also a probable allusion
to Acts v. 32. .. ,
The Shepherd of Hermas has been considered as a
fanciful performance. This, however, is of no import¬
ance in the present case. We only adduce it as evi¬
dence that the books to which it frequently alludes ex¬
isted in the first century j and for this purpose it is sa¬
tisfactory, as its authenticity has never been questioned.
However absurd opinions a man may entertain, while
he retains his understanding his testimony to a mat¬
ter of fact will still be received in any court or justice. IC^
A. D. 96, we are in possession of an epistle written of Clemens
by Clement bishop of Rome, whom ancient writers, with-Romamis.
out any scruple, assert to have been the Clement whom
St Paul mentions Philippians iv. 3. “ with Clement al¬
so, and other my fellow labourers, whose names are in
the book of life.” This epistle is spoken of by the an¬
cients as an epistle acknowledged by all j and, as lie-
n^us well represents its value, “written by Clement,who
bad seen the blessed apostles and conversed with them,
who had the preaching of the apostles still sounding in
his ears, and their traditions before his eyes.” It is ad¬
dressed to the church of Corinth 5 and what alone may
seem a decisive proof of its authenticity, Dionysius bi¬
shop of Corinth, about the year 170, i. e. about. 80 or
no years after the epistle was written, bears witness,
“ that it had been usually read in that church from an¬
cient times.” This epistle a fiords amongst others, the
following valuable passages : “ Especially remembeiing
the words of the Lord Jesus, which he spake, teaching
gentleness and long-suffering ; for thus he said (t), Be
ye merciful, that ye may obtain mercy, forgive, that it
may he forgiven unto you j as you do, so shall it be done
unto you j as you give, so shall it be given unto you j
as ye judge, so shall ye be judged j as ye shew kindness,
so shall kindness be shewn unto you with what measure
ye mete, with the same it shall be measured to you. By
this command, and by these rules, let us establish our¬
selves, that we may always walk obediently to his holy
words.”
Again, “ Remember the words of the Lord Jesus,
for Im said, Wo to that man by whom offences come j
it were better for him that he had not been born, than
that he should offend one of my elect; it were better
for him that a millstone should be tied about his neck,
and that he should he drowned in the sea, than that he
should offend one of my little ones (u).”
He
fT-l .. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy,” Matt. v. 7. “ Forgive, and ye shall be folgiveu,
• ^ j • , • 1 11 iTn-ivln ,mtn vmi ” Luke vi. 37 38. “ Judge not, that ye be not judged j tor w.tb what judge-
nient ve iudg^ye shall be judged, and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again,” Matt, a u. 2.
xviii. 6. “ BJut whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better tor him
that a miUstone'tvere hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the sea.” The latter part ot the passage
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture.
* Chap. i.
29.
106
The allu¬
sions and
references
to the New
Testament
by the first
Christian
writers
prove that
it existed
in their
time.
He ascribes the first epistle to the Corinthians to Paul,
and make such allusions to the following books as are
sufficient to shew that he had seen and read them: Acts,
Romans, 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philip-
pians, Colossians, 1 Thessalonians, 1 Timothy, 2 Timo¬
thy, Titus, 1 Peter, 2 Peter.
It may be said, as Clement has not mentioned the
books by name from which we assert these allusions or
references are made, it is uncertain whether lie refers to
any books, or whether he received these expressions from
the discourses and conversation of the apostles. Mr
Paley has given a very satisfactory answer to this objec¬
tion : 1st, That Clement, in the very same manner,
namely, without any mark of reference, uses a passage
now found in the epistle to the Homans'*; which pas¬
sage, from the peculiarity of the words that compose it,
and from their order, it is manifest that he must have
taken from the epistle. The same remark may be ap¬
plied to some very singular sentiments in the epistle to
the Hebrews. Secondly, That there are many sentences
of St Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians, to be found
in Clement’s epistle, without any sign of quotation, which
yet certainly are quotations ; because it appears that
Clement had St Paul’s epistle before him ; lor in one
place he mentions it in terms too express to leave us in
any doubt. “ Take into your hands the epistle of the
blessed apostle Paul.” Thirdly, That this method of
adopting words of scripture, without reference or ac¬
knowledgement, was a method in general use amongst
the most ancient Christian writers. These analogies
no only repel the objection, but cast the presumption
on the other side ; and afford a considerable degree of
positive proof, that the words in question have been
borrowed from the places of scripture in which we now
find them. But take it, if you will, the other way, that
Clement had heard these words from the apostles or first
teachers of Christianity ; with respect to the precise
point of our argument, viz. that the scriptures contain
what the apostles taught, this supposition may serve al¬
most as well.
We have now traced the evidence to the times of the
apostles; but we have not been anxious to draw it out
to a great length, by introducing every thing. On the
contrary, we have been careful to render it as concise
as possible, that its force might be discerned at a glance.
The evidence which has been stated is of two kinds.
Till the time of Justin Martyr and Irenseus it consists
chiefly of allusions, references and expressions, borrow¬
ed from the books of the New Testament, without men¬
tioning them by name. After the time of Irenaeus it
became usual to cite the sacred books, and mention the
authors from whom the citations were taken.
The first species of evidence will perhaps appear to
some exceptionable ; but it must be remembered that
it was usual among the ancient Christians as well as
Jews to adopt the expressions of scripture without nam¬
ing the authors. Why they did so it is not necessary
to inquire. The only point of importance to be deter¬
mined is, whether those references are a sufficient proof
of the existence of the books to which they allude ? Script
This, we presume, will not be denied ; especially in the u—\r
present age, when it is so common to charge an author
with plagiarism if he happen to fall upon the same train
of ideas, or express himself in a similar manner with au¬
thors who have written before him. We may farther
affirm, that these tacit references afford a complete proof
that those ancient writers had no intention of imposing
a forgery upon the world. They prove the existence
of the Christian religion and of the apostolical writings,
without showing any suspicious earnestness that men
should believe them. Had these books been forged,
those who wished to pass them upon the world would
have been at more pains than the first Christians were
to prove their authenticity. They acted the part of
honest men ; they believed them themselves, and they
never imagined that others would suspect their truth.
It is a consideration of great importance, in review¬
ing the evidence, which has been now stated, that the
witnesses lived in different countries; Clemens flourish¬
ed at Rome, Polycarp at Smyrna, Justin Martyr in Sy¬
ria, Irenseus in France, Tertullian at Carthage, Origen
at Alexandria, and Eusebius at Csesarea. This proves
that tiie books of the New Testament were equally well
known in distant countries by men who had no inter¬
course with one another.
riM 1 • • . • . . ICy
I he same thing is proved by testimonies if possible Testimo
less exceptionable. '1 he ancient heretics, whose opi- nies °f
nions were sometimes grosser and more impious than iet*cs’
those which any modern sectary has ventured to broach,
and whose zeal in the propagation of them equalled that
of the most flaming enthusiast of the last century, never
called in question the authenticity of the books of the
New Testament. When they met with any passage in
the gospels or epistles which they could not reconcile
to their own heretical notions, they either erased it, or
denied that the author was inspired ; but they nowhere
contend that the book in which it stood ivas not writ¬
ten by the apostle or evangelist whose name it bore.
Eusebius relates, that the Ebionites rejected all the
epistles of Paul, and called him an apostate, because he
departed from the Levitical law ; and they adopted as
their rule of faith the gospel of St Matthew, though in¬
deed they greatly corrupted it. This proves therefore
that the gospel according to Matthew was then publish¬
ed, and that St Paul’s epistles were then known.
Of the heretics who erased, or altered passages to
make the Scriptures agree with their doctrines, we may
produce Marcion as an instance, who lived in the be¬
ginning of the second century. He lived in an age
when he could have easily discovered if the writings of
the New Testament had been forged ; and as he was
much incensed against the orthodox party, if such a for¬
gery had been committed, unquestionably he would not
have failed to make the discovery, as it would have af¬
forded the most ample means of revenge and triumph,
and enabled him to establish his own opinions with less
difficulty. But his whole conduct shows clearly, that
he believed the writings of the New Testament to be
authentic.
in Clement agrees more exactly with Luke xvii. 2. “ It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about.
Ins neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.”
i6
to8
Testimo¬
nies of
Heathens.
autlientie. He said that the gospel according to St
ticnptu'e. ^"ew, the epistle to the Hebrews tv.th . oae of St
Peter and St James, as nell as the Old iestament in
General, were writings not for Christians lint tor Jews,
lie mlblislied a new edition of the gospel according to
Coke and the first ten epistles of Paul -, in which ,t has
been affirmed b, Epiphanins, that he P-
saae that contradicted his own opinions . blit a, many
ofUicse alterations are what modern critics calls
readings, though we receive the testtmony ofr^.pha-
nin we must not rely upon his opinion (x). lienee it
is evident that the books of the New Testament above
mentioned did then exist, and were acknowledged
the works of the authors whose names they bear.
Dr Lardner in his General Review sums up us
head of evidence in the following words: Moetus,
Ihrul of Samosata, Sahellius, Marcellus Phot-s -
Novutians, Donatists, Mamcheans (y), St-
beside Artemon, the Audians, the Ar.ans ami divers
others all received most or all the same books of the
New Testament which the Catholics received •, and
agreed in a like respect for them as writ by apostles or
^S^^T^enemi. of the Christian
lla-inn are powerful witnesses for the antiquity of the
New Testament. Celsus, who lived towards the end of
a /.^ntiirv not only mentions by name, but
the ,:riS rte LL ^ New^sunien.:
, What the bookli to which he refers were no other
Zn luJ nresent oospels, is evident from the a Insions to
109 than p a ft ill found in them. Celsus takes notice
«• of his savin", that it is impossible to serve two
tl0r\ ’ s • of the purple robe, the crown of thorns, and
r 'eed’wh ch X A into ’the band of Jesus of . e
h ood that flowed from his body upon the cross a c r-
rumstanee which is recorded only by John 1 and (what
is instar omnium for the purpose for which we produce
it') of the difference in the accounts given of the lesui-
rection by the evangelists, some mentioning two angels
^reCr—'to0“mark, tba. Celsu, nut
KrtSs^t l?be relied to.' U
Shm- accounts •, that he founded none of his objections
to Christianity on any thing delivered in spurious gos-
PeThe testimony of Porphyry is still more important
than that of Celsus. He was born in the year 213, of
Tvrian origin. Unfortunately for the present age,
says Michaelis, the mistaken zeal of the Christian em¬
perors has banished his writings from the world, and
every real friend of our religion would gladly gwe the
v, nue of the pious fathers to rescue tho^e ol I or-
Iw from the flames. But Mr Marsh the learned
and judicious translator of Michaelis, relates, that, ac¬
cording to the accounts of Isaac Vossius, a manuscript
qCKTPTUBE,
of the works of Porphyry is preserved in the Medicean
library at Florence, but kept so secret that no one is
permitted to see it. It is universally allowed, that P01
phyry is the most sensible, as well as the most seveie,
adversary of the Christian religion that antiquity can
proiluce. He was versed not only in history, but also
in philosophy and politics. His acquaintance with the
Christians was not confined to a single country , f01 he
had conversed with them in lyre, m Sicily, a ,
Rome. Enabled by his birth to study the Syr.ac a,
well as the Greek authors, he was oi all the adversaries
to the Christian religion the best qualified to mqu.ie in¬
to the authenticity of the sacred writings He possessed
therefore every advantage which natural abilities ora.
scientific education could afford to ^covtr 'vhet lcr^J
New Testament was a genuine work of the apostles an
evangelists, or whether it was imposed upon the world
after the decease of its pretended authors. But no trace
of this suspicion is anywhere to be found in Ins writings
In the fragments which still rema.n mention j^de of
the gospels of St Matthew, St Mark, and St John the
Acts of the Apostles, and the epistle to the Gala .airs
and it clearly appears from the very objections or P
phvry, that the books to which he alludes were the same
which we possess at present. Thus he objects o the
repetition of a generation in St Matthew s S^ea^y,
toV«l.ev.;s.ca,l; to the ^ou.ion o a text om
no
Of Porphy¬
ry.
to Matthews can, w.x.   
Isaiah which is found in a psalm ascribed to AsapI
the calling of the lake ofTiberiap a tea; to the expres;
sion in St Matthew, “ the abomination of desolation ,
to the variation in Matthew and Mark »P0n ^ texj
“ the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Matthew
quotingit fromlsaias, Mark from the prophets j to John s
application of the term fTord; to Christ s change of in¬
tention about going up to the feast of tabernacles (John
vii 8.) ; to the judgment denounced by St Peter upon
Inanias and Sapphira, which he calls an imprecation of
de The instances here alleged serve in some measure to
show the nature of Porphyry’s objections and prove
that Porphyry had read the gospels with that soit of
attention which a writer would employ who regai ded
them as the despositaries of the religion which he at¬
tacked. Beside these specifications there exists in he
writings of ancient Christians general evidence, that the
places'of Scripture, upon which 1 orphyry had made ie
marks, were very numerous.
The internal evidence to prove the authenticity of Authenti-
the New Testament consi-ts of two parts : The nature dt, of th.
ot the style, and the coincidence of .be New Testament New To.
with the historv ot the times. ... i prored
The style of the New Testament is singular, and tl,om
differs very widely from the style of classical authors, j t 1 eTi_
is full of Hebraisms and Syriasms; a circumstance which deuce,
pious ignorance has considered as a fault, am ''From ihe
even so late as the present century, it has attempted ^
to remove •, not knowing that these very deviations
from Grecian purity afford the strongest presumption m
its favour : for they prove that the New Testament was
written hy men of Hebrew origin, and is therefore a pro-
SCRIP
c, > , . Auction of the first century. After the death of the first
- Jewish converts, tew ot the Jews turned preachers or
the gospel j the Christians were generally ignorant of
Hebrew, and consequently could not Write in the style
of the New Testament. After the destruction of Je¬
rusalem and the dispersion of the Jews, their language
must have been blended with that of other nations, and
their vernacular phraseology almost entirely lost. The
language of the early fathers, though not always the
purest classic Greek, has no resemblance to that of the
New Testament, not even excepting the works of the
few who had a knowledge of the Hebrew j as Origen,
Epiphanius, and Justin Martyr, the last of rvhom being
a native of Palestine, might have written in a style
similar to that of the New Testament, had such a style
then prevailed. He that suspects the New Testament
to be the forgery of a more recent period, ought to pro¬
duce some person who has employed a similar diction ;
but those who are conversant with eastern rvritings
know well that a foreigner, who has not been accustom¬
ed to eastern manners and modes of thinking from his
infancy, can never imitatewith success the oriental style,
much less forge a history or an epistle which contains a
thousand incidental allusions, which nothing but truth
could suggest. To imitate closely the style of the New
Testament is even more difficult than to imitate that of
any other oriental book 5 for there is not a single author,
even among the Jews themselves, since the destruction
of Jerusalem, that has composed in a style in the least
degree like it (z).
But though the books in the New Testament bear so
close a resemblance in idiom, there is a diversity of style
which shows them to be the Work of different persons.
Whoever reads with attention the epistles of Paul, must
be convinced that they were all written by the same
author. An equal degree of similarity is to be found
between the gospel and 1st epistle of John. The wri¬
tings of St John and St Paul exhibit marks of an ori¬
ginal genius which no imitation can ever attain. The
character of Paul as a writer is drawn with great judge¬
ment by Michaelis : “ His mind overflows with senti¬
ment, yet he never loses sight of his principal object,
but hurried on by the rapidity of thought, discloses fre¬
quently in the middle a conclusion to be made only at
the end. To a profound knowledge of the Old Testa¬
ment he joins the acuteness of philosophical wisdom,
which he displays in applying and expounding the sa¬
cred writings j and his explanations are therefore some¬
times so new and unexpected, that superficial observers
might be tempted to suppose them erroneous. The fire
of his genius, and his inattention to style, occasion fre¬
quently a twofold obscurity, he being often too concise
to be understood except by those to whom he immedi¬
ately wrote, and not seldom on the other hand so full
of his subject, as to produce long and difficult parenthe¬
ses, and a repetition of the same word even in different
senses. With a talent for irony and satire, he unites
the most refined sensibility, and tempers the severity of
his censures by expressions of tenderness and affection j
TURK. 1-
nor does he ever forget in the Vehemence of his zeal Sciinturc.
the rules of modesty and decorum. He is a writer, in > .»-v—., <
short, of so singular and wonderful a composition, that
it would be difficult to find a rival. That truly sensi¬
ble and sagacious philosopher Locke was of the same
opinion, and contended that St Paul was without an
equal.”
Poems have been forged and ascribed to former ages
with some success. Philosophical treatises might be in*
vented which it would be difficult to detect j but there
is not a single instance on record where an attempt has
been made to forge a history or a long epistle, where
the fraud has not been either fully proved, or rendered
so suspicious that few are weak enough to believe it.
W hoever attempts to forge a history or an epistle in the
name of an ancient author, will be in great danger of
contradicting the history or the manners of that age,
especially if he relate events which are not mentioned
in general history, but such as refer to a single citv, sect,
religion, or school.
The difficulty of forging such histories as the gospels,
and such epistles as those of Paul, cannot be overcome
by all the genius, learning, and industry, of any in¬
dividual or society of men that ever lived. They con¬
tain a purer system of ethics than all the ancient philo¬
sophers could invent : They discover a candour and mo¬
desty unexampled : They exhibit an originality in the
character of Jesus, and yet such a consistency as the
imagination of our best poets has never reached. Now
it is a very remarkable circumstance, that histories writ¬
ten by four different men should preserve such dignity
and consistency, though frequently relating different ac¬
tions of Jesus, and descending to the most minute cir¬
cumstances in his life. The scene of action is too ex¬
tensive, and the agreement of facts with the state of the
times as represented by other historians is too close, to
admit the possibility of forgery.
The scene of action is not confined to one country,
it is successively laid in the greatest cities of the Homan
empire ; in Rome, in Antioch, in Corinth, in Athens,
as well as in Jerusalem and the land of Palestine. In¬
numerable allusions are made to the manners and opi¬
nions of the Greeks, the Romans, and the Jews ; and
respecting the Jews, they extend even to the trifles and
follies of their schools. Yet after the strictest examina¬
tion, the New Testament will be found to have a won¬
derful coincidence and harmony with Josephus, the
principal historian of these times, and an enemy of Chri¬
stianity.
It has been a question who the soldiers were who are And from
said in the gospel of Luke to have addressed John the remarkable
Baptist in these words, What shall we do? An answer histances of
to this question may be foimd in Josephus *. Herod co5ncillence
the tetrarcb of Galilee was engaged in a war with his jose jius
father-in-law Aretas, a petty king in Arabia Petraea, atkndThe*
the very time that John was preaching in the wilder-New Tes-
ness 5 and the road from Galilee to Arabia runningtaniellk
through that wildernes, the soldiers on their march had
this interview with the Baptist. A coincidence like this, cap. \m’
which sect, x, 3.
(z) The style of Clemens Romanus may perhaps be an exception. By many eminent critics it has been
thought so like to that of the epistle to the Hebrews, as to give room for the opinion that Clemens either was the
author of that epistle, or was the person who translated it from the Syro-Chaldaic language, in which it wasorisri-
nally composed. 00 &
Vol. XIX. Part I.
t
C
i8
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture which has been overlooked hy all the commentators,
-would not probably be attended to in a forgery.
Another instance of an agreement no kss remarkable
we shall quote from the valuable work of Michael s.
It has been a question of some difficulty among the
learned, who was the Ananias who commanded bt i'aul
to be smitten on the mouth when he was making hi
* Acts defence before the council in Jerusalem . ^rebs»
«Hi. 2-3. his remarks taken from Josephus, has shown him to h
been the son of Nebedeni. But if so, how can it be
reconciled with chronology, that Ananias was, at that
time called high priest, when it is certain from Jose¬
phus’that the time of his holding that office was much
earlier ? And how comes it to pass that St Baul says,
“ I wist not, brethren, that he was the high-priest. .
The sacerdotal garb must have discovered who he was ;
a jest would have Ill-suited the gravity of a tabunal,
and a falsehood is inconsistent with the character of b
1 All these difficulties vanish as soon as we examine the
special history of that period : “ Ananias the son of Me-
bedeni was high priest at the time that Helena queen
of Adiabene supplied the Jews with corn from gyp
during the famine which took place in he fourth year
of Claudius, mentioned in the eleventh chapter of the
Acts. St Paul therefore, who took a journey to Je
salem at that period, could not have been of
the elevation of Ananias to that dignity Soon after
the holding of the first council, as it is cabled, at^Jem
salem, Ananias was dispossessed ot his offi ,
quence of certain acts of violence betv"een ^e-
tans and the Jews, and sent prisoner to Rome , huUieing
afterwards released, he returned to Jerusalem. Now horn
that period he could not be called high priest in the pro¬
per sense of the word, though Josephus has sometimes
given him the title of taken in the mfe ^
five meaning of a priest who had a seat and voice in
the Sanhedrim*, and Jonathan, though we are not ac¬
quainted with the circumstances of his elevation, had
been raised in the mean time to the supreme dignity in
the Jewish church. Between the death of Jonathan,
who was murdered by order of Felix, and tbe hl§
priesthood of Ismael, who was invested with that dignity
by Agrippa, elapsed an interval during winch the sa-
cldotal office was vacant. Now it happened precisely
in this interval that St Paul was apprehended in Jerusa¬
lem : and, the Sanhedrim being destitute of a president,
he undertook of his own authority the discharge of tnat
• office, which he executed with the greatest tyranny.
It is possible therefore that St Paul who had been on¬
ly a few days in Jerusalem, might be ignorant that A-
nanias, who had been dispossessed of the priesthood, had
taken upon himself a trust to which he was not entitled ,
he might therefore very naturally exc a,m I wist not,
brethren, that he was the high-priest. Admitting him
on the other hand to have been acquainted with the
fact the expression must be considered as an indirect
reproof, and a tacit refusal to recognize usurped au-
tll0Could such a correspondence as this subsist between
truth and falsehood, between a forgery and an authen¬
tic history ? or is it credible that these events could be
related by any person but a contemporary •
1 Impressed^vfth tire love of truth, and feehng con-
tempt as well as detestation at pious frauds, we hesitate
3 /
JL U ir -C,.
not to acknowledge, that in some particular facts there Scriptiij^
is a difference either real or apparent between Josephus
and the writers of the New Testament. ^he 0.bJ^c-Therc4a«
tions arising from these differences are ot two kinds. aho appa_ ,
1. Such as would prove a hook not to have been writ-rentincon-
ten by the author to whom it is ascribed. 2.
would prove that the author was mistaken, and ^ier®‘probably
fore not divinely inspired, lo the first class § arise from
the following objection : St Paul says (2 tor. xi. 32-J oversight
that the governor of Damascus was under Aretas the m Jose-
king: buHf we are to judge from the x 8th book of the phu,;
Jewish Antiquities, which corresponds with the pe¬
riod of St Paul’s Journey to Damascus, that city must
have belonged at that time to the Romans 5 and what
authority could Aretas, a petty king m Arabia Petraea,
have in such a city ? In answer to this question, J. .
Hyne, in a dissertation published in 1755, has shown 1
to be highly probable that Aretas, against whom the
Romans,guoyt foug before tl.e death o. T.benu», made
a declaration of war, which they negiected to put m
execution, took the opportunity of seizing
which had once belonged to his ancestors J an eve«t
omitted by Josephus, as forming no part of the Jew
history, and by the Roman historians as being a matter
not flattering in itself, and belonging only to a distant
province. Secondly, That Aretas was by religion a Jew,
!! circumstance the more credible, when we reflect that
Judaism had been widely propagated m that country
and that even kings in Arabia 1 elix had recognized t e
law of Moses. The difficulty then is so far remove ,
that it ceases to create suspicion against an epistle
which has so many evident marks of authenticity 5 an
h is only to be /egretted that, in order to place the
subject in the clearest point of view, we are not suf¬
ficiently acquainted with the particular history of Da-
m Examples of the second kind are such as if allowed
their full force, might indeed prove a writer not
Iv inspired, but could afford no reason to conclude that
he was not the author of the writings which bear his
name, since mistakes may be committed by the most ac- H 5
curate historian. The chief difficult.ea of Urn nature
are found in the gospel according to -Luke , ana 0
not apply to the writings of Matthew, John, ^aul’ a   :—
^ r -r • • Inanlration altoErether,
not apply to the writings ot iviaunew, , formation
Peter Laying aside the idea of inspiration altogether, concerning
let us inquire whether Luke or Josephus be most .u-the^enu
titled to credit in those passages where icy 1 , Jpenedneas
which of them is most accurate, and which ot them had ^ birt]j>
the best opportunities of exploring the truth ot the
facts which they relate. Now Josephus relates the same
story differently in different parts of his works, and is
sometimes equally mistaken in them all. We do no
recollect to have seen such inconsistencies in the wri¬
tings of St Luke. Luke knew the characters, and
witnessed many of the facts, of which he speaks •, and he
could receive the best information respecting those tacts
which were transacted in his absence._ Josephus was
born A. D. 37, some years after our Saviour’s ascension.
Now it is a very important observation of Michaehs,
that the period of history with which mankind are least
acquainted is that which includes the time ot their
childhood and youth, together with the twenty or thir¬
ty years immediately preceding their birth. Concern¬
ing the affairs transacted during that period,, we are
much more liable to fall into mistakes than concerning
those
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture, those of a remoter age. The reason is, that authentic
.,-v— ■ .1 history never comes down to the period of our birth ;
our knowledge of the period immediately preceding de¬
pends on hearsay; and the events, which pass within
the first eighteen or twenty years of our lives, we are
too young and heedless to observe with attention. This
must have been more remarkably the case in the time of
Josephus than at present, when there were neither daily
papers, nor periodical journals, to supply the want of re¬
gular annals. There was no historian from whom Jo¬
sephus could derive any knowledge of the times that
immediately preceded his birth. There is a period then
of forty or fifty years, in which, even with the most di¬
ligent inquiry, he was exposed to error.
When we find therefore the relations of Luke and
Josephus so different as not to be reconciled, it would
be very unfair to determine without any further inquiry
in favour of Josephus. Let their character, and works,
and situation be strictly examined ; let their testimony
be duly weighed and compared; and then let the pre¬
ference be given to that author who, according to the
strictest rules of equity and justice, seems intitled to the
highest degree of credit. The decision of a jury, we
shall venture to say, would in every instance turn out in
II(J favour of Luke.
Inspiration Having thus ascertained the authenticity of the books
of the New of the New Testament, the next thing to be considered
Testament, their inspiration. It is certainly of some importance
to know how far the apostles and evangelists were gui¬
ded in their writings by the immediate influence of the
spirit of God ; though this knowledge, if attainable, is
not equally important with that of the authenticity of
these writings. Michaelis indeed asserts, that the divi¬
nity of the New lestament may be proved whether we
can evince it to be written by immediate inspiration or
* Chap. iii. not*. “ The question (says he), whether the books of
§ i. the New Testament are inspired ? is not so important as
the question, whether they are genuine ? The truth of
our religion depends upon the latter, not absolutely on
tbe former. Had the Deity inspired not a single book
of tbe New Testament, but left the apostles and evan¬
gelists without any other aid than that of natural abili¬
ties to commit what they knew to writing, admitting
their works to be authentic, and possessed of a sufficient
117 degree of credibility, the Christian religion would still
Bi)t neces- be well founded. The miracles by which it is con*
sary to the firmed would equally demonstrate its truth, even if the
Christianit Persons wj10 attested them were not inspired, but simply
according ^human witnesses; and their divine authority is never
to the opi- presupposed, when we discuss the question of miracles,
uion of but merely their credibility as human evidence. If the
Michaehs. miracles are true which tbe evangelists relate, tbe doc¬
trines of Christ recorded in tbe gospels are proved to
be tbe infallible oracles of God ; and, even if we admit
the apostles to be mistaken in certain not essential cir¬
cumstances, yet as tbe main points of tbe religion which
Christ commissioned them to preach are so frequently
repeated, their epistles would instruct us as well in tbe
tenets of the Christian system, as the works of Maclau-
rin in the philosophy of Newton. It is possible there¬
fore to doubt, and even deny, the inspiration of the New
Testament, and yet be fully persuaded of the truth of
the Christian religion : and many really entertain these
sentiments either publicly or in private, to whom we
r9
should render great injustice, if we ranked them in the Scripture.
class of unbelievers, 1 v
“ Yet the Christian religion would be attended with
difficulty, if our principium cognoscendi rested not on
firmer ground ; and it might be objected, that sufficient
care had not been taken for those whose consciences
were tender, and who were anxiously fearful of mista¬
king the smallest of the divine commands. The chief
articles indeed of Christianity are so frequently repeat¬
ed, both by Christ and his apostles, that even were tbe
New Testament not inspired, we could entertain no
doubt of the following doctrines : ‘ Jesus was the Mes-
sias of the Jews, and an infallible messenger of God : be
died for our iniquity ; and by the satisfaction made bv
bis death we obtain remission of sins, if on our part be
faith and amendment of life : the Levitical law is abo¬
lished, and moral precepts, with tbe ceremonies of Bap¬
tism and the Supper of tbe Lord, are appointed in its
stead ; after the present follows an everlasting life, in
which the virtuous shall be rewarded and the wicked
punished, and where Christ himself shall be the Judge.’
“ To the epistles indeed (says Michaelis), inspiration
is of real consequence ; but with respect to the histori¬
cal books, viz. the Gospels and the Acts of the A-
postles, we should really be no losers if we abandoned tbe
system of inspiration, and in some respects have a real
advantage. We should be no losers, if we considered
tbe apostles in historical facts as merely human witnesses,
as Christ himself has done in saying, ‘ Ye also shall bear
witness, because ye have been with me from tbe begin¬
ning*.’ And no one that attempts to convince an un-* John xt.
believer of the truth of Christianity, would begin his 27*
demonstration by presupposing a doctrine which bis ad¬
versary denies, but would ground his arguments on the
credibility of the evangelists as human historians, for the
truth of the miracles, the death, and the resurrection of
Christ. Even those who examine the grounds of their
faith for their own private conviction, must treat the
evangelists as human evidence; since it would be argu¬
ing in a circle to conclude that the facts recorded in the
gospels are true, because they are inspired, when we
conclude the Scriptures to be inspired in consequence of
their contents. In these cases, then, we are obliged to
consider the evangelists as human evidence ; and it would
be no detriment to tbe Christian cause to consider them
at all times as such in matters of historical fact. We
find it nowhere expressly recorded that the public trans¬
actions which tbe apostles knew by their own experi¬
ence, and of which St Luke informed himself by dili¬
gent inquiry, should be particular objects of divine in¬
spiration. We should even be considerable gainers, in
adjusting the harmony of the gospels, if we were permit¬
ted to suppose that some one of the evangelists had com¬
mitted an immaterial error, and that St John has recti¬
fied some trifling mistakes in the preceding gospels.
The most dangerous objections which can be made to
the truth of our religion, and such as are most difficult
to answer, are those drawn from the diflerent relations
of the four evangelists.”
Before any inquiry is made respecting the inspiration Different
or the books or the New lestament, it is necessary toineanin£s°*
determine the meaning of the term; for theologiansthe word
have given to it a variety of significations. Most of the
German divines make it to consist in an infusion of
^ 2 words
119 ,
The proot
of it de¬
pends on
the decla¬
rations of
Christ and
his apostles.
120
The decla
rations of
Christ.
* Matt, x
20.
SCRIPTURE.
words as well as Ideas. Lather, Beza, and Salmasms
restrict it to ideas alone. Doddndge understands ,y it
an intervention of the Deity, by which the natural la-
culties of the mind were directed to the discovery of
truth. Warburton and Law think it was a negativ .
intervention to preserve the sacred writers from essentia
errors. Some believe every circumstance was dictated
by the Holy Ghost; others suppose that no supernatural
assistance was granted except in the epistolary writing.
Se AsThereiraTe’vident distinction between inspiration
and revelation, and as the origin of the "n -el -
p-ion may be still proved divine, even though it were de
nied that those who record its facts and doctrines were
inspired in the act of writing it will be most judicious
and safe to employ the word inspiration in that sense
which can be most easily defended and supported. >
doing this, much may be gained and nothing •
is difficult to prove to a deist that the words of p
ture are divine, because he sees that every wnteHia^
words and phrases peculiar to himself. “ 1 dlt“C. j
also to prove that the ideas were infused into he l
of the authors while they were engaged in the act oi
writing", because concerning facts they appeal not to
divine inspiration, hut declare what they have seen and
W In reasoning they add their own sentiments to
what they had received from the Lord, and subjoin, e -
pecially m their epistles, things not connected with reli¬
gion. The definition which Doddridge gives, seems
applicable to ordinary gifts or the usual endowments of
rational creatures, rather than to the extraor inary g
of the Holy Spirit, which were bestowed on the apostles.
Those SiiJU. that every fact or —“
suvoested by divine inspiration, will find H m
ergfo proved,elr position. The opinion of Warta-te"
and Law with properexplanatlons, seems most probable.
The opinion of Grotius/that only the epistles were m-
SP The proof’ofX' authenticity of the New Testament
depends on human testimony: The proof of its inspi¬
ration Is derived from the declaration of inspired per-
S°”tS; pr„ving that the New Testament is inspired, we
nresupposedlts authenticity, that the sacred books were
written by the apostles whose names they bear, and
iaUtiey have been conveyed to ns pure and uncor-
' ted ^his we have already attempted to prove, and
we hope with success. The evidence of inspiration is
the testimony of Christ and ins apostles, which we re-
ceive as credible, because they confirmed their doctrine
bv miracles. From the important mission of Christ and
his apostles, we infer that every power was bestowed
which divine wisdom thought expedient; and from their
conduct we conclude, that it is ^oraUy impossible th
they could lay claim to any powers which they diet not
uosless It is proper therefore to inquire into he de¬
clarations of Christ and his apostles concerning the
turef degree, and extent, of the inspiration bestowed on
tKp writers of the sacred books. _ .
If we consider ChriatS more
Ce several periods, 1st, Wlicn he sent the apostles to
stve t * ’ j holdlng a pubhc discourse
St teogS U’P:,, at which wL present a censi-
i4» x5’
12 I
1 KJ XV X^.
derable multitude j 3dly, In his prophecy of the de- Scripture,
struction of Jerusalem t. When he sent the apostles to
preach the gospel, he thus addressed them. ienn; Ixike
they deliver you up, take no thought how or tv hat ycsxj * -
shall speak, for it shall be given you in that same hour
what ye shall speak *, for it is not you that speak, but
the spirit of your Father that speaketh in you. Ihe
same promise was made almost in the same words in the
presence of an immense multitude (Luke xn. i i, I2.J-
From these passages it has been urged, that it tae a-
postles were to be inspired in the presence of magistrates
in delivering speeches, which were soon to be forgotten,
it is surely reasonable to conclude that they would be
inspired when they were to compose a standard ol iaitfi
for the use of all future generations of Christians. It
this conclusion be fairly deduced, it would follow that
the writings of the New Testament are the dictates ol
inspiration^ not only in the doctrines and precepts but
in the very words. But it is a conclusion to which
sincere Christians have made objections j for, say they,
though Christ promises to assist his apostles in cases ot
great emergency, where their own prudence and forti¬
tude could not be sufficient, it does not follow that
would dictate to them those facts which they know al¬
ready, or those reasonings which their own calm reflec¬
tion might supply. Besides, say they, if the New Tes¬
tament was dictated by the Holy Spirit, and only pen¬
ned by the apostles, what reason can be given for the
care with which Christ instructed them, both during his
ministry and after his crucifixion, in those things per¬
taining to the kingdom of God ?
In answer to this we may observe, that though it be Proper
VfflpiiH to nrove that the identical words of the New ideas of m
Testament were dictated by the Holy Spirit, or the train °1»»
of ideas infused into the minds of the sacred writers,
there is one species of inspiration to which the New
Testament has an undoubted claim. It is this, ^ th.e
memories of the apostles were strengthened and their
understandings preserved from falling into essential errors.
This we prove from these words ot our Saviour, and
I will pray the Father, and he will give you another
comforter, that he may abide with you for ever. He
shall teach yon all things, and bring a things to jour* ^
remembrance whatsoever I have said unto yo« *
This promise was surely not restrained to the day of
Pentecost : it must have been a permanent gilt, enabling
the apostles at all times to remember with accuracy the
discourses of our Saviour. When the apostles there¬
fore (Matthew and John) relate those precepts of Christ
which they themselves had heard, they write indeed
from memory, but under the protection of the spirit who
secures them from the danger of mistake j and we must
of course conclude that their gospels are inspired.
Were we called upon more particularly to declare
what parts of the New Testament we believe to he in¬
spired, we would answer, The doctrines, the precepts,
and the prophecies, every thing essential to the Christian
religion. From these the idea of inspiration is insepa¬
rable. As to the events, the memory of the apostles
was sufficient to retain them. If this opinion be just,
it would enable us to account for the discrepancies be¬
tween the sacred writers, which are chiefly confined to
the relation of facts and events. . .
Ml the books of the New Testament were originally
written in Greek, except the Gospel according to Mat¬
thew
SCRIPTURE.
21
Scripture.
122
Language
in which
the New
Testament
was com¬
posed.
123
Why the
greatest
part of it
is written
in Greek.
Michaclis,
▼ol. i. chap,
iv. seet. 1.
p. 101.
thew and the epistle to the Hebrews, which there is
reason to believe were composed in the Syro-Chaldaic
language, which in the New Testament is called He¬
brew.
Various reasons have been assigned why the greatest
part of the New Testament was written in Greek ; but
the true reason is this, It was the language best under¬
stood both by writers and readers. Had St Paul writ¬
ten to a community in the Roman province of Africa,
he might have written perhaps in Latin ■, but epistles
to the inhabitants of Corinth, Galatia, Ephesus, Philip¬
pi, and Thessalonica, to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon,
from a native of Tarsus, could hardly be expected in
any other language than Greek. The same may be
said of the epistles of St Peter, which are addressed to
the Christians of different countries, who had no other
language in common than the Greek ; and likewise of
the epistles of St James, who wrote to Jews, that lived
at a distance from Palestine, and were ignorant of He¬
brew. The native language of St Luke, as well as of
Theophilus, to whom he addressed his gospel, and Acts
of the apostles, appears to have been Greek •, and that
St John wrote his gospel in that language, and not in
Hebrew, is by no means a matter of surprise, since he
wrote, at Ephesus.
With respect to the epistle to the Romans, it may
’ be asked indeed why St Paul did not write in Latin ?
Now, whoever proposes this question, must presuppose
that St Paul was master of the Latin language in such
a degree as to find no difficulty in writing it; a matter
which remains to be proved. It is very probable that
St Paul was acquainted with the Latin ; but between
understanding a language, and being able to write it,
there is a very material difference. As St Paul was a
native of Tarsus, his native language was Greek ; he
had travelled during several years through countries in
which no other language rvas spoken, and when he ad¬
dressed the Roman centurion at Jerusalem, he spoke
not Latin, but Greek. Is it extraordinary, then, that
in writing to the inhabitants of Rome he should have
used a language which wTas there so generally under¬
stood ? It has been long remarked, that Greek was at
that time as well known in Rome as French in any
court of modern Europe ; that according to Juvenal
even the female sex made use of Greek as the language
of familiarity and passion ; and that in letters of friend¬
ship Greek words and phrases were introduced with
greater freedom than French expressions in German
letters, as appears from Cicero’s epistles to Atticus, and
from those of Augustus preserved in the works of
Suetonius. To this must be added a material circum¬
stance, that a great part of the Roman Christians con¬
sisted of native Jews, who were better acquainted with
Greek than with Latin, as either they themselves or
their ancestors had come from Greece, Asia Minor, or
Egypt, in which Greek was the language of the coun¬
try. At least they read the Bible in that language, as
no Latin translation of the Old Testament at that time
existed ; and the Christian church at that period con¬
sisting chiefly of Jews, the heathen converts in Rome
were of course under the necessity of accustoming them¬
selves to the Greek language. In short, St Paul in his
epistle to the Romans made use of a language in which
alone those who were ignorant of Hebrew could read
the Bible. What has been here advanced respecting the
epistle to the Romans is equally applicable to the Greek Scripture,
of St Mark, on the supposition that it was written at -y——j
Rome.
To the alcve arguments may be added the example
of Josephus, who, as well as the apostles, tvas by birth
a Jew. He even lived in Rome, which is more than
can be said of St Paul and St Mark, who resided there
only a certain time: he was likewise younger than
either ; he came to Italy at an age which is highly
suitable to the learning of a language, and previous to
that period had spent several years in the Roman camp.
The Jewish antiquities, the history of the Jewish war,
and the account of his own life, he wrote undoubtedly
with a view of their being read by the Romans ; and
yet he composed all these writings in Greek. He ex¬
presses his motive for writing his Greek account of the
Jewish war in the following terms: “ That having writ¬
ten in his native language (i. e. the Hebrew dialect at
that time spoken) a history of the war, in order that
Parthians, Babylonians, Arabians, Adiabenes, and the
Jews beyond the Euphrates, might be informed of those
events, he was now resolved to write for the Greeks
and Romans, who had not been engaged in the cam¬
paigns, a more certain account than had hitherto been
given.” The motives which induced Josephus to
write in Greek are fully as applicable to St Paul and
St Mark.
Michaelis has thus characterized the style of the New , ,. .
Testament. “The New Testament (says he) was writ-vojC ^ **’
ten in a language at that time common among the Jews, chap. iv.
which may be named Hebraic Greek; the first tracessect.3.
of which we find in. the translation of the LXX. P* 111-
“ Every man acquainted with the Greek language, Is
who had never heard of the New Testament, must im- Hebraisms,
mediately perceive, on reading only a few lines, tfiat
the style is widely different from that of the classic au¬
thors. We find this character in all the books of the
New Testament in a greater or less degree, but we
must not therefore conclude that they possess an uni¬
formity of style. The harshest Hebraisms, which ex¬
tended even to grammatical errors in the government of
cases, are the distinguishing marks of the book of Re¬
velation ; but they are accompanied with tokens of ge¬
nius and poetical enthusiasm of which every reader must
be sensible who has taste and feeling. There is no trans¬
lation of it which is not read with pleasure even in the
days of childhood ; and the very faults of grammar are
so happily placed as to produce an agreeable effect. The
gospels of St Matthew and St Mark have strong marks
of this Hebraic style; the former has harsher Hebraisms
than the latter, the fault of which may be ascribed to
the Greek translator, who has made too literal a ver¬
sion, and yet the gospel of St Mark is written in worse
language, and in a manner that is less agreeable. The
epistles of St James and St Jude are somewhat better;
but even these are full of Hebraisms, and betray in other
respects a certain Hebrew tone. St Luke has in several
passages written pure and classic Greek, of which the
first four versesof his gospel maybe given as an instance:
in the sequel, where he describes the actions of Christ,
he has very harsh Hebraisms, yet the style is more
agreeable than that of St Matthew or St Mark. In the
Acts of the Apostles he is not free from Hebraisms, which
he seems to have never studiously avoided ; but his pe¬
riods are more classically turned, and sometimes possess
beauty
2 2
SCRIPTURE.
? i i orf St John lias numerous, though
not micouth, Hebraisms both in his gospel and epistles j
hut he has written in a smooth and flowing languag ,
»nd urnasses all the Jewish writers in the excellence of
u ^ St Paul atrain is entirely different from them
Th Hiyle ^ndeeTneglected Jd fuU of Hebraism3.
but’ he hasy avoided the concise and verse-Uke construc¬
tion of the Hebrew language, and has upon the whole a
considerable share of the roundness of Grecian composi¬
tion. It is evident that he was as perfectly acquainted
with the Greek manner of expression as with the He¬
brew and he has introduced them alternately, as either
rte one or the other suggested itself the first, or was the
.»S ^“SlelU to shown that the New Testament not
and fo- JVLicliae i . s but Rahbinisms, Synasms,
rCigttidl- Cllaldeisms” Arahisms, Latinisms, and Persian wor^s,
gians*1 whose duty certaiifl^i/Ztudy the language of
the New Testament with attention, we wouk strenuous-
v recommend the perusal of this work, which in the
English translations is one of the most valuable acces*
• £ nf arrintural criticism that has yet appeared. AV e
speak of tlfe English translation, which the large an
speaR or ui 0 ATo-wali Kns rendered infinitely su-
0U1S,
and manner j that of our Saviour, and the sacred pen- Scriptures
man’s. In their own character, they neither explain ' i
nor command, promise nor threaten, praise nor blame.
They generally omit the names of our Lord s enemies j
thus directing our hatred at the vices they committed,
not at the persons. They never mention such persons
•without necessity j which is the case with the high-priest,
Pilate, Herod, and Judas: the three first for the chro¬
nology, the fourth to do justice to the eleven.
Herodias is, indeed, mentioned with dishonour; hut
her crime was a public one. On the other hand, all
persons distinguished for any thing virtuous are careful¬
ly mentioned, Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus Zac-
cheus, Bartimeus, Jairus, Lazarus, Mary, and Martha.
They record their own faults (Peter’s, Thomas’s), nor
do they make any merit of their confession. In one
uniform strain they relate the most signal miracles and
most ordinary facts.
From the narrative is excluded that quality of style
which is called animation. Nothing that discovers pas¬
sion in the writer, or is calculated to excite the passions
of the reader. Every thing is directed to mend the
But in the discourses and dialogues of our Saviour,
speak of the rngfisfi tbe e^n, without telng an, *ing of its simplicity,
judicious notes of Mr Marsh ha 7 jg 0ften remarkable for spirit and energy. Bespecting
perior to the original. - ’   ™lv add an
. pel,p01' 1° observations which have been made respecting
XrX; theYaagnage of the New Testament, a few remarks may
composi- , added concerning the peculiarities of ie s y
tion. be ^ J tbe sacred writers, particularly the histon-
J)rCamp- manner o , extend to the Old Testament as
bell's Pre- ans. These remarks ex tlie
Uminary well as to the New.—Ihe /l™ 5 t,truc.
Dissert a- oafred history is remarkable is simplicity 1
Horn to his sacred history ce^ The fiist five verses 0f Genesis
Transla- ture of ■ wb'ich consist of eleven sentences.
tions of tlie furnish an exa p > hv adiectives, nor the
i. The substantives are not attended by adject ves n
verbs bv adverbs, no synonymas, no supeilatives,
effort at expressing things in a bold, emphatical, or un-
COn’Therasec"ond',aalit, is simplicity of sentiment, par¬
ticularly in the Pentateuch, arising from the very na¬
ture of the early and uncultivated state of society about
"^'''simplicity of des'^gm^The subject of the narra¬
tive so engrosses the attention of the writer, that lie
hinwelf is as nobody. He introduces nothing as from
himself no remarks, doubts, conjectures, or reasonings.
Onr Lord’s biographers particularly excel ,n this qua¬
lity. This quality of style we meet with in Xenophon
““TheTkgelists may be ranked next to Genesis for
. f „-mnnsitinn in the sentences. John and
Mauliew are disfmguished for it more than Mark and
T lAe But the sentiment is not so remarkable for
■ r -irr in the Evangelist as the Pentateuch. Ihe
Simpl ‘If this difference are, l.The state of the Jews was
-reasons of t , . ners customs, &c. split into
totally a”d politics, a. The object of
lord’s m ni try!which is the great subject of the
cur Lord s a doctrine and morality with
gospel, wa systems perfectly coincided: besides,
which none of thei A al, tbe Rreat men, the
being collsta’1 ,^s b^story consists of instructions and dis-
S el’ rls it "ed with what our Saviour said
S What he did, this makes two distinctions of style
is often remarkable for spirit and energy. - -
harmony and smoothness, qualities which only add an
external polish to language, they had not the least soh-
“l". elegance, there is an elegance which results
from the use of such words as are most in use with
those who are accounted fine writers, and from such
arrangements in the words and clauses as have generally
obtained their approbation. This is disclaimed by the
sacred authors. .
But there is an elegance of a superior order more
nearly connected with the sentiment j and in this soit
of elegance they are not deficient. In all the oriental
languages great use is made of tropes, especially meta¬
phors. When the metaphors employed hear a strong
resemblance, they confer vivacity : if they be borrowed
from objects which are naturally agreeable, beautiful,
or attractive, they add also elegance. The Evangelists
furnish us with many examples of this kind of vivacity
and elegance. Our Lord borrows tropes from corn¬
fields, vineyards, gardens, &c. --/
As a valuable appendage to this part of our subject, Proper me-
we shall subjoin Dr Campbell’s method of studying the thod of
hooks of the New Testament. This we offer to .our tbe New
readers as a beautiful instance of the judicious applica-Testament
tion of philosophy to sacred studies. It is the same by analysis
method of discovering truth by analysis and induction, ami in uc«
which was pursued by Sir Isaac Newton with such asto-uon-
wishing success, which since his time has been unifoimly
practised in natural philosophy, and has been also ap¬
plied to chemistrv, to medicine, to natural history, and
to the philosophy of mind, by the ingenious Dr Keid.
This is the path of sound philosophy, which can alone
lead to the discovery of truth. In following it, our
progress may he slow, but it will be sure. If all theolo¬
gians would steadily adhere to it, we might then enter¬
tain the pleasing hope of discarding for ever those absui d
systems of religion which are founded on single passages
and detached fragments of scripture, and of establishing
opinions and doctrines on a solid foundation. ^
127
Scripture.
123
Dr Camp¬
bell’s me-
SCRIP
(< I. To get acquainted with each writer’s style; to
observe his manner of composition, both in sentences anti
paragraphs; to remark the words and phrases peculiar
to him, and the peculiar application that he may some-
thod. Pnr/. times make of ordinary words; for there are few of those
Dis. to the writers who have not their peculiarities in all the re-
Gospels. spects now mentioned. This acquaintance with each
can be attained only by the frequent and attentive
reading of his works in his own language.
“ 2. To inquire into the character, the situation, and
the office of the writer, the time, the place, and the
occasion of his writing, and the people for whose imme¬
diate use he originally intended his work. Every one
of these particulars will sometimes serve to elucidate ex¬
pressions otherwise obscure or doubtful. This knowledge
may in part be learned from a diligent and reiterated
perusal of the book itself, and in part be gathered from
what authentic, or at least probable, accounts have been
transmitted to us concerning the compilement of the
canon.
“ 3. The last general direction is, to consider the
principal scope of the book, and the particulars chiefly
observable in the method, by which the writer has pur¬
posed to execute his design. This direction is particu¬
larly applicable to the epistolary writings, especially
those of Paul.
“ 4. If a particular word or phrase occur, which ap¬
pears obscure, perhaps unintelligible, the fii'st thing we
ought to do, if satisfied that the reading is genuine, is
to consult the context, to attend to the manner where¬
in the term is intx-oduced, whether in a chain of reason¬
ing or in a historical nai'ration, in a desexiption, or in¬
cluded in an exhortation or command. As the conclu¬
sion is inferred from the premisses, or as from two or
moi-e known truths a third unknown or unobserved be¬
fore may fairly be deduced; so from such attention to
the sentence in connection, the import of an expression,
in itself obscure or ambiguous, will sometimes with mo¬
ral certainty be discovered. This, however, will not
always answer.
“ S’ ^ do not, let the second consideration be, whe¬
ther the term or phrase be one of the writer’s peculia¬
rities. If so, it comes naturally to be inquired, what
is the acceptation in which he employs it in other places?
If the sense cannot be precisely the same in the passage
under review, perhaps, by an easy and natural metaphor
or other trope, the common acceptation may give rise
to one which perfectly suits the passage in question. 
Recourse to the other places wherein the word or phrase
occurs in the same author is of considerable use, though
the term should not be peculiar to him.
“ 6. But thirdly, if there should be nothing in the
same wxiter that can enlighten the place, let recourse be
had to the parallel passages, if there be any such, in the
other sacred writers. By parallel passages, I mean
those places, if the difficulty occur in history, wherein
the same or a similar story, miracle, or event, is related-
if in teaching or reasoning, those parts wherein the
same argument or doctrine is treated, or the same pa¬
rable propounded ; and in moral lessons, those wherein
the same class of duties is recommended : or, if the dif¬
ficulty be found in a quotation from the Old Testament,
Jet the parallel passage in the book referred to, both in
the original Hebrew, and in the Greek version, be con¬
sulted.' ’
TUBE.
“ 7. But if in these there be found nothing that can
throw light on the expression of which we are in doubt,
the fourth recourse is to all the places wherein the word
or phrase occurs in the New Testament, and in the Sep-
tuagint version of the Old, adding to these the considera¬
tion of the import of the Hebrew or Chaldaic word,
whose place it occupies, and the extent of signification,
of which in different occurrences such Hebrew or Chal¬
daic term is susceptible.
“ 8. Perhaps the term in question is one of those
which very rarely occur in the New Testament, or those
called Xiytpiice,, only once read in Scripture, and
not found at all in the translation of the Seventy. Se¬
veral such words there are. There is then a necessity,
in the fifth place, for recurring to the ordinary accep¬
tation of the term in classical authors. This is one of
those cases wherein the interpretation given by the ear¬
liest Greek fathers deserves particular notice. In this,
however, I limit myself to those comments wherein they
give a literal exposition of the sacred text, and do not
run into vision and allegory.” l
The manuscripts of the New Testament are the na- Manu^
tural source from which the genuine readings of the scripts of
Greek Testament are to be drawn. The printed edr-^16 New
tions are either copies of more ancient editions, or 0fTestament,
manuscripts ; and they have no further authority than as
they correspond to the manuscripts from which they
were originally taken. By manuscripts of the New Te¬
stament, we mean those only which were written before
the invention of printing. The most ancient of these
are lost, and there is no manuscript now extant older
than the sixth century. Few contain the whole New
Testament; some contain the four gospels ; some the
Acts of the Apostles and Epistles ; and others the book
of Revelation. The greatest number are those which con¬
tain the first part; those which have the second, or the
first and second together, are likewise numerous ; but
those of the third are extremely feiv. It must be added
also, that in many manuscripts those epistles are omitted
whose divine authority was formerly doubted.
There are many manuscripts which have been exa¬
mined only for a single text, such as 1 John v. 7. or at
least for a very small number. Others have been exa¬
mined from the beginning to the end, but not com¬
pletely and in respect of all the readings. A third class
consists of such as either have been, or are said to have
been, completely and accurately collated. But this re¬
quires such phlegmatic patience, that we can hardly ex¬
pect to find in critical catalogues all the various read¬
ings which have been only once collated. Wetstein, in
collating many manuscripts anew, made discoveries
which had entirely escaped the notice of his predecessors.
The fourth class consists of such as have been com¬
pletely and accurately collated more than once ; but
here also we are in danger of being led into error.—
When various readings are transferred from one critical
edition to another, as from that of Gregory to Mill’s
edition, and from the latter to those of Bengel and
Wetstein, the manuscripts must sometimes be falsely
named, and various readings must frequently be omit¬
ted. And as Wetstein has marked by ciphers manu¬
scripts that in former editions had been denoted by their
initial letters, he could scarcely avoid substituting, in some
cases, one figure instead of another. The fifth class,
which is by far the most valuable, consists of such as
have
24 SCRIP
c. • * *- have been printed word for word, and therefore torm an
Sjnpiure. ^ of the Greek Testament. We can boast
but of a very few manuscripts of this kind. Hearne
printed at Oxford, in 1715, the Acts of the Apostles m
Greek and Latin from the Codex Laudianus 3. •, tviiu-
tel has annexed to his edition ot Ulphilas, p. JS"11 »
n copy of two very ancient fragments preserved m the
library of Wolfenbuttle •, tlie one of the four Gospels
in general, the other of St Luke and St John. Wo.de
printed in 1786 the Codex Alexandrinus, a manuscript
of great antiquity, which shall afterwards be more
fully described 5 and the university of Cambridge has
resolved to publish, in a similar manner the Cod.
Cant I or, as it is sometimes called, the Codex t>ezae,
the care of which is intrusted to Dr Kipling, a publica¬
tion which will be thankfully received by every friend
to sacred criticism. It was the intention of the Abbe
Spoletti, a few years ago, to publish the whole of the
celebrated Codex Vatican us 5 which would likewise have
been a most valuable accession, since a more important
manuscript is hardly to be found in all Europe. He
delivered for this purpose a memorial to the pope j but
the design was not put into execution, either because
the pope refused his assent or the abbe abandoned it
himself. See the Oriental Bible, vol. xxn. N° 333. and
MicliaSk’s '^Avery valuable library,” says Michaelis, “ might
proposal be C(mlp0Sed of the impressions ot ancient manuscripts,
of taking an ^ ^ expengive fora private person, shou d
oTandent be admitted^to every university collection especially
the Alexandrian and Cambridge manuscripts, to which
I would add, if it were now possible to proem e it,
Hearne’s edition of the Codex Laudianus 3 A plan
of this sort could be executed only in England, by a
private subscription, where a zeal is frequently display¬
ed in literary undertakings that is unknown in other
countries-, and it were to be wished that the project
were begun before length of time has rendered the ma¬
nuscripts illegible, and the attempt therefore fruitless
Ten thousand pounds would go a great way toward
the fulfilling of this request, if the learned themselves
did not augment the difficulty of the undertaking, by
adding their own critical remarks, and endeavouring
thereby to recommend their publications, rather than by
presenting to the public a faithful copy of the original.
Should posterity be put in possession of faithful impres¬
sions of important manuscripts, an acquisition which would
render the highest service to sacred criticism, ad these
editions of the New Testament should be regulated on
the same plan as Hearne’s edition of the Acts of the
Apostles.” It must be highly flattering to the patrio¬
tic spirit of an Englishman, to hear the encomiums which
learned foreigners have so profusely bestowed on our li¬
berality in supporting works of genius and learning
and public utility. The plan which Michaelis proposes
T U R E.
to us in preference to all the other nations in Europe, Scripture.
noble and magnificent, and would certainly confer -
  (T1VP It their na-
manu-i
scripts,
vol. ii.
P I®2'
is nouie aim uiciguin'- - _ . . .
immortality on those men who would give it their pa¬
tronage and assistance. . . ,, •
There are many ancient manuscripts, especially in
Italy, which have never been collated, but he still unex¬
plored. Here is a field where much remains to be done.
See Marsh’s Notes to Michaelis, vol. n. p. 643. _
Michaelis hasgivenacatalogueofaucientmanuscripts,
amounting in number to 292, to tvlnch he *
short account of each, in this place tve shall conhne
our observations to the most celebrated, the Alexan¬
drian and Vatican manuscripts, which we have chiefly
extracted from Michaelis. » r
The Alexandrianvianvscript consists of four volumes; Accoo,,,^
the three first of which contain the Old Testament, the dr;an ma_
fourth the New Testament, together with the first i.pi-nU5cript.
stle of Clement to the Corinthians, and a fragment of the
second. In the New Testament, which alone is the ob¬
ject of our present inquiry, is wanting the beginning as
far as Matthew xxv. 6. <5 ^ likewise hom
John vi. 30. to viii. J2. and from 2 Cor. iv. 13. toxn. 7.
It must likewise be observed, that the 1 salms are pit-
ceded bv the epistle of Athanasius to Marcellmus, and
followed by a catalogue, containing those which are o
be used in prayer for each hour, both of the day and of
the night; also by 14 hymns, partly apocryphal, par y
biblical, the nth of which is an hymn in praise of the
Virgin Mary, entitled ™ Snoroxv : lui-
ther the Hypotheses Euscbii are annexed to the 1 salms,
and his Canones to the Gospels. It is true, that tins
has no immediate reference to the New lestament, m
may have influence in determining the antiquity ot the
manuscript itself. . . •
It has neither accents nor marks of aspiration j it is
written with capital, or, as they are called, uncial let-
ters. and has very few abbreviations. There are no in¬
tervals between the words ; but the sense of a passage is
sometimes terminated by a point, and sometimes iy a
vacant space. Here arises a suspicion that the copyist
did net understand Greek, because these marks are
sometimes found even in the middle of a word, for in¬
stance Levit. v. 4. « for *>' and Numb. xm.
29This manuscript was presented to Charles L in 1628,
by Cyrillus Lucaris patriarch of Constantinople. V^y-
rillns himself has given the following account: V\e
know so much of this manuscript of the holy writings ot
the Old and New Testament, that Thecla an Egyptian
lady of distinction (nobilis famina 2E.gyptia)yvo\.& it
with her own hand 1300 years ago (a).” She lived soon
after the council of Nice. Her name was formerly at
the end of the book j but when Christianity was subvert¬
ed in Egypt by the errors of Mahomet, the books ot
the Christians suffered the same fate, and the name of
Thecla
, X XT this in the vear 1628. According to this account, then, the manuscript must have been written
• (AoHe 7\Tta which so many weighty objections may be made, that its most strenuous advocates will hardly
1,1 I2lte to defend it. But thfs error has furnished Oudin with an opportunity of producing many arguments
Unt hist the antiquity of the Codex Alexandrinus, which seem to imply, that Grabe and others, who ave re ei
against t J J suppose it to have been written in the above-mentioned year. Now it is probable, that
‘iebferlncetbloh hi’been deduce,1 from the account of Cyrillus Is more than be himself ...tended to express,
as he relates that Thecla lived after the council of Nice.
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture, ihecla was expunged. Rut oral tradition of no very
1 v'——' ancient date (jnemoria et traditio recens) has preserved
tiie remembrance of it.
But the reader will see that this account is merely
traditional. Dr Semler very properly observes, that
there is no more reason to rely on a tradition respecting
the transcriber of an ancient manuscript, than on a tra¬
dition which relates to an ancient relic. The argu¬
ments which have been urged by Wetstein, Semler,
Oudin, and Woide, to fix the date of this manuscript,
are so many, that it would be tedious to repeat them.
Rut, after all, its antiquity cannot be determined with
certaintv, though it appears from the formation of the
letters, which resemble those of the fourth and fifth cen¬
turies, and the want of accents, that it was not written
so late as the tenth century. In this century it was
placed by Oudin, while Grabe and Schulze have refer¬
red it to the fourth, which is the very utmost period
that can be allowed, because it contains the epistles of
Athanasius. Wetstein, with more probability, has cho¬
sen a mean between these two extrenves, and referred it
to the fifth century: but we are not justified in drawing
this inference from the information of the letters alone,
for it is well known that the same mode of forming
the letters was retained longer in some countries and in
some monasteries than in others.
We are now in possession of a perfect impression of
this manuscript, which is accompanied with so complete
and so critical a collection of various readings, as is
hardly to be expected from the edition of any other
manuscript. Dr Woide published it in 1786, with types
cast for that purpose, line for line, without intervals be¬
tween the words, as in the manuscript itself: the copy
is so perfect a resemblance of the original, that it may
supply its place. Its title is Novum 'J'estamentum Qrce¬
cum e codice MS. Alexandrine qui Londini in Bibliotheca
Musei Britannici asservatur descriptum. It is a very
splendid folio } and the preface of the learned editor con¬
tains an accurate description of the manuscript, with
an exact list of all its various readings, that takes up no
less than 89 pages ; and each reading is accompanied
wish a remark, in which is given an account of what his
predecessors Juninus, Walton, Fell, Mill, Grabe, and
132 Wetstein, had performed or neglected.
Account The Vatican manuscript contained originally the
XV^C tireek Bible, including both the Old and New
siuscript.' Testament; and in this respect, as well as in regard to
its antiquity, it resembles none so much as the Codex
Alexandrians, but no two manuscripts are more dissi¬
milar in their readings, in the New Testament as well
as in the Old. After the Gospels, which are placed in
the usual order, come the Acts of the Apostles, which
are immediately followed by the seven catholic epistles.
This must be particularly noted, because some have con¬
tended that the second Epistle of St Peter, with the
second and third of St John, were wanting. Professor
Jlwiid, in a letter dated Rome, April 12. 1781, assu¬
red Michaelis that he had seen them with his own eyes,
that the second Epistle of St Peter is placed folio 1434,
the second of St John fol. 1442, the third fol. 1443 :
(B) Probably because the Epistle to the Hebrews, as
tion of the Mosaic law.
VoL. XIX. Part I.
then follow the Epistles of St Paul, but not in the Scripture.
usual order; for the Epistle to the Hebrews is pla-  
ced immediately after those to the Thessalonians : and
it is not improbable, that in the more ancient manu¬
script, from which the Codex Vaticanus was copied, this
Epistle was even placed before that to the Ephesians,
and immediately after the Epistle to the Galatians (b);
for the Epistles of St Paul are divided into 93 sec¬
tions by figures written in the margin with red ink ;
but the Epistle to the Galatians ends with $9, and that
to the Ephesians begins with 70 ; the Epistie to the
Hebrews, on the contrary, begins with 60, and ends
with 69. With the words ccfjtufuav ru Gia. Heb. ix. 14.
the manuscript ceases, the remaining leaves being lost.
There is wanting, therefore, not only the latter part of
this Epistle, but the Epistles to Timothy, Titus, and
Philemon, with the Revelation of St John : but this
last book, as well as the latter part of the Epistle to the
Hebrews, has been supplied by a modern hand in the
15th century. In many places the faded letters have
been also retouched by a modern, but careful hand ;
and when the person who made these amendments, who
appears to have been a man of learning, found a read¬
ing in his own manuscript which differed from that of
the Codex Vaticanus, he has noted it in the margin,
and has generally left the text itself untouched, though
in some few examples he has ventured to erase it.
It is certain, that this manuscript is of very high an-
tiquity, though it has been disputed which of the two
in this respect is entitled to the preference, the Vatica¬
nus or Alexandrians. The editors of the Roman edi¬
tion of the Septuagint, in 1587, referred the date of
the Vatican manuscript to the fourth century, the pe¬
riod to which the advocates for its great rival refer the
Codex Alexandrians. More moderate, and perhaps more
accurate, are the sentiments of that great judge of an¬
tiquity Montfaucon, who, in his Bibliotheca Bibliothe-
tarttm, p. 3. refers it to the fifth or sixth century; and
adds, that though he had seen other manuscripts of
equal antiquity, he had found none at the same time so
complete.
The Codex Vaticanus has a great resemblance to the
manuscripts noted by Wetstein, C. D. L. 1. 13. 33.
69. 102. and to the Eatin, Coptic, and Ethiopic ver¬
sions ; but it is preferable to most of them, in being al¬
most entirely free from those undeniable interpolations
and arbitrary corrections which are very frequently
found in the above-mentioned manuscripts, especially in
D. 1. and 69. It may he applied, therefore, as a mean
not only of confirming their genuine readings, but of
detecting and correcting those that are spurious. It is
written with great accuracy, and is evidently a faithful
copy of the more ancient manuscript from which it
was transcribed. Peculiar readings, or such as are
found neither in other manuscripts nor ancient versions,
are seldom discovered in the Codex Vaticanus; and of
the few which have been actually found, the greatest
part are of little importance. But in proportion as the
number of such readings is small, the number of those
is great; in support of which few only, though ancient
authorities,
veil as the Epistle to the Galatians, relates to the aboli-
*
D
26
Scripture.
SCRIPTURE
authorities, have been hitherto produced : But this
. i ; ii  1 ^-.4- TSMirviA I
aiiii,
clU ttlOl*! tlCS j licivt/ •- r
manuscript has not throughout the whole ^ew lest -
ment the same uniform text. > . r Q
As we have now a beautiful printed edition of the
Alexandrian manuscript by Dr Woide, it is muci to
be wished that we had also an exact impression ot the
Vatican manuscript. From the superstitious tears and
intolerant spirit of the inquisition at Rome all access
to this manuscript was retused to the Abbe Spolet ,
who presented a memorial for that purpose. Unless th%
pope interpose his authority, we must therefore despair
of having our wishes gratified j but from the liberality
of sentiment which the head ot the Catholic church has
shown on several occasions, we hope that the period i
not far distant when the Vatican library will be open to
the learned, and when the pope will think it his great¬
est honour to encourage their researches.
x33 The most valuable editions ot the Greek New Testa-
editions of ment are those of Mill, Bengel, and Wetstem
the Greek The edition of Mill, wluch was only finished 14 ^
New Testa-berore death, occupied the attention ot the author
ment are vears
those of 0l^he cohecdons of various readings which had been
made before the time of Mill, the Vdesian the Barhe-
rini, those of Stephens, the London Polyglot and 1
edition, with those which the bishop had left m manu¬
script, and whatever he was able to procure elsewhere,
he brought together into one large collection. He mate
likewise very considerable additions to it. I u co a e
seveXriginal editions more accurately than had been
done before: he procured extracts from Greek manu¬
scripts which had never been collated 5 and of such as
had been before collated, but not with sufficient atten¬
tion, he obtained more complete extracts. It is said
that he has collected from manuscripts, fathers, and v
sions, not fewer than 30,000 various readings. 1 c -
lection, notwithstanding its many _ imperfections an
the superiority of that of Wetstem, is still absolutely ne-
Sr, to every critic : for Wetstein has omitted a great
number of readings which are to be found in Mil , es¬
pecially those which are either taken from the\ ulgate,
or confirm its readings. Mill was indeed too much at¬
tached to this version ; yet lie cannot be accused of par¬
tiality in producing its evidence, because it is the duty
of a critic to examine the witnesses on both sides of
the question : and Wetstein, by too frequently neglect¬
ing the evidence in favour of the Vulgate, has rendered
bis collection less perfect than it would otherwise have
been. He likewise added, as far as he was able, lead¬
ings from the ancient versions-, and is much to be com¬
mended for the great attention which he paid o 1 e
quotations of the fathers;, the importance ot which
had sagacity enough to discern.
It cannot, however, be denied, that Mill s Greek le-
stament has many imperfections, and some of real im¬
portance. His extracts from manuscripts often are not
unrtance. 111s exuavLs nwn. ....... * „ .
only incomplete, but erroneous j and it is frequently ne-
,.^Lw to correct his mistakes from the edition of M et-
cessarv to correct — . ,
stein. ^ His extracts from the oriental versions are also
imperfect, because he was unacquainted with these lan¬
guages -, and in selecting readings from the Syriac, the
Arabic, and Ethiopic, he was obliged to have recourse
to the Latin translations, which are annexed to those
versions in the London Polyglot.
The great diligence which Mill had shown in collec- Scripture..
ting so many various readings, alarmed the clergy as if'
the” Christian religion had been in danger of subversion.
It gave occasion for a time to the triumphs of the deist,
and exposed the author to many attacks. . But it is
now universally known, that not a single article ot the
Christian religion would be altered though a deist were
allowed to select out of Mill’s 30,000 readings what¬
ever he should think most inimical to the Christian
cause. . iiu I34
In 1734, Bengel abbot of Alpirspach, in the duchy Bengel,
of Wurtemburg, published a new edition of the Greek
Testament. The fears which Mill had excited began
to subside on this new publication } for Bengel was
universally esteemed a man of piety. Bengel was not
only diligent in the examination ot various readings,
but in the strictest sense of the word conscientious lor
he considered it as an offence against the Deity, it,
through his own fault, that is, through levity or care¬
lessness, he introduced a false reading into the sacred
text His object was not merely to make a collection
of readings, and leave the choice of them to the judge¬
ment of the reader, but to examine the evidence on both
sides, and draw the inference yet be has not given his
own opinion so frequently as Mill, whom he resembled
in his reverence for the Latin version, and in the pre¬
ference which be gave to harsh and difficult readings,
before those which were smooth and flowing. 11 ‘ray
be observed in general, that he was a man of profound
learning, and bad a cool and sound judgment, though
it did not prevent him from thinking too highly of the
Latin readings, and of the Codex Alexatidrinus, with
other Latinizing manuscripts. _ _ .
The imperfections of Bengel’s edition arise clueiiy
from bis diffidence and caution. He did not venture
to insert into the text any reading vybich had not al¬
ready appeared in some printed edition, even though
he believed it to be the genuine reading. In the book,
of Revelation indeed he took the liberty to insert read¬
ings which had never been printed; because few manu¬
scripts had been used in the printing of that book. . I35
The celebrated edition of John James Wetstein, and of Wet
which is the most important of all, and the most neces-stein,
sary to those engaged in sacred criticism, was published
at Amsterdam in 1751 and 1752, in two volumes folio.
No man will deny that Wetstein’s Prolegomena d.scover
profound erudition, critical penetration, and an intimate
acquaintance with the Greek manuscripts. It is a wor'
which in many respects has given a new turn to sacred
criticism, and no man engaged m that study can dis¬
pense with it. Wherever Wetstein has delivered Ins
sentiments respecting a Greek manuscript, which ie
has done less frequently than Mill, and indeed less
frequently than we could have wished, he shows himself
an experienced and sagacious critic. He is likewise
more concise than Mill in delivering his opinion, and
does not support it by producing so great .a number
of readings from the manuscript in question. I his
conciseness is the consequence of that warmth and haste
which were peculiar to Wetstein’s character, and which
have sometimes given birth to mistakes. . Phe fire of
his disposition was likewise the cause of bis advancing
conjectures, in regard to the history of his manuscripts,
which exceed the hounds of probability. But the cri-
SCRIP
Scripture, tical rules which he has delivered are perfectly just; and
"■ ■■l in this respect there is a remarkable agreement between
him and his eminent predecessors Mill and Benge!.
In regard to the Latin version alone they appear to
differ: in Mill and Bengel it has powerful, and per¬
haps partial, advocates ; but in Wetstein a severe and
sagacious judge, who sometimes condemns it without a
cause. The Greek manuscripts which confirm the read¬
ings of the Vulgate, and which he supposed had been
corrupted from it, he of course condemned with equal
severity : and some collections of various readings which
had been made by Catholics, he made no scruple to
pronounce a forgery, saying, “ Timeo Danaos ct dona
Jerentesd'1 But in consequence of his antipathy to the
Vulgate, his collection of various readings is less perfect
than it might have been.
It has been asked, I. Whether he has quoted his
manuscripts either falsely or imperfectly, in order to
establish his own religious opinions? or, 2. Whether his
diligence and accuracy have been such that we may at
all times depend upon them ? To the first of these ques¬
tions there can be no other answer, than that Wetstein,
in his character of a critic, is perfectly honest. With
respect to the second, his diligence and accuracy, Mi-
chaelis thinks there is less reason to pronounce him
faultless. But Mr Marsh has examined the examples
on which Michaelis founds his assertion, and declares
that Michaelis is mistaken in every one of them.
The diligence of Wetstein can scarcely be questioned
by any who are acquainted with his history. He tra¬
velled into different countries, and examined with his
own eyes a much greater number of manuscripts than
any of his predecessors. His collection of various read¬
ing amounts to a million; and he has not only
produced a much greater quantity of matter than his
predecessors, but has likewise corrected their mistakes.
The extracts from manuscripts, versions, and printed
editions of the Greek Testament, which had been
quoted by Mill, are generally quoted by Wetstein.
Whenever Wetstein had no new extracts from the ma¬
nuscripts quoted by Mill, or had no opportunity of ex¬
amining them himself, he copied literally from Mill ;
but wherever Mill has quoted from printed editions,
as from the margin of Robert Stephens’s for instance,
or from the London Polyglot, Wetstein did not copy
from Mill, but went to the original source, as appears
from his having corrected many mistakes in Mill’s quo¬
tations.
In the opinion of Michaelis, there are many defects
in the edition of Wetstein, which require to be supplied,
and many errors to be corrected. Yet still it must be
allowed to be a work of immense labour, and most valu¬
able to those engaged in sacred criticism ; and it is sur¬
prising, when we consider the difficulties and labour
which Wetstein had to encounter, that his errors and
imperfections are so few.
Ihe proposal of Michaelis, however, of a new col¬
lation of manuscripts, in order to form a complete col¬
lection of various readings, is worthy the attention of
the learned. In mentioning this proposal, Michaelis
turns a wishful eye towards Britain, the only country,
he says, which possesses the will and the means to exe¬
cute the task. Should a resolution, he adds, be formed
in this island, so happily situated for promoting the
T U R E. 27
purposes of general knowledge, to make the under- Scripture,
taking a public concern, to enter into a subscription, '—~v——'
and to employ men of abilities in collating manuscripts
both at home and abroad, they would be able to do more
in ten years than could otherwise be done in a century.
And coujd this nation direct its attention to any object
more glorious or more useful that) in ascertaining the
text of the sacred Scriptures, and giving to posterity an
accurate edition ?
As the sense of Scripture, as well as all other books, Punctua-
is affected by the punctuation, it is of importance to de-tion of the
termine whether the stops or points which we find jn^e'vTesta-
,1 ... 1 , . 1 . mcnt.
the sacred books were used by tbe sacred writers, or
have been inserted by modern transcribers.
We are told by Montfaucon, in his Palceographia
Grceca, p. 31. that the person who first distinguished
the several parts of a period in Greek writing, by the
introduction of a point, was Aristophanes of Byzantium,
who lived under Ptolemgeus Epiphanes, in the 145th
Olympiad. But though points were not used in books
before this period, they were employed in inscriptions
above 400 years before the birth of Christ. See Mont.
Pal. Grcec. p. 135.
. Under the article Punctuation we mentioned, on
authority which we reckoned unquestionable, that the
ancient manuscripts were written without any points.
We have new, however, discovered, from Woide’s edi¬
tion of the Codex Alexandrinus, that points are used in
that manuscript, though omitted in tbe fac simile given
by Montfaucon. That they are found too in the Codex
Vaticanus, though not frequently, is related by Birch in
his Prolegomena, p. 14.
As the fact bus not been generally known, that the
ancients pointed their manuscripts, and as it is an im¬
portant and interesting fact, we shall present our read¬
ers with the first six lines of St John’s Gospel, as they
are pointed in the Alexandrian manuscript:
ENAPXHHNOAOrOSKAIOAOrOZHN
nPOSTONQN KAI©iHNOAOrOi:-
orTOSHNENAPXHrrroETONerN
ITANTAAIATTOTETENETO KAIX£2
PEISATTOTErENETOOTAEEN-
OrErONENENAYT£2Z£iHHN*
Whether any points for marking the sense were used
by the apostles, cannot be determined; but the points
now in use have been invented since.
In the fourth century, Jerome began to add the com¬
ma and colon to the Latin version ; and they were then
inserted in many more ancient manuscripts. In the
fifth century, Euthalius a deacon of Alexandria divided
the INew t estament into lines. This division was re¬
gulated by the sense, so that each line ended where some
pause was to be made in speaking. And when a co¬
pyist was disposed to contract his space, and therefore
crowded the lines into each other, he then placed a
point, where Euthalius had terminated the line. In
the eighth century, the stroke was invented which we
call a comma. In the Latin manuscripts, Jerome’s
points were introduced by Paul Warnfried and Alcuin,
at the command of Charlemagne. In the ninth cen¬
tury, the Greek note of interrogation (; ) was first used.
At the invention of printing the editors placed the
2 points
I
137
Division
into chap
\crs.
I3S
Division
into versus.
SCRIPTURE.
points arbitrarily, probably without bestowing the no-
cessary attention ; and Stephens, in particular, varied
his points in every edition (d). . . ,
The meaning of many passages in the Scripture has
been altered bv false pointing. We shall produce one
instance of this: Mat. v. 34. is commonly pointed m
this manner, syw cs tayw vutv, pi optrai prr£ sv t*)
and consequently translated, “ But I say unto
you,' swear not at all.” But if, instead of the colon
placed after oX*>s> we substitute a comma, the translation
will be, “ But I say to you that vou ought by no means
to swear, either by heaven, for it is his throne or by
earth, for it is his footstool.” The command of Christ
therefore applies particularly to the abuse of oaths
among the Pharisees, who on every trivial occasion
swore by the heaven, the earth, the temple, the head,
&c. but it implies no prohibition to take an oatli m
the name of the Deity on solemn and important occa-
bi°The ancients divided the New Testament into two
kinds of chapters, some longer and some shorter. 1 his
method appears to be more ancient than St Jerome, tor
he expunged a passage from the New Testament, which
makes an entire chapter. The longer kind 01 chapters
were called breves, the shorter capituia. St Matthew
contained, according to Jerome, 68 breves*, Mark con¬
tained 48-, L»ke 83 > and John 18. All the evange¬
lists together consisted of 217 breves and 1126 capituia.
The inventor of our modern division into chapters was
Hugo de S. Caro, a French Dominican friar, who
lived in the 13th century.
The ancients had two kinds of verses, one of which
they called and the other ^xt». The remata
were lines which contained a certain number ot letters,
like our printed books, and therefore often broke oft in
the middle of a word. Josephus’s 20 books of Antiqui¬
ties contained 60,000 of them, though in Ittiqms s edi¬
tion there are only 40,000 broken lines.
Stic hi were lines measured by the sense: according to
an ancient written list mentioned by Father Simin, there
were in the New Testament 18,612 of these. _
The verses into which the New Testament is now
divided are more modern, and an imitation of the di¬
vision of the Old Testament. Robert Stephens, the
first inventor, introduced them in his edition in the year
1551. He made this division on a journey from Lyons Scripture,
to Paris •, and, as his son Flenry tells us in the preface v
to the Concordance of the New lestament, he made it
inter equitandum. This phrase probably means, that
when he was weary of riding, he amused himself with
this work at his inn. _ . 139
This invention of the learned printer was soon introrjts diSad-
duced into all the editions of the New Testament ; and vantages,
it must be confessed, that in consulting and quoting the
Scriptures, and in framing concordances lor them, a sub¬
division into minute parts is of the greatest utility. But
all the purposes of utility could surely have been gam¬
ed, without adopting the hasty and indigested division
of Stephens, which often breaks the sense in pieces,
renders plain passages obscure, and difficult passages un¬
intelligible. To the injudicious division of Stephens
we may ascribe a great part of the difficulties which
attend the interpretation ot the New lestament, and a
<n-eat many of those absurd opinions which have dis¬
graced the ages of the Reformation. For as separate
verses appear to the eyes of the learned, and to the
minds of the unlearned, as so many detached sentences,
they have been supposed to contain complete sense, and
they have accordingly been explained without any re¬
gard to the context, and often in direct opposition to
it. Were any modern history or continued discourse
divided into fragments with as little regard to the sense,
we should soon find, that as many opposite meanings
could be forced upon them as have been forced upon
the books of the New Testament. The division into
verses has been still more injurious to the Epistles than
to the Gospels, for there is a close connection between
the different parts of the Epistles, which the verses en¬
tirely dissolve. It is therefore to be wished that this
division into verses were laid aside. The Scriptures
ought to be divided into paragraphs, according to the
sense j and the figures ought to he thrown into the mar¬
gin. In this way, the figures will retain their utility
without their disadvantages. Dr Campbell, in his
beautiful translation of the Gospels, has adopted this
method with great judgment and success*, and he who
will read that translation, will perceive that this single
alteration renders the Gospels much more intelligible,
and, we may add, more entertaining (e). i4o
The word EYAITEAION signifies any joyful tidings, Meaning of
and the word
Gospel.
m-l The reader will perceive that the account of the origin of points is d.fftrent from that given under PuNC
(D) I he reader v p . subject. We shall perhaps reconcile the difference, by supposing
ZTpoiL were tZtZ'Z fjZ nLoJt, hut were not In general use till the time tnentroned under
^(E^We^halniere^ubjoin, as a ^chi^er^^veKes^words^and^lette^^whhdilocmu English
oi the author, life, ;„d rs a s^ar instance of
the trifling employments to which superstition has led mankind.
The Old and New Testament dissected.
Books in the Old
Chapters
V erses
Words
Letters
39
929
23,2I4
592>439
2,728,100
in the New
27
260
7959
181,253
838,380
Total
66
1189
3I>I73
7735692
3,566,480
Apocryph.
Chapters 183
Verses 6081
Words 152,185
The
SCRIPTURE.
29
i4i
Gospel ac¬
cording to
St Mat¬
thew.
Scripture, and exactly corresponds to our English word Gospel.
l~~-~v 11 In the New Testament this term i.<4 confined to “ rI'he
glad tidings of the coming of the Messiah.” Thus, in
Mat. xi. 5. our Lord says, “ The poor have the Gospel
preached 3” that is, The coming of the Messiah is
preached to the poor. Hence the name of Gospel was
given to the histories of Christ, in which the good news
of the coming of the Messiah, with all its joyful circum¬
stances, are recorded.
That the Gospel according to Matthew was compo¬
sed, says Dr Campbell, by one born a Jew, familiarly
acquainted with the opinions, ceremonies, and customs
of h is countrymen 3 that it was composed by one con¬
versant in the sacred writings, and habituated to their
idiom ; a man of plain sense, hut of little or no learning,
except what he derived from the Scriptures of the Old
Testament; and finally, that it was the production of
a man who wrote from conviction, and had attended
closely to the facts and speeches which he related, but
who in writing entertained not the most distant view
of setting off himself—we have as strong internal evi¬
dence as the nature of the thing will admit, and much
stronger than that wherein the mind ninety-nine cases
out of a hundred acquiesces.
That the author of this history of our blessed Savi¬
our was Matthew, appears from the testimony of the
early Christians. It is attested by Jerome, Augustin,
Epiphanius, and Chrysostom, and in such a manner as
shews that they knew the fact to be uncontroverted,
and judged it to be uncontrovertible. Origen, who
flourished in the former part of the 3d century, is also
respectable authority. He is quoted by Eusebius in a
* Hist. lib. chapter* wherein he specially treats of Origen’s account
vi. cap. 25. of the sacred canon. “ As I have learned (says Ori¬
gen) by tradition concerning the four gospels, which
alone are received without dispute by the whole church
of God under heaven 3 the first was written by Mat¬
thew, once a publican, afterwards an apostle of Jesus
Chrst, who delivered it to the Jewish believers, composed
in the Uebrew languagei1'1 In another place he says,
“ Matthew writing for the Hebrews who expected him
who was to descend from Abraham and David, says
142
Its authen¬
ticity.
the lineage ol .7f ;us Christ, son of David, son of Abra- Scripture.
ham.” It must he observed, that the Greek word ' ^
does not exactly correspond to the English
word tradition, which signifies any thing delivered orally
from age. to age. Tlx^xotris properly implies any thing
transmitted from former ages, whether by oral or writ¬
ten testimony. In this acceptation we find it used in
Scripturet: “ Hold the traditions (t«; 2r«tg(*£«o-e<5) which f Thess. iL
ye have been taught, whether by word or our epistle.'" ‘5*
The next authority to which we shall have recourse
is that of Iremeus bishop of Lyons, who had been a
disciple of Polycarp. He says, in the only book of his
extant, that “ Matthew, among the Hebrews, wrote a.Euseb.Hi*r
gospel in their own language, whilst Peter and Paul ^c/. lib. v„
were preaching the gospel at Home and founding thecaP- S-
church there.”
To the testimony of these writers it may be objected,
that, except Irenseus, they all lived in the third and
fourth centuries, and consequently their evidence is of
little importance. But there is such unanimity in the
testimony, that it must have been derived from som&
authentic source. And is it fair to question the vera¬
city of respectable men merely because we knew not
from what writings they received their information ?
Many books which were then extant are now lost 3 and
how do we know but these might have contained suf¬
ficient evidence ? Irenseus at least had the best oppor¬
tunities of information, having been well acquainted in
his youth with Polycarp, the disciple of John 3 no ob¬
jection can therefore be made to his evidence. But
we can quote an authority still nearer the times of the
apostles. Papias bishop of Hierapolis, in Csesarea, who
flourished about A. D. 116, affirms that Matthew wrote
his gospel in the Hebrew tongue, which every one in¬
terpreted as he was able §. Papias was the companion § Euseb.
of Polycarp, and besides must have been acquainted with Hist. EecI.
many persons who lived in the time of the apostles. 1,ib' caiv
The fact therefore is fully established, that Matthew,c>9'
the apostle of our Saviour, was the author of that gos¬
pel which is placed first in our editions of the New
Testament.
The next subject of inquiry respects the language in
which
The middle Chapter and the least in the Bible is Psalm 117.
The middle Verse is the 8th of the 118th Psalm.
The middle time is the 2d of Chronicles, 4th Chap. 16th Verse.
The word And occurs in the Old Testament 35,543 times.
The same in the New Testament occurs 10,684 times.
The word Jehovah occurs 6855 times.
Old Testament.
The middle Book is Proverbs.
The middle Chapter is Job 2()th*
The middle \erse is 2d Chron. 20th Chap, between 17th and 18th Verses.
The least Verse is 1 Chron. 1st Chap, and 1st Verse.
New Testament. .
The middle Book is Thessalonians 2d.
The middle Chapter is between the 13th and 14th Romans.
Ihe middle verse is 17th Chap. Acts, 17th Verse.
The least verse is nth Chap. John, Verse 35.
Ihe 21st Verse of the 7th Chapter of Ezra has all the letters of the alphabet.
Ihe 19th Chapter of 2d Kings and 37th of Isaiah are alike.
3°
Scripture.
M3
Language
in which,
it was writ
ten.
scripture.
which it was written. This we are aspred Tapias
by Ire.nseus, and Origen, was the Hebrew •, but he
truth of this fact has been disputed by Erasmus V 1 -
by, and others. Whitby urges the improbability that
Providence would have suffered the orig.nai ot this
oospel to be lost, and nothing to remain but a transla-
This is an argument et no force against written
. . , °  nf (tcaWinff
144
Date,
hardner’s
Hist, of the
Apostles.
MS.
and design
of it.
Dr Camp-
hell's Pre¬
face to
Matthew's
Gospel.
tlOll. HUS is an aigumw..^ --- --- u
testimony ; indeed we are always in danger of drawing
false conclusions when we argue from our own opinions
of the conduct of Providence : For Hts ways are no
us our ways, nor His thoughts as our thoughts. But
though we are forced to acknowledge that the gospel
according to Matthew which we possess is a translation,
it is evidently a close one •, and the very circumstance
that if has superseded the original, is a clear proof that
ft was thought equally valuable by the ancient Christi¬
ans It is necessary to remark, that the anguag
which the gospel according to Matthew was onginal-
ly composed, and which is called Hebrew by Papias,
Iren ecus, and Origen, is not the same with the Hebrew
of the Old Testament : it was what Jerome veiy pro¬
perly terms Syro-Chaldaic, having an affinity to both
languages, but much more to the Chaldean than to the
SyThe‘ time when this gospel was composed has not
been precisely ascertained by the learned. Irenceus says
that “ Matthew published his gospel when Peter and
Paul were preaching at Rome.” Now ^ ^
Rome A. D. 60 or 61, and it is very probable suffered
martyrdom in A. 1). 65. This may be jusBy concluded
from comparing the relation of 1 acitus with that.
Orosius, a writer of the fifth century. Orosuus having
given an account of Nero’s persecution of he Chr,stun ,
and of the death of the two apostles in it, adds that t
was followed by a pestilence in the city, and other (li¬
ters And Tacitus relates that a pestilence preyaile
in the city, and violent storms took place in Italy, m the
year of Christ 65. Matthew’s gospel was therefore wilt-
ten between the year 60 and 65- . . „ .
That this history was primarily intended for the use
of the Jews, we have besides historical evidence very
strong presumptions from the book itself. Eveiy c r
cuinstance is carefully pointed out which might concili¬
ate the faith of that nation ; every unnecessary expres¬
sion is avoided, which might in any way serve to ob¬
struct it. To come to particulars, there was no senti¬
ment relating to the Messiah with winch the Jews were
more strongly possessed, than that he mus be of the race
7kbS.'»d of .he fan’ll; *f DavW. MaUhew
therefore with great propriety, begins his narrative with
“eklogy of Jels! That he should be born at
Bethlehem in Judea, is another circumstance in which
the learned among the Jews were universally agreed.
His birth in that city, with some very memorable cu-
cumstances that attended it, this historian has also taken
the first opportunity to mention. I hose passages in the
prophets, or other sacred books, which either loretel any
thing that should happen to him, or admit an abusive
appellation, or were in that age generally understood to
be applicable to events which respect the Messiah, are
never passed over in silence by this Evangelist. The
fulfilment of prophecy was always to the fews who
were convinced of the inspiration ot their sacred writ
£pgSf strong evidence. Accordingly none ot the Lvan-
oelists has been more careful than Matthew, that no- Scnpturr.^
thing of this kind should be overlooked. ^ ^6 .
That which chiefly distinguishes Matthew s writings Distin_
from those of the other Evangelists, is the minute andguisl)ing
distinct manner in which he has related many of our character.
Lord’s discourses and moral instructions. Ot these Ins
sermon on the mount, his charge to the apostles, his
illustrations of the nature of his kingdom, and h.s pro¬
phecy on Mount Olivet, are examples. _ He has also
wonderfully united simplicity and energy in relating the
replies of his master to the cavils of Ins adversaues. Be¬
ing early called to the apostleship, he was an eye and ear
witness of most of the things which he relates. And
these are circumstances which incline Dr Campbell to
think that Matthew has approached as near the precise
order of time in which the events happened as any ot
the Evangelists. , „. , ,
Concerning tl.e life of tl,e apostle Matthew we W
nothing to add, as the principal circumstances in ins life
have already been mentioned. See Matthew. .
The Gospel according to Matthew is cited seven times
in the epistle of Barnabas, twice in the first epistle of
Clemens Romanus to the Corinthians, eight times in the
Shepherd of Hernias, six times in Folycarp s small epis¬
tle to the Philippians, and seven times in the smaller
epistles of Ignatius. These citations may be seen at
full length in Jones's New and Full Method oj settling
the Canon, with the parallel passages m the gospel ac¬
cording to Matthew. , . , 1 r' 1^i *
That Mark was the author of the gospel which bears Gospel ac-
his name, and that it was the second in the order ot gL Mark.
time is proved by the unanimous testimony ot the an- I48
cient Christians. ' Many authorities are therefore un- Its autfien-
cessary, we shall only mention ^ those of Papias^ and ticity,
CcSbtll V j we aiictu j
Irenseus. Eusebius has’ preserved the following passage ^ £cc/
of Papias: “ This is what was related by the elderjii. cap.
(that is, John, not the apostle, but a disciple of Jesus)^^.
Mark being Peter’s interpreter wrote exactly whatever
he remembered, not indeed in the order wherein things
were spoken and done by the Lord’, for he was not Him¬
self a hearer or follower of our Lord j but he afterwards,
as I said, followed Peter, who gave instructions as suited
the occasions, but not as a regular history of our Lord s
teaching. Mark, however, committed no mistake in
writing such things as occurred to his memory : for ol
this one thing he was careful, to omit nothing which he
had heard, and to insert no falsehood into his narrative.
Such is the testimony of Papias, which is the more to be
regarded as he assigns his authority. He spake not from
hearsay, but from the information which he had recei¬
ved from a most credible witness, John the elder, 01
presbyter, a disciple of Jesus, and a companion of the
^Tmiius, after telling us that Matthew published his and date,
(rosnel whilst Peter and Paul were preaching at Rome,
& J .. . n. .1 • 1 ^  olen flip
gospel wmisi 1 eiei aim a am   . 7 Adv. Hcer.
adds : “ After their departure Mark also, the lib ^i. cap,
disciple and interpreter of Peter, delivered v,s I>
writing the things which had been preached by I eter.
The Greek like the English word departure,
may either denote death, which is a departure out of
the world, or mean a departure out ot the city. It is
probably in the former of these senses it is here used.
Yet by the accounts given by some others, Mark’s
gospel was published in Peter’s lifetime, and had his
& approbation.
Preface
Mark.
Pet.
Language
in which it
was writ¬
ten.
S C R I
Scripture, approbation. The gospel of Mark is supposed to be
but two years posterior in date to that of Matthew.
The precise year, however, cannot be determined with
certainty j and it is a matter of no importance, since we
have ascertained the author and the time in which he
lived.
Mark has generally been supposed to be the same
person who is mentioned in the Acts and some of Paul’s
epistles, who is called John, and was the nephew of Bar¬
nabas. But as this person was the attendant of Paul
and Barnabas, and is nowhere in scripture said to have
accompanied Peter in his apostolical mission, which
ancient writers informs us the author of the gospel did,
Dr Campbell has justly concluded that these were dif¬
ferent persons. The author of the gospel is certainly
meant by Peter when he says, Marcus my son saluteth
you. *.
That Mark wrote his gospel in Greek, is as evidently
conformable to the testimony of antiquity, as that Mat¬
thew wrote his in Hebrew or Syro-Chaldaic. The car-
dinalsBaronius and Bellarmine, anxious to exalt thelan-
guage in which the vulgate was written, have maintained
that this Evangelist published his work in Latin. The
only appearance of testimony which has been produced
in support of this opinion is the inscription subjoined to
this gospel in Syriac, and in some other oriental versions.
But these postscripts are not the testimonies of the trans¬
lators : they proceed from the conjecture of some tran¬
scriber; but when written, or by whom, is equally un¬
known. Against positive testimony, therefore, they are
entitled to no credit.
From the Hebraisms in the style, we should readily
conclude that the author was by birth and education a
Jew. There are also expi essions which show that he
had lived for some time among the Latins, as kwtv^uv,
“ centurion,” and crcnxa/aeTiyg, “sentinel;” words which
do not occur in the other gospels. There are other
internal evidences that this gospel was written be¬
yond the confines of Judea. The first time the Jor¬
dan is mentioned, 7rar<*4tflj, “ river,” is added to the
name for explanation ; for though no person in Judea
needed to be informed that Jordan was a river, the case
was different in distant countries. The word Gehenna,
which is translated He/l in the New Testament, origi¬
nally signified the Valley of Hinnom, where infants had
been sacrificed by fire to Moloch, and where a conti¬
nual fire was afterwards kept up to consume the filth of
Jerusalem. As this word could not have been under¬
stood by a foreigner, tbe Evangelist adds, by way of
explanation, to “ the unquenchable fire.”
Instead of the word Mammon, he uses the common
term “ riches.” When he employs the oriental
word Carbon, he subjoins the interpretation o t<n $agov,
hat is, “ a gift.” These peculiarities will corroborate
the historical evidence that has been already mentioned,
that Mark intended his gospel for the use of the Gen¬
tiles.
It has been affirmed that this evangelist is theabridger
of Matthew. It is true that Mark sometimes copies
the expressions used by Matthew; but he is not to be
considered as a mere abridger, for he omits altogether
several things related by Matthew, viz. our Lord’s pe¬
digree, his birth, the visit of tbe Magians, Joseph’s
flight into Egypt, and the cruelty of Herod. Dr
Lardner has given a list of thirty-three passages, where-
4
151
Design of
lit.
| Dr Camp-
bell’s Pre-
ttl face to
Mark’s
Gospel.
*52
Vlark not
he abrid-
er of Mat
hew.
P T U R E. 31
in circumstances are related which are omitted by the Scripture.
other evangelists.' There is one parable, and an account' v—1 ■'
of two miracles peculiar to Mark. The parable or si¬
militude is mentioned in chap. iv. 26. One of these
miracles was tbe curing of a deaf and dumb man, chap,
vii. 31, 37. The other was the giving sight to a blind
man at Bethsaida, chap. viii. 22, 26. The style of
Mark, instead of being more concise than that of Mat¬
thew, is more diffuse. That he had read Matthew’s
gospel cannot be doubted, but that he abridged it, is a
mistake.
According to the testimony which has been already but derived
produced, Mark derived his information from the apostle hisud'orma-
Peter. It would be improper, therefore, not to remark,
that this evangelist has omitted many things tending to
Peter’s honour, which are related in the other gospels,
and has given the most particular account of Peter’s fall.
This gospel is seven times cited by Irenaeus, and nine
times by Tertullian. ^
That the author of the gospel which is the third in Gospelac-
order was Luke, the companion of the apostle Paul, is cording to
evident from the testimonies of Irenseus, Clemens of^1 i.uke.
Alexandria, Origen, Tertullian, and many succeeding
writers. But it has been disputed whether he was a
Jew or a Gentile. That Luke was a Jew by birth, or
at least by religion, may be argued from his being a
constant companion of Paul. If he had been an un¬
circumcised Gentile, exceptions would have been made
to him, especially at Jerusalem ; but nothing of that
kind appears. It is also rendered highly probable, from
his mode of computing time by the Jewish festivals, and
from his frequent use of the Hebrew idiom, it has been
supposed that Luke was one of the 70 disciples ; but lie
does not pretend to have been a witness of our Lord’s
miracles and teaching ; on the contrary, he tells us in
his introduction, that he received his information from
others.
The design of Luke in writing his gospel was to su- Design’of
persede some imperfect and inaccurate histories of our it.
Saviour, which had then been published. What these
were, it is impossible now to determine, as they are
not mentioned by any contemporary writer, and pro¬
bably did not survive the age in which they were com-
1,0STed- . r56
It has been supposed that Luke chiefly derived his From what
information from the apostle Paul, whom he faithfully source of
attended in his travels ; but, from Luke’s own words,infor“,a"
we are led to conclude, that the principal source of I'is derived"^
intelligence, as to the facts related in the gospel, was
from those who had been eye and ear witnesses of what
our Lord both did and taught. Now Paul evidently
was not of this number. It was from conversing with
some of the twelve apostles or disciples of our Lord, who
heard his discourses and saw his miracles, that he ob¬
tained his information.
As to the time when this gospel was written, we have
hardly any thing but conjecture to guide us. But as
Origen, Eusebius, and Jerome, have ranged it after
those of Matthew and Mark, we have no reason to doubt
but they were written in the same order.
The gospel by Luke has supplied us with many
foresting particulars which had been omitted both byplk-Vmany
Matthew and Mark. It has given a distinct narration omissions of
of the circumstances attending the birth of John the t^ie tw0 for'
Baptist and the nativity of our Saviour. It has given mergospeIs*
an
32 SCRIP
Scripliirp. an account of several memorable mciaenU and cures
T)r Camp-
bell's Pre¬
face to
Jjiike's
Gospel.
TSS
■Style anti
com
It
ati accnuai oi scvcio.*   
which had been overlooked by toe rest *, the conver¬
sion of Zaccheus the publican •, the cure oi the woman
who had been bowed down for 18 years; the cure o
the dropsical man *, the cleansing of the ten epers, the
inhospitable treatment of our Saviour by the Samari¬
tans, and the instructive rebuke which he gave on that
occasion to two of his disciples tor their intemperate
zeal: also the affecting interview which he had alter hr
resurrection with two of his disciples. Luke has also
added many edifying parables to those which the othe
evangelists had recorded. Most of these are spec Bed
bv Irenaeus as particularly belonging to this gospel,
and has thereby shown to us, without intending it that
the gospel of Luke was the same in his time that it is
e and ^ ThTstyle of this evangelist abounds as much with
position Hebraisms as any of the sacred writings, but it contains
more of the Grecian idiom than any of them. It is
also distinguished by greater variety and copiousness,
qualities which may be justly ascribed to the superior
learning of the author. His occupation as a physician
would Naturally induce him to employ some time m
reading, and give him easier access to the company of
the great than any of the other evangelists As an
instance of Luke’s copiousness, Dr Campbell has re¬
marked that each of the evangelists lia3 ^ n^be^
words which are used by none of the rest, t>u. in L >
gospel the number of such peculiarities cr words, used
in none of the other gospels, is greater than that of the
peculiar words found in all the three other gospels put
together; and that the terms peculiar to Luke are h r
the most part long and compound words. The same
judicious writer has also observed, that there ,s more of
iomposition in Luke’s sentences than is found m the
other three, and consequently less simplicity Of tins
the very first sentence is an example, which occupies
no less than four verses. Luke, too, has a greater re-
semblance to other historians, ,n giving what may be
called his own verdict in the narrative part of this work;
a freedom which the other evangelists have seldom or
never ventured to use. He calls tlm Pharisees lovers
of money; in distinguishing Judas Iscariot from the
other Judas, he uses the phrase, he who proved* traitor,
u Matthew and Mark express the
same sentiment in milder language “ he who delivered
him up.” In recording the moral instructions of our
Lord, especially his parables, this evangelist has united
an affecting sweetness of manner with genuine simph-
tl$This cmspel is frequently cited by Clemens Romanus,
the contemporary of the Apostles, by Ignatius and Jus¬
tin Martyr. Iremeus has made above a hundred cita
tions from it. In his lib. iii. adv. Hares c 14. he vin¬
dicates the authority and perfection of Luke s gospel,
and has produced a collection of those facts which aie
only recorded by this evangelist. .... o
That the eospel which is placed last in our editions
of the New Testament was written by John, one of our
Saviour’s apostles, is confirmed by the unanimous testi¬
mony of the ancient Christians. He was the son of Ze-
bedee, a fisherman of Bethsaida m Galilee, by h.s wife
Salome, and the brother of James, surnamed the elder
or greater. He was the beloved disciple of our Saviour,
and was honoured, along with Peter and James, with
Chap xvi.
*4-
i59
Cited by
ancient
Christian
authors.
160
-Gospel ac¬
cording to
John.
T U R E.
many marks of distinction which were not conferred on ScapUire..
the other disciples. He possessed a high degree of nitre- ~ C—
pidity and zeal, a warm and affectionate heart and was
strongly attached to his master. His brother James and
he were honoured with the title of Boanerges, or 60ns
of Thunder. He was anxious to restrain whatever lie
consideied as a mark of disrespect against his master,and
to punish his enemies with severity. He was incensed
against some persons for attempting to cast out demons
in the name of Jesus; and required them to desist because
they were not his disciples. James and he proposed to
our Saviour to call down fire from heaven to punish the
inhospitable Samaritans. Nor was the courage of John
less ardent than his zeal. When Peter had disowned his
Lord, and all the other disciples had fled, John conti¬
nued to attend his master. He was present at his trial,
and followed him to the cross, where he was a specta¬
tor of his sufferings and death. The interview between
Jesus and this disciple at Calvary, though concisely re¬
lated, is an event which will strongly affect every man
of feeling, while it convinces him of the unalterable
affection of Jesus to his beloved disciple, as well as
discovers his respectful tenderness tor his mother, bee
John. .• I61
The ancients inform us, that there were two motives Motives
which induced John to write Ins gospel; the one, that ^
he might refute the heresies of Cennthus and the Nico-
laitans, who had attempted to corrupt the Christian
doctrine; the other motive was, that he might supply
those important events in the life of our Saviour which
the other evangelists had omitted. Of the former of
these motives Irenaeus gives us the folloiving account :
“ John, desirous to extirpate the errors sown in the
minds of men by Cerinthus, and some time before by
those called Nicolaitans, published his gospel ; wherein
he acquaints us that there is one God, who made all
things by his word, and not, as they say, one who is
the Creator of the world, and another who is the father
of the Lord ; one the son of the Creator, and another
the Christ, from the supercelestial abodes who descend¬
ed upon Jesus, the son of the Creator, but remained
impassible, and afterwards fled back into his own pie-
roma or fulness.” As Iremeus is the most ancient an-
thor who has written upon this subject, many appeals l6z
have Wen made to his authority. The authonty of Not town.
Irenseus is certainly respectable, and we have often je-
ferred to his testimony with confidence ; but we think
it necessary to make a distinction between receiving Ins
testimony to a matter of fact, and implicitly adopting
his opinion. He does not tell us, that he derived his
information from any preceding writer, or indeed from
any person at all. Nay, he seems to have believed that
John wrote against these heresies by a prophetic spirit;
for he says in another place, chap. xx. 30. “ As John
the disciple of our Lord assures us, saying, But these
are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the
Christ, the Son of God, and that believing ye might
have life through his name; foreseeing these blas¬
phemous notions that divide the Lord, so far as it is in
their powerf*
Indeed it seems very improbable tnat an apostle
should write a history of our Lord on pm pose to con¬
fute the wild opinions of Cerinthus or any other here¬
tic. Had John considered such a confutation neces¬
sary, it is more likely that he would have intioduced it
] into
Scripture.
i6i
But to
prove that
Jesus was
the .Mes¬
siah the
Son of
tiod.j
♦ John xv.
I1’
, ^4
Is a supple
ment to
the other
three gos¬
pels.
Dr Camp,
bell's Pre¬
face to
Johns
Gospel.
SCRIP
into an epistle tlian blended it with the actions of his ve¬
nerable Master. But were the opinion of Irenaeus well-
founded, we should surely discover some traces of it in
the gospel of John j yet except in the introduction,
there is nothing that can with the least shadow of pro¬
bability be applied to the opinions of Cerinthus ; and
few, we presume, will affirm, that the gospel of John
was composed merely for the sake of the first eighteen
verses.
I he intention of John in writing his gospel was far
more extensive and important than to refute the opi¬
nions of a few men who were to sink into oblivion in the
course of a few centuries. It was evidently (according
to the opinion of Clemens of Alexandria) to supply the
omissions of the other evangelists : It was to exhibit the
evidences of the Christian religion in a distinct and per¬
spicuous manner: It was, as he himself in the conclu¬
sion of his gospel assures us, to convince his readers,
that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that be¬
lieving they might have life through his name*. Now it
will appear to any person who reads this gospel with
attention, that he has executed his plan with astonish¬
ing ability, and has given the most circumstantial and
satisfactory evidence that Jesus was the Messiah the Son
of God. After decla ring the pre-existence of Jesus,
he proceeds to deliver the testimony of John the Bap¬
tist, and selects some of the greatest miracles of Jesus,
to prove his divine mission. In the fifth chapter he
presents us with a discourse which our Saviour deliver¬
ed in the temple in the presence of the Jews, wherein
he states in a very distinct manner the proofs of his
mission from, I. The testimony of John j 2. His own mi¬
racles j 3. The declaration of the Father at his baptism j
4. The Jewish Scriptures. Indeed the conclusion that
Jesus was the Messiah the Son of God, naturally arises
from almost every miracle which our Saviour is said to
have performed, and from every discourse that he de¬
livered. ibis declaration is very often made by our
Saviour himself ; particularly to the woman of Sama¬
ria, to Nicodemus, and to the blind man whom he had
cured
It must he evident to every reader, that John studi¬
ously passes over those passages in our Lord’s history
and teaching which had been treated at large by the
other evangelists, or, if he mentions them at all, he men¬
tions them slightly. This confirms the testimony of
ancient writers, that the first three gospels were writ¬
ten and published before John composed his gospel.
Except the relation of our Saviour’s trial, death, and
resurrection, almost every thing which occurs in this
book is new. The account of our Saviour’s nativity,
of his baptism, and of his temptation in the wilderness,
is omitted ; nor is any notice taken of the calling of
the twelve apostles, or of their mission during our Sa¬
viour’s life. It is remarkable, too, that not one pa¬
rable is mentioned, nor any of the predictions relating
to the destruction of Jerusalem. All the miracles re°
T U R E.
33
corded by the other evangelists are passed over, except Scripture.
the miraculous supply of provision, by which five thou- v  '
sand wrere fed : and it is probable that this miracle was
related for the sake of the discourse to which it gave
birth. rI he other miracles which are mentioned are
few in number, but in general they are minutely de¬
tailed. They consist of these : the turning of water
into wine at Cana $ the cure of the diseased man at the
pool of Bethesda the cure of the man that had been
blind from his birth ; the restoring of Lazarus to life ;
and the healing of the servant’s ear which Peter had
cut off. But valuable would this gospel be, though it
had only recorded the consolation of Jesus to his dis¬
ciples previous to his departure j which exhibits a most
admirable view of our Saviour’s character, of his caie
and tender regard for his disciples. Having opened
every source of comfort to their desponding minds
exhorted them to mutual love, and to the obedience of
his lather’s precepts; having warned them of the im¬
pending dangers and sorrows—our Saviour concludes
with a prayer, in the true spirit of piety and benevo¬
lence ; ardent without enthusiasm, sober and rational
without lukewarmness. l6l.
The time in which this gospel wTas written has not Time at
been fixed with any precision. Irenseus informs us, that "Hch
it was written at Ephesus, but leaves us to conjectuie wr*1”
whether it was written before or after John’s return
from Patmos. He was banished to Patinos by Domi-
tian, who reigned 15 years, and according to the best
computation died A. 1). 96. The persecution which
occasioned the exile of John commenced in the 14th
year of Homitian’s reign. If John wrote his gospel
after his return to Ephesus, which is affirmed by Epi-
phanius to have been the case, we may fix the date of it
about the year 97 (r).
This gospel is evidently the production of an illite-Style oi’U.
rate Jew, and its style is remarkable for simplicity. It
abounds more with Hebraisms than any of the other
gospels; and contains some strong oriental figures which
are not readily understood by an European.
1 his gospel is cited once by Clemens Romanus, by Often quo-
Barnabas three times, by Ignatius five times, by Justin by ®n;
Martyrsix times, by Irenaeus, and above forty times hv^'f”4 *
/~> 1 4 1 i • * ^ fciiciriSf
LJemens Alexandrinus. 1(j8
The hook which we intitle the Acts of the Apostles Acts of the
connects the gospels and the epistles. It is evidently a ^Postlo*
continuation of Luke’s gospel, which appears both from
the introduction and from the attestations of ancient
Christians. Both are dedicated to Theophilus; and in
the beginning of the Acts a reference is made to his
gospel, which he calls a former treatise, recording the
actions and discourses of Jesus till his ascension to
heaven. Luke is mentioned as the author of the Acts
of the Apostles by Irenaeus, by Tertullian, by Orisen,
and Eusebius. J ’
From the frequent use of the first person plural, it is
manifest that Luke the author was present at many of
the
1,1*21!.1 !mV,°en a,r?ued fT a passage in this gospel, that it must have been written before the destruction of
aalpm ” ,T\r» in'^ ° Jt l1e 1!°o1 0< Be^iesda, John uses the present tense : 'His words are, “ There is at Jeru-
ow 1 iese woids had been written after the destruction of Jerusalem, it is urged the past tense would
1 . , , , ;   rtuci me uesuuciion or Jerusalem, it
ave Hen use , ant not the present. 1 his argument is more specious than forcible,
mohshed does it follow that the pool of Bethesda was dried up ?
vol. AlA.. Fart I. ±
Though Jerusalem was do-
Contents
of that
Look.
170
Often cited
by the ear¬
ly Christi¬
ans.
I7I.
The epis¬
tles.]
172
General
plan of
them.
173
Arranged
in chrono
logical or
der.
SCRIP
the transactions which he relates. Be appears to ha>e
accompanied Paul from Troas to Philippi. He attend¬
ed him also to Jerusalem, and afterwards to Kome, uhue
he remained for two years. He is mentioned by 1 aul
in several of those epistles which were written from
Rome, particularly in the 2d epistle to limothy, and in
the epistle to Philemon. . ,
This book contains the history of the Christian church
for th.e space of about 28 or 30 years, from the time of
our Saviour’s ascension to Paul’s arrival at Home in the
years 60 or 61. As it informs us that 1 aul resided two
vears in Rome, it must have been written after the year
63 : and as the death of Paul is not mentioned it is
probable it was composed before that event, which hap¬
pened A. D. 65- . . - ■» .
The Acts of the Apostles may be divided into seven
parts. 1. The account of our Saviour’s ascension, and
of the occurrences which happened on the first I ente-
cost after that event, contained in chap. 1. a. ’e
transactions of the Christians of the circumcision at
Jerusalem, in Judea, and Samaria, chap, m.-jx- x».
1 —2I. xii. 3. Transactions in Caesarea, and the ad¬
mission of the Gentiles, chap, x- 4. The first circuit o
Barnabas and Paul among the Gentiles, chap, xu - .
xiii. xiv. C. Embassy to Jerusalem, and the first coun¬
cil held in that city, chap. xv. 6. Paul’s second jour¬
ney chap. xvi.—xxi. 7. Kis arrestment, trial, appea
to Caesar, and journey to Rome, chap. xxi. to tie en
°f The'Tilts of Apostles are cited by Clemens Roma-
nus, by Polycarp, by Justin Martyr thirty tunes by
Iren ecus, and seven times by Clemens Alexandnnus
All the essential doctrines and precepts of the Ghr
tian religion were certainly taught by our Saviour him¬
self and are contained in the gospels. I he ep
may be considered as commentaries on the doctrines of
the gospel, addressed to particular societies, accommo¬
dated to their respective situations •, intended to ictute
the errors and false notions which prevailed among
them, and to inculcate those virtues in which they were
most deficient. .
The plan on which these Letters are written is,
fust, to decide the controversy, or refute the erroneous
notions which had arisen in the society to which the
epistle was addressed : And, secondly, to recommend
those duties which their false doctrines might induce
them to neglect •, at the same time inculcating in ge¬
neral exhortations the most important precepts of Chris¬
tian morality. „ p ,
of the eiiistles fourteen were written by bt. 1 aul.
These are not placed according to the order of time in
which they were composed, but according to the sup¬
posed precedence of the societies or persons to whom
they were addressed. It will be proper, therefore, to
exhibit here their chronological order according to Ur
Lardner.
a Table of St Paul's Epistles, with the Places
where, and times when, written, according to Dr
Lardner.
T U R E
Epistles.
I Corinthians
1 Timothy
Titus
2 Corinthians
Romans
Ephesians
2 Timothy
Philippians
Colossians
Philemon
Hebrews
Places. . f V- Scriptnrc^
Ephesus the beginning of 53 ' v
Macedonia 36
§ Macedonia the end of
I or near it 3
‘ ‘ about October
about February
about April
about May
bef. the end of
bef. the end of
bef. the end of
Macedonia
Corinth
Rome
Rome
Rome
Rome
Rome
f Rome or
Italy
57
58
61
61
62
62
62
. in spring of 63
A Table of the Catholic Epistles,and the Bevel a*
tion, according to Dr Lardnei.
Epistle.
James
The two epistles
of Peter
1 John
2d and 3d of
John
Jude
Revelation
Places.
Judea
^Rome
Ephesus
^ Ephesus
Unknown
{
or beg. of
about
1 between
and
C Patmos or 1
Ephesus J
. D.
61
62
64
80
80
90
64 or 65
95 or 96
x74
Epistles. Places.
1 Thessalonians Corinth
2 Thessalonians Corinth
C Corinth or
\ Ephesus
Galatians
A. ».
52
52
near the end of 5 2
5 or beginning of 53
It is more difficult to understaud the epistolary vri-C*^^
tines than the gospels; the cause ol which is evident.^
Many things are omitted in a letter, or slightly men¬
tioned, because supposed to be known by the person to
whom it is addressed. To a stranger this will create
much difficulty• The business about which bt 1 aul
wrote was certainly well known to his correspondents}
but at this distance of time we can obtain no intorma-
tion concerning the occasion of his writing, o. the cha¬
racter and circumstances of those persons for whom his
letters were intended, except what can be gleaned from
the writings themselves. It is no wonder therefore,
though many allusions should be obscure. Besides it
is evident from many passages that he answers letters
and questions which his correspondents had sent him.
if these had been preserved, they would have thrown
more light upon many things than all the notes and con-
iectures of the commentators. „ 175
J The causes of obscurity which have been now men-Cause^
tioned are common to all the writers of the. eP'f^jJeSia/tc
but there are some peculiar to St Paul. 1. As ic “gt Paul’s
an acute and fertile mind, he seems to have written epistles,
with great rapidity, and without attending much to the
common rules of method and arrangement. To this
cause we may ascribe his numerous and long parenthe¬
ses. In the heat of argument he sometimes breaks oft
abruptly to follow out some new thought} and when
he has exhausted it, he returns from his digression with-
„„t informing bio loaders ; so that it roqmres groat at-
tention to retain the connection. 2. His fiequent change
of person, too, creates ambiguity : by the pronoun i he
sometimes means himself; sometimes any Christian;
sometimes a Jew, and sometimes any man. In using
the pronoun WE he sometimes intends himstli ; some¬
times comprehends his companions; sometimes the apos^
S C B T P
Scripture, ties ; at one time he alludes to the converted Jews, at
another time to the converted Gentiles. 3. There is a
third cause of obscurity ; he frequently proposes ob¬
jections, and answers them without giving any formal
intimation. There are other difficulties which arise
from our uncertainty who are the persons he is addres¬
sing, and what are the particular opinions and practices
to which he refers. To these we may add two exter¬
nal causes, which have increased the difficulty of under¬
standing the epistles. 1. The dividing them into chap¬
ters and verses, which dissolves the connection of the
parts, and breaks them into fragments. If Cicero’s
epistles had been so disjointed, the reading of them
would be attended with less pleasure and advantage, and
with a great deal more labour. 2. We are accustomed
to the phraseology of the epistles from our infancy ;
but yve have either no idea at all yvhen yve use it, or our
idea of it is derived from the articles or system which
we have espoused. But as different sects have arbitrary
definitions for St Paul’s phrases, yve shall never by fol-
loyving them discover the meaning of St Paul, who cer¬
tainly did not adjust his phraseology to any man’s svs-
tem.
The best plan of studying the epistles is that which
yvas proposed and executed by Mr Locke. This we
shall present to our readers in the yvords of that acute
i-jS and judicious author.
Mr Lo-kc’s “ After I had found by long experience, that the
readinS of the text aml comments in the ordinary way
epistles. Provei1 not 80 successful as I wished to the end propo¬
sed, I began to suspect that in reading a chapter as yvas
usual, and thereupon sometimes consulting expositors
upon some hard places of it, which at that time most
affected me, as relating to points then under considera¬
tion in my oivn mind, or in debate against others, yvas
not a right method to get into the true sense of these
epistles, I sayv plainly, after I began once to rtfleet on
it, that if any one should yvrite me a letter as long as St
Paul’s to the Romans, concerning such a matter as that
is, in a style as foreign, and expressions as dubious as his
seem to be, if I should divide it into fifteen or sixteen
chapters, and read one of them to day, and another to¬
morrow, &c. it is ten to one I should never come to a
full and clear comprehension of it. The yvay to under¬
stand the mind of him that writ it, every one yvould
agree, was to read the rvhole letter through from one end
to the other all at once, to see what yvas the main sub¬
ject and tendency of it: or if it had several views and
purposes in it, not dependent one on another, nor in a
subordination to one chief aim and end, to discover what
those diflerent matters were, and where the author con¬
cluded one, and began another j and if there were any
necessity of dividing the epistle into parts, to make the
boundaries of them.
In the prosecution of this thought, I concluded it
necessary, for the understanding of any one of St Paul’s
epistles, to read it all through at one sitting, and to ob¬
serve as well as I could the drift and design of his writ¬
ing it. If the first reading gave me some light, the se¬
cond gave me more j and so I persisted in reading con¬
stantly the whole epMle over at once till I came to have
a good general view of the apostle’s main purpose in
writing the epistle, the chief branches of his discourse
wherein he prosecuted it, the arguments he used, and
the disposition of the whole.
TUB E, .
“ This, I confess, is not to be obtained by one or Scripture.
ttvo hasty readings; it must be repeated again and again 1 
yvith a close attention to the tenor of the discourse, and
a perfect neglect of the divisions into chapters and ver¬
ses. On the contrary, the safest way is to suppose that
the epistle has but one business and one aim, till by a
frequent perusal of it you are forced to see there are di¬
stinct independent matters in it, yvhich will forwardly
enough shoyv themselves.
u requires so much more pains, judgment, and ap¬
plication, to find the coherence ot obscure and abstruse
writings, and makes them so much the more unfit to
serve prejudice and preoccupation when found ; that it
is not to be yvondered that St Paul’s epistles have yvitli
many passed rather for disjointed, loose, pious dis¬
courses, lull ot warmth and zeal, and overfloyvs of light,
rather than for calm, strong, coherent reasonings, that
cai ried a thread ol argument am! consistency all through
them.”
Mr Locke tells us he continued to read the same
epistle over and over again til: he discovered the scope
ot the yvhole, and the different step' and arguments by
yvl ich tlie writer accompli lies bis purpose. Tor be yyras
convinced before reading bis epistles, that Paul yvas a
man ot learning, of sound sense, and kneyv all the doc¬
trines ot the gospel by revelation. The speeches record¬
ed in the Acts of the Apostles convinced this judicious
critic that Paul yvas a clo^e and accurate reasoner: and
therefore he concluded that his epistles would not be
yvritten in a loose, confused, incoherent style. Mr Locke
accordingly folloyved the chain of the apostle’s discourse,
observed Ins inferences, and carefully examined from
what premises tiny were drawn, till be obtained a gene-
lal outline 01 any particular epistle. If every divine
would folhuv tins method, be would soon acquire such a
knowledge of Paul’s style and manner, that be yvould
peruse bis other Epistles yvith much greater ease. 177
i hat the Epistle to the Romans was writtefi at Co-Epistle to
rinth by St Pam, is ascertained by the testimony of tliet,u' Ilo‘
ancient ( hristians. It yvas composed in the year ;8, ju1111115,
the 24ib year after Paul’s conversion, and is the seventh g
epistle which he wrote. From the Acts of the Apostles Its date,
yve learn that it must have been written within the space
of three months ; for that was the whole period of Paul’s
residence in Greece, (Acts xx. 1, 2, 3.).
I he following analysis of this epistle yve have taken
from a^ valuable little treatise, intitled A Key to the
N' w Testament, yvhich was written by Dr Percy bishop
ot Dromore. It exhibits the intention of the apostle,
and the arguments which he uses to prove his different
propositions, in the most concise, distinct, and connect¬
ed manner, and affords the best view of this Epistle that
we have ever seen.
“ 1 he Christian church at Rome appears not to have General de-
been planted by any apostle; yvherefore St Paul, lest its,gn.
should be corrupted by the Jews, who then swarmed in
Rome, and of whom many were converted to Christiani¬
ty, sends them an abstract of the principal truths of the
gospel, and endeavours to guard them against those er¬
roneous notions which the Jews had of justification, and
ol the election ot their own nation.
“ Now the Jews assigned three grounds for justifica¬
tion. First, ‘ The extraordinary piety and merits of
their ancestors, and the covt nant made by God with these
holy men.’ They thought God could not hate the chil-
k 2 dreii
36
Scripture.
1S0
and ana-
SCRIPTURE.
dren of such meritorious parents*, and as he had made
a covenant with the patriarchs to bless their posterity,
he was obliged thereby to pardon their sins.’ Secondly,
‘ A perfect knowledge and diligent study of the law o
Moses.1 They made this a plea for the remission ot all
their sins and vices. Thirdly, ‘ The works of the Levi-
tical law,1 which were to expiate sin, especially circum¬
cision and sacrifices. Hence they inferred that the Gen¬
tiles must receive the whole law of Moses, in order to
be iustified and saved. .
“ The doctrine of the Jews concerning election was,
< That as God had promised to Abraham to bless his
seed to give him not only spiritual blessings, but al¬
so the land of Canaan, to suffer him to dwell there m
prosperity, and to consider him as his church upon
earth i1 That therefore this blessing extended to their
whole nation, and that God was bound to fulfil these
promises to them, whether they were righteous or wick¬
ed faithful or unbelieving. They even believed that a
prophet ought not to pronounce against their nation the
prophecies with which he was inspired*, but was rather
to beg of God to expunge his name out of the book ot
“These previous remarks will serve as a key.to
unlock this difficult Epistle, of which we shall now. give
a short analysis. See Michaels Lectures on the New
ana ana- ^ The Epistle begins with the usual salutation with
lysis of it. .yhich the Greeks began their letters, (chap. i. I 7*J*
« XI. St Paul professes his joy at the flourishing state
of the church at Rome, and his desire to come and
preach the gospel (ver. 8-19.) : then he insensibly in¬
troduces the capital point he intended to prove, viz.
“ III. The subject of the gospel (ver. 16, 17.), that
it reveals a righteousness unknown before, which is de¬
rived solely from faith, and to which Jews and Gentiles
have an equal claim.
“ IV. In order to prove this, he shows (chap. 1. 10 ^
iii 20.) that both Jews and Gentiles are ‘ under sin,
i. e. that God will impute their sins to Jews as well as
to Gentiles. ,, „
“ His arguments may be reduced to these syllogisms
fchap ii. 17-24.). x. ‘ The wrath of God is reveal¬
ed a-ainst those who hold the truth in unrighteous-
ness*0 i. e. who acknowledge the truth, and yet sin
against it.1 2. The Gentiles acknowledged truths 5 but,
partly by their idolatry, and partly by their other
detestable vices, they sinned against the truth they ac¬
knowledged. 3. Therefore the wrath ° God is re¬
vealed against the Gentiles, and pumsheth them. 4. I he
Jews have acknowledged more truths than the Gen¬
tiles, and yet they sin. 5. Consequently the Jewish sm-
ners are yet more exposed to the wrath of God (ch. 11.
1—12) Having thus proved his point, he answers
certain objections to it. Obj. 1. ‘ The Jews were well
grounded in their knowledge, and studied the aw.
He answers, If the knowledge of toe law, without ob¬
serving it, could justify them, then God could not have
condemned the Gentiles, who knew the law by nature
fch. ii. 12 16.). Obj. 2. ‘ The Jews were circumci¬
sed.1 Ans. That is, ye are admitted by an outward
sign into the covenant with God. This sign will not
avail you when ye violate that covenant (ch. 11. 25. to
the end). Obj. 3. ‘According to this doctrine of St
Paul, the Jews have no advantage before others Atis.
Yes, they still have advantages*, for unto them are com- Seripmt
mitted the oracles of God. But their privileges do notv *
extend to this, thatGod should overlook their sins, which,
on the contrary, Scripture condemns even in the Jews
(ch. iii. 1 ip.)* Obj. 4. ‘They had the Levitical law
and sacrifices.'’ Ans. From hence is no remission, but
only the knowledge of sin, (ch. iii. 20.).
“ V. From all this St Paul concludes, that Jews and
Gentiles may be justified by the same means, namely,
without the Levitical law, through faith in Christ :
And in opposition to the imaginary advantages of the
Jews, he states the declaration of Zechariah, that God
is the God of the Gentiles as well as of the Jews, (ch¬
ili. 21. to the end. <
“ VI. As the whole blessing was promised to the faith¬
ful descendants of Abraham, which both Scripture and
the Jews call his children, he proves his former asser¬
tion from the example of Abraham*, who was an idola¬
ter before his call, but was declared just by God,, on
account of his faith, long before the circumcision.
Hence he takes occasion to explain the nature and
fruits of faith, (ch. iv. 1. v. 11.)
“ VII. He goes on to prove from God’s justice, that
the Jews had no advantages over the Gentiles with re¬
spect to justification. Both Jews and Gentiles had for¬
feited life and immortality, by the means of one common
father of their race, whom they themselves had not cho¬
sen. Now as God was willing to restore immortality
bv a new spiritual head of a covenant, viz. Christ, it was
just that both Jews and Gentiles should share in this
new representative of the whole race (ch. v. 12. to the
end).—Chap. v. ver. 15, 16. amounts to this negative
question, ‘ Is it not fitted that the free gift should extend
as far as the offence ?’
“ VIII. He shows that the doctrine of justification,
as stated by him, lays us under the strongest obligations
of holiness, (ch. vi. I. to the end).
“ IX. He shows that the law of Moses no longer con¬
cerns us at all *, for our justification arises from our ap¬
pearing in God’s sight, as if actually dead with Christ on
account of our sins *, but the law of Moses was not given
to the dead. On this occasion he proves at large, that
the eternal power of God over us is not aflected by this j
and that whilst we are under the law of Moses we. per¬
petually become subject to death, even by sins of inad¬
vertency, (ch. vii. 1. to the end).
“ X. Hence he concludes, that all those, and those
only, who are united with Christ, and for the sake of his
union do not live according to the flesh, are free from
all condemnation of the law, and have an undoubted
share in eternal life, (ch. viii. 1 — x?*)
“ XI. Having described their blessedness, he is aware
that the Jews, who expected a temporal happiness, should
object to him, that Christians notwithstanding endure
much suffering in this world. He answers this ob¬
jection at large, (ch. viii. 18. to the end.).
“ XII. He shows that God is not the less true and
faithful, because he doth not justify, but rathei* rejects
and punishes, those Jews who would not believe the
Messiah, (ch. ix. x. xi.). In discussing this point, we
may observe the cautious manner in which, on account
of the Jewish prejudices, he introduces it (ch. ix.
1.— ^.), as well as in the discussion itself.
“ He shows that the promises of God were never
made to all the posterity of Abraham, and that God al-
Scripture ways reserved to himself the power of choosing those sons
»—-v—' of Abraham whom, for Abraham’s sake, he intended to
bless, and of punishing the wicked sons of Abraham ;
and that with respect to temporal happiness or misery,
he was not even determined in his choice by their works.
Thus he rejected Ishmael, Esau, the Israelites in the de¬
sert in the time of Moses, and the greater part of that
people in the time of Isaiah, making them a sacrifice
to his justice, (ch. ix. 6.—29.).
“ He then proceeds to show, that God had reason to
reject most of the Jews then living, because they would
not believe in the Messiah, though the gospel had been
preached to them plainly enough, (ch. ix. 30. x. to the
end). However, that God had not rejected all the
people, but was still fulfilling his promise upon many
thousand natural descendants of Abraham, who believed
in the Messiah, and would in a future period fulfil them
upon more ; for that all Israel would be converted, (ch.
xi. 1—32.). And he concluded with admiring the wise
counsels of God, (ver. 33. to the end).
“ XIII. From the doctrine hitherto laid down, and
particularly from this, that God has in mercy accepted
the Gentiles •, he argues, that the Romans should con¬
secrate and offer themselves up wholly to God. This
leads him to mention in particular some Christian duties,
(ch. xii.), viz.
“ XIV. He exhorts them to be subject to magi¬
strates (ch. xiii. 1—7.) j the Jews at that time being
given to sedition.
“ XV. To love one another heartily (ver. 2—10.).
And,
“ XVI. To abstain from those vices which were con¬
sidered as things indifferent among the Gentiles, (ver. 11.
to the end).
“ XVII. He exhorts the Jews and Gentiles in the
Christian church to brotherly unity, (ch. xiv. 2. xv.
IS-)-
“ XVIII. He concludes his Epistle with an excuse
for having ventured to admonish the Romans, whom he
had not converted ; with an account of the journey to
Jerusalem ; and with some salutations to those persons
whom he meant to recommend to the church at Rome.”
lSl See Michaelis's Lectures on the New Testament.
FirstEpis- Corinth was a wealthy and luxurious city, built upon
tie to the the isthmus which joins the Morea to the northern
Conntlu- pai.tg of Greece. In this city Paul had spent two
years founding a Christian church, which consisted of
a mixture of Jews and Gentiles, but the greater part
Gentiles.
About three years after the apostles had left Corinth,
he wrote this Epistle from Ephesus in the year 56 or
57, and in the beginning of Nero’s reign. That it
was written from Ephesus, appears from the salutation
with which the Epistle closes, (chap. xvi. 19.). “ The
churches of Asia salute you. Aquila and Priscilla salute
you much in the Lord.” From these words it is evi¬
dent, in the first place, that the Epistle was written in
Asia. 2dly, It appears from Acts xviii. 18, 19. that
Aquila and Priscilla accompanied Paul from Corinth to
Ephesus, where they seemed to have continued tillPaul’s
departure.
St 1 aul had certainly kept up a constant intercourse
with the churches which he had founded ; for he was
evidently acquainted with all their revolutions. They
item to have applied to him for advice in those difli-
SCRIPTURE. 37
cult cases which their own understanding could not Scripture.
i S'Z
Its date.
solve ; and he was ready on all occasions to correct their *-
mistakes.
This Epistle consists of two parts, x. A reproof General
for those vices to which they were most prepense j design of it.
2. An answer to some queries which they had proposed
to him.
The Corinthians, like the other Greeks, had been
accustomed to see their philosophers divide themselves
into different sects j and as they brought along with
them into the Christian church their former opinions
and customs, they wished, as before, to arrange them- jg^
selves under different leaders. In this Epistle Paul The apostle
condemns these divisions as inconsistent with the spirit reProves
of Christianity, which inculcates benevolence and una-
mmity, and as opposite to the conduct ox Christian vjceJ..
teachers, who did not, like the philosophers, aspire af¬
ter the praise of eloquence and wisdom. They laid no
claim to these nor to any honour that cometh from
men. The apostle declares, that the Christian truths
were revealed from heaven; that they were taught with
great plainness and simplicity, and proved by the evi¬
dence of miracles, (chap. i. 1.). He dissuades them
from their divisions and animosities, by reminding them
of the great trial which every man’s work must under¬
go 5 of the guilt they incurred by polluting the temple
or church of God 5 of the vanity of human wisdom j
and of glorying in men. He admonishes them to esteem
the teachers of the gospel only as the servants of Christ \
and to remember that every superior advantage which
they enjoyed was to be ascribed to the goodness of God,
(chap. iii. 4.).
2. In the fifth chapter the apostle considers the case
of a notorious offender, who had married his stepmo¬
ther ; and tells them, that he ought to be excommuni¬
cated. He also exhorts the Christians not to associate
with any person who led such an openly profane life.
3* He censures the Corinthians lor their litigious dis¬
position, which caused them to prosecute their Chri¬
stian brethren before the Heathen courts. He expresses
much warmth and surprise that they did not refer their
differences to their brethren; and concludes his exhorta¬
tions on this subject, by assuring them that they ought
rather to allow themselves to be defrauded than to seek
redress from Heathens (chap. v. 1—9.).
4. He inveighs against those vices to which the Co¬
rinthians had been addicted before their conversion, and
especially against fornication, the criminality of which
they did not fully perceive, as this vice was generally
overlooked in the systems of the philosophers, (chap. vi.
10. to the end).
Having thus pointed out the public irregularities And an-
with which they were chargeable, he next replies to cer-swers cer¬
tain questions which the Coiinthians had proposed tota.in<lue-
him by letter. He, 1. Determines some questions re- stJonf ^
lating to the marriage state; as, 1st, Whether it was ^4 pro.CY
good to marry under the existing circumstances of the posed t«
church? And, 2d, Whether they should withdraw him.
from their partners if they continued unbelievers ?
(chap. vii.).
2. He instructs them how to act with respect to idol
offerings. It could not be unlawful in itself to eat the
food which had been offered to idols ; for the consecra¬
tion of flesh or wine to an idol did not make it the pro-
perty of the idol, an idol being nothing, and therefore
incapable
*8
Scripture, incapable of property. But some Corinthians thought
\  it lawful to go to a feast in the idol temples, wmcli at
the same time were places of resort for ievvdness, an
to eat the sacrifices whilst praises were sung to the idol.
This was publicly joining in the idolatry. He even ad¬
vises to abstain from such participation as was lawful,
rather than give ode nee to a weak brother •, which ie
enforces by his own example, who had abstained irom
many lawful things, rather than prove a scandal to the
.gospel, (chap. viii. ix. x.). _
o He answers a third query concerning the manner
in which women should deliver any thing in public,
when called to it by a divine impulse. And here he
censures the unusual dress of both sexes in prophesying,
which exposed them to the contempt of the Greeks,
among whom the men usually went uncovered, and the
women veiled. , , , ,
Beinsi thus led to the consideration of the abuses that
prevailed in their public worship, he goes on to censure
the irregularities which were committed at their love-
feasts, or, as we term them, the Lord's Supper. It was
a common practice with the Greeks at their social sup¬
pers for every man to bring Ins own provisions along
with him, not, however, to share them with the com¬
pany, hut to feast on them in a solitary manner. I bus
the rich ate and drank to excess, whilst the poor were
totally neglected. The Corinthians introduced the
same practice in the celebration of the Lord s Supper,
thus confounding it with their ordinary meals and
without ever examining into the end of the institution.
It was this gross abuse that Paul reproves in the I i th
chapter. He also censures their conduct in the exercise
of the extraordinary gifts of the Holy Ghost; he shows
them they all proceeded from the same spirit, am. were
intended for the instruction of Christian societies j that
all Christians ought to be united in mutual love j and
that tenderness ought to be shown to the most inconsi¬
derable member, as every one is subservient to he good
of the whole (chap. *ii.). tn the i3th chapter he gives
a beautiful description of benevolence, which has been
much and justly admired. He represents it as superior
to the supernatural gifts of the spirit, to the most exalt¬
ed o-enius, to universal knowledge, and even to faith.
In the 14th chapter he cautions the Corinthians against
ostentation in the exercise of the gilt of languages, and
gives them proper advices. . ^ •
^ 4 He asserts the resurrection of the dead, in opposi¬
tion to some of the Corinthians who denied it, founding
it on the resurrection of Jesus Christ, which he considers
as one of the most essential doctrines of Christianity. He
then answers some objections to the resurrection, drawn
from our not being capable of understanding how it will
be accomplished (chap. xv.). He then concludes with
some directions to the Corinthian church concerning the
manner of collecting alms ; promises them a visit, and
186 salutes some of the members. #
The second 'f[ie second Epistle to the Corinthians was written
Epistle to from Macedonia in the year 57, about a year after the
the Conn- gee 2 Cor> ix. viii. and xni. I.
thmns. paul,s first Epistle had wrought different effects
State of the among the Corinthians: many of them examined their
Corinthian conduct •, they excommunicated the incestuous man ;
church. requested St Paul’s return with tears; and vindicated
him and his office against the false teacher and his ad¬
herents. Others of them still adhered to that adversary
s C R 1 p T U R E.
of St Paul, expressly denied his apostolic office, and even Scnptn-e.
furnished themselves with pretended arguments from that v ‘
Epistle. He had formerly promised to take a journey
from Ephesus to Corinth, thence to visit the Macedo¬
nians, and return from them to Corinth (2 Cor. 1. 15,
16.)'. But the unhappy state of the Corinthian church
made him alter his intention (verse 23.'), since he found
he must have treated them with severity. Hence his
adversaries partly argued, 1. That St Paul was irreso¬
lute and unsteady, and therefore could not be a prophet:
2 The improbability of bis ever coming to Corinth
again, since he was afraid of them. Such was the state
of the Corinthian church when St Paul, alter ms depar¬
ture from Ephesus, having visited Macedonia (Acts xx.
i.L received an account of the above particulars from
Titus (2 Cor. vii. 5, 6.), and therefore wrote them Ins
second Epistle about the end of the same year, or the
beginning of 58. fVT.
But to give a more distinct view of the contents of'^wot
this Epistle : . tents of
1. The apostle, after a general salutation, expresses histhis E_
grateful sense of the divine goodness ; professing his con-pistle,
fidence in God, supported by a sense ef his own integri¬
ty ; makes an apology for not having visited the Corin¬
thians as he had intended, and vindicates himself from
the charge of fickleness, (chap. i.).
2. He forgives the incestuous man, whose conduct
had made so deep an impression on the apostle’s mind,
that one reason why he had deferred his journey to Co¬
rinth was, that he might not meet them in grief, nor
till he had received advice of the effect of his apostolical
admonitions. He mentions his anxiety to meet Iitus
at Troas, in order to hear of their welfare ; expresses
his thankfulness to God for the success attending
his ministry, and speaks of the Corinthians as his cre¬
dentials, written by the finger of God, (chap. ii. m.
1 3.6He treats of the office committed to him of
preaching the redemption ; and highly prefers it to
preaching the law : to which probably his adversaries
had made great pretences. They had ridiculed Ins suf¬
ferings ; which he shows to be no disgrace to the go¬
spel or its ministers ; and here he gives a short abstract
of the doctrine he preaches, chap. 111. 6. v. to the
end). .
He expatiates with great copiousness on the temper
with which, in the midst of afflictions and persecutions,
he and his brethren executed their important embassy ;
and with great affection and tenderness lie exhorts them
to avoid the pollution of idolatry, (chap vi.). He en¬
deavours to win their confidence, by telling them how
much he r« joiced in their amendment and welfare, and
how sorry he had been for the distress which his neces¬
sary reproofs had occasioned, (chap. yii.). He then ex¬
horts them to make liberal contributions for the Chris¬
tians in Judea. He recommends to them the example
of the Macedonians, and reminds them of the benevo¬
lence of the Lord Jesus. He expresses his joy for the
readiness of Titus to assist in making the collection j and
makes also honourable mention of other Christian bre¬
thren, whom he had joined with Titus in the same com¬
mission, (chap. viii.). He then, with admirable address,
urges a liberal contribution, and recommends them to
the divine blessing, (chap. ix.). ,
4. Next he obviates some reflections which bad been
n thrown
S C Pv I P T U R E.
Scripture, thrown on hint for the mildness of his conduct, as if it
—v 1 had proceeded from fear. He asserts his apostolical
power and authority, cautioning his opponents against
urging him to give too sensible demonstrations of it,
(chap. x.). He vindicates himself against the insinua¬
tions of some of the Corinthians, particularly for having
declined pecuniary support from the church j an action
which had been ungenerously turned to his disadvan¬
tage. To show his superiority over those designing-
men who had opposed his preaching, he enumerates his
sufferings j gives a detail of some extraordinary revela¬
tions which he had received ; and vindicates himself
from the charge of boasting, by declaring that he had
been forced to it by the desire of supporting bis aposto¬
lical character, (chap. xi. xii.). He closes the Epistle,
by assuring them with great tenderness how much it
would grieve him to demonstrate his divine commission
rSp by severer methods.
Epistle to The Galatians were descended from those Gauls who
the Gala- jia(| formerly invaded Greece, and afterwards settled in
Lower Asia. St Paul had preached the gospel among
them in the year 51, soon after the council held at Jeru¬
salem, (Acts xvi. 6.). Asia swarmed at that time with
zealots for the law of Moses, who wanted to impose it
on the Gentiles, (Acts xv. 1.). Soon after St Paul had
left the Galatians, these false teachers had got among
them, and wanted them to be circumcised, &c. This
occasioned the following Epistle, which Michaelis thinks
190 was written in the same year, before St Paul left Thes-
ate salonica. Hr Lardner dates it about the end of the year
52, or in the very beginning of 53, before St Paul set
rpi out to go to Jerusalem by way of Ephesus,
and con- i he subject of this Epistle is much the same with
nts that of the Epistle to the Romans j only this question
is more fully considered here, “ Whether circumcision,
and an observance of the Levitical law, be necessary to
the salvation ot a Christian convert?” It appears, these
Judaizing Christians, whose indirect views St Paul ex¬
poses (Acts xv, 1. Gal. v. 3, 9.), at first only represen¬
ted circumcision as necessary to salvation j but afterwards
they insisted upon the Christians receiving the Jewish
festivals, (Gal. iv. 10.).
As St Paul had founded the churches of Galatia, and
instructed them in the Christian religion, he does not set
before them its principal doctrines, as he had done in
the Epistle to the Romans ; but referring them to what
he had already taught (chap. i. 8, 9.), he proceeds at
once to the subject of the Epistle.
As it appears from several passages of this Epistle,
particularly chapter i. 7, 8, 10. and chapter v. 11. that
the Judaizing Christians had endeavoured to persuade
the Galatians that Paul himsell had changed his opi¬
nion, and now preached tip the Levitical law ; he de¬
nies that chaige, anti affirms that the doctrines which
he had taught were true, for lie had received them from
God by immediate revelation. He relates his miracu-
ous conversion; asserts his apostolical authority, which
had been acknowledged by the disciples of Jesus ; and,
as a proof that he had never inculcated a compliance5
with the Mosaic law, he declares that he had opposed
Ceter at Antioch for yielding to the prejudices of the
Jews.
. H™g n°w vindicated his character from the suspi¬
cion ot fickleness, and shown that his commission was
divine, he argues that the Galatians ought not to sub- Scripture.
mit to the law ol Moses : 1. Recause they had received
the Holy Ghost and the gift of miracles, not by the 192
law, but by the gospel, (chap. iii. 1—5.). 2. Because
the promises which God made to Abraham were not the^postlQ
restricted to Iiis circumcised descendants, but extended proves that
to all who are his children by faith, (chap. iii. 6 i8.).tlle law ot'
In answer to the objection, To what then serveth the Mose®^as
law 9 he replies, That it was given because of trans- ^y'cm'the
gression 5 that is, to preserve them from idolatry till the Galatians.
Messiah himself should come. 3. Because all men, whe- I^cke on
ther Jews or Gentiles, are made the children of God by ^ie
faith, or by receiving the Christian religion, and there-
fore do not stand in need of circumcision, (chap. iii. 26
—29.). From the 1st verse of chap. iv. to the nth,
he argues that the law was temporary, being only fitted
for a state ol infancy; but that the world, having at¬
tained a state of manhood under the Messiah, the law
was ol no farther use. In the remaining part of chap¬
ter iv. lie reminds them of their former affection to him,
and assures them that he was still their sincere friend.
He exhorts them to stand fast in the liberty with which
Christ had made them free j for the sons of Agar, that
is, those under the law given at Mount Sinai, are in
bondage, and to be cast out; the inheritance being de¬
signed for those only who are the free-born sons of God
under the spiritual covenant of the gospel. 19 5
rIhe apostle next confutes the false report which hadHow lle
been spread abroad among the Galatians, that Paul ,vi.ni1icates
himself preached up circumcision. He had already in-cha^ter
directly reluted this calumny by the particular account from false
which he gave oi his life ; but he now directly andasPersi°ns-
openly contradicts it in the following manner:
1. By assuring them, that all who thought circumci¬
sion necessary to salvation could receive no benefit from
the Christian religion, (chap. v. 2—4.).
2. By declaring, that he expected justification only
by faith, (verse 5, 6.).
3. By testilying, that they had once received the
truth, and had never been taught such false doctrines
by him, (verse 7, 8.).
4. By insinuating that they should pass some censure
on those who misled them (verse 9, 10.), by declaring
that he was persecuted for opposing the circumcision of
the Christians, (verse 11.).
5. By expressing a wish that those persons should be
cut off who troubled them with his doctrine.
This Epistle affords a fine instance of Paul’s skill in
managing an argument. The chief objection which
the advocates for the Mosaic law had urged against
him was, that he himself preached circumcision. In
the beginning of the Epistle he overturns this slander
by a statement ol facts, without taking any express
notice ot it j but at the end fully refutes it, that it
might leave a strong and lasting impression on their
minds.
He next cautions them against an idea which his ar¬
guments for Christian liberty might excite, that it con¬
sisted in licentiousness. He shows them it does not
consist in gratifying vicious desires; for none are un¬
der stronger obligations to moral duties than the Chri¬
stian. He recommends gentleness and meekness to the
weak (chap. vi. 1—5.), and exhorts them to be liberal
to their teachers, and to all men (ver. 6—10.). He
concludes
SCRIP
194
Epistle to
the Ephe¬
sians.
IPS
The date
196
and design
of it.
197
-Epistle to
the Philip
plans.
concludes tvitli exposing the false pretences of the Ju¬
dging teachers, and asserting the integrity of h.s ovvu
C0Ephesus was the chief city of all Asia on this side
Mount Taurus. St Paul had passed through it in the
year C4, but without making any stay, (Acts xvm. 19
L21;). The following year he returned to Ephesus
again, and staid there three years, (chap. xix.). Dur¬
ing his abode there he completed a very flourishing
church of Christians, the first foundations of which had
been laid by some inferior teachers. As Ephesus was
frequented by persons of distinction from all parts of
Asia Minor, St Paul took the opportunity of preach¬
ing in the ancient countries (ver. 10.) and the other
churches of Asia were considered as the daughters of
the church of Ephesus ; so that an Epistle to the Ephe¬
sians was, in effect, an epistle to the other churches ot
A D^Laidne^sho^rit to be highly probable that this
epistle was written in the year 61, soon after Paul s
arrival at Home. . r
As Paul was in a peculiar manner the apostle ot the
Gentiles, and was now a prisoner at Rome in conse¬
quence of having provoked the Jews, by asserting that
an observance of the Mosaic law was not necessary to
obtain the favour of God, he was atraid lest an advan¬
tage should be taken of his confinement to unsettle the
mfnds of those whom he had converted Hearing tha
the Ephesians stood firm in the faith of Christ, without
submitting to the law of Moses, he writes this Epistle
to give them more exalted views of the love of God, and
of the excellence and dignity of Christ. Tins epistle
is not composed in an argumentative or didactic sty .
The first three chapters consist almost entirely of thanks-
o-ivings and prayers, or glowing descriptions of the
blessings of the Christian religion. This c.rcumstance
renders them a little obscure ; but by the ass.stanco of
the two following epistles, which were written on the
same occasion, and with the same design the meaning
of the apostle may be easily discovered. The last three
chapters contain practical exhortations. He first incul¬
cated unity, love, and concord, from the consideratm
that all Christians are members of the same body,
which Christ is the head. He then advises them to
forsake the vices to which they had been addicted win e
they remained heathens. He recommends justice and
charity ; strenuously condemns lewdness, obscenity, anil
intemperance, vices which seem to have been too com-
mmi among the Ephesians. In the 6th chapter he poms
out the duties which arise from the relations of husbands
and wives, parents and children, masters and servants,
and concludes with strong exhortations to fortitude,
which he describes in an allegorical manner.
The church at Philippi had been founded by Paul
Silas, and Timothy (Acts xvi.), m the year 51, and
had continued to show a strong and manly attachment
to the Christian religion, and a tender affection loi the
apostle. Hearing of his imprisonment at Rome, they
sent Epaphroditus, one of their pastors, to supply him
with money. It appears from this epistle that he was
in great wLt of necessaries before tins contribution ar¬
rived ; for as he had not converted the Romans, he d
not consider himself as intitled to receive supplies from
them.0 Being a prisoner, he could not work as former¬
ly : and it was a maxim of his never to accept any Pe-
J 3
T U Tt E. . , .
cuniary assistance from those churches where a faction Script^
had been raised against him. From the Phihppians he —v—
was not averse to receive a present in the time .d want,
because he considered it as a mark ol their affection,
and because be was assured that they had conducted
themselves as sincere Christians. , , . T98
It appears from the apostle’s own words, that this The date
letter was written while he was a prisoner at Rome
(chap. i. 7, 13. iv. 22.); and from the expectation which
he discovers (chap. ii. 24-) of being soon released and
restored to them, compared with 1 nictation in
Heb xiii. 1 3. where he expresses a like expectation in
stronger terms, it is probable that this epistle was writ¬
ten towards the end of his first imprisonment in the
^The apostle’s design in this epistle which
of the practical kind, seems to be “ to comfort he°f
Philippians under the concern they had expressed at he
news of his imprisonment •, to check a party-spint that
appears to have broken out among them, and to pro¬
mote, on the contrary, an entire union and harmony of
affection ; to guard them against being seduced from the
purity of the Christian faith by Juda.zmg teac hers 5 0
support them under the trials with which thev struggled ,
and, above all, to inspire them with a concern to adorn
their profession by the most eminent attainments in the
divine life.” After some particular admonitions in 11 e
beginning of the 4th chapter, he proceeds in the 8th
verse to recommend virtue in the most extensive sense
mentioning all the different foundations in which it had
been placed by the Grecian philosophers. Towards the
close of the epistle, he makes his acknojvledgments 0
the Philippians for the seasonable and liberal supp y
which they had sent him, as it was so convincing a preot
of their affection for him, and their concern for the .up-
port of the gospel, which he preferred far above any
private secular interest of bis own •, expressly disclaiming
all selfish, mercenary views, and assuring them with a
noble simplicity, that he was able upon all occasions to
accommodate his temper to his circumstances •, and bad
learned, under the teachings ot Divine grace, m what¬
ever station Providence might see fit to place him, there¬
with to be content. After which, the apostle, having
encouraged them to expect a rich supply of all then
wants from their God and Father, to whom he devoutly
ascribes the honour of all, concludes with salutat ons
from himself and his friends at Rome to the whole
church, and a solemn benediction (verse 10. to the
end) •, and declares, that he rejoiced in their liberality
chiefly on their own account. , .. T3 ,
Tile epistle to the Colons',line was w,„te„ while 1
was in prison (chap. iv. 3.), and was therefore probably
composed in the year 62. The intention of the apostle, ^ desifi„
as far as can he gathered from the epistle itself, was toofit<
secure the Colossians from the influence of some doc¬
trines that were subversive of Christianity, and to excite
them to a temper and behaviour worthy of their saere
character. A new sect had arisen, which had blendei
the oriental philosophy with the superstitious opinions
0 They Md, I. That Cod was
They helft, I. mat vmu was — ApColos*1
or angels, who were mediators with God, a"*1 tlierei°,e
ini « ansagaii
to be worshipped. 2. That the soul is defiled by the ^ dang
body; that all bodily enjoyments hurt the soul, which oUSd0c-
they believed to be immortal, though they seem to haveuincj^
Scripture.
"Percy's
Key to the
"New Te¬
stament.
2C2
The argu¬
ments
which the
apostle em
ploys.
203
Exhorta-
1 lions.
*°4
■ irst
ic to the
Ihessaio-
tians.
denied the resurrection of the body, as it would only
render the soul sinful by being reunited to it. 3. That
there was a great mystery in numbers, particularly in
the number seven $ they therefore attributed a natural
holiness to the seventh or Sabbath day, which they ob¬
served more strictly than the other Jews. They spent
their time mostly in contemplation ; abstained from mar¬
riage, and every gratification of the senses; used wash¬
ings, and thought it sinful to touch certain things; re¬
garded wine as poison, &c.
The arguments against these doctrines are managed
with great skill and address. He begins with expressing
great joy for the favourable character which he had
heard of them, and assures them that Ire daily prayed
for their farther improvement. Then he makes a short
digression, in order to describe the dignity of Jesus
Christ; declares that he had created all things, whether
thrones or dominions, principalities and powers ; that h«
alone was the head of the church, and had reconciled
men to the Father. The inference from this description
is evident, that Jesus was superior to angels; that they
were created beings, and ought not to be worshipped.
Thus he indirectly confutes one doctrine before he for¬
mally opposes it. Paul now returns from his digression
in the 21st verse to the sentiments with which he had
introduced it in the 13th and 14th verses, and again
expresses his joy that the Philippians remained attached
to the gospel, which was to be preached to the Gentiles,
without the restraints of the ceremonial law. Here again
he states a general doctrine, which was inconsistent with
the opinions of those who were zealous for the law of
Moses; but he leaves the Colossians to draw the infer¬
ence, (chap. i.).
Having again assured them of his tender concern for
their welfare, for their advancement in virtue, and that
they might acknowledge the mvstery of God, that is,
that the gospel was to supersede the law of Moses, he
proceeds directly to caution them against the philosophy
of the new teachers, and their superstitious adherence to
the law ; shows the superiority of Christ to the angels,
and warns Christians against worshipping them. He
censures the observation of Sabbaths, and rebukes those
who required abstinence from certain kinds of food, and
cautions them against persons whoassumea great appear¬
ance of wisdom and virtue, (chap. ii.).
In the 3d chapter he exhorts them, that, instead of
being occupied about external ceremonies, they ought
to cultivate pure morality. He particularly guards them
against impurity, to which they had before their con¬
version been much addicted. He admonishes them
against indulging the irascible passions, and against
committing falsehood. He exhorts them to cultivate
the benevolent affections, and humility, and patience.
He recommends also the relative duties between hus¬
bands and wives, parents and children, masters and ser¬
vants. He enjoins the duties of prayer and thanksgiving
(chan. iv. 2.), and requests them to remember him in
their petitions. He enjoins affability and mild behavi¬
our to the unconverted heathens (verse 6th) ; and con¬
cludes the epistle with matters which are all of a private
nature, except the directions for reading this epistle
in the church of Laodicea, as well as in the church of
Colosse.
This epistle is addressed to the inhabitants of Thessa-
lonica, the capital ol Macedonia, a large and populous
Vol. XIX. Part I. f
S C R I P T U E E. 4I
city. It appears from the Acts, chapter xvii. I. that Scripture.
the Christian religion was introduced into this city by-
Paul and Silas, soon after they had left Philippi. At
first they made many converts; hut at length the Jews,
ever jealous of the admission of the Gentiles to the same
privileges with themselves, stirred up the rabble, which
assaulted the house where the apostle and his friends
lodged ; so that Paul and Silas were obliged to flee to
Berea, where their success was soon interrupted by the
same restless and implacable enemies. The apostle then
withdrew to Athens ; and Timothy, at his desire, re¬
turned to ThessaJoniea (1 Thess. iii. 2.), to see what
were the sentiments and behaviour of the inhabitants
after the persecution of the Jews. From Athens Paul
went to Corinth, where he stayed a yrear and six months ;
during which, Timothy returned with the joyful tidings,
that the Thessalonians remained stedfhst to the faith, and
firmly attached to the apostle, notwithstanding his flight.
Upon this he sent them this epistle, A. D, 52, in the
12th year of Claudius. 235
This is generally reckoned the first epistle which Paul The ^atc
wrote ; and we find he was anxious that it should be
read to all the Christians. In chap. v. 27. he uses these
words; “ I adjure you by the Lord, that this epistle he
read unto all the holy brethren.” This direction is very
properly inserted in his first epistle. 2C.6
The intention of Paul in writing this epistle was evi-and design
dently to encourage the Thessalonians to adhere to the0'it.
Christian religion. This church being still in its in¬
fancy, and oppressed by the powerful Jews, required to
be established in the faith. St Paul, therefore, in the
three first chapters, endeavours to convince the Thessa-
lonians of the truth and divinity of his gospel, both by
the miraculous gifts of the Holy Ghost which had been,
imparted, and by his own conduct when among them.
While he appeals, in the first chapter, to the mira¬
culous gifts of the Holy Spirit, he is very liberal in
his commendations. He vindicates himself from the
charge of timidity, probably to prevent the Thessalo¬
nians from forming an unfavourable opinion of his forti¬
tude, which his flight might have excited. He asserts,
that he was not influenced by selfish or dishonourable
motives, but that he was anxious to please God and not
man. He expresses a strong affection for them, and how
anxious he was to impart the blessings of the gospel.
He congratulates himself upon his success ; mentions it
to their honour that they received the gospel as the
word of God and not of man, and therefore did not re¬
nounce it when persecution was raised by the Jews. He
expresses a strong desiie to visit the Thessalonians ; and
assures them he had been hitherto retained against his
will.
As a farther proof of his regard, the apostle informs
them, that when he came to Athens, he was so much
concerned, least, being discouraged by his sufferings,
they should he tempted to cast off’their profession, that
he could not forbear sending Timothy to comfort and
strengthen them ; and expresses, in very strong terms,
the sensible pleasure he felt in the midst of all his afflic¬
tions, from the favourable account he received of (heir
faith and love ; to which he adds, that he was cominu-
ally praying for their farther establishment in religion,
and fqr an opportunity of making them another visit, in
order to promote their edification, which lay so near his
heart, (chap. iii. throughout).
F Having
SCRIPTUKE.
207
Second E
pistle to
Having now shown his paternal affection for them,
with great address he improves all that influence which
his zeal and fidelity in their service must naturally have
given him to inculcate upon them the precepts of the
gospel. He recommends chastity, in opposition to the
prevailing practice ot the heathens ^ justice, in opposi¬
tion to fraud. He praises their benevolence, and en¬
courages them to cultivate higher degrees ot it. He
recommends industry and prudent behaviour to their
heathen neighbours. In order to comfort them under
the loss of their friends, he assures them that those who
were fallen asleep in Jesus should be raised again at the
last day, and should, together with those who remained,
alive, be caught up to meet their Lord, and share his
triumph, (chap. iv. He admonishes them to prepare
for this solemn event, that it might not come upon them
unawares 5 and then concludes the epistle with various
exhortations.
The second epistle to the Thessalonians appears to
^ have been written soon after the first, and from the same
the Thessa-piace . for Silvanus or Silas, and Timothy, are joined
Ionian*. t0gether with the apostle in the inscriptions of this
2o8 epistle, as well as the former.
Contents of The apostle begins with commending the faith and
it. charity of the Thessalonians, of which he had heard a
favourable report. He expresses great joy on account
of the patience with which they supported persecution;
and observes that their persecution was a proof of a
righteous judgment to come, where their persecutors
would meet with their proper recompense, and the
righteous be delivered out of all their afflictions. He
assures them of his constant prayers for their farther
improvement, in order to attain the felicity that was
promised, (chap. i.).
From misunderstanding a passage in his former letter,
it appears that the Thessalonians believed the day of
judgment was at hand. rlo rectify this mistake, he
informs them that the day of the Lord will not come
till a great apostasy has overspread the Christian world,
the nature of which he describes (g). Symptoms of this
mystery of iniquity had then appeared; but the apostle
expresses his thankfulness to God that the Phessalo-
nians had escaped this corruption. He exhorts them
to stedfastness, and prays that God would comfort and
strengthen them, (chap. ii.).
He requests the prayers of the Thessalonians for him
and his two assistants, at the same time expressing his
confidence that they would pay due regard to the instruo-
tions which he had given them. He then proceeds to
correct some irregularities. Many of the Thessalonians
seem to have led an idle and disorderly life ; these he
severely reproves, and commands the faithful to shun
their company if they still remained incorrigible.
When the first Epistle to Timothy was written, it is
iic A,‘“-difficult to ascertain. Lardner dates it in 56; Mill,
othy, when yVhkby, and Macknight, place it in 64: hut the ar-
wntten. gumen^s on which each party founds their opinion are
too long to insert here.
Timothy was the intimate friend and companion of
209
First Epis¬
tle to Tim
Paul, and is always mentioned by that apostle with Scripture,
much affection and esteem. Having appointed him to v’"*
superintend the church of Ephesus during a journey Inten2J°ft
which he made to Macedonia, he wrote this lettei, in an(j con-
order to direct him how to discharge the important trust tents of it.
which was committed to him. Ibis was the moie ne¬
cessary, as Timothy was young and inexperienced,
(1 Tim. iv. 12.). In the beginning of the epistle he
reminds him of the charge with which he had intiusted
him, to wit, to preserve the purity of the gospel against
the pernicious doctrines of the Judaizing teachers, whose
opinions led to frivolous controversies, and not to a good
life. He shows the use of the law of Moses, of which
these teachers were ignorant. Jhis account of the law,
he assures Timothy, was agreeable to the representation
of it in the gospel, with the preaching of which he was
intrusted. He then makes a degression, in the fulness
of his heart, to express the sense which he felt of the
goodness of God towards him.
In the second chapter, the apostle prescribes the man¬
ner in which the worship of God was to be performed in
the church of Ephesus; and in the third explains the
qualifications of the persons whom he was to ordain as
bishops and deacons. In the fourth chapter he foretels
the great corruptions of the church which were to pre¬
vail in future times, and instructs him how to support
the sacred character. In the fifth chapter he teaches
Timothy how to admonish the old and young of both
sexes ; mentions the age and character of such widows
as were to be employed by the society in some peculiar
office ; and subjoins some things concerning the respect
due to elders. In the sixth chapter he describes the
duties which Timothy was to inculcate on slaves; con¬
demns trifling controversies and pernicious disputes;
censures the excessive love of money, and charges the
rich to be rich in good works. 2lI
That the second Epistle to Timothy was written Se€ond E_
from Rome is universally agreed ; but whether it waSpjstie t0
during his first or second imprisonment has been much Timothy,
disputed. That Timothy was at Ephesus or in Asia
Minor when this Epistle was sent to him, appears from
the frequent mention in it of persons residing at Ephe- 212
sus. The apostle seems to have intended to prepare Design and
Timothy for those sufferings which he foresaw he wouldym^ents 0
be exposed*to. He exhorts him to constancy and perse¬
verance, and to perform with a good conscience the du¬
ties of the sacred function.
The false teachers, who had before thrown this
church into confusion, grew every day worse : insomuch
that not only Hymenseus, but Philetus, another Ephe¬
sian heretic, now denied the resurrection of the dead.
They were led into this error by a dispute about words.
At first they only annexed various improper significa¬
tions to the word resurrection, but at last they denied it
altogether (h) ; pretending that the resurrection of the
dead was only a resurrection from the death of sin, and
so was already past. This error was probably derived
from the eastern philosophy, which placed the origin
of sin in the body (chapter ii.). He then forewarns
(G) For an explanation of this prophecy, Dr Hurd’s sermons may be consulted. Pie applies it to the papal
power, to which it corresponds with astonishing exactness. . . _ .
(h) This is by no means uncommon among men ; to begin to dispute about the signification of words, and
Sc'fipi-iu’c.
,*13
Epistle to
Titus.
2I4
Desigu
aird con-
teats of
it
SCRIP
him of the fatal apostasy and declension that was begin¬
ning to appear in the church j and at the same time
animates him from his own example and the great mo¬
tives of Christianity, tf> the most vigorous and resolute
discharge of every part of the ministerial office.
This Epistle is addressed to Titus, whom Paul had
appointed to preside over the church of Crete. It is
difficult to determine either its date or the place from
which it was sent. The apostle begins with reminding
Titus of the reasons for which he had left him at
Crete •, and directs him on what principles he was to
act in ordaining Christian pastors: the qualifications of
whom he particularly describes. To show him how
cautious he ought to be in selecting men for the sacred
office, he reminds him of the arts of the Judaizing
teachers, and the bad character of the Cretans (chap. i.).
He advises him to accommodate his exhortations to
the respective ages, sexes, and circumstances, of those
whom it was his duty to instruct ; and to give the
greater weight to his instructions, he admonishes him
to be an example of what he taught (chap. ii.). He
exhorts him also to teach obedience to the civil magis¬
trate, because the Judaizing Christians affirmed that no
obedience was due from the worshippers of the true
God to magistrates who were idolaters. He cautions
against censoriousness and contention, and recommends
meekness •, for even the best Christians had formerly
been wicked, and all the blessings which they enjoyed
they derived from the goodness of God. He then en¬
joins Titus strenuously to inculcate good works, and to
avoid useless controversies ; and concludes with direct¬
ing him how to proceed with those heretics who at¬
tempted to sow dissension in the church.
The Epistle to Philemon was written from Rome at
 Date ancj the same time with the Epistles to the Colossians and
design of it. Philippians, about A. D. 62 or 63. The occasion of
the letter was this : Onesimus, Philemon’s slave, had
robbed his master and fled to Rome ; where, happily
for him, he met with the apostle, who was at that time
a prisoner at large, and by his instructions and admoni¬
tions was converted to Christianity ; and reclaimed to a
sense of his duty. St Paul seems to have kept him for
«ome considerable time under his eye, that he might be
satisfied of the reality of the change ; and, when he had
made a sufficient trial of him, and found that his beha-
Expmtor. viour was entirely agreeable to his profession, he would
not detain him any longer for his own private conveni¬
ence, though in a situation that rendered such an assist¬
ant peculiarly desirable (compare ver. 13, 14.), but sent
him back to his master j and, as a mark of his esteem,
entrusted him, together with Tychicus, with the charge
of delivering his Epistle to the church at Colosse, and
giving them a particular account of the state of things
at Rome, recommending him to them at the same
time, as a faithful and beloved brother (Col. iv. 9.).
And as Philemon might well be supposed to be strongly
prejudiced against one who had left his service in so
infamous a manner, he sends him this letter, in which
he employs all his influence to remove his suspicions,
and reconcile him to the thoughts of taking Onesimus
TUBE.
43
.lI5
Epistle to
Philemon.1
Dod¬
dridge's
Family
into his family again. And whereas St Paul might Scripture,
have exerted that authority which his character as an ' - " v ' f
apostle, and the relation in which he stood to Philemon
as a spiritual father, would naturally give him, he
chooses to entreat him as a friend 5 and with the softest
and most insinuating address urges his suit, conjuring
him by all the ties of Christian friendship that he would
not deny him his request: and the more effectually to
prevail upon him, he represents his own peace and hap¬
piness as deeply interested in the event j and speaks of
Onesimus in such terms as were best adapted to soften
his prejudices, and dispose him to receive one who was
so dear to himself, not merely as a servant, but as a fel¬
low Christian and a friend. 2i6
It is impossible to read over this admirable Epistle, The skill
without being touched with the delicacy of sentiment, addres*
and the masterly address that appear in every part of it.
We see here, in a most striking light, how perfectly con- covers jn
sistent true politeness is, not only with all the warmth this Epistle*
and sincerity of the friend, but even with the dignity of
the Christian and the apostle. And if this letter were
to be considered in no other view than as a mere human
composition, it must be allowed a master-piece in its
kind. As an illustration of this remark, it may not be
improper to compare it with an epistle of Pliny, that
seems to have been written upon a similar occasion, (lib.
ix. lit. 21) ; which, though penned by one that was rec¬
koned to excel in the epistolary style, and though it has
undoubtedly many beauties, yet must be acknowledged,
by every impartial reader, vastly inferior to this anima¬
ted composition of the apostle. 2I^
The Epistle to the Hebrews has been generally Epistle to
ascribed to Paul; but the truth of this opinion has been the Ile-
suspected by others, for three reasons : 1. The name ofbrews Wf’*
the writer is nowhere mentioned, neither in the begin-
ning nor in any other part of the Epistle. 2. The style
is said to be more elegant than Paul’s. 3. There are
expressions in the Epistle which have been thought un¬
suitable to an apostle’s character. 1. In answer to the.
first objection, Clemens Alexandrinus has assigned a
very good reason : “ Writing to the Hebrews (says he), Macknight
who had conceived a prejudice against him, and were o« Me K-
suspicious of him, he wisely declined setting his nameplstles.
at the beginning, lest he should offend them,” 2. Ori-
gen and Jerome admired the elegance of the style, and
reckoned it superior to that which Paul had exhibited
in his Epistles : but as ancient testimony had assigned it
to Paul, they endeavoured to answer the objection, by
supposing that the sentiments were the apostle’s, but
the language and composition the work of some other
person. If the Epistle, however, be a tx-anslation,
which we believe it to be, the elegance of the language
may belong to the translator. As to the composition
and arrangement, it cannot be denied that there are
many specimens in the writings of this apostle not in¬
ferior in these qualities to the Epistle to the Hebrews.
3. It is objected, that in Heb. ii. 3. the writer of this
Epistle joins himself with those who had received the
gospel from Christ’s apostles. Now Paul had it from
Christ himself. But Paul often appeals to the testimony
F 2 of
to be led gradually to deny the thing signified. This appears to have been the cause of most disputes and the
general beginning of scepticism and infidelity.
44
SCRIP
218
♦lent \vn
ters.
219
Written in
tlie Syro-
Chaldaic
lansua're.
Scripture, of the apostles in support of those truths which he had
received from Revelation. We may instance I Cor.
xv. 5, 6, 7, 8. *, 2 Tim. ii. 2.
Quoted as This Epistle is not quoted till the end of the second
his by an- century, and even then does not seem to have been uni-
'"‘‘nt 'x’r'~ versa!!y received. This silence might he owing to the
Hebrews themselves, who supposing this letter had no
relation to the Gentiles, might be at pains to dilfuse co¬
pies of it. The authors, however, on whose testimony
we receive it as authentic, are entitled to credit 5 for
they lived so near the age of the apostles, that they
were in no danger of being imposed on *, and from the
numerous list of books which they rejected as spurious,
we are assured that they were very careful to guard
against imposition. It is often quoted as Paul’s by
Clemens Alexandrinus, about the year 194. It is
received and quoted as Paul’s by Origen, about 230 j
by Dionysius bishop of Alexandria in 247 j and by a
numerous list of succeeding writers.
The Epistle to the Hebrews was originally written
in Hebrew, or rather Syro-Chaldaic; a tact which we
believe on the testimony of Clemens Alexandrinus, Je¬
rome, and Eusebius. To this it has been objected,
that as these writers have not referred to any authority,
wc ought to consider what they say on this subject mere¬
ly as an opinion. But as they state no reasons for
adopting this opinion, hut only mention as a fact that
Paul wrote to the Hebrews in their native language,
we must allow that it is their testimony which they
produce, and not their opinion. Eusebius informs us,
that some supposed Luke the Evangelist, and others
Clemens Romanus, to have been the translator.
According to the opinion of ancient writers, parti¬
cularly Clemens Alexandrinus, Jerome, and Euthalius,
this Epistle was addressed to the Jews in Palestine.—
The scope of the Epistle confirms this opinion.
Having now given sufficient evidence that this Epistle
was written by Paul, the time when it was written
may be easily determined : For the salutation from the
saints of Italy (chap. iv. 24.), together with the apostle’s
promise to see the Hebrews (ver. 23.), plainly intimate,
that his confinement was then either ended or on the
eve of being ended. It must therefore have been writ¬
ten soon after the Epistles to the Colossians, Ephesians,
and Philemon, and not long before Paul left Italy, that
is, in the 61 or 62.
As the zealous defenders of the Mosaic law would
Key to the naturally insist on the divine authority of Moses, on the
KTew Tes- rr!ajesty and glory attending its promulgation by the
tament. ministry of angels, and th& great privileges it afforded
those who adhered to it j the apostle shows.
Design of L That in all these several articles Christianity had
it to prove an infinite superiority to the law.
to the Jews This topic he pursues from chap. i. to xi. wherein
aTtheChri remin^s the believing Hebrews of the extraordinary
stian reii- favour shown them by God, in sending them a revela¬
tion and tion by his own son, whose glory was far superior to
its superi- that of angels (chap. i. throughout) *, very naturally
«r‘5Jothe inferring. from hence the danger of despising Christ on
account of his humiliation, which, in perfect consist¬
ence with his dominion over the world to come, was
voluntarily submitted to by him for wise and important
reasons j particularly to deliver us from the fear of
death, and to encourage the freedom of our access to
God (chap. ii. throughout). With the same view he
220
Date of it.
trey s
law of
Moses ^
T U R E.
magnifies Christ as superior to Moses, their great legis- Seri pin m
lator ; and from the punishment inflicted on those who v—v——J
rebelled against the authority of Moses, infers the dan¬
ger of contemning the promises of the gospel (chap.
iii. 2—13.). And as it was an easy transition to call to
mind on this occasion that rest in Canaan to which the
authority invested in Moses was intended to lead them;
the apostle hence cautions them against unbelief, as
what would prevent their entering into a superior state
of rest to what the Jews ever enjoyed (chap. iii. 14.
iv. 11.). This caution is still farther enforced by aw¬
ful views of God’s omniscience, and a lively represen¬
tation of the high-priesthood of Christ (chap. iv. to the
end ; and chap. v. throughout). In the next place, he
intimates the very hopeless situation of those who apo¬
statise from Christianity (chap. vi. 1—9.) ; and then,
for the comfort and confirmation of sincere believers,
displays to them the goodness of God, and his faithful
adherence to his holy engagements; the performance of
which is sealed by the entrance of Christ into heaven as
our forerunner (chap. vi. 9. to the end). Still far¬
ther to illustrate the character of our Lord, he enters
into a parallel between him and Melchizedec as to
their title and descent; and, from instances wherein the
priesthood of Melchizedec excelled the Levitical, infers,
that the glory of the priesthood of Christ surpassed that
under the law (chap.vii.i—17.)• From these premises
the apostle argues, that the Aaronical priesthood wras
not only excelled, but consummated by that of Christ,
to which it was only introductory and subservient; and
of course, that the obligation of the law was henceforth
dissolved (chap. vii. 18. to the end). Then recapitu¬
lating what he had already demonstrated concerning the
superior dignity of Christ’s priesthood, he thence illu¬
strates the distinguished excellence of the new cove¬
nant, as not only foretold by Jeremiah, but evidently
enriched with much better promises than the eld (ch.
viii. throughout) : Explaining farther the doctrine of
the priesthood and intercession of Christ, by comparing
it with what the Jewish high-priest did on the great
day of atonement (chap. ix. 1—14.). Aftenvards he
enlarges on the necessity of shedding Christ’s blood, and
the sufficiency of the atonement made by it (chap. ix.
15. to the end) ; and proves that the legal ceremonies
could not by any means purify the conscience : whence
he infers the, insufficiency of the Mosaic law, and the
necessity of looking beyond it (chap. x. 1—ij*). He
then urges the Hebrews to improve the privileges which
such an high-priest and covenant conferred on them, to
the purposes of approaching God with confidence, to
a constant attendance on his worship, and most benevo¬
lent regards to each other (chap. x. 15—25.).
The apostle having thus obviated the, insinuations and
objections of the Jews, for the satisfaction and establish¬
ment of the believing Hebrews, proceeds, 222
II. To prepare and fortify their minds against the and to aai-
storm of persecution which in part had already befallen niatc'thera
them, which was likely to continue and be often renew-to .1(ear,- n
ed, he reminds them of those extremities they had en- ^th foiti-
dured, and of the fatal effects which would attend their mde.
apostasy (chap. x. 26. to the end) ; calling to their
remembrance the eminent examples of faith and forti¬
tude exhibited by holy men, and recorded in the Old
Testament (chap., xi. 1—29.). He concludes his dis¬
course with glancing at many other illustrious worthies;
and.
523
'he seven
athohc
nistles.
titles.
S CRIP
Scripture, and, besides those recorded in Scripture, refers to the
y case of several who suffered under the persecution of
Antiochus Epiphanes (2 Maccab. chap. viii. &c. chap,
xi. 30. xii. 2.).
Having thus finished the argumentative part of the
Epistle, the apostle proceeds to a general application ;
in which he exhorts the Hebrew Christians to patience,
peace, and holiness (^chap. xii. 3—14‘) J cautions them
against secular views and sensual gratifications, by lay¬
ing before them the incomparable excellence of the
blessings introduced by the gospel, which even the Jetv-
ish economy, glorious and magnificent as it was, did by
no means equal 5 exhorts them to brotherly affection,
purity, compassion, dependence on the divine care, sted-
fastness in the profession of truth, a life of thankfulness
to God, and benevolence to man : and concludes the
whole with recommending their pious ministers to their
particular regard, intreating their prayers, saluting and
granting them his usual benediction.
The seven following Epistles, one of James, two of
T etei, three of John, and one of Jude, have been dis¬
tinguished by the appellation oi catholic ov general ey\s-
tles, because most of them are inscribed, not to parti¬
cular churches or persons, but to the body of Jewish
or Gentile converts over the world. The authenticity
of some of these has been frequently questioned, viz.
The Epistle of James, the second of Peter, the Epistle of
Jude, and the second and third of John. The ancient
Christians were very cautious in admitting any books
Tacknight ‘nto t*ieir ca,™n whose authenticity they had any reason
: the E- to suspect. They rejected all the writings forged by
heretics in the name of the apostles, and certainly, there¬
fore, would not receive any without first subjecting them
to a severe scrutiny. Now, though these‘five epistles
were not immediately acknowledged as the writings of
the apostles, this only shows that the persons who
doubted had not received complete and incontestable
evidence of their authenticity. But as they were af¬
terwards universally received, we have every reason to
conclude, that upon a strict examination they were
found to be the genuine productions of the apostles.
Tim truth is, so good an opportunity had the ancient
Christians of examining this matter, so careful were they
to guard against imposition, and so well founded was
their judgment concerning the books of the New Tes¬
tament, that, as I)r Lardner observes, no writing
which they pronounced genuine has yet been proved
spurious, nor have we at this day the least reason to
believe any book genuine which they rejected.
That the Epistle of James was written in the aposto¬
lical age is proved by the quotations of ancient authors.
Clemens Romanus and Ignatius seem to have made re¬
ferences to it. Origen quotes it once or twice. There
are several reasons why it was not more generally quoted
by the first Christian writers. Being written to correct
the errors and vices which prevailed among the Jews
the Gentiles might think it of less importance to them,
and therefore take no pains to procure copies of it. As'
the author was sometimes denominated James the Just
and often called bishop of Jerusalem, it might be doubt¬
ed whether he was one of the apostles. But its au¬
thenticity does not seem to have been suspected on ac¬
count of the doctrines which it contains. In modern
times, indeed, Luther called it a strawy epistle (emsiola
straminea), and excluded k from the sacred writings,
1 224
E Ule of
J] les the
I s
T U R E. 45
on account of its apparent opposition to the apostle Paul Scripture.
concerning justification by faith. * ^
I bis Epistle could not be written by James the Elder,
the son of Zebedee, and brother of John, who was be¬
headed by Herod in the year 44, for it contains passages
which refer to a later period. It must, therefore, have
been the composition of James the Less, the son of
AIphe us, who was called the Lord's brother, because he
was the son ol Mary, the sister of our Lord’s mother. 224
As to the date of this Epistle, Lardner fixes it in the The date,
year 61 or 62.
James the Less statedly resided at Jerusalem, whence
he hath been styled by some ancient lathers bishop of
that city, though without sufficient foundation. Nowg-^ lamily
ames being one ot the apostles of the circumcision,-Expositor,
while he confined his personal labours to the inhabitants
of Judea, it was very natural for him to endeavour by
Ins writings to extend bis services to the Jewish Chris-
ITZ wfJT- ‘lisper9c‘l ^ “ moredi«*”‘ re-.»ad<f„'6a
gions. I 01 this purpose, there are two points w hich of it.
the apostle seems to have principally aimed at, though
he hath not pursued them in an orderly and logical me¬
thod, but in the free epistolary manner, handling them
jointly or distinctly as occasions naturally ofiered. And
these were, “ to correct those errors both in doctrine
and practice into which the Jewish Christians had fal¬
len, which might otherwise have produced fatal conse¬
quences j and then to establish the faith and animate
the hope of sincere believers, both under their present
and their approaching sufferings.”
I he opinions which he is most anxious to refute arc
these, that God is the author of sin, (ch. i. 13.) ; that
the belief of the doctrines of the gospel was sufficient
to procure the favour of God for them, however defi¬
cient they were in good works, (ch. ii.). He dissuades
the Jews from aspiring to the office of teachers in the
third chapter, because their prejudices in favour of the
law ol Moses might induce them to pervert the doctrines
ol the gospel. He therefore guards them against the
sms ol the tongue, by representing their pernicious ef¬
fects; and as they thought themselves wise and intelli¬
gent, and were ambitious of becoming teachers, he ad¬
vises them to make good their pretensions, by showing
themselves possessed ol that wisdom which is from
above, (ch. iii.).
I he destruction of Jerusalem was now approaching ;
the Jews were split into factions, and often slauaLtered
one another ; the apostle, therefore, in the fourth chap¬
ter, admonishes them to purify themselves from those
vices which produced tumults and bloodshed. To rouse-
them to repentance, he foretels the miseries that were
coming upon them. Lastly, he checks an irreligious
spirit that seems to have prevailed, and concludes the
x-pistle with several exhortations.
The authenticity of the first Epistle of Peter has First E~
never been denied. It is referred to by Clemens Ro- pistle °V
manus, by Polycarp, and is quoted byPapias, Irenams/^"'
tuemens A.exandrnms, and Tertullian. It is addres¬
sed to the strangers scattered through Poutus &c
who are evidently Christians in general, as appears from
c.,ap. 11. 10. “ In time past they were not a peoufe
but are now the people of God.” From Peter’s send-*
mg the salutation of the church at Babylon to the
Christians in Pontus, &c. it is generally beifeved that
be wrote it in Babylon. There was a Babylon in
Egypt
22S
The date
229
and design
of it.
230
Second E-
pistle of
Peter. The
authentici¬
ty of it
proved
*3*
from inter¬
nal evi¬
dence.
Egypt and another in Assyria. It could not be the
former, for it was an obscure place, which seems to
have had no church for the first four centuries. We
have no authority to affirm that Peter ever was in As¬
syria. The most probable opinion is that of Grotius,
Whitby, Lardner, as well as of Eusebius, Jerome, and
others, that by Babylon Peter figuratively means Borne.
Lardner dates it in 63 or 64, or at tbe latest 65..
St Peter’s chief design is to confirm the doctrine of
St Paul, which the false teachers pretended he was op¬
posing j and to assure the proselytes that they stood in
the true grace of God, (ch. v. 12.). With this view he
calls them elect •, and mentions, that they had been
declared such by the effusion of the Holy Ghost upon
them, (ch. i. r, 2 ). He assures them that they were
regenerate without circumcision, merely through the
gospel and resurrection of Christ, (ver. 3, 4, 21 ’
and that their sufferings were no argument of their be¬
ing under the displeasure of God, as the Jews imagined,
(ver. 6 12.). He recommends it to them to hope for
grace to the end, (ver. I3*)- testifies, that they
were not redeemed by the Paschal lamb, but through
Christ, whom God had preordained for this purpose
before the foundation of the world, (ver. 18—20.).
The second Epistle of Peter is not mentioned by any
ancient writer extant till the fourth century, from which
time it has been received by all Christians except the Sy¬
rians. Jerome acquaints us, that its authenticity was
disputed, on account of a remarkable difterence between
the style of it and the former Epistle. But this re¬
markable difference in style is confined to the 2d chapter
of the 2d Epistle. No objection, however, can be
drawn from this circumstance ; for the subject of that
chapter is different from the rest of Peter’s writings,
and nothing is so well known than that different subjects
suggest different styles. Peter, in describing the cha¬
racter of some flagitious impostors, feels an indignation
which he cannot suppress: it breaks out, therefore, in
the bold and animated figures of an oriental writer.
Such a diversity of style is not uncommon in the best
writers, especially when warmed with their subject.
This objection being removed, we contend that this
Epistle was written by Peter, from the inscription, Si¬
mon Peter, a servant and an apostle of Jesus Christ. It
aupears from chap. i. 16, 17, 18. that the writer was
one of the disciples who saw the transfiguration of our
Saviour. Since it has never been ascribed to James or
John, it must therefore have been Peter. It is evident,
from chap. iii. 1. that the author had written an Epistle
-before to the same persons, which is another circum¬
stance that proves Peter to be the author.
It is acknowledged, however, that all this evidence is
merely internal j for we have not been able to find any
external evidence upon the subject. If, therefore, the
credit which we give to any fact is to be in proportion
to the degree of evidence with which it is accompanied,
we shall allow more authority due to the gospels than
to the epistles more to those epistles which have been
generally acknowledged than to those which have been
controverted; and therefore no doctrine of Christianity
ought to be founded solely upon them. It may also be
added, that perhaps the best way of determining what
are the essential doctrines of Christianity would be to
examine what are the doctrines which occur oftenest
in the gospels j for the gospels are the plainest parts of
SCRIPTURE.
the New Testament; and their authenticity Is most Scripture,
completely proved. They are therefore best fitted for v~_i J
common readers. Nor will it be denied, we presume,
that our Saviour taught all the doctrines of the Chris¬
tian religion himself*, that he repeated them on different
occasions, and inculcated them with an earnestness pro¬
portionable to their importance. 'I he Epistles are to be
considered as a commentary on the essential doctrines of
the gospel, adapted to the situation and circumstances of
particular churches, and perhaps sometimes explaining
doctrines of inferior importance. 1. Ihe essential doc¬
trines are therefore first to be sought for m the gospels,
and to be determined by tbe number of times they occur.
2. They are to be sought for, in the next place, in the
uncontroverted Epistles, in the same manner. 3* 0
essential doctrine ought to oe founded on a single passage,
nor on the authority of a controverted Epistle.
That Peter was old, and near his end, when he wrote
this Epistle, may be inferred from chap. i. 14. “ Know¬
ing that shortly I must put off this tabernacle, even as
our Lord Jesus has shewn me.” Lardner thinks it was
written soon after the former. Others, perhaps with
more accuracy, date it in 67. _ 232
The general design of this Epistle is, to conhvm the Design of
doctrines and instructions delivered in the former; “to it.
excite the Christian converts to adorn, and stedfastly ad¬
here to their holy religion, as a religion proceeding
from God, notwithstanding the artifices of false teachers,
whose character is at large described; or the persecution
of their bitter and inveterate enemies.”. 233
The first Epistle of John is ascribed by the unanimous
-suffrage of the ancients to the beloved disciple of our 0 [u
Lord. It is referred to by Polycarp, is quoted by 1 a_autheiiti-
pias, by IreiiEeus, and was received as genuine by Cle-city and
mens Alexandrinus, by Dionysius of Alexandria, by Cy- stjle,
prian, by Origen, and Eusebius. There is such a resem¬
blance between the style and sentiments of this Epistle
and those of the gospel according to John, as to afford
the highest degree of internal evidence that they are the
composition of the same author. In the style of this
apostle there is a remarkable peculiarity, and especially
in this Epistle. Hissentences, considered separately, are
exceeding clear and intelligible; but when we search for
their connection, we frequently meet with greater dif¬
ficulties than we do even in the Epistles of St Paul.
The principal signature and characteristic of his manner
is an artless and amiable simplicity, and a singular mo¬
desty and candour, in conjunction with a wonderful sub¬
limity of sentiment. His conceptions are apparently de¬
livered to us in the order in which they arose to his own
mind, and are not the product of artificial reasoning or
laboured investigation.
It is impossible to fix with any precision the date of
this Epistle, nor can we determine to what persons it
was addressed. ,234
The leading design of the apostle is to show the in- Design «
sufficiency of faith, and the external profession of reli-11-
gion, separate from morality; to guard the Christians
to whom he writes against the delusive arts of the cor¬
rupters of Christianity, whom he calls Antichrist; and
to inculcate universal benevolence. His admonitions
concerning the necessity of good morals, and the inef¬
ficacy of external professions, are scattered over the
Epistle, but are most frequent in the 1st, 2d, and 3d
chapters. The enemies or corrupters of Christianity,
against
es ei
l]ia.
(cripture. against whom he contends, seem to have denied that
Jesus was the Messiah the Son of God (chapter ii. 22.
v. 1.), and had actually come into the world in a human
form, (chap. iv. 2, 3.). The earnestness and frequency
with which this apostle recommends the duty of bene¬
volence is remarkable. He makes it the distinguishing
characteristic of the disciples of Jesus, the only sure
pledge of our love to God, and the only assurance of
eternal life, (chap. iii. 34, 15.). Benevolence was his
favourite theme, which he affectionately pressed upon
others, and constantly practised himself. It was conspi¬
cuous in his conduct to his great Master, and in the re¬
ciprocal affection which it inspired in his sacred breast.
He continued to recommend it in his last words. When
his extreme age and infirmities had so wasted his strength
that he was incapable to exercise the duties of his office,
the venerable old man, anxious to exert in the service
of his Master the little strength which still remained,
caused himself to be carried to church, and, in the midst
of the congregation, he repeated .these words, “ Little
135 children love one another.”
Mand It has been observed by Hr Mill that the second and
!l " third Epistles of John are so short, and resemble the first
so much in sentiment and style, that it is not worth
while to contend about them. The second Epistle con¬
sists only of 13 verses 5 and of these eight may be found
in the 1st Epistle, in which the sense or language is pre¬
cisely the same.
Ihe second Epistle is quoted by Irenaeus, and was
received by Clemens Alexandrinus. Both were ad¬
mitted by Athanasius, by Cyril of Jerusalem, and by
Jerome. The second is addressed to a woman of di¬
stinction whose name is by some supposed to be Cyria
(taking for a proper name), by others Eclecta.
The third is inscribed to Gains, or Caius according to
the Latin orthography, who, in the opinion of Larduer,
was an eminent Christian, that lived in some city of
Asia not far from Ephesus, where St John chiefly re¬
sided after his leaving Judea. The time of writing
these two Epistles cannot be determined with any cei>
tainty. They are so short, that an analysis of them is
not necessary.
Hie Epistle of Jude is cited by no ancient Christian
writer extant before Clemens Alexandriuus about the
year 194 ; but this author has transcribed eight or ten
verses in his Stromata and Pedagogue. It is quoted
once by I ertullian about the year 200 j by Origen
frequently about 230. It was not, however, received
by many of the ancient Christians, on account of a
supposed quotation from a book of Enoch. But it is
not certain that Jude quotes any book. He only says
that Enoch prophesied, saying, The Lord cometh with
ten thousand of his saints. These might be words of a
prophecy preserved by tradition, and inserted occasion¬
ally in diflerent writings. Nor is there any evidence
that there was such a book as Enoch’s prophecies in the
time of Jude, though a book of that name was extant in
the second and third centuries. As to the date of this
Epistle nothing beyond conjecture can be produced.
I he design of it is, by describing the character of the
SCRIPTURE. 47
false teachers, and the punishments to which they were Scripture.
36
fjcde of
u . Its
itjlinti-
t
■T
■1 :sign
liable, to caution Christians against listening to their
suggestions, and being thereby perverted from the faith
and purity of the gospel. „.g
The Apocalypse or Revelation has not always been The Apo-
unanimously received as the genuine production of theca!yPse- Its
apostle John. Its authenticity is proved, however, bya^lent*'
the testimony of many respectable authors of the first S ^
centuries. It is referred to by the martyrs of Lyons :
it was admitted by Justin Martyr as the work of the
apostle John. It is often quoted by Irenaeus, by The-
ophilus bishop of Antioch, by Clement of Alexandria,
by Tertullian, by Origen, and by Cyprian of Carthage.
It was also received by heretics', by Novatus and his
followers, by the Honatists, and by the Arians. For
the first two centuries no part of the New Testament
was more universally acknowledged, or mentioned with
higher respect. But a dispute having arisen about the
millennium, Caius with some others, about the year
212, to end the controversy as speedily and effectually
as possible, ventured to deny the authority of the book
which had given occasion to it. 2
The book of Revelation, as we learn from Rev. i. 9. The date
was written in the isle of Patmos. According to the0^1,
general testimony of ancient authors, John was banished
into Patmos in the reign of Domitian, and restored by
his successor Nerva. But the book could not be pu¬
blished till aiter John’s release, when he returned to E-
phesus. As Domitian died in 96, and his persecu¬
tion did not commence till near the end of his reion,
the Revelation might therefore be published in 06 or
97-
Here we should conclude j but as the curious reader Percy's
may desire to be informed how the predictions revealed to tfu
in this book of St John have usually been interpreted^ Tes'
J u-J — -> 11 • • ■* • • - - r tament
and applied, we shall consistently with our subject sub-'
join a key to the prophecies contained in the Revelation.
This is extracted from the learned dissertations of Dr
Newton, bishop of Bristol (1) : to which the reader is
referred for a more full illustration of the several parts,
as the conciseness of our plan only admits a short ana¬
lysis or abridgment of them.
Nothing of a prophetical nature occursinthe first three Dr N4ew-
Cr r'>^CrS’ exceP^’ I* ^ said concerning the church ton’s ex-
of Ephesus, that her “ candlestick shall be removed out location of
of its place,” which is now verified, not only in this, but^L6 ?10‘
in all the other Asiatic churches which existed at that which have
time 3 the light of the gospel having been taken from been al-
them, not only by their heresies and divisions from with-rea(ty ac~
in, but by the arms of the Saracens from without: And comPlislled
2. Concerning the church of Smyrna, that she shall
have tribulation ten days 3” that is, in prophetic lan¬
guage, “ ten years referring to the persecution of
Dioclesian, which alone of all the general persecutions
lasted so long.
The next five chapters relate to the opening of the
Seven Seals ; and by these seals are intimated so many
different periods of the prophecy. Six of these seals are
opened in the sixth and seventh chapters.
The first seal or period is memorable for conquests.
It
0“ ,he pr01>h'icies have remMkal>b “">1 at this time are fulfilling, i„ the
48 SCRIP
Scripture. It commences with Vespasian, and terminates in Nerva;
* v and during this time Judea was subjugated. Ihe se¬
cond seal is noted for war and slaughter. It commences
with Trajan, and continues through his reign, and that
of his successors. In this period, the Jews were entire¬
ly routed and dispersed •, and great was the slaughter
and devastation occasioned by the contending parties.
The third seal is characterised by a rigorous execution
of justice, and an abundant provision of corn, wine, and
oil. It commences with Septimius Severus. He and
Alexander Severus were just and severe emperors, and
at the same time highly celebrated for the regar
they paid to the felicity of their people, by procur¬
ing them plenty of every thing, and particularly
corn, wine, and oil. This period lasted during the
reigns of the Septimian family. 'The fourth seal is di¬
stinguished by a concurrence of evils, such as war, ta-
mine, pestilence, and wild beasts ; by all which the Ko-
man empire was remarkably infested trom the reign or
Maximin to that of Dioclesian. The fifth seal begins
at Dioclesian, and is signalized by the great persecu¬
tion, from whence arose that memorable era, the Dra
of Martyrs. With Constantine begins the sixth seal,
a period of revolutions, pictured forth by great commo¬
tions in earth and in heaven, alluding to the subversion
of Paganism ami the establishment of Christianity.
This period lasted from the reign of Constantine the
Great to that of Theodosius the First. The seventh
seal includes under it the remaining parts ol the pro¬
phecy, and comprehends seven periods distinguished by
the sounding of seven trumpets.
As the seals foretold the state of the Roman empire
before and till it became Christian, so the trumpets fore¬
show the fate of it afterwards •, each trumpet being an
alarm to one nation or other, rousing them up to over-
.throw that empire.
Four of these trumpets are sounded m the eigntn
At the sounding of the first, Alaric and^ Lis Goths
invade the Roman empire, besiege Rome twice, and set
it on fire in several places. At the sounding of the se¬
cond, Attila and bis Huns waste the Roman provinces,
and compel the eastern emperor Theodosius the Second,
and the western emperor Valentinian the Third, to sub¬
mit to shameful terms. At the sounding of the thud,
Genseric and his Vandals arrive from Africa j spoil and
plunder Rome, and set sail again with immense wealth
and innumerable captives. At the sounding of the
fourth, Odoacer and the HeruK put an end to the very
name of the western empire •, Theodoric founds the
kingdom of the Ostrogoths in Italy ; and at last Italy
becomes a province of the eastern empire, Rome being
governed by a duke under the exarch of Ravenna. As
the foregoing trumpets relate chiefly to the cownfal of
the western empire, so do the following to that of the
eastern. They are sounded in the ninth, tenth, and
part of the eleventh chapters. At the spueding of the
fifth trumpet,Mahomet, that blazing star, appears, opens
the bottomless pit, and with his locusts the Arabians
darkens the sun and air. And at the sound ng ot the
sixth, a period not yet finished, the. lour angers, that is
the four sultans, or-'leaders of the Turks and Otnmans,
are loosed from the river Euphrates. The Greek or
Eastern empire was cruelly “ hurt and tormented tm-
5
TURK
der the fifth trumpet} but under the sixth, was “ slain,” Scripture.
and utterly destroyed. . ' ^
The Latin or Western Church not being reclaimed
by the ruin of the Greek or Eastern, hut still persisting
in their idolatry and wickedness ; at the beginning of the
tenth chapter, and under the sound of this sixth trumpet,
is introduced a vision preparative to the prophecies re¬
specting the Western Church, wherein an angel is repre¬
sented, having in his hand a little book, or codicil, de¬
scribing the calamities that should overtake that church.
The measuring of the temple shows, that during all this
period there will be some true Christians, who will con¬
form themselves to the rule of God’s word, even whilst
the outer court, that is, the external and more extensive
part of this temple or church, is trodden under foot by
Gentiles, i. e. such Christians as, in their idolatrous
worship and persecuting practice, resemble and outdo
the Gentiles themselves. Yet against these corrupters
of religion there will always be some true witnesses to
protest, who, however they may he overborne at times,
and in appearance reduced to death, yet will arise again
from time to time, till at last they triumph and glori¬
ously ascend. The eleventh chapter concludes with th«j
sounding of the seventh trumpet.
In the twelfth chapter, by the woman bearing a man-
child is to be understood the Christian church ; by the
great red dragon, the heathen Roman empire *, by the
man-child whom the woman bore, Constantine the
Great ; and by the war in heaven, the contests be¬
tween the Christian and Heathen religions.
In the thirteenth chapter, by the beast with seven
heads and ten horns, unto whom the dragon gave his
power, seat, and great authority, is to be understood,
not Pagan but Christian, not imperial but papal Rome j
in submitting to whose religion, the world did in eftect
submit again to the religion of the dragon.. I he ten¬
horned beast therefore represents the Romish church
and state in general : but the beast with two horns like
a lamb is the Roman clergy •, and that image of the
ten-horned beast, which the two-borned beast caused to
be made, and inspired with life, is the pope ; whose
number is 666, according to the numerical powers of
the letters constituting the Roman name Aatfiiroj, Lah-
nus, or its equivalent in Hebrew, ir'HVi Hormth.
A
A
T
E
1
N
O
2
3°
I
300
5
10
5©
70
200
200 '1
6 i
40 73
10 *
IO *
400 n
666
666
Chapter xiv. By the lamb on Mount Sion is meant
Jesus ; by the hundred forty and four thousand, his
church and followers ; by the angel preaching the ever¬
lasting gospel, the first principal effort made towards a
reformation by that public opposition formed against the
worship of saints and images by emperors and bishops
in the eighth and ninth centuries •, by the angel cry¬
ing, “ Babylon is fallen,” the Waldenses and Albi-
genses, who pronounced the church of Rome to be the
Apocalyptic
SCRIP
Scripture. Apocalyptic Babylon, and denounced her destruction 5
v — > and by the third angel Martin Luther and his fellow
reformers, who protested against all the corruptions of
the church of Rome as destructive to salvation. For
TUBE.
an account of the doctrines and precepts contained in
the Scriptures, see Theology. For proofs of their
divine origin, see Religion, Prophecy, and Mira¬
cles.
49
Scripture.
SCR
Scrivener SCRIVENER, one who draws contracts, or whose
II, business it is to place money at interest. If a scrivener
■ be entrusted with a bond, he may receive the interest}
and if he fail, the obligee shall bear the loss : and so
it is if he receive the principal and deliver up the bond ;
for being entrusted with the security itself, it must be
presumed that he is trusted with power to receive inte¬
rest or principal ; and the giving up the bond on pay¬
ment of the money shall be a discharge thereof. But
if a scrivener shall be entrusted with a mortgage-deed,
he hath only authority to receive the interest, not the
principal; the giving up the deed in this case not being
sufficient to restore the estate, but there must be a re¬
conveyance, &c. It is held, where a scrivener puts
out his client’s money on a bad security, which upon
inquiry might have been easily found so, yet he cannot
in equity be charged to answer for the money ; for it is
here said, no one would venture to put out money of
another upon a security, if he were obliged to warrant
and make it good in case a loss should happen, without
any fraud in him.
SCROBICULUS cordis, the same as Anticar-
dium.
SCROFANELLO, in Ichthyology, a name by
which some have called a small fish of the Mediterra¬
nean, more usually known by the name of the scor-
pcena.
SCROLL, in Heraldry. See that article, chap. iv.
sect. 9. When the motto relates to the crest, the scroll
is properly placed above the achievement; otherwise it
should be annexed to the escutcheon. Those of the
order of knighthood are generally placed round shields.
SCROPHULA, the King’s Evil. See Medi¬
cine, N° 349.
SCROPHULARIA, Figwort, a genus of plants
belonging to the didynamia class, and in the natural
method ranking under the 40th order, Personatce. See
Botany Index.
SCROTUM. See Anatomy, N° 220.
SCRUPLE, Scrupulus, or Scrupulum, the least
of the weights used by the ancients, which amongst
the Romans was the 24th part of an ounce, or the 3d
part of a dram. The scruple is still a weight among
us, containing the 3d part of a dram, or 20 grains.
Among goldsmiths it is 24 grains.
SCRUPLE, in Chaldean Chronology, is XoVo I)ai't
of an hour, called by the Hebrews helakin. These
scruples are much used by the Jews, Arabs, and other
eastern people, in computations of time.
Scruples of half Duration, an arch of the moon’s
orbit, which the moon’s centre describes from the be¬
ginning of an eclipse to its middle.
Scruples of Immersion or Incidence, an arch of the
moon’s orbit, which her centre describes from the be¬
ginning of the eclipse to the time when its centre falls
into the shadow.
Vol. XIX. Part I. 4
s c u
Scruples of Emersion, an arch of the moon’s orbit, Scruples
which her centre describes in the time from the first I!
emersion of the moon’s limb to the end of the eclipse. Scudding.
SCRUTINY, {Scrutiniuni), in the primitive church, ' v~
an examination or pr-obation practised in the last week
of Lent, on the catechumens, who were to receive bap¬
tism on the Easter-day. The scrutiny was performed
with a great many ceremonies. Exorcisms and prayers
were made over the heads of the catechumens j and on
Palm Sunday, the Lord’s Prayer and Creed were given
them, which they were afterwards made to rehearse.
This custom was more in use in the church of Rome
than anywhere else ; though it appears, by some mis¬
sals, to have been likewise used, though much later, in
the Galilean church. It is supposed to have ceased
about the year 860. Some traces of this practice still
remain at ^ ienne in Dauphine, and at Liege.
Scrutiny, is also used, in the Canon Law, for a
ticket or little paper billet, wherein at elections the
electors write their votes privately, so as it may not be
known for whom they vote. Among us the term scru¬
tiny is chiefly used for a strict perusal and examina¬
tion of the several votes hastily taken at an election 5
in order to find out any irregularities committed there¬
in, by unqualified voters, &c.
SCRUTORE, or Scrutoir (from the French es-
crutoire), a kind of cabinet, with a door or lid open¬
ing downwards, for conveniency of writing on, &c.
SCRY, in falconry, denotes a large flock of fowl.
SCUDDING, the movement by which a ship is car¬
ried precipitately before a tempest. As a ship flies
with amazing rapidity through the rvater whenever this
expedient is put in practice, it is never attempted in a
contrary wind, unless when her condition renders her
incapable of sustaining the mutual effort of the wind
and waves any longer on her side, without being-
exposed to the most imminent danger of beinp- over¬
set.
A ship either scuds with a sail extended on her fore¬
mast, or, it the storm is excessive, without any sail :
which, in the sea-phrase, is called scudding under hare
poles. In sloops and schooners, and other small vessels,
the sail employed for this purpose is called the square
sail.^ In large ships, it is either the foresail at large,
reefed, or with its goose-wings extended, according
to the degree ot the tempest j or it is the fore-top sail^
close reefed, and lowered on the cap j which last is
particularly used when the sea runs so high as to becalm
the foresail occasionally, a circumstance which exposes
the ship to the danger of broaching to. The principal
hazards incident to scudding are generally, a pooping
sea ; the difficulty of steering, which exposes the vessel
perpetually to the risk of broaching to 5 and the want of
sufficient sea-room. A sea striking the ship violently on
the stern may dash it inwards, by which she must inevi¬
tably founder. In broaching to (that is, inclining sud-
G denly
sou
[ 50 ]
s c u
Scuddinc tlenly to windward), she Is threatened with being imme-
'1—^ diately overturned-, and, for want of sea-room, she is en¬
dangered by shipwreck on a hee-shore, a circumstance
too dreadful to require explanation.
SCULPONEiE, among the Romans,, a kind ofseutyoneas.
shoes worn by slaves of both sexes. These shoes were ' 
only blocks of wood made hollow, like the x,iencn
sabots*
SCULPTURE,
I
Definition yg ^ avj. 0f carving wood or hewing stone Into images,
of sculp- l It js an art ot-' the most remote antiquity, being
OrLin of practised, as there is reason to believe, before the general
it, deluge. We are induced to assign to it this early origin,
by considering the expedients by which, in the hrst
stages of society, men have every where supplied the
place of alphabetic characters. These, it is universally
known, have been picture-writing, such as that ot the
Mexicans, which, in the progress of refinement and
knowledge, was gradually improved into the hierogly¬
phics of the Egyptians and other ancient nations, bee
Hieroglyphics.
That mankind should have lived near 17°° yfal.S’
from the creation of the world to the flood m Noah,
without falling upon any method to make their concep¬
tions permanent, or to communicate them to a distance,
is extremely improbable 5 especially when we call to
mind that such methods of writing have been found, m
modem times, among people much less enlightened than
those must have been who were capable ot building
such a vessel as the ark. But if the antediluvians were
acquainted with any kind of writing, there can be little
doubt of its being hieroglyphical writing. Mr Bryant
has proved that the Chaldeans were possessed ot that art
* A-imd before the Egyptians y and Berosus* informs us, that
Si/ncelium, R delineation of all the monstrous forms which mliabit-
p- 37, ed the chaos, when this earth was in that state was to
be seen in the temple of Belus in Babylon. Ibis de i-
neation, as he describes it, must have been a history in
bieroglvphical characters 5. for it consisted of human fi¬
gures with wings* with two heads, and some with the
horns and legs of goats. This is exactly similar to the
hieroglyphical writings of the Egyptians ; and it was
preserved, our author says, both in drawings and engra-
vingSy in the temple of the god of Babylon. As Chal¬
dea was the first peopled region of the earth alter the
tHisf. Niz#.floot, and as it appears from Plinyf, as well as trom
lib. vu. cap. _ ,, ,  * „p Qr,™-avln«T nn bricks baked in
*<5
try;
IlOOU} dllll do a ‘Mr • J i*! 11,1*
Berosus, that the art of engraving on bricks baked m
the sun was there carried to a considerable degree ot
perfection at a very early period, the probability cer¬
tainly is, that the Chaldeans derived the art of tnero-
glyphical writing, and consequently the rudiments ot
2 the art of sculpture, from their antediluvian ancestors,
not solely it is generally thought that sculpture had its origin
IVom idola- fronl idolatry, as it was found necessary to place before
the people the images of their gods to enliven the fer¬
vour of their devotion : hut this is probably a mistake.
The worship of the heavenly bodies, as the only gods
of the heathen nations, prevailed so long before the dei¬
fication of dead men was thought of (see Polytheism),
tliat we cannot suppose mankind to have been, during
all that time, ignorant of the art of hieroglypineal wri¬
ting. But the deification of departed heroes undoubt¬
edly gave rise to the almost universal practice of repre¬
senting the gods by images of a human form ; and
therefore we must conclude, that the elements of sculp-
1?
ture were known before that art was employed to enliyem
the devotion of idolatrous worshippers. I he pyramids
and obelisks of Egypt, which were probably temples,
or rather altars, dedicated to the sun (see Pyramid),
were covered from top to bottom with hieroglyphical
emblems of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and reptiles, at a
period prior to that in which there is any unexception¬
able evidence that mere statue-worship prevailed even
in that nursery of idolatry. 3
But thouoh it appears thus evident that picture-though it
writing was'tile first employment of the sculptor
are far from imagining that idolatrous worship i id t0 0>rty
contribute to carry his art to that perfection which it ljie art l0
attained in some of the nations of antiquity. Even in perfettioiu
the dark ages of Europe, when the other fine arts were
almost extinguished, the mummery of the church of
Rome, and the veneration which she taught for her
saints and martyrs, preserved among the Italians some
vestiges of the sister-arts of sculpture and painting ; and
therefore, as human nature is every where the same, it
is reasonable to believe that a similar veneration for he¬
roes and demigods would, among the ancient nations,
have a similar effect. But if this be so, the presump¬
tion is, that the Chaldeans were the first who invented
the art of hewing blocks ot wood and stone into the fi¬
gures of men and other animals j for the Chaldeans were
unquestionably the first idolaters, and their early pro¬
gress in sculpture is confirmed by the united testimonies
of Berosus, Alexander Polyhistor, Apollodorus, and
Pliny } not to mention the eastern tradition, that tlie
father of Abraham was a statuary. _ 4
Against this conclusion Mr Bromley, in his late Hi-Mr Biom-
story of the Fine Arts, has urged some plausible argu-ley’s fo¬
ments. In stating these he professes not to be original,
or to derive his information from the fountain-head of was jDveI1t,
antiquity. He adopts, as he tells us, the theory of a ed by the
French writer, who maintains, that in the year of the Scythian*,
world 1949, about 300 years after the deluge, the Scy¬
thians under Brouma, a descendant of Magog the son
of Japhet, extended their conquests over the greater part
of Asia. According to this system, Brouma was not
only the civilizer of India, and the author of the brami-
nical doctrines, hut also diffused the principles of the
Scythian mythology over Egypt, Phoenicia, Greece, and
the continent of Asia.
Of these principles Mr Bromley has given us no di¬
stinct enumeration the account which he gives of them
is not to be found in one place, but to be collected from
a variety of distant passages. In attempting therefore
to present the substance of his scattered' hints in one
view, we will not be confident that we have omitted
none of them. The ox, says he, was the Scythian em¬
blem of the generator of animal life, and hence it be¬
came the principal divinity of the Arabians. The ser¬
pent was the symbol of the source of intelligent nature.
These were the common points of union in all the first
religions.
religions of the earth. From Egypt the Israelites car
ried with them a religious veneration for the ox and the
serpent. I heir veneration for the ox appeared soon af¬
ter they marched into the wilderness, when in the ab¬
sence ot Moses they called upon Aaron to make them
gods which should go before them. The idea of ha¬
ving an idol to go before them, says our author, rvas
completely Scythian ; for so the Scythians acted in all
their progress through Asia, with this difference, that
their idol was a living animal. The Israelites having
gained their favourite god, which was an ox (not a calf
as it is rendered in the book of Exodus), next proceed¬
ed to hold a festival, which was to he accompanied
with dancing ; a species of gaiety common in the festi¬
vals which were held in adoration of the emblematic
Urotal or ox in that very part of Arabia near Mount
Sinai where this event took place. It is mentioned
too as a curious and important fact, that the ox which
was revered in Arabia was c-AleA Arfonai. According¬
ly Aaron announcing the feast to the ox or golden calf,
speaks thus, to-morrow is a feast to Adonai, which is in
our translation rendered lo the lord. In the time of
Jeroboam we read ot the golden calves set up as objects
of worship at Bethel and Dan. Nor was the reverence
SCULPTUBE.
paid to the ox confined to Scythia, to Egypt, and to
Asia ; it extended much farther. The ancient Cimbri,
as the Scythians did, carried an ox of bronze before them
on all their expeditions. Mr Bromley also informs us,
that as great respect was paid to the living ox among
tfie Greeks as was offered to its symbol among other
nations.
The emblem of the serpent, continues Mr Bromley,
was marked yet more decidedly by the express direc¬
tion of the Almighty. I hat animal had ever been
considered as emblematic of the supreme generating
power of intelligent life: And was that idea, says he,
discouraged, so far as it went to be a sign or symbol of
life P when God said to Moses, “ Make thee a brazen
serpent, and set it on a pole, and it shall come to pass
that every one who is bitten, when he looketh on it,
shall live.” In Egypt the serpent surrounded their Isis
and Osiris, the diadems of their princes, and the bon¬
nets of their priests. The serpent made a distinguished
figure in Grecian sculpture. The fable of Echidne,
the mother of the Scythians, gave her figure termina¬
ting as a serpent to all the founders of states in Greece ;
from which their earliest sculptors represented in that
form the Titan princes, Cecrops, Draco, and even Eric-
thonius. Beside the spear of the image of Minerva
which Phidias made for the citadel of Athens, he pla¬
ced a Serpent, which was supposed to guard that god¬
dess.
The serpent was combined with many other figures.
It sometimes was coiled round an egg as an emblem of
the creation; sometimes round a trident, to show its
power over the sea; sometimes it encircled a flambeau
to represent life and death.
In Egypt, as well as in Scythia and India, the di¬
vinity was represented on the leaves of the tamara or
lotus. Pan was worshipped as a god in that country,
as well as over the east. Their sphinxes, and all their
combined figures of animal creation, took their origin
from the mother of the Scythians, who brought forth an
offspring that was half a woman and half a serpent. Their
pyramids and obelisks arose Tram the idea of flame*
the first emblem of the supreme principle, introduced by
the Scythians, and which even the influence of Zoroas¬
ter and the Magi could not remove.
We are told that the Bacchus of the Greeks is de¬
rived from the Brouma of the Indians; that both are
represented as seated on a .swan swimming over the
waves, to indicate that each was the god of humid na¬
ture, not the god of wine, but the god of waters. The
mitre of Bacchus ivas shaped jike half an egg; an em¬
blem taken from this circumstance, that at the creation
the egg from which all things sprung was divided in the
middle. Pan also was revered among the Scythians ;
ami from that people were derived all the emblems by
which the Greeks represented this divinity.
It would be tedious to follow our author through the
whole of this subject; and were we to submit to the la¬
bour of collecting and arranging his scattered materials,
we should still view his system with some degree of sus¬
picion. It is drawn, as he informs us, from the work of
■^* Ancarville, intitled, llecherchcs sur /’ Origins,
PEsprit, et les Progres, des Arts de la Grace.
I o form conclusions concerning the origin of nations, •„ - 5 ,
the rise and progress of the arts and sciences, without Unded*
the aid of historical evidence, by analogies which are
sometimes accidental, and often fanciful, is a mode of
reasoning which cannot readily be admitted. There
may indeed, we acknowledge, be resemblances in the re¬
ligion, language, manners, and customs, of different na¬
tions, so striking and so numerous, that to doubt of
their being descended from the same stock would favour
of scepticism. But historical theories must not be adopt¬
ed rashly. We must be certain that the evidence is
credible and satisfactory before we proceed to deduce
, any conclusions. We must fiist know whether the
Scythian history itself be authentic, before we make
any comparison with the history of other nations. But
what is called the Scythian history,, every man of learn¬
ing knows to be a collection of fables. Herodotus and
Justin are the two ancient writers from whom we hare
the fullest account of that warlike nation ; hut these two
historians contradict each other, and both write what
cannot be believed of the same people at the same pe¬
riod of their progress. Justin tells us, that there was a
long and violent contest between the Scythians and E-
gyptians abou t the antiquity of their respective nations ;
and alter stating the arguments on each side of the que¬
stion, which, as he gives them *, are nothing to the pur-* Lib. ji.
pose, he decides in favour of the claim of the Scy-eap. i.
thians. Herodotus was too partial to the Egyptians,
not to give them the palm of antiquity ; and he was
probably in the right; for Justin describes his most an¬
cient of nations, even in the time of Darius Hystaspes
as ignorant of all the arts of civil life. “ They occu¬
pied their land in common (says he), and cultivated
none of it. I hey had no houses nor settled habitations
hut wandered with their cattle from desert to desert!
In these rambles they carried their wives and children
in tumbiels covered with the skins of beasts, which ser¬
ved as houses to protect them from the storms of win¬
ter. They were without laws, governed by the dictates
of natural equity. They coveted not gold or silver like
the rest of mankind, and lived upon milk and honey.
Though they were exposed to extreme cold, and had
abundance of flocks, they knew not how to make gar¬
ments of wool, but clothed themselves in the skins of
G 2
5 r
52
\ Lib. ii.
cap. 2.
t Lib. vii.
§ Lib. iv.
cap. 62.
SCULP
Egyptian
sculpture.
wild beasts f ” This Is the most favourable account
which any ancient writer gives of the Scythians. By
Strabo t and Herodotus § they are represented as the
most savage of mortals, delighting in war and bloodshed,
cutting the throats of all strangers who came among
them, eating their flesh, and making cups and pots 0
their skulls. Is it conceivable that such savages could
be sculptors-, or that even, supposing their manners to
have been such as Justin represents them, a people so
simple and ignorant could have imposed their mytho-
l0o-y upon the Chaldeans, Phenicians, and Egyptians,
whom we know by the most incontrovertible evidence
to have been great and polished nations so ear y as in
the days of Abraham? No! We could as soon admit
other novelties of more importance, with which the
French of the present age pretend to enlighten the
world, as this origin assigned by Mr Bromley to the art
of sculpture, unless supported by better authority than
that of D’Ancarville. „ , c
The inference of our author from the name Ol the
sacred ox in Arabia, and from the dancing and gaiety
which were common in the religious festivals ot the
Arabians, appears to us to be very hastily drawn. At
the early period of the departure ot the Israelites irom
Egypt, the language of the Hebrews, Egyptians, and
Arabians, differed not more from each other than do
the different dialects of the Greek tongue which are
found in the poems of Homer (see Philology, Sect.
HI ) • and it is certain that for many years alter the
formation of the golden-calf, the Hebrews were stran-
gers to every species of idolatry but that which they
had brought with them from their house ot bondage.
See RemphaN. , o .I • vi
Taking for granted, therefore, that the Scythians did
not impose their mythology on the eastern nations, and
that the art of sculpture, as well as hieroglyphic writing
and idolatrous worship, prevailed first among the ^hat-
deans, we shall endeavour to trace the progress ot this
art through some other nations of antiquity, till we bring
it to Greece, Avhere it was carried to the highest pertec-
tion to which it has yet attained.
The first intimation that we have of the art ot sculp¬
ture is in the book of Genesis, where we are informed,
that when Jacob, by the divine command was return¬
ing to Canaan, his wife Rachel carried along with her
the teraphim or idols of her father. These we are as¬
sured were small, since Rachel found it so easy to con¬
ceal them from her father, notwithstanding his anxious
search. We are ignorant, however, how these images
were made, or of what materials they were composed.
The first person mentioned as an artist of eminence is
Bezaleel, who formed the cherubims which covered the
mercy-seat. . .
The Egyptians also cultivated the art ot sculpture,
but there were two circumstances which obstructed its
progress. 1. The persons of the Egyptians were not
possessed of the graces of form, of elegance, or of sym¬
metry ; and of consequence they had no perfect standard
to model their taste. They resembled the Chinese in
the cast of their face, in their great bellies and in the
clumsy rounding of their contours. 2. 1 hey were re¬
strained by their laws to the principles and practices ol
their ancestors, and were not permitted to introduce any
innovations. Their statues were always formed m the
same stiff attitude, with the arms hanging perpendicular-
3
T U R E.
ly down the sides. What perfection were they capable
of who knew no other attitude than that ot chairmen .
So far were they from attempting any improvements,
that in the time of Adrian the art continued m the
same rude state as at first 5 and when their slavish adu¬
lation for that emperor induced them to place the sta¬
tue of his favourite Antinous among the objects ot
their worship, the same inanimate stillness in the atti¬
tude of the body and position of the arms was observed.
We believe it will scarcely be necessary to inform our
readers that the Egyptian statue just now mentioned is
very different from the celebrated statue of Antinous,
of which so many moulds have been taken that imita¬
tions of it are now to be met with almost in every cabi¬
net in Europe. . , r
Notwithstanding the attachment ol the Egyptians to
ancient usages, Winkelman thinks he has discovered two
different styles of sculpture which prevailed at ditlerent
periods. The first of these ends with the conquest ot
Egypt by Cambyses. The second begins at that time
and extends beyond the reign of Alexander the Great. ?
In the first style, the lines which form the contour are FIrst sly]e
straight and projecting a little-, the position is stift and
unnatural: In sitting figures the legs are parallel, the
feet squeezed together, and the arms fixed to the sides j
but in the figures of women the left arm is folded across
the breast-, the bones and muscles are faintly discernible;
the eyes are flat and looking obliquely, and the eyebrows
sunk—features which destroy entirely the beauty ot the
head ; the cheek-bones are high, the chin small and
piked ; the ears are generally placed higher than in na¬
ture, and the feet are too large and flat. In short, it
we are to look for any model in the statues ol Egypt,
it is not for the model of beauty but of deformity. I he
statues of men are naked, only they have a short apron,
and a few folds of drapery surrounding their waist:
The vestments of women are only distinguishable by the
border, which rises a little above the surface ol the
statue. In this age it is evident the Egyptians knew
little of drapery. s
Of the second style of sculpture practised among tlieSec011c|
Egyptians, Winkelman thinks he has found specimens style,
in the two figures of basaltes in the Capitol, and in an¬
other figure at Villa Albani, the head of which has
been renewed. The first two ot these, he lemarks, bear
visible traces of the former style which appear especial¬
ly in the form of the mouth and shortness of the chin.
The hands possess more elegance; and the feet are
placed at a greater distance from each other, than was
customary in more ancient times. In the fiist and third
figures the arms hang down close to the sides. In the
second they hang more freely. Vv inkelman suspects
that these three statues have been made after the con-
ouest of Egypt by the Greeks. They are clothed with
a tunic, a°robe, and a mantle. The tunic, which is
puckered into many folds, descends from the neck to
the ground. The robe in the first and third statues
seems close to the body, and is only perceptible by
some little folds. It is tied under the breast, and cover¬
ed by the mantle, the two buttons of which are placed
under the epaulet.
The Antinous of the Capitol is composed ot two
pieces, which are joined under the haunches. But as
all the Egyptian statues which now remain have bten
hewn out^of one block, we must believe that Diodorus,
iu
53
SCULPTURE.
in saying the stone was divided, and each half finished
by a separate artizan, spoke only of a colossus. The
same author informs us, that the Egyptians divided the
human body into 24^- parts } but it is to be regretted
that he has not given a more minute detail of that di¬
vision.
- The Egyptian statues were not only formed by the
chisel, they were also polished with great care. Even
those on the summit of an obelisk, which could only be
viewed at a distance, were finished with as much labour
and cai’e as if they had admitted a close inspection. As
they are generally executed in granite orbasaltes, stones
of a very hard texture, it is impossible not to admii’e the
indefatigable patience of the artists.
The eye was often of different materials from the rest
of the statue ; sometimes it was composed of a precious
stone or metal. We are assured that the valuable dia¬
mond of the empress of Russia, the largest and most
beautiful hitherto known, formed one of the eyes of
the famous statue of Scheringhanx in the temple of
Brama.
Those Egyptian statues which still remain are com¬
posed of wood or baked earth : and the statues of earth
9 are covered with green enamel.
Phenician The Phenicians possessed both a character and situa-
seulpture. ti011 highly favourable to the cultivation of statuary.
They had beautiful models in their own persons, and
their industrious character qualified them to attain pex--
fection in every art for which they had a taste. Their
situation raised a spirit of commerce, and commerce in¬
duced them to cultivate the arts. Their temples shone
witlx statues and columns of gold, and a profusion of
emerals was everywhere scattered. All the gi'eat works
of the Phenicians have been unfortunately destroyed $
but many of the Carthaginian medals ax-e still preserved,
ten of which are deposited in the cabinet of the grand
duke of Florence. But though the Carthaginians were
a colony of Phenicians, we cannot from their works
jo judge of the merit of their ancestors.
This art not The Persians made no distinguished figure in the arts
cultivated of design. They were indeed sensible to the charms of
Persian!16 keauty> but they did not study to imitate them. Their
dress, which consisted of long flowing robes concealing
the whole person, prevented tlxem from attending to the
beauties of form. Their religion, too, which taught
them to woi-ship the divinity in the emblem of fire, and
that it was impious to represent him under a human
form, seemed almost to prohibit the exercise of this art,
by taking away those motives which alone could give it
dignity and value ; and as it was not customary among
them to raise statues to great men, it was impossible
that statuary could flourish in Persia.
The Etrurians or ancient Tuscans, in the opinion of
culpture. Winkelman, carried this art to some degree of perfec¬
tion at an earlier period than the Greeks. It is said to
have been introduced before the siege of Troy by De-
dalus, who, in order to escape the resentment of Minos
king of Crete, took refuge in Sicily, from whence he
passed into Italy, where he left many monuments of his
art. Pausanias and Diodorus Siculus informs us, that
some works ascribed by him were to be seen when they
wrote, and that these possessed that character of ma¬
jesty which afterwards distinguished the labours of
Etruria.
A character strongly marked forms the chief distinc-
Etrurian
tion in those productions of Etruria which have descend¬
ed to us. Their style was indeed hard and overcharg¬
ed ; a fault also committed by Michael Angelo, the
celebrated painter of modern Etruria ; for it is not to
be supposed that a people of such rude manners as the
Etrurians could communicate to their works that vivid¬
ness and beauty which the elegance of Grecian man¬
ners inspired. On the other hand, there are many of
the Tuscan statues which bear so close a resemblance
to those of Greece, that antiquarians have thought it
probable that they were conveyed from that country,
or Magna Grtecia, into Etruria, about the time of the
Roman conquest, when Italy was adorned with the
spoils of Greece. , t
Among the monuments of Etrurian art two different First style,
styles have been observed. In the first the lines are
straight, the attitude stiff', and no idea of beauty ap¬
pears in the formation of the head. The contour is
not well rounded, and the figure is too slender. The
head is oval, the chin piked, the eyes flat, and looking
asquint.
These are the defects of an art in the state of infancy,
which an accomplished master could never fall into, and
are equally conspicuous in Gothic statues as in the pro¬
ductions of the ancient natives of Florence. They re¬
semble the style of the Egyptians so much, that one is
almost induced to -suppose that there had once been a
communication between these two nations j but others
think that this style was introduced by Dedalus.
Winkelman supposes that the second epoch of this Seco^
art commenced in Etruria, about the time at which it style,
had reached its greatest perfection in Greece, in the
age of Phidias ; but this conjecture is not supported by
any proofs. To describe the second style of sculpture
among the Etrurians, is almost the same as to describe
the stylo ol Michael Angelo and his numerous imita¬
tors. "I he joints are strongly marked, the muscles
raised, the bones distinguishable ; but the whole mien
harsh. In designing the bone of the leg, and the sepa¬
ration of the muscles of the calf, there is an elevation
and strength above life. The statues of the gods are de¬
signed with more delicacy. In forming them, the ar¬
tists were anxious to show that they could exercise their
power without that violent distension of the muscles
which is necessary in the exertions of beings merely
human ; but in general their attitudes are unnatural, and
the actions strained. If a statue, for instance, hold any
thing with its fore fingers, the rest are stretched out in
a stiff position.
According to ancient history, the Gx-eeks did not
emerge from the savage state till a long time after the
Egyptians, Chaldeans, and Indians, had arrived at a
considerable degree of civilization. The original rude
inhabitants of Greece were civilized by colonies which
arrived among them, at different times, from Egypt
and Phenicia. These brought along with them the re¬
ligion, the letters, and the arts of their parent coun¬
tries: and it sculpture had its origin from the worship
of idols, there is reason to believe that it was one of
the arts which were thus imported j for that the gods
of Greece were of Egyptian and Phenician extraction
is a fact incontrovertible; (see Mysteries, Mytho¬
logy, Philology, Sect. VII. Philosophy, N° 19,
and Titan). The original statues of the gods, how¬
ever, were very rude. The earliest objects of idolatrous
worship
54
SCULPTURE.
worship have everywhere been the heavenly bodies j
and the symbols consecrated to them were generally pil¬
lars of a conical or pyramidal figure. It was not till
hero-worship was engrafted on the planetary, that the
sculptor thought of giving to the sacred statue any part
of the human form (see Polytheism, N° 19, 23.) ", and
it appears to have been about the era of their revolution
in idolatry that the art of sculpture was introduced
among the Greeks. The first representations of their
gods were round stones placed upon cubes or pillars }
and these stones they afterwards formed roughly, so as
to give them something of the appearance of a head.
Agreeable to this description was a Jupiter, which Pau-
sanias saw in Tegeum, in Arcadia. rIhese representa¬
tions were called Hermes; not that they represented
Mercury, but from the word Herma, which signified a
rough stone. It is the name which Homer gives to
the stones which were used to fix vessels to the shore.
Pausanias saw at Pheres 30 deities made of unformed
blocks or cubical stones. The Lacedaemonians repre¬
sented Castor and Pollux by two parallel posts •, and a
transverse beam was added, to express their mutual af¬
fection. .
If the Greeks derived from foreign nations the rudi¬
ments of the arts, it must redound much to their ho¬
nour, that in a few centuries they carried them to sucli
wonderful perfection as entirely to eclipse the fame of
their masters. It is by tracing the progress of sculpture
among them that we are to study the history of this art;
and we shall see its origin and successive improvements
correspond with nature, which always operates slowly
and gradually.
View of Grecian Sculpture.
14
Causes
The great superiority of the Greeks in the art of
which pro- sculpture may be ascribed to a variety of causes. 1
he
moted die influence of climate over the human body is so striking,
artofscu1p-that it must jiave flxed the attention of every thinking
gIkcc man who lias reflected on the subject. The violent
heats of the torrid zone, and the excessive cold oi the
polar regions, are unfavourable to beauty. It is only
in the mild climates of the temperate regions that it
appears in its most attractive charms. Perhaps no
country in the world enjoys a more serene air, less taint¬
ed with mist and vapours, or possesses in a higher degree
that mild and genial warmth which can unfold and ex¬
pand the human body into all the symmetry of muscular
strength, and all the delicacies of female beauty, in great¬
er perfection, than the happy climate of Greece and
never was there any people that had a greater taste lor
beauty, or were more anxious to improve it. Of the
four wishes of Simonides, the second was to have a hand¬
some figure. The love of beauty was so great among
the Lacedtemonian women, that they kept in tneir
chambers the statues of Nereus, of Narcissus, of Hya-
dnthus, and of Castor and Pollux; hoping that by
often contemplating them they might have beautiful
children.
There was a variety of circumstances in the noble ami
virtuous freedom of the Grecian manners that rendered
these models of beauty peculiarly subservient to the
cultivation of the fine arts. There were no tyrannical
laws, as among the Egyptians, to check their progress.
’They had the best opportunities to study them in the
public places, where the youth, who needed no other
veil than chastity and purity of manners, performed their
various exercises quite naked. I hey had the strongest
motives to cultivate sculpture, for a statue was the high¬
est honour which public merit could attain. It was an
honour ambitiously sought, and granted only to those
who had distinguished themselves in the eyes of their
fellow citizens. As the Greeks preferred natural qua¬
lities to acquired accomplishments, they decreed the
first rewards to those who excelled in agility and strength
of body. Statues were often raised to wrestlers. Even
the most eminent men of Greece, in their youth, sought
renown in gymnastic exercises. Chrysippus and (Jle-
anthes distinguished themselves in the public games be¬
fore they were known as philosophers. Plato appeared
as a wrestler both at the Isthmian and Pythian games ;
and Pythagoras carried oft the prize at Elis, (see Py¬
thagoras). The passion by which they were inspired
was the ambition of having their statues erected in tlie
most sacred place of Greece, to he seen and admired by
the whole people. 1 he number of statues erected on
difterent occasions was immense ; of course the number
of artists must have been great, their emulation ardent,
and their progress rapid.
As most of their statues were decreed for those who
vanquished in the public games, the artists had the op¬
portunity of seeing excellent models ; for those who
surpassed in running, boxing, and wrestling, must in ge¬
neral have been well formed, yet would exhibit different
kinds of beauty.
The high estimation in which sculptors were held
was very favourable to their art. Socrates declared the
artists the only wise men. An artist could be a legisla¬
tor, a commander of armies, and might hope to have
his statue placed beside those of Miltiadesand Themis-
tocles, or those of the ‘gods themselves. Besides, the
honour and success of an artist did not depend on the
caprice of pride or of ignorance. The productions of
art were estimated and rewarded by the greatest sages
in the general assembly of Greece, and the sculptor wlro
had executed his work with ability and taste was confi¬
dent of obtaining immortality.
It was the opinion of Winkelman, that liberty was
highly favourable to this art; but, though liberty is ab¬
solutely necessary to the advancement of science, it may
he doubted whether the fine arts owe their improvement
to it. Sculpture flourished most in Greece, when Pe¬
ricles exercised the power of a king; and in the reign
of Alexander, when Greece was conquered. It attain¬
ed no perfection in Rome till Augustus had enslaved the
Romans. It revived in Italy under the patronage of the
family of Medici, and in France under the despotic rule
of Louis XIV. It is the love of beauty, luxury, wealth,
or the patronage of a powerful individual, that promotes
the progress of this art. 15
It will now be proper to give a particular account of Grecian
the ideas which the Greeks entertained concerning the 'ilea* of
standard of beauty in the different parts of the human 1,eaUtL
body. And with respect to the head, the profile which i<?
they chiefly admired is peculiar to dignified beauty. It Th« profile,
consists in a line almost straight, or marked by such
slight and gentle inflections as are scarcely distinguish¬
able from a straight line. In the figures of women and
young persons, the forehead and nose form a line ap¬
proaching to a perpendicular*.
Ancient
5-5
SCULPTURE
17 Ancient writers, as well'as artists, assure us that the
^fore" Greeks reckoned a small forehead a mark of beauty,
and a high forehead a deformity. From the same idea,
the Circassians wore their hair hanging down over their
foreheads almost to their eyebrows. To give an oval
form to the countenance, it is necessary that the hair
should cover the forehead, and thus make a curve about
the temples-, otherwise the face, which terminates in an
oval form in the inferior part, will be angular in the
higher part, and the proportion will be destroyed. This
rounding of the forehead may be seen in all handsome
persons, in all the heads of ideal beauty in ancient sta¬
tues, and especially in those of youth. It has been over¬
looked, however, by modern statuaries. Bernini, who
modelled a statue of Louis XIV. in his youth, turned
18 back the hair from the forehead.
.he eyes. jj. jg genera]ly agreed that large eyes are beautiful ;
but their size is of less importance in sculpture than their
form, and the manner in which they are enchased. In
ideal beauty, the eyes are always sunk deeper than they
are in nature, and consequently the eyebrows have a
greater projection. But in large statues, placed at a
certain distance, the eyes, which are of the same colour
with the rest of the head, would have little effect if th-ey
were not sunk. By deepening the cavity of the eye,
the statuary increases the light and shade, and thus gives
the head more life and expression. The same practice
is used in small statues. The eye is a characteristic
feature in the heads of the different deities. In the
statues of Apollo, Jupiter, and Juno, the eye is large and
round. In those of Pallas they are also large ; but by
lowering the eyelids, the virgin air and expression of mo¬
desty are delicately marked. Venus has small eyes, and
the lower eyelid being raised a little, gives them a lan¬
guishing look and enchanting sweetness. It is only
necessary to see the Venus de Medicis to be convinced
that large eyes are not essential to beauty, especially if
we compare her small eyes with those which resemble
them in nature. The beauty of the eyebrows consists
in the fineness of the hair, and in the sharpness of the
bone which covers them ; and masters of the art con-
sidered the joining of the eyebrows as a deformity,
though it is sometimes to be met with in ancient sta-
r9 tues.
lie mouth. The beauty of the mouth is peculiarly necessary to
constitute a fine face. The lower lip must be fuller
than the upper, in order to give an elegant rounding
to the chin. The teeth seldom appear, except in laugh¬
ing satyrs. In human figures the lips are generally close,
and a little opened in the figures of the gods. The lips
of Venus are half open.
In figures of ideal beauty, the Grecian artists never
interrupted the rounding of the chin by introducing a
dimple : for this they considered not as a mark of beau¬
ty, and only to be admitted to distinguish individuals.
The dimple indeed appears in some ancient statues, but
antiquaries suspect it to be the work of a modern hand.
Jt is suspected also, that the dimple which is sometimes
found on the cheeks of ancient statues is a modern iruio-
jo vation.
%■ ears. No part of the head was executed by the ancients
with more care than the ears, though little attention has
been given to them by modern artists. This character
is so decisive, that if we observe in any statue that the
ears are not highly finished, but only roughly marked,
we may conclude with certainty that we are examining
a modern production. The ancients were very attentive
to copy the precise form of the ear in taking likenesses.
Thus, where we meet with a head the ears of which
have a very large interior opening, we know it to be
the head of Marcus Aurelius.
The manner in which the ancient artists formed the The hair,
hair also enables us to distinguish their works from
those of the moderns. On hard and coarse stones the
hair was short, and appeared as if it had been combed
with a wide comb 5 for that kind of stone was difficult
to work, and could not without immense labour be
formed into curled and flowing hair. But the figures
executed in marble in the most flourishing period of the
art have the hair curled and flowing; at least where the
head was not intended to be an exact resemblance, for
then the artist conformed to his model. In the heads of
women, the hair was thrown back, and tied behind in a
waving manner, leaving considerable intervals ; which
gives the agreeable variety of light and shade, and pro¬
duces the effects of the claro-obscuro. The hair of the
Amazons is disposed in this manner. Apollo and Bac¬
chus have their hair falling down their shoulders; and
young persons, till they arrived at manhood, wore their
hair long. I he colour of the hair which was reckon¬
ed most beautiful, was fair; and this they gave without
distinction to the most beautiful of their gods, Apollo
and Bacchus, and likewise to their most illustrious he¬
roes.
Although the ravages of time have preserved but The hands,
few of the hands or feet of ancient statues, it is evident
from what remains how anxious the Grecian artists
were to give every perfection to these parts. The
hands of young persons were moderately plump, with
little cavities or dimples at the joints of the fingers.
The fingers tapered very gently from the root to the
points, like well-proportioned columns, and the joints
were scarcely perceptible. The terminating joint was
not bent, as it commonly appears in modern statues. ^
In the figures of young men the joints of the knee The legs
are faintly marked. The knee unites the leg to the an(* J'eet'
thigh without making any remarkable projections or
cavities. Tire most beautiful legs and best-turned knees,
according to Winkelman, are preserved in the Apollo
Saurocthones, in the Villa Borghese ; in the Apollo
which has a swan at its feet; and in the Bacchus of Vil¬
la Medicis. The same able connoisseur remarks, it is
rare to meet with beautiful knees in young persons, or
in the elegant representations of art. As the ancients
did not cover the feet as we do, they gave to them the
mast beautiful turning, and studied the form of them
with the most scrupulous attention.
I he breasts of men were large and elevated. The The breast
breasts of women did not possess much amplitude. Theaild lower
figures of the deities have always the breasts of a virgin, l,art of the
the beauty of which the ancients made to consist in abodjr*
gentle elevation. So anxious were the women to re¬
semble this standard, that they used several arts to re¬
strain the growth of their breasts. The breasts of tire
nymphs and goddesses were never represented swelling,
because that is peculiar to those women who suckle.
The paps of Venus contract and end in a point, this
being considered as an essential characteristic of perfect
beauty. Some of the moderns have transgressed these
rules, and have fallen into great improprieties.
The
56
SCULP
The lower part of the body ro the statues of men
was formed like that of the living body alter a protound
sleep and good digestion. The navel was considerably
sunk, especially in female statues. . .
Ideal beau- As beauty never appears in equal perfection in every
ty. part of the s‘ame individual, perfect or ideal beauty can
only be produced by selecting the most beautiful paits
from different models ; but this must be done with such
judgment and care, that these detached beauties when
united may form the most exact symmetry. let the
ancients sometimes confined themselves to one indivi¬
dual, even in the most flourishing age. Theodorus,
whom Socrates and his disciples visited, served as a mo¬
del to the artists of his time. Phryne also appeals o
have been a model to the painters and sculptors. Put
Socrates, in his conversation with Parrhasius, says, that
when a perfect beauty was to be produced, the artis s
joined together the most striking beauties which could
be collected from the finest figures. We know that
Zeuxis, when he was going to paint Helen, united in
one picture all the beauties of the most handsome wo¬
men of Crotona.
The dm- The Grecian sculptors, who represented with such
pery of sta- success the most perfect beauty of the human form, were
tues. not regardless of the drapery of their statues. 1 hey
clothed their figures in the most proper stuff, which
they wrought into that shape which was best calculated
to give effect to their design.
The vestments of women m Greece generally con¬
sisted of linen cloth, or some other light stub and in
latter times of silk and sometimes of woollen cloth
They had also garments embroidered with gold. In t j
works of sculpture, as well as in those of painting, one
may distinguish the linen by its transparency and small
united folds. The other light stufts which were worn
by the women (a) were generally of cotton produced in
the isle of Cos j and these the art of statuary was able to
distinguish from the linen vestments. The cotton do h
was sometimes striped, and sometimes embellished with
a profusion of flowers. Silk was also employed ; but
whether it was known in Greece before the time of the
Roman emperors cannot easily be determined. In paint¬
ings, it is distinguishable by changing its colour in dif¬
ferent lights to red, violet, and sky-blue. There were
two sorts of purple 5 that which the Greeks called the
colour of the sea, and Tyrian purp e, which resemble
lac. Woollen garments are easily known by the ampli¬
tude of their folds. Besides these, cloth of gold some¬
times composed their drapery : but it was not like the
modern fabric, consisting of a thread of gold or of silver
spun with a thread of silk ^ it was composed of gold or
silver alone, without any mixture. ^
The vestments of the Greeks, which deserve particu-
„ lar attention, are the tunic, the robe, and the mantle.
TheVunic. The tunic was that part of the dress which was next
to the body. It may be seen ,n sleeping figures or in
those in dishabille 5 as in the Flora Farnese and in the
statues of the Amazons in the Capitol. ^ he youngest
of the daughters of Niobe, who throws herself at her
tube.
mother’s side, is clothed only with a tunic. It was of
linen, or some other light stuff, without sleeves, fixed
to the shoulders by a button, so as to cover the whole
breast. None but the tunics of the goddess Ceres and
comedians have long straight sleeves. 28
The robes of women commonly consisted of two long The robe,
pieces of woollen cloth, without any particular form, at¬
tached to the shoulders by a great many buttons, and
sometimes by a clasp. They had straight sleeves which v
came down to the wrists. The.young girls, as well as
the women, fastened their robe to their side by a cinc¬
ture, in the same way as the high-priest of the Jews fas¬
tened his, as it is still done in many parts of Greece.
The cincture formed on the side a knot of ri Dons
sometimes resembling a rose in shape, which has been
particularly remarked in the two beautiful daughters of
Niobe. In the younger of these the cincture is seen pas¬
sing over the shoulders and the back. Venus has two
cinctures, the one passing over the shoulder, and the
other surrounding the waist. Ihe latter is called cestus
1)7 The mantle was called peplon by the Greeks, which The .nan.
signifies properly the mantle of Pallas The name was tie.
v' terwards applied to the mantles of the other gods, as
well as to those of men. This part of the dress was not
square, as some have imagined, but of a roundish form.
The ancients indeed speak in general of square mantles
but they received this shape from four tassels whicu
were affixed to them ; two of these were visible, and
two were concealed under the mantle. The mantle
was brought under the right arm, and over the left
shoulder j sometimes it was attached to the shoulder by
two buttons, as may be seen in the beautiful statue of
Leucothoe at Villa Albani. > . . 3°
The colour of vestments peculiar to certain statues isq>iie coioti:
too curious to be omitted. To begin with the figures of of the vest
tlie gods.—The drapery of Jupiter Was red, that of Nep~m<-ms-
tune is'supposed by Winkelman to have been sea-green.
The same colour also belonged to the Nereids and
Nymphs. The mantle of Apollo was blue or violet.
Bacchus was dressed in white. Martianus Capella as¬
signs green to Cybele. June’s vestments were sky-blue,
but she sometimes had a white veil. .Pallas was robed
in a flame-coloured mantle. In a painting of Hercula¬
neum, Venus is in flowing drapery of a golden yellow.
Kings were arrayed in purple ; priests in white 5 and
conquerors sometimes in sea-green.
With respect to the head, women generally wore no
covering but their hair-, when they wished to cover
their head, they used the corner of their mantle.—
Sometimes we meet with veils of a fine transparent tex¬
ture. Old women wore a kind of bonnet upon their
head, an example of which may be seen in a statue in
the Capitol called the Prcefica ; but Winkelman thinks
it is a statue of Hecuba.
The covering of the feet consisted of shoes or sandals.
The sandals were generally an inch thick, and composed
of more than one sole of cork. Those of Pallas in V ilia
Albani has two soles, and other statues had no less than
five.
Winkelman
(a) Men sometimes wore cotton, but all who did so were reckoned effeminate.
S C U L
3* WiKKELMAN has assigned four different styles to this
f thifllr art' .T!le ancient stJle> which continued until the time
mong the Phidias j the grand style, formed by that celebrated
lireeks. statuary 5 the beautiful, introduced by Praxiteles, A-
pelles, andLysippus; and tYieimitative style, practised by
„ those artists who co'pied the works of the ancient masters,
"he an- ' The most authentic monuments of the ancient style
lent style, are medals, containing an inscription, which leads us
hack to very distant times. The writing is from right
to left in the Hebrew manner j a usage which was aban¬
doned before the time of Herodotus. The statue of
Agamemnon at Elis, which was made by Ornatas, has
an inscription from right to left. This artisan flourish¬
ed 50 years before Phidias j it is in the intervening pe¬
riod therefore between these two artists, that we are to
look for the cessation of this practice. The statues
formed in the ancient style were neither distinguished
by beauty of shape nor by proportion, but bore°a close
resemblance to those of the Egyptians and Etrurians
(b) 5 the eyes were long and flat; the section of the
mouth not horizontal 5 the chin was pointed; the curls
of the hair were ranged in little rings, and resembled
grains mclosed in a heap of raisins. What was still
worse, it was impossible by inspecting the head to dis¬
tinguish the sex.
The characters of this ancient style were these : The
designing was energetic, but harsh ; it was animated,
but without gracefulness; and the violence of the ex-
jj pression deprived the whole figure of beauty,
he grand _ The gi*and style was brought to perfection by Phi¬
dias, Polycletus, Scopas, Alcamenes, Myron, and other
illustrious artists. It is probable, from some passages of
ancient writers, that in this style were preserved some
characters of the ancient manner, such as the straight
lines, tne squares and angles. The ancient masters,
such as Polycletus, being the legislators of proportions,
says Winkelman, and of consequence thinking they had
a right to distribute the measures and dimensions of the
parts of the human body, have undoubtedly sacrificed
some degree 01 the form oi beauty to a grandeur which
is harsh, in comparison of the flowing contours'and
graceful forms of their successors.—The most consider-
able monuments of the grand style are the statues of
Niobe and her daughters, and a figure of Pallas, to be
seen in Villa Albani; which, however, must not be
confounded with the statue which is modelled according
to the fiist style, and is also found in the same place.
The head possesses all the characters of dignified beauty,
at the same time exhibiting the rigidness of the an¬
cient style. The face is defective in gracefulness; yet
it is evident how easy it would have been to give the
features more roundness and grace. The figures of
^iobe and her daughters have not in the opinion of
Winkelman, that austerity of appearance which marks
the age of the statue of Pallas. They are characterised
by grandeur and simplicity : so simple are the forms,
that they do not appear to be the tedious productions of
art, but to have been created by an instantaneous effort
ot nature.
33
P T U R £.
The third style was the graceful of beautiful. Ly- .'4
sippus was perhaps the artist who introduced this style.The K:mee-
Being more conversant than his predecessors with thelu! st-vle‘
sweet, the pure, the flowing, and the beautiful lines of
nature, he avoided the square forms which the masters
of the second style had too much employed. He was of
opinion that the use of the art was rather to please than
to astonish, and that the aim of the artist should be to
raise admiration by giving delight. The artists who
cultivated this style did not, however, neglect to study
the sublime works of their predecessors. They knew
that grace is consistent with the most dignified beauty,
and that it possesses charms which must ever please :
they knew also that these charms are enhanced by dig¬
nity. Grace is infused into all the movements and atti¬
tudes of their statues, and it appears in the delicate turns
of the hair, and even in the adjusting of the drapery.
Every sort of grace was well known to the ancients :
and great as the ravages of time have been amongst the
works of art, specimens are still preserved, in which can
be distinguished dignified beauty, attractive beauty, and
a beauty peculiar to infants. A specimen of dignified
beauty may be seen in the statue of one of the muses in
the palace of Barberini at Rome : and in the garden of
the pope, on the Quirinal, is a statue of another muse,
which affords a fine instance of attractive beauty.
Winkelman says that the most excellent model of in¬
fant beauty which antiquity has transmitted to us is a
satyr of a year old, which is preserved, though a little
mutilated, in Villa Albani.
The great reputation of Praxiteles and Apelles raised The imita-
an ardent emulation in their successors, who despairing l‘vu sty'e*
to surpass such illustrious masters, were satisfied with
imitating their works. But it is well known that a
mere imitator is always inferior to the master whom he
attempts to copy. When no original genius appears,
the art must therefore decline.
Clay was the first material which was employed in Materials
statuary. An instance of this may be seen in a figure °f Grecian
of Alcamenes in bas-relief in Villa Albani. The an-statucsc -
cients used their fingers, and especially their nails, to
lendei certain parts more delicate and lively: hence 37
arose the phrase ad unguem fiactus homo, “ an accom- CIay antl
plished man.” It was the opinion of Count Caylus that^aSter" * •
the ancients did not use models in forming their statues.
But to disprove this, it is only necessary to mention an
engraving on a stone in the cabinet of Stosch, which re¬
presents Prometheus engraving the figure of a man, with
a plummet in his hand to measure the proportions of his
model._ The ancients as wdl as the moderns made
works in plaster; but no specimens remain except some
figures in bas-relief, of which the most beautiful were
found at Baiee.
The works made of ivory and silver were generally ivory^n.
m a small size. Sometimes, however, statues of a pro-ver, and
digious size were formed of gold and ivory. The co-gdd. ' j
lossal Minerva of Phidias, which was composed of these
materials, was 26 cubits high. It is indeed scarcely
possible
57
GriS/'llii! 1 ?r°f “dditional,.to tl,08e t!lat "il! be found In the articles to which we have referred that the
for tiie’eVcin^of scL^r”15 ° ** scuiPture frol“ 1116 nations to which they were confessed^ indebted
^OL. XIX. Part I.
H
58 SCULP
possible to believe that statues of such a size could en¬
tirely consist of gold and ivory. rl be quantity ot ivory
necessary to a colossal statue is beyond conception. iM.
de Paw calculates that the statue of Jupiter Olympics,^
which was feet high, would consume the teeth ot
-^9 300 elephants.
Marble. The Greeks generally hewed their marble statues out
of one block, though they after worked the heads sepa¬
rately, and sometimes the arms. ihe heads ol the
famous groupe ot Niobe and her daughters have been
adapted to their bodies after being separately finished.
It is proved by a large figure representing a river,
which is preserved in Villa Album, that the ancients
first hewed their statues roughly before they attempted
to finish anv part. hen the statue had leceived its
perfect figure, they next proceeded to polish it with
pumice-stone, and again carefully retouched every pait
0 with the chisel.
Porphyry. The ancients, when they employed porphyry, usually
made the head and extremities of marble. It is true,
that at Venice there are four figures entirely composed
of porphyry, but these are the production of the
Greeks of the middle age. They also made statues of
basaltes and alabaster.
41
Pixpieesion "WITHOUT expression, gesture, and attitude, no figure
and atti- can y,e beautiful, because in these the graces always re-
tu'Je, side. It was for this reason that the graces are always
represented as the companions of Venus.
The expression of tranquillity was frequent in Gre¬
cian statues, because, according to Plato, that was con¬
sidered as the middle state of the soul between pleasure
and pain. Experience, too, shows that in general the
most beautiful persons are endowed with the sweetest
and most engaging manner. Without a sedate tian-
quillity dignified beauty could not exist. It is in this
tranquillity, therefore, that we must look for the com¬
plete display of genius.
In the sta- The most elevated species of tranquillity and repose
tues of the ^vas studied in the figures of the gods. 1 he father of the
ff°ds. „0(|Sj an[l even inferior divinities, are represented with¬
out emotion or resentment. It is thus that Homer paints
Jupiter shaking Olympus by the motion of his hair and
liis eyebrows.
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate and sanction of the god.
Jupiter is not always exhibited in this tranquil state. In
a bas-relief belonging to the marquis Kondini he ap¬
pears seated on an arm chair with a melancholy aspect.
The Apollo of the Vatican represents the god in a fit of
rage against the serpent Python, which he kills at a
blow. The artist, adopting the opinion of the poets, has
made the nose the seat of anger, and the lips the seat of
disdain.
In the sta- To express the action of a hero, the Grecian sculptors
turs of delineated the countenance of a noble virtuous character
heroes. repressing his groans, and allowing no expression of pain
to appear. In describing the actions of a hero the
poet has much more liberty than the artist. Ihe poet
can paint them such as they were before men were
taught to subdue their passions by the restraints of law,
or the refined customs of social life. But the artist,
oblio-ed to select the most beautiful forms, is reduced to
the necessity of giving such an expression of the passions
T U B E.
as may not shock our feelings and disgust us with his
production. The truth of these remarks will be ac¬
knowledged by those who have seen two of the most
beautiful monuments of antiquity one ot which repre¬
sents the fear of death, the other the most violent pains
and sufferings. The daughters of Niobe, against whom
Diana has discharged her fatal arrows, are exhibited in
that state of stupefaction which we imagine must take
place when the certain prospect of death deprives the
soul of all sensibility. The fable presents us an image
of that stupor which Eschylus describes as seizing the
daughters of Niobe when they were transformed into a
rock. The other monument referred to is the image of
Laocoon, which exhibits the most agonizing pain that
can affect the muscles, the nerves, and the veins. Ihe
sufferings of the body and the elevation of the soul are
expressed in every member with equal energy, and form
the most sublime contrast imaginable. Laocoon appears
to suffer with such fortitude, that, whilst his lamentable
situation pierces the heart, the whole figure fids us with
an ambitious desire of imitating his constancy and mag¬
nanimity in the pains and sufferings that may fall to our
lot.
Philoctetes is introduced by the poets shedding tears,
uttering complaints, and rending the air with bis groans
and cries ; but the artist exhibits him silent and bear¬
ing his pains with dignity. The Ajax of the celebyi-
ted painter Timomachus is not drawn in the act of de¬
stroying the sheep which he took for the Grecian chiefs,
hut in the moments of reflection which succeeded that
frenzy. So far did the Greeks carry their love of
calmness and slow movements, that they thought a
quick step always announced rusticity ol manners. De¬
mosthenes reproaches Nicobulus for this very thing $
and from the words he makes use of, it appears, that to
speak with insolence and to walk hastily were reckoned
synonymous. . 44
In the figures of women, the artists have conformed in the sta.
to the principle observed in all the ancient tragedies, tues of
and recommended by Aristotle, never to make women
show too much intrepidity or excessive cruelty. Con¬
formable to this maxim, Clytemnestra is represented at
a little distance from the fatal spot, watching the mur¬
derer, but without taking any part with him. In a
painting of Timomaehus representing Medea and her
children, when Medea lifts up the dagger they smile in
her face, and her fury is immediately melted into com¬
passion for the innocent victims. In another represen¬
tation of the same subject, Medea appears hesitating
and indecisive. Guided by the same maxims, the ailists
of most refined taste were careful to avoid all deformity,
choosing rather to recede from truth than from their ac¬
customed respect for beauty, as may be seen in several
figures of Hecuba. Sometimes, however, she appears
in the decrepitude of age, her face furrowed with wrin¬
kles, and her breasts hanging down. 45
Illustrious men, and those invested with the offices of jn tlie in¬
dignity, are represented with a noble assurance and firm tues of tire
aspect. The statues of the Roman emperors resemble e
those of heroes, and are far removed from every species^
of flattery, in the gesture, in the attitude, and action.
They never appear with haughty looks, or with the
splendour of royalty ; no figure is ever seen presenting
any thing to them with bended knee, except captives j ,
and none addresses them with an inclination ot the head.
In
sculp
In modern vrorks too little attention has been paid to
the ancient costume. Winkelman mentions a bas-relief,
which was lately executed at Rome for the fountain of
Trevi, representing an architect in the act of presenting
the plan of an aqueduct to Marcus Agrippa. The mo¬
dern sculptor, not content with giving a long heard to
that illustrious Roman, contrary to all the ancient mar¬
ble statues as well as medals which remain, exhibits the
architect on his knees.
In general, it was an established principle to banish
all violent passions from public monuments. This will
serve as a decisive mark to distinguish the true antique
from supposititious works. A medal has been found
exhibiting two Assyrians, a man and woman, tearing
their hair, with this inscription, Assyria, et. pa-
LAESTINA. in. potest, p. r. redac. s. c. The for¬
gery of this medal is manifest from the word Palaesti-
na, which is not to be found in any ancient Roman me-
» dal with a Latin inscription. Besides, the violent ac¬
tion of tearing the hair does not suit any symbolical
figure. This extravagant style, which was called by the
ancients parenthyrsis, has been imitated by most of the
modern artists. Their figures resemble comedians on the
ancient theatres, who, in order to suit the distant spec¬
tators, put on painted masks, employed exaggerated
gestures, and far overleaped the bounds of nature. This
style has been reduced into a theory in a treatise on the
passions composed by Le Brun. The designs which ac¬
company that work exhibit the passions in the very
highest degree, approaching even to frenzy : but these
are calculated to vitiate the taste, especially of the
young ; for the ardour of youth prompts them rather to
seize the extremity than the middle; and it will be dif¬
ficult foi that artist who has formed his taste from such
empassioned models ever to acquire that noble simplicity
and sedate grandeur which distinguished the works of
ancient taste.
[ropor- Proportion is the basis of beauty, and there can
be no beauty without it ; on the contrary, proportion
may exist where there is little beauty. Experience
every day teaches us that knowledge is distinct from
taste; and proportion, therefore, which is founded on
knowledge, may be strictly observed in any figure, and
yet the figure have no pretensions to beauty. The an¬
cients considering ideal beauty as The most perfect,
have frequently employed it in preference to the beauty
of nature.
The body consists of three parts as well as the mwn-
be.rs. The three parts of the body are the trunk, the
thighs, and the legs. The inferior parts of the body
aie the thighs, the legs, and the feet. The arms also
consist of three parts. These three parts must bear a
certain proportion to the whole as well as to one an¬
other. In a well formed man the head and body must
be proportioned to tbe thighs, the legs, and the feet, in
the same manner as the thighs are proportioned to the
legs and the feet, or the arms to the hands. The face
also consists of three parts, that is, three times the length
of the nose; but the head is not four times the length of
the nose, as some writers have asserted. From the place
where the hair begins to the crown of the head are only
three fourths of the length of the nose, or that part is to
the nose as 9 to 12.
It is probable that the Grecian, as well as Egyptian
T U B E,
artists, have determined the great and small proportions
by fixed rules ; that they have established a positive
measure for the dimensions of length, breadth, and cir-
cumference. This supposition alone can enable us to
account for the great conformity which eve meet with
in ancient statues. Winkelman thinks that the foot was
the measure which the ancients used in all their great
dimensions, and that it was by the length of it^tbat
they regulated the measure of their figures, by givino-
to them six times that length. This in fact is the
length which Vitruvius assigns, Pes vero altitudmiscor¬
poris sextos, lib. iii. cap. 1. That celebrated antiquary
thinks the loot is a more determinate measure than the
head 01 the face, the parts from which modern painters
and sculptors too often take their proportions. This pro¬
portion of the loot to the body, which has appeared
strange and incomprehensible to the learnedHuetius, and
has been entirely rejected by Perrault, is however found¬
ed upon experience. After measuring with great care
a vast number of figures, Winkelman found this pro¬
portion observed not only in Egyptian statues, but also
in those of Greece. This fact may be determined by
an inspection of those statues the feet of which are per¬
fect. One may be fully convinced of it by examining
some divine figures, in which the artists have made
some parts beyond their natural dimensions. In the
Apollo Belvidere, which is a little more than seven
heads high, the foot is three Roman inches longer than
the head. The head of the Venus de Medicis^ is very
small, and the height of the statue is seven heads and a
halt: the foot is three inches and a half longer than the
head, or precisely the sixth part of the length of the
whole statue.
59
Practice of Sculpture.
We have been thus minute in our account of the Grecian
Grecian sculpture, because it is the opinion of the ablestsculptui'e
critics that modern artists have been more or less emi-l<? be stIi'
nent as they have studied with the greater or less atten-^a by tl,e
tion the models left us by that' ingenious people
VV inkelman goes so far as to contend that the most fi¬
nished works of the Grecian masters ought to be studied,
in preference even to the works of nature. This ap¬
pears to be paradoxical ; but the reason assigned by the
Abbe for his opinion is, that the fairest lines of beauty
are more easily discovered, and make a more striking
a.nd powerful impression, by their reunion in these sub¬
lime copies, than when they are scattered far and wide
in the original. Allowing, therefore, the study of na¬
ture the high degree of merit it so justly claims' it must
nevertheless be granted, that it leads to true beauty by
a much more tedious, laborious, and difficult path, than
the study of the antique, which presents immediately to
the artist’s view the object of his researches, and com¬
bines in a clear and strong point of light the various
rays ot beauty that are dispersed through the wide do¬
main of nature.
As soon as the artist has laid this excellent founda¬
tion, acquired an intimate degree of familiarity with the
beauties oi the Grecian statues, and formed his taste ai-
ter the admirable models they exhibit, he may then pro¬
ceed with advantage and assurance to the imitation of
nature. The ideas he has already formed of the perfec¬
tion of nature, by observing her dispersed beauties com¬
bined and collected in the compositions of the ancient
2 artists.
L
6o
48
Two way:
of imita¬
ting na¬
ture.
SCULP
artists, will enable him to acquire with facility, and to
employ with advantage, the detached and partial ideas
of beauty which will be exhibited to his view in a sur¬
vey of nature in her actual state. When he discovers
these partial beauties, he will be capable of combining
them with those perfect forms of beauty with which he
is already acquainted. In a word, by having always
present to his mind the noble models already mentioned,
he will be in some measure his own oracle, and will
draw rules from his own mind.
There are, however, two ways of imitating nature.
In the one a single object occupies the artist, who en¬
deavours to represent it with precision and truth 5 in
the other, certain lines and features are taken from a
varietv of objects, and combined and blended into one
regular whole. All kinds of copies belong, to the first
kind of imitation j and productions of this kind must
be executed necessarily in the Dutch manner, that is to
say, with high finishing, and little or no invention.
If ut the second kind of imitation leads directly to the in¬
vestigation and discovery of true beauty, of that beauty
T U R E.
working the wax, to give it that degree of smoothness
that is necessary to represent the softness of the carna¬
tions or fleshy parts of the body. This inconvenience
may, however, be remedied, by forming the model, first
in clay, then moulding it in plaster, and lastly casting it
in wax. And, indeed, clay is seldom used but as a
mould in which to cast a figure of plaster, stucco, or
wax, to serve henceforth for a model by which the
measures and proportions of the statue are to >e ai -
justed. In making waxen models, it is common to
put half a pound of colophony to a pound of wax ;.
and some add turpentine, melting the whole with oil 0
olives. . . . 5°
So mfich for the first or preparatory steps in this Method
procedure. It remains to consider the manner of worje-^^g
49
Models
of
whose idea is connate with the human mind, and is.on¬
ly to be found there in its highest perfection. This is
the kind of imitation in which the Greeks excelled, and
in which men of genius excite the young artists to ex¬
cel after their example, viz. by studying nature as they
did. . r 1
After having studied in the productions of the Gre¬
cian masters their choice and expression of select na¬
ture, their sublime and graceful contours, their noble
draperies, together with that sedate grandeur and ad¬
mirable simplicity that constitute their chief merit, the
curious artists will do well to study the manual and me¬
chanical part of their operations, as this is absolutely
necessary to the successful imitation of their excellent
manner. . , r i
It is certain that the ancients almost always loimtd
their first models in wax : to this modern artists have
substituted clay, or some such composition : they prefer
clay before wax in the carnations, on account, of the
yielding nature of the latter, and its sticking in some
measure to every thing it touches. We must not, how¬
ever, imagine from hence that the method of forming
models of wet clay was either unknown or neglected
among the Greeks : on the contrary, it was in Greece
that models of this kind were invented. Their author
was Dibutades of Sicyon 5 and it is well known that
Arcesilas, the friend of Lucullus, obtained a higher de¬
gree of reputation by his clay models than by all Ins
other productions. Indeed, if clay could be made to
preserve its original moisture, it would undoubtedly be
the fittest substance for the models of the sculptor ; but
when it is placed either in the fire or left to dry im¬
perceptibly in the air, its solid parts grow more com¬
pact, and the figure losing thus a part of its dimensions,
is necessarily reduced to a smaller volume. This dimi¬
nution would be of no consequence did it equally aflect
the. whole figure, so as to preserve its proportions en¬
tire. But this is not the case : for the smaller parts
of the figure dry sooner than the larger ; and thus losing
more of "their dimensions in the same space of time than
the latter do, the symmetry and proportions of the figure
inevitably suffer. This inconveniency does not take
place in those models that are made in wax. It is in¬
deed extremely difficult, in the ordinary method of
piooeuuic. j-i, i j +i the mar¬
iner the marble after the model so prepared 5 and ^
method here followed by the Greeks seems to have
been extremely diflerent from that which is generally
observed by modern artists. In the ancient statues
we find the most striking proofs of the freedom and
boldness that accompanied each stroke of the chisel,
and which resulted from the artist’s being perfectly
sure of the accuracy of his idea, and the precision and
steadiness of his hand : the most minute parts of the
figure carry these marks of assurance and freedom 5
no indication cf timorousness or diffidence appears j no¬
thing that can induce us to fancy that the aiiist had
occasion to correct any of his strokes.. It is difficult to
find, even in the second-rate productions of the Gre¬
cian artists, any mark cf a false stroke or a random
touch. This firmness and precision of the Grecian chi¬
sel was certainly derived from a moie determined and
perfect set of rules than those which are observed in
modern times.
The method generally observed by the modern sculp¬
tor is as follows : First, out of a.great block, of marble
he saws another of the size required, whicii is .perform¬
ed with a smooth steel saw, without teeth, casting water
and sand thereon from time to time 5 then he fashions
it, by taking off what is superfluous with a. steel, point
and a heavy hammer of soft iron ; after this, bringing
it near the measure required, he reduces it still nearer
with another finer point j he then uses a flat cutting
instrument, having notches in its edge j and then a
chisel to take off the scratches which the former has
left; till, at length, taking rasps of differeftt degrees of
fineness, by degrees he brings bis work into a condition
for polishing.
After this, having studied his model with all possible
attention, he draws upon this model horizontal and per¬
pendicular lines which intersect each other at right
angles. He afterwards copies these lines upon his
marble, as the painter makes use of such transversal
lines to copy a picture, or to reduce it to a smaller size.
These transversal lines or squares, drawn in an equal
number upon the marble and upon the model, in a man¬
ner proportioned to their respective dimensions, exhibit
accurate measures of the surfaces upon which the artist
is to work ; but cannot determine, with equal precision,
the depths that are proportioned to these surfaces.—
The sculptor, indeed, may determine these depths by
observing the relation they bear to his model; but as
his eye is the only guide he has to follow in this esti¬
mate, he is alwavs more or less exposed to error, or at
least to doubt. He is never sure that the cavities made
6i
SCULPTURE.
by his chisel are exact; a degree of uncertainty accom¬
panies each stroke ; nor can he be assured that it lias
carried away neither too much nor too little of his mar¬
ble. It is equally difiicult to determine, by such lines
as have already been mentioned, the external and inter¬
nal contours of the figure, or to transfer them from the
model to the marble. By the internal contour is un¬
derstood that which is described by the parts which ap¬
proach towards the centre, and which are not mai’ked
in a striking manner.
It is farther to be noticed, that in a complicated and
laborious work, which an artist cannot execute without
assistance, he is often obliged to make use of foreign
hands, that have not the talents or dexterity that are
necessary to finish his plan. A single stroke of the chisel
that goes too deep is a defect not to be repaired ; and
such a stroke may easily happen, where the depths are
so imperfectly determined. Defects of this kind are
inevitable, if the sculptor, in chipping his marble, begins
by forming the depths that are requisite in the figure
he designs to represent. Nothing is more liable to error
than this manner of proceeding. The cautious artist
ought, on the contrary to form these depths gradually,
by little and little, with the utmost circumspection and
care ; and the determining of them with precision ought
to be considered as the last part of his work, and as the
finishing touches of his chisel.
' copying The various inconveniences attending this method
r.cient determined several eminent artists to look out for one
atues' that would be liable to less uncertainty, and productive
of fewer errors. The French academy of painting at
Home hit on a method of copying the ancient statues,
which some sculptors have employed with success, even
in the figures which they finished after models in clay
or wax. This method is as follows. The statue that
is to he copied is inclosed in a frame that fits it exactly.
Flie upper part of this frame is divided into a certain
number ol equal parts, and to each of these parts a
thread is fixed with a piece of lead at the end of it.
These threads, which hang freely, show what parts of
the statue are most removed from the centre with much
more perspicuity and precision than the lines which are
drawn on its surface, and which pass equally over the
higher and hollow parts of the block : they also give the
artist a tolerable rule to measure the more striking va¬
riations of height and depth, and thus render him more
bold and determined in the execution of his plan.
But even this method is not without its defects : for
as it is impossible, by the means of a straight line, to de¬
termine with precision the procedure of a curve, the artist
has, in this method, no certain rule to guide him in his
contours 5 and as often as the line which he is to describe
deviates from the direction of the plumb line, which is
his main guide, he must necessarily feel himself at a
loss, and be obliged to have recourse to conjecture.
It is also evident, that this method affords no certain
rule to determine exactly the proportion which the va¬
rious parts of the figure ought to bear to each other,
considered in their mutual relation and connections.
The artist, indeed, endeavours to supply this defect by
intersecting the plumb-lines by horizontal ones. This
resource has, nevertheless, its inconveniences, since the
squares formed by transversal lines, that are at a distance
from the figure (though they be exactly equal), yet re¬
present the parts of the figure as greater or smaller, ac¬
cording as they are more or less removed from our posi¬
tion or point of view. But, notwithstanding these in¬
conveniences, the method now under consideration is
certainly the best that has hitherto been employed : it
is more practicable and sure than any other we know',
though it appears, from the remarks we have now been
making, that it does not exhibit a sure and universal
criterion to a sculptor who executes after a model. 52
To polish the statue, or make the parts of it smooth Pf polish-
and sleek, pumice-stone and smelt are used ; then tri-111§ the
poli j and when a still greater lustre is required, burnt^ U C
straw is employed. For the Casting of Statues, see
Foundery, and Plaster of Paris. See also Arts,
Fixe, Supplement.
s c u
Scurvy. SCUM, properly denotes the impurities which a li-
—quor, by boiling, casts up to the surface. The term
sewn is also used for what is more properly called the
scoria of metals.
SCUPPERS, in a ship, are certain channels cut
through the water-ways and sides of a ship, at proper
distances, and lined with plated lead, in order to carry
the water off from the deck into the sea. The scuppers
of the lower deck of a ship of war are usually furnish¬
ed with a leathern pipe, called the scupper-hose, which
hangs downward from the mouth or opening of the
scupper. The intent of this is to prevent the water
from entering when the ship inclines under a weight of
sail.
SCURVY, in Medicine, see that article, N° 351.
where we have given an account of the symptoms,
causes, and modes of prevention and cure, according to
some of the most eminent writers in medicine. We have
here only to add, that, in the opinion of Dr Beddoes,
the mineral acids, especially the nitric and vitriolic, may
s c u
be employed in the prevention or cure of this dreadful Scurvy
disease with as much success as the vegetable acids.— 12
But of all the substances that can at once be cheaply , Scutc°
procured and long preserved, he thinks the concrete acid “
of tartar by far the most promising. It is very grateful,
and comes near to the citric acid. In tropical countries
the scurvy is seldom known.
ScuRVY-Grass. See Cochlearea, Botany Index.
SCUT.AGE {scutagium. Sax. scildpening), was a
tax or contribution raised by those that held lands by
knights service, towards furnishing the king’s army, at
one, two, or three merks for every knight’s fee. Hen¬
ry III. for his voyage to the Holy Land, had a tenth
granted by the clergy, and scutage, three merks of every
knight’s fee, by the laity. This was also levied by Hen¬
ry II. Richard I. and King John. See Knight-Service.
SCUTE, {scutum), a French gold coin of 3s. 4d. in
the reign of King Henry V. Catharine queen of Eng¬
land had an assurance made her of sundry castles,
manors, lands, &c. valued at the sum of 40,000 scutes,
every
Suther¬
land's Tour
up the
Straits,
fetter xii.
S C Y . [
every two whereof were w orth a noble. Hot. Pari. I.
Hen. VI.
SCUTELLARIA, Skull-cap, a genus of plants,
belonging to the dniynamia class j and m the natui al
method ranking under the 40th order, Personates. See
Botany Index.
SCUTTLES, in a ship, square holes cut in the deck,
big enough to let dowTn the body of a man, and which
serve upon some occasions to let the p ople down into
any room below, or from one deck to another.
SCYLAX, a celebrated mathematician and geogra¬
pher of Caria, flourished under the reign of Darius Hys-
taspes, about 5 Some have attributed to him
the invention of geographical tables. We !ia\e under
his name a geographical work published by Hoeschehus j
but it is written by a much later author, and is perhaps
only an abridgement of Scylax’s Ancient Geography.
SCYLLA, in Ancient Geography, a rock in the Fre-
tum Siculum, near the coast of Italy, dangerous to snip¬
ping, opposite to Charybdis, a whirlpool on the coast of
Sicily ; both of them famous in mythology.
Scylla and Charybdis have been almost subdued by
the repeated convulsions of this part of the eaitn, and
by the violence of the current, which is continually in¬
creasing the breadth of the straits. If proper allowance
be made for these circumstances, we shall acquit the an¬
cients of any exaggeration, notwithstanding the very
dreadful colours in which they have painted this passage.
It is formed by a low peninsula, called Cape 1 e/of us,
stretching to the eastward on the Sicilian side, immedi¬
ately within which lies the famous whirlpool of Charyb¬
dis, and by the rocks of Scylla, which a few miles be¬
low on the Calabrian shore project towards the west.
The current runs with surprising force from one to the
other alternately in the direction of the tide, and the
tides themselves are very irregular. Thus vessels, by
shunning the one, were in the utmost danger of being
swallowed up by the other.
At present, in moderate weather, when the tide is
either at ebb or flood, boats pass all over the whirlpool :
but, in general, it is like the meeting of two contending
currents, with a number of eddies all around •, and, even
now, there is scarcely a winter in which there are not
some wrecks.
“ At the time when we passed the straits (says Cap¬
tain Sutherland, from whom we have obtained this ac¬
curate information) the weather was as favourable as
we could wish j and yet in spite of a strong breeze and
the current, which hurried us on with surprising velo¬
city, the ship’s head was suddenly whirled round near
three points ; but the wind blowing fresh, in a few se¬
conds she dashed through the eddy that had caught her;
for, to avoid Scylla, and secure Messina, we had kept
pretty close to Charybdis.” For a later account of these
rocks, see Sicily.
SCYROS, an island in the iEgean sea, at the dis¬
tance of about 28 miles north-east from Euboea. It is
60 miles in circumference. It was originally in the pos¬
session of the Pclasgians and Conans. Achilles letncd
there to avoid going to the Irojan war, and became^ la¬
ther of Neoptolemus by Deidamia the daughter of King
Lycomedes. Scyros was conquered by the Athenians
under Cimon. It was very rocky and barren. Now
jSciro. E. Long. 25. o. N. Lat. 38. 15.
SCYTALA laconica, in antiquity, a stratagem or
1
62] s c \
device of the Lacedaemonians, for the secret writing oi
letters to their correspondents, so that il they should
chance to be intercepted, nobody might be able to read __
them.—To this end they had two wooden rollers or cy¬
linders, perfectly alike and equal 5 one whereof was
kept in the city, the other by the person to whom the
letter was directed. I or the letter, a skin oi very thin
parchment was wrapped round the roller, and thereon
was the matter written 5 which done, it was taken olf,
and sent away to the party, who, upon putting it in the
same manner upon his roller, found the lines and words
in the very same disposition as when they were first
written. This expedient they set a very high value on $
though, in truth, artless and gross enough : the moderns
have improved vastly on this method of writing. See
Cipher.
SCYTALIA, a genus of plants belonging to the oc-
tandria classy and in the natural method ranking with
those that are doubtful. See Botany Index,
SCYTHE, in Husbandry, a well known instrument
which has been long employed for cutting grass for hay.
The same instrument with certain modifications in its
construction has been used in reaping grain, in place ct
the sickle, the use of which is far more common, and in
Scotland at least prevails almost universally, although it
must be admitted that the method of reaping by the
scythe, where it is practicable, is attended with less la¬
bour, is more expeditious, and therefore more economi¬
cal. But against the use of the scythe, as a reaping
instrument, many objections have been raised. Some of
these are probably founded in prejudice, while others,
considering the slow progress which has been made in
introducing this instrument as a substitute lor the sickle,
rest on a more solid foundation.
It is said that this instrument shakes the ear, so that
many of the grains are lost j that it lets the corn fall
after it is cut, in a scattered confused manner, in conse¬
quence of which either a great deal of it is lost, or much
time is wasted in gathering it together. It is also af¬
firmed that it can only be made use of in very even
land, and which is free from stones j that it does not
leave length enough of stubble on the ground, on which
to lay the corn when it is cut that it mixes noxious
weeds with the corn, the seeds of which are sown the
ensuing year ’, and finally, that the use ot the scythe is
prejudicial to the health of the reaper.
It appears, however, that these objections have either
no weight, or they are made by those who are unac¬
quainted with the scythes peculiarly adapted to this pur¬
pose, and with the manner in which they ought to be
used. With a good scythe properly managed, the
corn when cut, remains at first upright, afterwards fal¬
ling gently on the rake fixed to the scythe, without
any shaking or jolting, or at least with less than what
is occasioned by the sickle. The loss of grain chiefly
arises from the corn being too dry, and therefore it
ought to be reaped on proper days, and suitable times of
the day, which is more easily accomplished by the scythe
than the sickle, because the one requires less time than
the other. The stalks, held together by the rake, may
be laid on the ground, or against the corn not yet cut
down, in a state so regular and connected, that those by
whom tlie sheaves are collected and bound have them¬
selves alone to blame, shou.d any thing be left behind,
it is sufficiently even when lands are ploughed and har¬
rowed
Scvtslft
'll .
Sc) the.
s C Y [63
Seyilie. r(mefl [n a proper manner j and the only necessary pre-
v caution in stony ground, is to keep the scythe a little
higher, that it may not strike against the stones. It'
the stubble be short, the straw cut off will of course
be the longer, and of consequence more valuable ; and
long stubble only incommodes the cattle afterwards sent
to feed upon it.
These and similar considerations, prevailed with the
patriotic society of Milan, to send to these places where
scythes are used for leaping ; and having procured a
model from Silesia, they ordered one of a proper size to
be made. It was first tried on corn, and afterwards on
millet, and notwithstanding the first was far from be¬
ing made with accuracy, and although such an instru¬
ment had never before been made use of by the reaper,
nearly half the usual time was found to be saved, and
the wonted fatigue and labour were much diminished.
The corn was cut without receiving any injurious shock,
falling in an even and regular state, by which means it
Plate WaS a^ertvar^3 bound up with ease in compact sheaves.
:cc!xxviii. These instruments are so simple in their construction,
fig. 1. that a figure of one of them renders a description almost
unnecessary. Fig. 1. represents the Silesian scythe tried
by the society, the difference between which and the
Austrian one we shall mention in our description. The
Silesian scythe differs little from that commonly employ¬
ed in mowing grass, except that the blade is rather
smaller ; to it four teeth of wood are added, parallel to
the blade, fixed and secured in a proper manner, and
designed to keep the corn together after it is cut ; so
that instead of its falling in a confused state, the reaper
can lay it down in a regular and compact manner. The
Austrian scythe is similar te the former, but the blade
is larger j of course the wooden teeth, being five in
number, are longer; the handle Is also flatter, and rather-
crooked.
In the first, the handle a b (see fig. 1.) is four feet
three inches in length } the blade £ c is about two feet;
the piece of wood In which the teeth are fixed, one foot
ten inches and a half. In the second, the handle is four-
feet one inch 5 the blade, two feet eight inches ; the
piece in which the teeth are fixed, n-£ inches.
The difference in the construction of these two scythes
renders it necessary to use them in a different manner,
which will be better acquired in practice than by pre¬
cept. Such as are accustomed to the use of the com¬
mon scythe will soon find out the most advantageous
manner of using these new kinds of scythes, and of lay¬
ing down the corn properly after it is cut.
It is necessary to observe, that, in mowing grass, the
feet are held in a position nearly parallel to each other
whereas in reaping corn they should be kept on a line,
the one behind the other, bringing the right foot for¬
ward, and drawing the left towards it. The reason is
that when grass is mowed it is left to fall where it is
cut j but when corn is cut down, it is to be laid in a
proper manner against that which is not yet cut, and
which is at the reaper’s left hand. Were the feet kept
parallel to each other, the reaper would be under the
necessity, of extending and turning his body in a very
inconvenient manner.
These observations having been published, the society
made farther experiments on the subject, by which they
discovered, that when the stalks of corn are bent down
by reason of extremely wet weather, the woodeu teeth
J
S C Y
of the scythes are apt to lay hold of some ears, to the
stalks of which the iron does not extend ; and therefore
these not being cut below, are pulled so that the grain
is scattered. 1 ills chiefly happens from the reapers not
being accustomed to that kind of scythe, and therefore
not knowing how to adapt it to particular existing cir¬
cumstances.
It occurred to an ingenious blacksmith, that, in or¬
der to remedy this Inconvenience, a collector made of
cloth should be added to the common scythe, as may be
seen at fig. 2. where o 6 cis a common scythe, ec/w/q/W
is the gatherer, which at ede is composed of a thin
plate of iron, having a hollow at its extremity for re¬
ceiving the point of the blade. At ed are holes for
sewing in the cloth, which is coarse, light, and of low
pi ice ; it is also fixed to two thick iron wires, of which
the upper one is continued to /, where it terminates in a
hole in the handle 5 the other is fixed to the back of the
blade. The manner of fixing this gatherer to the hack
of the scythe will- be better understood by referring to
fig. 3. which represents one of the irons, which, by
means of the screw, are fastened to the hack of the
scythe. These proceed from, and make part of the up¬
right irons mn, 10, which serve to keep the gatherer
extended.
This contrivance is both cheap and simple 5 but an
attempt was made to render it more so, by substituting
two iron hoops for the gatherer, which are shewn in
g.. 2. by the dotted lines hg, kt, with a cross piece p,
winch connects them. Experience has shewn, hoiv-
ever, that, the gatherer is in general preferable to these
hoops, as it does not leave an ear of corn behind.
SCYTHIA, an ancient name for the northern parts
of Asia, now known by the name of Tartary; also for
some of the north-eastern parts of Europe.
This vast territory, which extends itself from the Ister
or Danube, the boundary of the Celts, that is, from
about the 25th lo almost the noth degree of east lon¬
gitude, was divided into Scythia in Europe and Scythia
m Asia, including, however, the two SarmatiaS j or,
as they are called by the Greeks, Sauromatias, now the
Circassian Fartary, which lay between and severed the
two Scythias from each other. Sauromatia was also di¬
stinguished into European and Asiatic; and was di¬
vided from the European Scythia by the river Don or
lanais, which falls into the Pains Meotis ; and from
the Asiatic by the Rha, now Volga, which empties it-
selr into the Caspian sea
I* Asiatic Scythia comprehended in general,
Gif.at I artary, and Russia in Asia ; and, in particular,
the Scythia beyond or without Imaus, contained the re¬
gions of Bogdoi or Ostiacoi, and Tanguti. That within
or on this side Imaus, had Turkestan and Mongal, the
UsbecE or Zagatai, Kalmuc and Nagaian Tartars; be¬
sides Siberia, the land of the Samoiedes and Nova Zem-
bia. Ihese three last not being so soon inhabited as the
former, as may be reasonably supposed, were wholly un¬
known to the ancients ; and the former were peopled by
the Ractrians, Sogdlans, Gandari, Sacks, and Mas-
sagetes. As for Sarmatia, it contained Albania, Iberia
ami Colchis; which makes now the Circassian Tartary
and the province, of Georgia. ; ’
2. Scythia in Europe reached (towards the south¬
west) to the 1 0 and the Alps, by which it was divided
from Celto-Galha. It was bounded on the south by
the
Scythe,
Scytlici,
Fi?. 2.
Fig- 3*
Fig-. 2.
Scythia
II
Sea.
SEA [
the Ister or Danube and the Euxine sea. Its northern
limits have been supposed to stretch to the spring-heads
of the Boristhenes or Nieper, and the Rha or Volga, and
so to that of the Tanais.—The ancients divided this
64
Sea.
country into Scythia Arimaspsea, which lay eastward,
pining to Scythia in Asia 5 and Sarmatia Europeana
on the west. " In Scythia, properly so called, were the
Arimaspsei on the north the Getm or Dacians along
the Danube on the south *, and the Neuri between
these two. So that it contained the European Russia
or Muscovy, and the Lesser Grim Tartary eastward *,
and, on the west, Lithuania, Poland, part 01 Hungaiy,
Transylvania, Walachia, Bulgaria, and Moldavia. Sar¬
matia is supposed to have reached northward to that
part of Swedeland called Feningia, now Finland; in
which they placed the Ooenes, Panoti, and Hippopodes.
This part they divided from Northern Germany, now
the west part of Sweden and Norway, by the Mare
Sarmaticum or Scythicum, which they supposed ran up
into the northern ocean, and, dividing Lapland into two
parts, formed the western part of Sweden, with Norway,
into one island, and Finland into another j supposing
this also to be cut off from the continent by the gulf 01
that name. , , .
Although the ancient Scythians were celebrated as
a warlike people, yet their history is too uncertain and
obscure to enable us to give any detail which would not
prove equally tiresome and uninteresting to the reader.
Mr Pinkerton, in a dissertation on theirorigin,endeavours
to prove that they were the most ancient of nations j
and he assigns for the place of their first habitation the
country known by the name of Persia, From 1 ersia,
he thinks, they proceeded in numerous hordes westward,
surrounded the Euxine, peopled Germany, Italy, Gaul,
the countries bordering on the Baltic, with part of
Britain and Ireland. That the Scythians were of Asia¬
tic origin, cannot, we think, be questioned j and as I er¬
sia wws peopled at a very early period, it may not impro¬
bably have been their parent country : but when our
author contends that their empire had subsisted lor more
than 1500 years before Ninus the founder 01 the Assy¬
rian monarchy, and that it extended from Egypt to the
Ganges, and from the Persian gulf and Indian sea to
the Caspian, we cannot help thinking that his prejudices
aaainst the Celts, and his desire to do honour to his fa¬
vourite Goths, have made him advance a paradox incon¬
sistent with the most authentic records of antiquity.
His dissertation however is ingenious, and replete with
a variety of curious learning. o o 7 •
Scythian Lamb, in Natural History. See Scythian
Lamb. c,. ,
SCYTHROPS, or Channel-bill, a genus of buds
belonging to the order of Picre. See Ornithology,
N° 149
SEA, in a strict sense, signifies a large portion of
water almost surrounded by land, as the Baltic and
Mediterranean seas *, but it is frequently used for that
vast body of water which encompasses the whole earth.
1 ' What proportion the superficies of the sea bears to
that of the land, cannot easily be ascertained. Buffon has
supposed that the surface of our globe ,s equally diyrded
the sea between land and water, and has accoiding yea cu a e
bears to t[ie superficies of the sea to be 85,490,506 square miles,
that of the But it ig now wen kn0wn that the ocean covers much
laUd* more than the half of the earth’s surface. Buffon be-
] SEA
rieved the existence of a vast southern continent, which
Captain Cook has shown to be visionary. It was this -v™—
circumstance which misled him. According to the
most accurate observations hitherto made, the sin face of
the sea is to the land as three to one $ the ocean, therefoie
extends over 128,235,759 square miles, supposing the
superficies of the whole globe to be 170,981,01 2 square
miles. To ascertain the depth of the sea is still more D ^
difficult than its superficies, both on account ol thethelsea_
numerous experiments which it would be necessary to
make, and the want of proper instruments for that pur¬
pose. Beyond a certain depth the sea has hitherto
been found unfathomable *, and though several methods
have been contrived to obviate this difficulty, none of
them lias completely answered the purpose. We know
in general that the depth of the sea increases gradually
as rve leave the shore ; but if this continued beyond a
certain distance, the depth in the middle of the. ocean
would be prodigious. Indeed the numerous islands
everywhere scattered in the sea demonstrate the con
trary, by showing us that the bottom of the watei is
unequal like the land, and that so far from uniformly
sinking, it sometimes rises into lofty mountains. If the
depth of the sea be in proportion to the elevation of
the land, as has generally been supposed, its greatest
depth will not exceed five or six miles, for there is no
mountain six miles perpendicular above the level of the
sea. The sea has'never been actually sounded to a
greater depth than a mile and 66 feet j every thing be-
vond that therefore rests entirely upon conjecture ami
analogical reasoning, which ought never to be admitted
to determine a single point that can be ascertained by
experiment, because, when admitted, they have too onen
led to false conclusions. Along the coasts, where the
depth of the sea is in general well known, it has always
been found proportioned to the height of the shore :
when the coast is high and mountainous, the sea that
washes it is deep*, when, on the contrary, the coast is
low, the water is shallow. Whether this analogy holds
at a distance from the shore, experiments alone can de¬
termine. . 3
To calculate the quantity of water contained in the Quantity
sea, while its depth is unknown, is impossible. But if of water
we suppose with Buffon that its medium depth is t‘iecon^a;ns
fourth part of a mile, the ocean, if its superficies be
128,235,759 square miles, will'contain 32>°5^i939,75
cubic miles of water.
Let us now endeavour to compute the quantity of
water which is constantly discharged into the sea. For
this purpose let us take a river whose velocity and quan- ^
tity of water is known, the Po, for instance, which ac-Bufm’s
cording to Riccioli is 1000 feet (or 100 perches of^g^
Bologna) broad, 10 feet deep, and runs at the rate oP^ I0_
four miles in an hour •, consequently that river dis¬
charges into the sea 200,000 cubic perches of water in
an hour, or 4,800,000 in a day. A cubic mile con¬
tains 125^300,000 cubic perches 5 the Po therefore
will take 26 days to discharge a cubic mile of water
into the sea. Let us now suppose, what is perhaps not
very far from the truth, that the quantity 'of water
which the sea receives from the rivers in any country is
proportioned to the extent of that country. rlhe Po
from its origin to its mouth traverses a country 380
miles long, and the rivers which fall into it on every
side rise from sources about sixty miles distant from it.
The
SEA
Sea.
[
4
fhy it
oes not
! crease.
S
leories
< philosi
) ers on
its sub-
j '■
^ he Po, therefore, and the rivers which it receives, wa-
' ter a country of 45,600 square miles. Now since the
whole superficies of the dry land is about 42,745,253
square miles, it follows, from our supposition, that the
quantity of water discharged by all the rivers in the
world, in one day, is 36 cubic miles, and in a year
If therefore the sea contains 32,058,939 cubic
miles of water, it would take all the rivers in the world
2439 years to discharge an equal quantity.
It may seem surprising that the sea, since it is con¬
tinually receiving such an immense supply of water, does
not visibly increase, and at last cover the whole earth.
Lut our surprise will cease, if we consider that the ri-
veis themselves are supplied from the sea, and that they
do nothing more than carryback those waters which
the ocean is continually lavishing on the earth. Dr
Halley has demonstrated that the vapours raised from
the sea and transported on land are sufficient to main¬
tain all the rivers in the world. The simplicity of this
-gieat piocess is astonishing : the sea not only connects
distant countries, and renders it easy to transport the
commodities of one nation to another, but its waters
rising in the air descend in showers, to fertilize the earth
and nourish the vegetable kingdom, and collecting into
rivers flow onwards, bringing fertility and wealth and
commerce along with them, and again return to the sea
to repeat the same round.
ntiiIrwin r^1,e knowledge of this process of nature might, one
1 m on " W0U.d tlimk’ llave convinced philosophers that the pro¬
portion between sea and land continued always nearly
the same. Philosophers however have formed different
theories about this as well as most other subjects, main¬
taining on the one hand that the sea is continually
encroaching on the land, and on the other that the land
is constantly gaining on the sea. Both sides have sup¬
ported their theories by arguments, demonstrations, and
incontrovertible facts !
The height of the mountains, say the philosophers
who support the encroachments of the sea, is continual-
TuJC .eJy diminishing; exposed to the violence of every storm,
s croach- hardest rocks must at last give way and tumble
mon the down. The rivers are continually sweeping along with
K '• them particles of earth which they deposit in the bot¬
tom of the sea. Both the depth of the ocean then and
the height of the dry land must be always decreasing ;
the waters therefore must, unless a part of them were
annihilated, spread over a greater extent of surface in
proportion as these causes operate. This reasoning
convincing as it is, might be confirmed by a great
number of facts: it will be sufficient however to men¬
tion one or two. In the reign of Augustus the isle of
Wight made a part of Britain, so that the English
crossed over to it at low water with cart loads of dn ;
yet that island is at present separated from Britain by a
channel half a mile wide. The Godwin sands on the
eastern shore of England were formerly the fertile estate
of Earl Godwin. Nor are the encroachments of the
sea confined to Britain. In the hay of Baite near Na¬
ples there are remains of houses and streets still visible
below the present level of the sea. The sea, therefore,
is making continued encroachments upon the land ; and
the time will come, say they, when the waters will again
cover the surface of the earth.
Such are the arguments of those philosophers who
maintain the continual encroachments of the sea. Those
vol. XIX. Part I.
I 6
Slnimeuts
> i hose
' > affirm
% the sea
65 ] SEA
who maintain the opposite theory, that the land is gra- Sca.t
dually gaining on the sea, though they pretend not to 1——-v——'
deny the lacts advanced by their opponents, affirm that 7
they are altogether insufficient to establish the hypo-ArsunieiUs
Uh*!, which they were brought forward to support.
1 hough tile rivers carry down particles of earth into that the
the sea, these, say they, are either accumulated on other •and is
shores, or, collecting in the bottom of the ocean, harden £ainin& on
into stone, which being possessed of a vegetative power^ sea'
rises by degrees above the surface of the sea, and forms
rocks, and mountains, and islands. The vegetative na¬
ture of stone indeed is sufficient, of itself, to convince
US that the quantity of earth must be daily accumula¬
ting, and consequently that the surface of the sea is di¬
minishing in extent. Celsius, a Swedish philosopher
(for this dispute has been carried on in Sweden with
the greatest keenness), has endeavoured to build this
theory with more solid materials'than vegetable stone.
, curious memoir, published in 1743, he asserts that
the Baltic and the Atlantic, at least that part of it which
washes Norway, is constantlydiminishing; and he proves
this by the testimony of a great many aged pilots and
fishermen, who affirmed that the sea was become much
shallower in many places than it had been during their
youth: that many rocks formerly covered with water
were now several feet above the surface of the sea : that
loaded vessels used formerly to ride in many places where
pinnaces and harks could now with difficulty swim.
He produces instances of ancient sea port towns now
several leagues from the shore, and of anchors and
wrecks of vessels found far within the country. He
mentions a particular rock which 168 years before was
at the bottom of the sea, but was then raised eight feet
above its surface. In another place where the water
50 years before had reached to the knee, there was then
none. Several rocks, too, which during the infancy of
some old pilots had been two feet under water, were
then three feet above it. From all these observations
1U. Celsius concludes, that the water of the Baltic de¬
creases m height 44 lines in a year, 4 inches 5 lines in
, yearsb 4 teet 5 inches m a hundred years, and in a
thousand years 45 feet. Conscious, however, that these
facts, how conclusive soever as far as relates to the Bal¬
tic, can never determine the general question, M.Celsius
advances another argument in support of his theory.
All that quantity ol moisture, says he, which is imbibed
by plants is lost to the general mass of water, being con¬
verted into earth by the putrefaction of vegetables.
Hus notion had been mentioned bv Newton, and was
adopted by Van Helmont: if granted, it follows as a
consequence that the earth is continually increasing and
the water diminishing in a very rapid degree. s
Such at e the arguments advanced in support of lioth These ar-
neories ; for it is needless to mention a notion of Lin-£umcnts
n02118 tkat tke whole earth was formerly covered with cxamiuetb
water except a single mountain. When fairly wend ed
they amount to nothing more than this, that the sea
has encroached upon the land in some places, and reti¬
red in others ; a conclusion which we are very wiilino-
to allow. What was advanced by those philosophers
wh° maintain that the sea is continually encroacliinir
on the land, about the depth of the sea constantly di¬
minishing, must remain a mere assertion, till they prove
by experiments, either that this is really the case, or
that nature has no way of restoring those particles of
I earth
')
[ 66 ]
Sea.
Bottom of
the sea.
SKA
earth which are washed down by the rivers
they any good reason to affirm that the height ot the
mountains is decreasing. Can a single uncontrovertible
instance be produced of this? Are the Alps or the Apen¬
nines, or Taurus, or Caucasus, less lofty now than they
were a thousand years ago ? We mean not to deny that
the rain actually washes down particles ot earth trom
the mountains, nor to affirm that the hardest rocks are
able to resist continual storms, nor that many mountains
have suffered, and continue to suffer daily, irom a thou¬
sand accidents. But the effects produced by all these
causes are so trifling as to be altogether impercepti¬
ble (a). Nature has assiduously guarded against such
accidents ; she has formed the mountains of the most
durable materials-, and where they are covered wit i
earth, she has bound it, together by a thick and hrm
matting of grass, and thus secured it from the rains j
and should accident deprive it of this covering, she takes
care immediately to supply the defect. Even shou
the earth lie swept away together with its covering, na¬
ture has still such resources left as frequently restore
things to their former slate. Many kinds ot moss, one
would be tempted to think, have been created tor this
very purpose : they take root and flourish affiiost upon
the bare rock, andffirnish as they decay a sufficient bed
for several of the hardy Alpine plants. 1 hese perish
in their turn, and others succeed them. Ihe roots ot
the plants bind fast the earth as it accumulates, more
plants spring up and spread wider, till by degrees the
whole surface is covered with a firm coat of grass.
As the sea covers so great a portion oi the globe, we
should, no doubt, by exploring its bottom, discover a
vast number of interesting particulars. Unfortunately
in the greater part of the ocean this has hitherto been
impossible. Part, however, has been examined ; and the
discoveries which this examination has produced may
enable us to form some idea at least ef the whole. ie
bottom of the sea, as might have been conjectured in¬
deed before band, bears a great resemblance to the sur¬
face of the dry land, being, like it, full of plains, rocks
caverns and mountains •, some ol which are abrupt and
almost perpendicular, while others rise with a gentle de¬
clivity, and sometimes tower above the water and form
islands. Neither do the materials differ winch compose
the bottom of the sea and the basis ol the dry and. It
we dig to a considerable depth in any part of the earth,
we uniformly meet with rock; the same thing holds m
the sea. The strata, too, are of the same kind, dispo¬
sed in the same manner, and form indeed but one whole.
The same kind of mineral and bituminous substances
are also found interspersed with these strata; and it is
to them probably that the sea is indebted for its bitter
taste. Over these natural and original strata anartin-
S E A
Nor have together, sometimes of shells or coral reduced to povv- Sea
der, and near the mouths of rivers it is generally com¬
posed of fine sand or gravel. The bottom ot the sea
resembles the land likewise in another particular : many
fresh springs and even rivers rise out ot it, which, dis¬
placing the salt water, render the lower part of the sea
wherever they abound quite fresh. An instance of this
kind occurs near Goa on the western coast ef Indo-
frtan * and anotherf in the Meditenanean sea not far* Boyle de
from Marseilles. These facts occasioned a notion, which Fundo Ma-
later experiments have exploded, that the sea beyond a^frtrs^
certain depth was always fresh. Hutoire
Substances of a very beautiful appearance are Ire-physiqwtie
quently brought up by the sounding line from the bot-to Mer,
tom of the sea. The plummet is hollowed below, andi^rUe i.
this cavity filled with tallow, to which some ol the sub¬
stances adhere which form the bed of the ocean, 'ihese
are generally sand, gravel, or mud ; but they are some¬
times of the brightest scarlet, vermilion, purple, ami
yellow ; and sometimes, though less frequently, they
are blue, green, or white. These colours are owing to
a kind of jelly which envelopes the substances, and va¬
nish entirely as soon as this jelly dries. At times, how¬
ever, they assume the appearance of tartareous crusts,
and are then so permanent, that they can be received
into white wax melted and poured round them, and
perhaps by proper care might be converted into valuable
P Sea-water is really, as any one may convince himselfColour of
by pouring it int® a glass, as clear and transparent astae sea.
river water. The various appearances theietore which
it assumes are owing to accidental causes, and not to any
change in the water itself. The depth, or the materials
which compose the bottom of the sea, occasions it to
assume different colours in different places. The Ax-a-
bian gulf, for instance, is said to be red from the co¬
lour of the sands which form its bed. 1 he appearance
of the sea is affected too by the winds and the sun,
while the clouds that pass over it communicate all their
various and fleeting colours. "When the sun shines it
is green ; when the sun gleams through a fog it is yel¬
low ; near the north pole it appears black ; while in
the torrid zone its colour is often brown. Sometimes
the sea assumes a luminous appearance. See Light,
Yol. NIL. page 2. < • , u • a n .
The sea contains the greatest quantity ot salt in tkesaitness«
torrid zone, where otherwise from the excessive heattbe se&.
it would be in danger of putrefaction : as we advance
northward this quantity diminishes, till at the pole it
nearly vanishes altogether. Under the line Lucas found
that the sea contained a seventh part ot solid contents,
consisting chiefly of sea-salt. At Harwich he found it
yielded of sea-salt. At Carlscroon in Sweden it
<Q«tp Over these natural ana original sudid j   -- . ^ , t
cial ka has pretty generally been formed, co^osed of —near Tepoles
que^tlyormuddy tartareous substances firmly cemented probably contributes a good deal towards the prod.gi-
f.'s M Gensanne pretends that the Pyrenean mountains become an inch lower every ten years. But even
i- ‘ t Pic mvn1 calculation it would require a million of years to level these mountains with the plain,
though they continued to decrease’ at the same rate ; and philosophers tell us that this rate is constantly dim.-
“'Invrhls gradual diminution of saltness from the equator to the pole is not, however, without particular excep¬
tions. The Mediterranean sea contains of sea-salt, which is less than the German sea contains.
Sea.
SEA [67
oiis quantities of ice which ave met with in these seas ;
; for salt water requires a much greater degree of cold
to freeze it than fresh water. It was this circumstance,
probably, together with its constant motion, which in¬
duced the ancients to believe that the sea never froze.
Even among the moderns it has been a generally re¬
ceived opinion, that sea-ice is originally formed in ri¬
vers Buffon has made the great quantities of ice
with which the South sea abounds an argument for the
existence of a continent near the Antarctic pole. But
it is now well known that great quantities of ice are
formed at a distance from land. Sea-ice is of two kinds $
field ice, which extends along the shore, and is only two
or three feet thick} and mountain ice, which abounds
in the middle of the ocean. The size of these moun¬
tains is sometimes prodigious. The sea-ice is always
fresh, and has been often of great use to navigators.
The weight of sea-water is to that of river-water as 73
to 70 •, that is, a cubic foot of sea-water weighs 731b.
wJiile the same quantity of river-water weighs only yolb.;
but this proportion varies in different places. It is
worthy of our attention, too, that the water at the sur¬
face of the sea contains less salt than near the bottom ;
the dift’erence indeed is inconsiderable, but still it is
something. The Compte de Marsigli found the same
quantity of water, when taken from the bottom of the
Mediterranean, to weigh one ounce three pennyweights
]
SEA
Sea.
12
nipera-
1 /!< J
Blr-' turn
grains; whereas from the surface it weighed only
one ounce three pennyweights 49 grains. He repeated
the experiment frequently with nearly the same result.
The sea; with respect to temperature, may be divided
jttv of t.ie into two regions: The first begins at the surface of the
water, and descend-, as far as the influence of the sun’s
rays; the second reaches from thence to the bottom of
the sea. In summer the lower region is considerably
colder than the upper; but it is probable that during
winter the very reverse takes place; at least the Compte
{xH/iarrua- Marsigli found it so lepeatedlyin the Mediterranean.
This naturally results from the situation of the water
near the bottom of the sea. Uninfluenced by the chan¬
ges in the atmosphere, it retains always nearly the same
degree of temperature : and this is considerably above
congelation ; for the lower region of the sea, at least in
the temperate parts of the world, was never known to
l Trans, freeze. Captain Ellis let down a sea-gage (see Gage)
f jTS1* in latitude 250 12' north, and longitude 250 13' west,
'1 to take the degrees of temperature and saltness of the
sea at different depths. It descended 5346 feet, which
is a mile and eleven fathoms. He found the sea salter
and colder in proportion to its depth till the gage had
descended 3900 feet, when the mercury in the thermo¬
meter came up at 33 ; but the water never grew colder,
though he let down the gage 2446 feet lower. At the
surface the thermometer stood at 84.
The sea has three kinds of motion : 1. The first is
that undulation which is occasioned by the wind. This
motion is entirely confined to the surface; the bottom
J 13
Fjf sea
laathree
n« Ions,
'liion
elsioned eV^n ^unnS ^le niost violent storms remains perfectly
I ''"1m AT" ' r“'“-   ^
±
calm. Mr Boyle has remarked, from the testimony of
several divers, that the sea is affected by the winds
only to the depth ot six feet. It would follow from
this, that the height of the waves above the surface does
not exceed six feet ; and that this holds in the Mediter¬
ranean at least, we are informed by the Compte de Mar-
sigli, though he also sometimes observed them, during
a very violent tempest, rise two feet higher. It is af-
firmed by Pliny, and several other ancient writers, that
oil calms the waves of tlie sea; and that divers were ac- J4
customed to carry some of it for that purpose in their by
mouths. This account was always considered by the " l*
moderns as a fable, and treated with sue!) contempt, that
they did not even deign to put it to the test of expe¬
riment, till Hr Franklin accidentally discovered its
truth. Happening in 1757 to he in the middle of a
large fleet, be observed that the water round one or two
vessels was quite calm and smooth, while everywhere
else it was very much agitated by the winds. He ap¬
plied to the captain for an explanation of this phenome¬
non, who replied, that the cooks, he supposed, had
thrown their greasy water out at the scupper-holes, and
by that means oiled the sides of the vessels in question.
This answer did not satisfy the Doctor at first; hut re¬
collecting what Pliny had said on the subject, he resol¬
ved at least to make the experiment. He did so accord¬
ingly in 1762, and found that oil actually calmed the
waves of the sea. He repeated the experiment upon a
pond at Clapham: the oil spread itself with great rapidity
upon the surface, but did not produce the desired effect,
because, having been thrown in upon the side opposite
to the wind, it was immediately driven to the edge of
the water. But upon throwing in a like quantity upon
the other side of the lake, it calmed in an instant seve¬
ral yards of surface: and gradually spreading, ren¬
dered all that part of the lake, to the extent of at least
half an acre, as smooth as glass. The curious effect pro¬
duced by this liquid may be accounted for by the repul¬
sion which exists between oil and water, and between
oil and air, which prevents all immediate contact, all
rubbing of the one upon the other. rr
2. The second kind of motion is that continual ten- Motion to-
dency which the whole water in the sea has towards lhe waic!s tbe
west, ft is greater near the equator than about the "ttr"
poles ; and indeed cannot be said to take place at all in
the northern hemisphere beyond the tropic. It begins
on the west side of America, where it is moderate :
hence that part of the ocean has been called Pacific.
As the waters advance westward their motion is accele¬
rated ; so that, after having traversed tiie globe, they
strike with great violence on the eastern shore of Ame¬
rica. Being stopped by that continent, they turn north¬
ward, , and run with considerable impetuosity in the,
gulf of Mexico; from thence they proceed along the
coast of North America, till they come to the south
side of the great bank at Newfoundland, when they
turn off, and run down through the Western Isles.
This current is called the Guff Stream. It was first
accurately described by Dr Franklin, who remarked
also, that the water in it having been originally heated
in the torid zone, cools so gradually in its passage
northward, that even the latitude might be found in
any part of the stream by means of a thermometer. 
This motion ot the sea westward has never been ex¬
plained : ir. seems to have some connection with the
trade-winds and the diurnal revolution of the earth on
its axis.
3. The third and most remarkable motion of the sea Motion ©c-
is the tide, which is a regular swell of the ocean oncecasioned by
every 12 hours, owing, as Newton has demonstrated,tht tide<
to the attraction of the moon. In the middle of the
sea the tide seldom rises higher than one or two feet
I 2 but
SEA [ 68 ] SEA
gea, but on tbe coast it frequently reaches the height of 45
-v—feet, and in some places even more. The tide ge¬
nerally rises higher in the evening than in the morn¬
ing : on the coast of Britain this holds in winter, but
in summer the morning tides are highest. In some
seas it is said that there are no tides. This cannot be
owing to their being surrounded by land, because there
is a tide in the lakes of North America. For an ex¬
planation of these and other phenomena we refer to
the article Tide.
Sea-Air, that part of the atmosphere which is above
the sea.
Sea-air has been found salubrious and remarkably
beneficial in some distempers. This may be owing to
its containing a greater portion of oxigenous gas or vi¬
tal air, and being less impregnated with noxious vapours
than the land. Dr Ingenhousz made several experi¬
ments to ascertain the salubrity of sea-air. By mixing
equal measures of common air and nitrous air, he found
that at Gravesend, they occupied about 1.04, or one mea¬
sure and of a measure: whereas on sea, about three
miles from the mouth of the Thames, two measures of
air (one of common and one of nitrous air) occupied
from 0.91 to 0.94. He attempted a similar experiment
on the middle of the channel between the English coast
and Ostend } but the motion of the ship rendered it im-
practicable. He found that in rainy and windy weather
the sea-air contained a smaller quantity of vital air than
when the weather was calm. On the sea-shore at Ostend
it occupied from 944- to 97 j at Bruges he found it at
105 ; and at Antwerp 109^. Dr Ingenhousz thus con-
phiLTrcms.eludes his paper:
17S0, Jt appears, from these experiments, that the air at
P- .354' sea and close to it is in general purer and fitter for ani¬
mal life than the air on the land, though it seems to be
subject to the same inconstancy in its degree of purity
with that of the land ^ so that we may now with more
confidence send our patients, labouring under consump¬
tive disorders, to the sea, or at least to places situated
close to the sea, which have no marshes in their neigh¬
bourhood. It seems also probable, that the air will be
found in general much purer far from the land than near
the shore, the former being never subject to be mixed
with land air.
Dr Damman, an eminent physician and professor
royal of midwifery at Ghent, told Dr Ingenhousz, that
when he was formerly a practitioner at Ostend, during
seven years, he found the people there remarkably heal¬
thy •, that nothing wras rarer there than to see a patient
labouring under a consumption or asthma, a malignant,
putrid, or spotted fever 5 that the disease to which they
are the most subject, is a regular intermittent fever in
autumn, when sudden transitions from hot to cold wea¬
ther happen.
People are in general very healthy at Gibraltar,
though there are very few trees near that place •, which
Dr Ingenhousz thinks is owing to the purity of the air
arising from the neighbourhood of the sea.
Most small islands are very healthy.
At Malta people are little subject to diseases, and live
to a very advanced age.
Sea-Anemony. See Animal-F/o wer.
sTa-C^J? } See Phoca’ \ Mammaliahidex.
Sea-Cow. See Trichecus, j
Sea-Cvow, Mire-Crow, or Few it. See Larus, Or¬
nithology Index.
Sea, Dead, See Asphaltites.
Sea-DcvH. SeeLopmus, Ichthyology Index.
SsA-Dragon, a monster of a very singular nature. In
the Gentleman’s Magazine for the year 1749, we have
the account of a sea-dragon which was said to be taken
between Orford and Southwould, on the coast of Suf¬
folk, and afterwards carried round the country as a cu-
riosty by the fishermen who caught it.
“ Its head and tail (says the writer) resemble those of
an alligator j it has two large fins, which serve it both
to swim and to fly ; and though they were so dried that
I could not extend them, yet they appear, by the folds,
to be shaped like those which painters have given to
dragons and other winged monsters that serve as suppor¬
ters to coats of arms. Its body is covered with impene¬
trable scales •, its legs have two joints, and its feet are
hoofed like those of an ass: it has five rows of very white
and sharp teeth in each jaw, and is in length about four
feet, though it was longer 1111611 alive, it having shrunk
as it became dry.
“ It was caught in a net with mackerel ; and being
dragged on shore, was knocked down with a stretcher
or boat-hook. The net being opened, it suddenlv
sprung up, and flew above 50 yards : the man who first
seized it had several of his fingers bitten off j and the
wound mortifying, he died. It afterwards fastened on
the man’s arm who shows it, and lacerated it so much,
that the muscles are shrunk, and the hand and fingers
distorted 5 the wound is not yet healed, and is thought
to be incurable. It is said by some to have been
described by naturalists under the name of the Sea-
dragon.’1'’ We must add to the account now given of
the monster called a sea-dragon, that we think it ex¬
tremely probable that the animal was nothing more
than a distorted or overgrown individual of some of the
well known species offish.
Sea-Gage. See Sea-Gage.
SEA-Hare. See Laplysia, Helminthology In¬
dex.
SEA-Horse, in Ichthyology, the English name of the
Hippocampus. See Syngnathus, Ichthyology In¬
dex.
SEA-Lemxm. See Doris, Helminthology Index.
SEA-Lion. See Phoca, Mammalia Index.
Sea-Mall, or Si:a-Mew. See Larus, Ornitholo¬
gy Index.
Sea-Mou. See Mermaid.
S'EA-Marks. The erection of beacons, light-houses,
and sea-marks, is a branch of the royal PREROGATIVE.
By 8 Eliz. 13. the corporation of the Trinity-house
are empowered to set up any beacons or sea-marks
wherever they shall think them necessary 5 and if the
owner ol the land or anv other person shall destroy
them, or take down any steeple, tree, or other knowm
sea-mark, he shall forfeit look sterling 5 or, in case of
inability to pay it, he shall be ipso facto outlawed.
SsA-Needle, Gar-fish. See Esox, Ichthyology
Index.
SsA-Nettle. See AmuAL-Flower.
Sea-Pw, or Oyster-Catcher. See Halmatopus, Or¬
nithology Index.
SEA-Plants, are those vegetables that grow in salt¬
water within the shores of the sea. The old botanists
divided
SEA [ 69 ] SEA
divided these into three classes. I. The first class, ac¬
cording to their arrangement, contained the ctlgce, the
fuci, the sea-mosses, or confervas, and the different spe¬
cies of sponges. 2. The second contained substances of
a hard texture, like stone or horn, which seem to have
been of the same nature with what wre call %oophyta,
with this difference, that we refer sponges to this class
and not to the first. The third class is the same with
our lilhopfu/ta, comprehending corals, madrepora, &c.
It is now well known that the genera belonging to the
second and third of these classes, and even some refer¬
red to the first, are not vegetables, but animals, or the
productions of animals. See Corallina, Madrepora,
Spongia. Sea-plants, then, properly speaking, belong
to the class of cryptogamia, and the order of algae ;
and, according to Romare, are all comprehended under
the genus of fucus. We may also add several species
of the ulva and conferva and the sargazo. The fuel
and marine ulvae are immersed in the sea, are sessile, and
without l oot. The marine confervae are either sessile or
floating. The sargazo grows beyond soundings.
As some species of the fucus, when dried and pre¬
served, are extremely beautiful, the curious, and espe¬
cially those who prosecute the study of botany, must be
anxious to know the best method of preserving them,
without destroying their colour and beauty. The fol¬
lowing method is recommended by M. Mauduyt. Take
a sheet of paper, or rather of pasteboard, and cover it
with varnish on both sides; and having rowed in a boat
to the rock where the fucus abounds, plunge your var¬
nished paper into the water, and, detaching the fucus,
receive it upon the paper. Agitate the paper gently in
the water, that the plants may he properly spread over
it ; and lift them up together softly out of the water :
then fix down with pins the strong stalks, that they
may not he displaced, and leave the plant lying upon
the varnished paper to dry in the open air. When it is
fully dry, the different parts will retain their position,
and the plant may be preserved within the leaves of a
book. To free it from the slime and salt which adhere
to it, wash it gently in fresh water, after being removed
from the rock on which it grew.
SEA-Serpent, a monstrous creature, said to inhabit the
northern seas about Greenland and the coasts of Nor¬
way. The following marvellous account of this monster
is given by Guthrie. “ In 1756, one of them was shot
by a master of a ship: its head resembled that of a horse;
the mouth was large and black, as were the eyes, a
white mane hanging from its neck : it floated on the
surface of the water, and held its head at least two feet
out of the sea : between the head and neck were seven
or eight folds, which were very thick ; and the length
of this snake was more than 100 yards, some say fa¬
thoms. They have a remarkable aversion to the smell
of castor; for which reason, ship, boat, and bark masters
provide themselves with quantities of that drug, to pre¬
vent being overset, the serpent’s olfactory nerves being
remarkably exquisite. The particularities related of this
animal would be incredible, were they not attested upon
oath. Egede, a very reputable author*, says, that on the
6tlr day of July 1734* a large and frightful sea-monster
raised itself so high out of the water, that its head
reached above the main-top-mast of the ship ; that it
had a long sharp snout, broad paws, and spouted water
like swhale; that the body seemed to be covered with
scales; the skin was uneven and wrinkled, and the lower
part was formed like a snake. The body of this monster
is said to be as thick as a hogshead ; his skin is varie¬
gated like a tortoise shell ; and his excrement, which
floats upon the surface of the water, is corrosive.” Not¬
withstanding the belief of Guthrie, and the testimony
which he produces, we cannot help doubting of the ex¬
istence of the sea-serpent. Its bulk is said to be so dis¬
proportionate to all the known animals of our globe,
that it requires more than ordinary evidence to render
it credible : but the evidence which is offered is so
very feeble and unsatisfactory, that no man of sound
judgment would think it sufficient to establish the truth
of an extraordinary fact.
Attempts have lately been made to revive the opi¬
nion of the existence of mermaids and sea-serpents.
An individual of the latter it is supposed, was some time
ago thrown on shore in Orkney. Part of the skeleton is
said to be in the museum of the University of Edin¬
burgh, and another part is in the possession of Mr Home
of London, who thinks that it may have belonged to an
individual of some of the whale tribe, perhaps a monster
of that tribe ; but according to others it is to be con¬
sidered as constituting a distinct genus. We cannot
avoid observing, that this point must remain unsettled
till other species of this new genus have been discover¬
ed, or at least till an entire individual have been de¬
scribed by an experienced naturalist.
SEA-Sickness, a disorder incident to most persons on
their first going to sea, occasioned by the agitation of
the vessel. This disorder has not been much treated
of, although it is very irksome and distressing to the
patient during its continuance. It has, however, been
found beneficial in asthmatic and pulmonary complaints,
and the instances in which it has proved fatal, are ex¬
tremely rare. The sea-sickness appears to be a spasmo¬
dic affection of the stomach, occasioned by the alternate
pressure and recess of its contents against its lower in¬
ternal surface, according as the rise and fall of the ship
oppose the action of gravity.
The seas in which the attacks of this disorder are ac¬
companied with the greatest violence, are those where
the waves have an uninterrupted freedom of action j
and of consequence bays, gulfs and channels, may be
navigated with less inconvenience, as the waves, meet¬
ing with more frequent resistance, the vessel does not
experience that gentle uniform vacillation which in¬
duces sickness, and renders the head giddy. A person
feels less inconvenience from the disorder in a small ves¬
sel on the wide ocean, on which the slightest motion of
the waves makes a strong impression. He is also less
exposed to it in a very large vessel deeply laden, as the
waves, in this case, scarcely affect the vessel. It is in
ships of an ordinary size, and which carry but a light
cargo, that the passenger suffers most from the sea-sick¬
ness. 1 he sooner it takes place after embarkation, the
continuance of it becomes the more probable. It does
not always cease immediately on landing, but in some
cases continues for a considerable time.
Many methods of preventing, or at least of mitigat¬
ing this disorder, have been recommended, of which the
most efficacious appear to be the following.
I. Not to go on board immediately after eating, and
not to eat, when on board, any large quantity at a
time.
2. To
SEA t 7
2. To take much exercise, with as little intermission
as possible •, as indolent passengers are always the
greatest sufferers from the disorder.
3. To keep much upon deck, even when the weather
is stormy, as the sea breeze is not so apt to affect the
stomach as the impure air of the cabin, rendered so tor
want of proper circulation.
4. Not to watch the motion of the waves, particular¬
ly when strongly agitated with tempest.
5. Carefully to shun all employments by which the
mind may be harassed, as reading, studying, gaming,
&c. and to seek all opportunities of mental relaxation.
6. To drink occasionally liquids containing carbonic
acid, as the froth of beer strongly fermented, or wine
and Seltzer water mixed together, and sweetened with
pounded sugar.
7. It wilt also be beneficial to take sulphuric acid
dulcified, dropped on a bit of sugar, or in peppermint
water, or ten drops of ether*
The proper diet consists ot bread and fresh meat, to
be eaten cold with pepper* All sweet favoured food
Should be carefully avoided, and the passenger ought to
refrain from fat, and particularly from such meat as is
in the smallest degree tainted. Even the smell of
flowers is injurious, for which reason marine pi educ¬
tions ought not to be examined ^ but the fumes ol vine¬
gar may be advantageously inhaled. I he drink should
consist of lemonade or tart wines, but never of common
water. An accidental diarrhoea has often relieved the
patient from sea-sickness, and therefore a gentle laxa¬
tive in such a disorder seems to be indicated. It will
also be found useful to apply a tonic anodyne plaster to
the pit of the stomach, spread upon leather, and cover¬
ed with linen.
When symptoms of vomiting appear, they may often
be remedied bv the patient placing himsell in a honzon-
tal position on his back or belly, and lying perfectly
still. If the fits of vomiting are too violent to be re¬
pressed, they should be promoted by a strong dose of
salt water ; not, however, to be often repeated, as it
debilitates the stomach. When the emetic operates, the
patient should bend his body, bringing his knees to¬
wards his breast, and supporting his head against a firm
resting place. His garters and cravat must be untied,
a precaution which will secure him from the danger of
a rupture.
The vomiting having subsided, a state of repose will
prevent its return, and the eyes may be kept shut for a
considerable time. The patient must make choice of a
cool, ventilated place, remembering to keep himself
warm and well clothed, as perspiration is highly bene¬
ficial. A gargle of sugar dissolved in vinegar is to be
taken in the morning, accompanied with frequent and
o ] SEA
spare eating. Water must never be taken in its pure Sea.
state, but mixed with wine, vinegar, or brandy. A —v—
glass of wine may be taken in the morning, with an in¬
fusion of orange peel, gentian root, or peruvian bark.
A glass of punch occasionally taken will be extremely
beneficial, by which perspiration is promoted.
Persons accustomed to smoke tobacco, will find the
use of the pipe salutary on such occasions, but the
practice of smoking will be injurious to all others.
Wre may add that warm clothing, flannel shirts, caps,
trowsers, &c. are powerful remedies against excessive
expectoration, with every other symptom of this dread¬
ful malady-
SsA-Star. See Asterias, 1 Helminthology In-
Sea- Urchin. See Echinus, J de.v.
Sea- Water, the salt water of the sea. The principal
salts contained in sea-Water are, 1st, Common marine or
culinary salt, compounded of fossil alkali or soda and
marine acid ; 2dly, A salt formed by the union of tha
same acid with magnesian earth y and, lastly, A small
quantity of selenite. The quantity of saline matter
contained in a pint of sea-water, in the British seas,
is, according to Neumann, about one ounce in each
pint (a).
The saltness of this water is supposed to arise from
numerous mines and mountains of salt dispersed here and
there in the depths of the sea. Dr Halley supposes that
it is probable the greatest part of the sea salt, and of all
salt lakes, as the Caspian sea, the Dead sea, the lake of
Mexico, and the Titicaca in Peru, is derived from the
water of the rivers which they receive : and since this
sort of lakes has no exit or discharge hut by the exhala¬
tion of vapours, and also since these vapours are entire¬
ly fresh or devoid of such particles, it is certain that the
saltness of the sea and of such lakes must from time
to time increase ; and therefore the saltness at this time
must be greater than at any time heretofore. He
further adds, that if, by experiments made in difler-
ent ages, we could find the different quantity of salt
which the same quantity of water (taken up in the
same place, and in all other the same circumstances)
would afford, it would be easy from thence, by rules of
proportion, to find the age of the world very nearly,
or the time wherein it has been acquiring its present
saltness. •
This opinion of Dr Halley is so improbable, that it
is surprising so acute a philosopher could have adopted
it. That fresh water rivers should in the course of
many thousand years produce saltness in the sea, is
quite incredible. If this were the case, every sea or
great body of water which receives rivers must be salt,
and must possess a degree of saltness in proportion to
the quantity of water which the rivers discharge. But
so
(a) In Bergman’s analysis of sea-water taken up in the beginning of June 1776, about the latitude of the Ca¬
naries, from the depth of 60 fathoms, the solid contents of a pint of the water were,
Of common salt
Salited magnesia
Gypsum
Total
Grs. )
2 53A I
69 TT I
8
7T |
33°A J
3
or 5
B
1
Grs.
IO/T
SEA [ 71 ] S E A
Sea. so fav Is this from being true, that the Pains Meotis
i-V“—,J and the great lakes in America do not contain salt but
fresh water. It may indeed be objected, that the quan¬
tity of salt which the rivers carry along with them and
deposit in the sea, must depend on the nature of the soil
through which they flow, which may in some places
contain no salt at all : and this may be the reason why
the great lakes in America and the Pains Meotis are
fresh. But to this opinion, which is merely hypotheti¬
cal, there are unsurmountable objections. It is a curious
fact that the saltness of the sea is greatest under the line,
and diminishes gradually as we advance to the poles:
We must therefore suppose, if Dr Halley’s theory be
true, that the eartli contains more salt in the tropical
regions than in the t up rate zones, and more in the
temperate zones than in the frigid ; and consequently
that the rivers in these different regions contain a quan¬
tity of salt proportionable to their distance from the
equator. This, however, must be first proved by ex¬
periment, and cannot he a-sumed a-< an established fact.
But there is another circumstance that entirely destroys
this theory. If we allow that the sea receives its salt¬
ness from the rivers, it mu^t be equally salt or nearly so
in every part of the earth. For, according to a simple
and well known principle in chemistry, “ when any sub¬
stance is dissolved in water with the assistance of agita¬
tion, at whatever part of the water it is introduced, it
will be equally diffused through the whole liquid.”
Now though it were true that a greater quantity of salt
were introduced into the sea under the line than towards
the poles, from the constant agitation occasioned by the
wind and tide, the salt must soon pervade the whole
mass of water. To say that the superior degree of heat
m the tropical regions may dissolve a greater quantity
of salt, will not destroy our argument; for it is an esta¬
blished principle in chemistry, that cold water will dis¬
solve nearly as great a quantity of salt as hot water can
dissolve.
The saltness of the sea has also been ascribed to
the solution of subterraneous mines of salt, which is
supposed to abound in the bottom of the sea and along
its shores. But this hypothesis cannot be supported.
IF the sea were constantly dissolving salt, it would soon
become saturated ; for it cannot be said that it is depri¬
ved of any part of its salt by evaporation, since rain¬
water is fresh. If the sea were to become saturated,
neither fishes nor vegetables could live in it. We must
therefore despair of being able to account for the salt¬
ness of the sea by second causes 5 and must suppose that
it has been salt from the creation. It is impossible in¬
deed to suppose that the waters of the sea were at any
period fresh since the formation of fishes and sea-plants:
for as these will not live in water saturated with salt,
neither will they live in water that is fresh 5 we therefore
conclude that the saltness of the sea has been nearly the
same in all ages. This is the simplest hypothesis of the
three that has been mentioned. It explains best the
various phenomena, and is involved in fewest difficulties.
We shall, however, allow that there may be some ex¬
ceptions j that the saltness of some seas, or of particular
parts of the same sea, may be increased by mines of
rock-salt dispersed near its shores.
With regard to the use ot this salt property of sea¬
water, it is observed, that the saltness of the sea pre¬
serves its waters pure and sweet, which otherwise would
corrupt and stink like a filthy lake, and consequently Sea.
that none of the myriads of creatures which now live —y
t here in could then have a being. From thence also the
sea water becomes much heavier, and therefore ships of
greater size and quantity may be used thereon. Salt¬
water also doth not freeze so soon as fresh-water, whence
the seas are more free for navigation. We have a dis¬
sertation, by Dr Russel, concerning the medical uses of
sea-water in diseases of the glands, &c. wherein the au¬
thor premises some observations upon the nature of
sea-water, considered as impregnated with particles of all
the bodies it passes over, such as submarine plants, fish,
salts, minerals, &c. and saturated with their several ef¬
fluvia, to enrich it and keep it from putrefaction: whence
this fluid is supposed to contract a soapiness; and the
whole collection, being pervaded by the sulphureous
steams passing through it, to constitute what we call
sea water; the confessed distinguishing characteristics of
which are saltness, bitterness, nitrosity, and unctuosityr
whence the author concludes, that it may be justly ex¬
pected to contribute signally to the improvement of
physic. The cases in which our author informs us we
are to expect advantages from sea-water are, j. In all
recent obstructions of the glands of the intestines and
mesentery. 2. All recent obstructions of the pulmo¬
nary glands, and those of the viscera, which frequently
produce consumptions. 3. All recent glandular swel¬
lings of the neck, or other parts. 4. Recent tumours
of the joints, if they are not suppurated, or become
schirrous or cancerous, and have not carious bones for
their cause. 5. Recent defluxions upon the glands of
the eyelids. 6. All defoedations of the skin, from an
erysipelas to a lepra, 7. Diseases of the glands of the
nose, with their usual companion a thickness of the lip.
8. Obstructions of the kidneys, where there is no in¬
flammation, and the stone not large. 9. In recent ob¬
structions of the liver, this method will be proper,
where it prevents constipations of the belly, and assists
other medicines directed in icterical cases. The same
remedy is said to be of signal service in the bronchocele j..
and is likewise recommended for the prevention of
those bilious colics that so frequently affect our ma¬
riners.
Preservation of Sea-TP"iter from Putrefaction. As it
is sometimes necessary to preserve sea-water in casks for
bathing and other purposes, it is of importance to know
how to keep it from putrefaction. Many experiments
were made to determine this point by Mr Henry, and
are recorded in the first volume of the Memoirs of the
Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester. His
first experiment we shall here present to our readers.
“ To one quart of sea-water were added two scruples
of fresh quick-lime ; to another, half an ounce of com¬
mon culinary salt 5 and a third was kept as a standard
without any addition. The mouths of the bottles bemg
loosely covered with paper, they were expos d to the
action of the sun in some of the holiest weather in
summer. In about a week the standard became veiy
offensive *, and the water, with the additional quantity
cl salt, did not continue sweet nvny hours longer ;
whereas that with lime continued many months without
ever exhibiting the least mark's of putridity.” 'When
he added a dram more of quicklime, the vvho.e of the
magnesia contained in the water was separated ; and
when a further addition was made, a lime-water was
5 immediately
SEA [72
Sea. Immediately formed. He therefore concluded, that two
v— ' scruples of quicklime are sufficient to preserve a quart
of sea-water. The proportions, however, may vary a
little, according to the strength ol the quicklime em¬
ployed.
Different Freshening of SzA-Water. The method of making
methods of sea-water fresh was long a desideratum in navigation,
freshening Many methods have been proposed for this purpose. Mr
sea-water. ^ppieby published an account of a process which he had
instituted in the year 1734* He distilled sea-water
with a quantity of lapis infernulis and calcined bones;
but this process was soon laid aside, as it was not only
difficult in itself, but rendered the water unpalatable.
Dr Butler proposed soap-leys in place of Mr Appleby’s
ingredients j but the water was still liable to the same
objection. Dr Stephen Hales recommended powdered
chalk j but his method was expensive, and did not im¬
prove the taste of the whter. Dr Lind of loitsmouth
distilled sea-water without any ingredients 5 but as the
experiment he made was performed in a vessel contain¬
ing only two quarts, with a glass receiver, in his study,
2 nothing conclusive can be drawn from it fox' the use of
Dr Irving’s, sailors. At length Dr Irving brought the process to a
very high degree of simplicity and perfection, by which
the water is obtained pure, without much expence of
fuel or a complicated apparatus. T or this valuable dis¬
covery he received a reward of 5000k The advantages
of this method remain to be stated, which may be redu¬
ced to the following: 1. The abolishing all stills, still-
beads, worm-pipes, and their tubes, which occupy so
much space as to render them totally incompatible with
the necessary business of the ship ; and using in the room
of these the ship’s kettle or boiler, to the top whereof
may occasionally be applied a simple tube, which can be
easily made on board a vessel at sea, of iron plate, stove
funnel, or tin sheet j so that no situation can prevent a
ship from being completely supplied with the means of
distilling sea-water. 2. In consequence of the principles
of distillation being fully ascertained, the contrivance of
the simplest means of obtaining the greatest quantity of
distilled water, by making the tube sufficiently large to
receive the whole column of vapour, and placing it
nearly in a horizontal direction, to prevent any com¬
pression of the fluid, which takes place so much with
the common worm. 3. The adopting of the simplest
and most efficacious means of condensing vapour j for
nothing more is required in the distillation but keeping
the surface of the tube always wet, which is done by
having some sea-water at hand, and a person to dip a
mop or sw'ab into this water, and pass it along the upper
surface of the tube. By this operation the vapour con¬
tained in the tube will be entirely condensed with the
greatest rapidity imaginable ; for by the application of
the wet mop thin sheets of water are uniformly spread,
and mechanically pressed upon the surface of the hot
tube; which being converted into vapour make way for
a succession of fresh sheets ; and thus, both by the eva¬
poration and close contact of the cold water constantly
repeated, the heat is carried off more effectually than by
any other method yet known. 4. The carrying on the
distillation without any addition, a correct chemical ana¬
lysis of sea-water having evinced the futility ot mixing
ingredients with it, either to prevent an acid from rising
with the vapour, or to destroy any bituminous oil sup¬
posed to exist in sea-water, and to contaminate the di-
4
]
SEA
Sea.
stilled water, giving that fiery unpalatable taste inse¬
parable from the former processes. 5. T he ascertaining L
the proper quantity of sea-water that ought to be distil¬
led, whereby the fi'esli water is prevented fiom con¬
tracting a noxious impregnation of metallic salts, and
the vessel from being corroded and otherwise damaged
by the salts caking on the bottom of it. 6. 'I lie produ¬
cing a quantity of sweet and wdiolesome water, pei-
fectly agreeable to the taste, and sufficient lor all the
purposes of shipping. 7. The taking advantage of the
dressing the ship’s provisions, so as to distil a vexy con¬
siderable quantity of water’ from the vapoui, which
would otherwise be lost, without any addition of fuel.
To sum up the merits of this method in a few words :
The use of a simple tube, of the most easy construction,
applicable to any ship’s kettle. T he rejecting all ingre¬
dients ; ascertaining the proportion of water to be di¬
stilled, with every advantage of quality, saving of fuel,
and preservation ot boilers. The obtaining fresh water,
wholesome, palatable, and in sufficient quantities. la-
king advantage of the vapour which ascends in the, ket¬
tle while the ship’s provisions are boiling. All these
advantages are obtained by the above-mentioned simpie
addition to the common ship’s kettles. But Dr Irving
proposes to introduce two further improvements. Ihe
first is a hearth, or stove, so constructed that the fire
which is kept up the whole day for the common business
of the ship serves likewise for distillation ; whereby a
sufficient quantity of water for all the economical pur¬
poses of the ship may be obtained, with a »eiy inconsi¬
derable addition to the expence of fuel. The other im¬
provement is that of substituting, even in the largest
ships, cast-iron boilers, of a new construction, in the
place of coppers.
As soon as sea-water is put into the boiler, the
is to be fitted either in the top or lid, round which, if'ing6ea.fa,
necessary, a bit of wet linen may be applied, to make ter.
it fit close to the mouth of the vessel; there will be no
occasion for luting, as the tube acts like a funnel in car¬
rying oft the vapour. When the water begins to boil,
the vapour should be allowed to pass freely for a minute,
which will effectually clean the tube and upper part of
the boiler. The tube is afterwards to be kept con¬
stantly wet, by passing a mop or swab, dipped in sea
water, along its upper surface. Ihe waste water run¬
ning from the mop may he carried off by. means of a
hoard made like a spout, and placed beneath the tube.
The distillation may he continued till three-fourths of
the water he drawn off, and no further. This may be
ascertained either by a gauee-rod put into the boiler, or
by measuring the water distilled. The brine is then to
be let out. Water may he distilled in the same manner
while the provisions are boiling. W hen the tube is
made on shore, the best substance for the purpose is thin
copper well tinned, this being more durable in long
voyages than tin-plates. Instead of mopping, the tube,
if required, may have a case made also of copper, so
much larger in diameter as to admit a thin sheet of wa¬
ter to circulate between them by means of a spiral cop¬
per thread, with a pipe of an inch diameter at each end
of the case ; the lower for receiving cold water, and the
upper for carrying it off when heated.
When only a very small portion of room can he con¬
veniently allowed for distillation, the machine (fig. 2.),
which is only 27 inches long, may be substituted, as
was
iZ'Krrrs zjxi ///.
Fn/.S.
Sector
F/t/. .'i.
S E
Sea
Plate
ecclxxviii.
&X- I.
iff. t.
j 4
tUrgRa’g
Mthod of
flbhenins
t t y coage
llioa.
wa? done in this voyage.
this machine, however, is to distil rum and other li
quors ; for which purpose it has been employed with
extraordinary success, in preventing an cmpyreuma, or
fiery taste.
Figure i. represents in perspective a section of the
two boilers taken out of the frame. In the back part
at D, E, are seen openings for the cocks. On the top
is a distilling tube, A, B, C, five inches diameter at A,
and decreasing in sisr.e to three inches at C j the length
from B to C is five feet. Near C is a ring to prevent
the water which is applied to the surface from mixing
with the distilled water. In the inside of the tube be¬
low B, is a small lip or lodging, to hinder the distilled
water from returning into the boiler by the rolling of
the ship.
In figure 2. A, B, C, D, represent a vertical section
of a copper box, 27 inches long, seven inches wide, and
11 in height, tinned on the inside. In the bottom F is
an aperture about six inches in diameter, having a ring
to fit on the still or boiler. The dotted lines which run
nearly horizontal, are vessels of thin copper, tinned on
the outside, two feet long, seven inches wide, and three
quarters of an inch deep. At G is a funnel to receive
cold water, which is conveyed into the vessels by com¬
municating pipes, contrived in such a manner as to form
a complete and quick circulation of the water through
their whole extent. When the water is become hot by
the action of the steam, it is discharged by the horizon¬
tal pipe at A. E is a pipe from which the distilled wa¬
ter or spirits run, and is bent in such a form that the li¬
quor running from it acts as a valve, and hinders any
steam from escaping that way. On the top of the box,
at H, is a safety-valve, which prevents any danger from
a great accumulation of vapour not condensed ibr want
of a proper supply of cold water.
We shall now mention a different method, discovered
by the Chevalier Lorgna, by congelation of sea-water.
Sea-water requires a very great degree of cold in order
to become ice. Our author found that a freezing mix¬
ture, made by mixing three parts of pounded ice with
two parts of common salt, was quite sufficient to freeze
it. The cold produced by this mixture is equal to about
40 below o of Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
A quantity of sea-water is never entirely congealed,
a portion of it always remaining fluid ; and, what is
very remarkable, this fluid part is incomparably more
full of salt and more nauseous than the rest: hence, if
this be separated from the congealed part, the latter on
being melted will be found to contain much less salt than
it did before congelation. This we shall call the water
of the first purification.
If the water of the first purification be again congeal¬
ed, a part of it will remain fluid as in the first operation.
This fluid portion will contain a greater proportion of
fait than the rest, which is of course more pure, and, be¬
ing melted, forms the water of the second purification.
Thus, by repeatedly freezing the same sea-water, and
separating the fluid from the congealed part in every
operation, it is at last perfectly purified, so as to be en¬
tirely divested of salt, and as'fit for drink and other pur¬
poses as the purest water that is used.
A t 73 ] SEA
The principal intention of than of a compact body, and the quantity of the fluid
part bears a considerable proportion to the quantity of
ice. But as the water, by undergoing the successive
congelations, becomes more and more pure, so it be¬
comes capable of being congealed by a smaller and
smaller degree of cold ; the ice is at the same time more
compact, and in a greater quantity ; the fluid part at last
becoming very inconsiderable.
Sea-W;ed, or Alga Marina, is commonly used as a
manure on the sea coast, where it can be procured in
abundance. The best sort grows on rocks, and is that
from which kelp is made. The next to this is called
the peasy sea-weed; and the worst is that with a long
stalk. In the neighbourhood of Berwick, the farmers
mix it with stable-dung and earth, and thus obtain a
great quantity of excellent manure. Sea weed is found
also to be a very fit manure for gardens, as it not only
enriches them, but destroys the vermin by which they
are usually infested.
Sea-WoIJ. See Anarrhicas, Ichthyology Index.
Saltness of the Sea. See SpA- Water.
South Sea. See Pacific Ocean, and South Sea.
SEAL, a puncheon, piece of metal, or other matter,
usually either round or oval j whereon are engraven the
aims, device, &c. of some prince, state, community.
magistrate, nr private person, often with a legend hr
inscription ; the impression whereof in wax serves to
make acts, instruments, &c. authentic.
The use of seals, as a mark of authenticity to letters
and other instruments in writing, is extremely ancient.
We read of it among the Jews and Persians in the ear¬
liest and most sacred records of history. And in the
book of Jeremiah there is a veiy remarkable instance,
not only of an attestation by seal, but also of the other
usual formalities attending a Jewish purchase. In the
civil law also, seals were the evidences of truth, and
were required, on the part of the witnesses at least, at
the attestation of every testament. But in the times of
our Saxon ancestors, they were not much iu use in
England. For though Sir Edward Coke relies on an
instance of King Edwyn’s making use of a seal about
100 years before the Conquest, yet it does not follow
that this was the usage among the whole nation : and
perhaps the charter he mentions may he of doubtful
authority, from this very circumstance of its being seal¬
ed j since we are assured by all our ancient historians
that sealing was not then in common use. The method
of the Saxons was, for such as could write to subscribe
their names, and, whether they could write or not, to
affix the sign of the cross j which custom our illiterate
•vulgar do for-the most part to this day keep up, by
-signing a cross for their mark when unable to write
their names. And indeed this inability to write, and
therefore making a cross in its stead, is honestly avow¬
ed by Csedwalla, a Saxon king, at the end of one of his
charters. In like manner, and for the same insurmount¬
able reason, the Normans, a brave but illiterate nation,
at their first settlement in France used the practice of
sealing only, without writing their names j which custom
-continued when learning made its way among them,
though the reason for doing it had ceased; and hence
the charter of Edward thfe Confessor to Westminster
At first the sea-water, in order to be congealed, re- .abhe^^fTi^b^” No"^"5^
ires a very great degree of cold, as mention^ nbnvP i... 1.:, P ormanuy, was
quires a very great degree of cold, as mentioned above,
the ice formed in it consists rather of scales or filaments
Vol. XIX. Part I. *
witnessed only by his seal, and is generally thought to
be the oldest sealed charter of any authenticity in Eng-
land-
Seal.
laiul.
SEA [74
A.t the Conquest, the Norman lords brought
« . . • 1 ,1 •   £*.. • r»r*rt inti’rt—
13.ilU. At  ' 1 • f .
over into this kingdom their own fashions j and intro¬
duced waxen seals only, instead of the English method
of writing their names, and signing with the signal tlie
cross. The impressions of these seals were sometimes a
knight on horseback, sometimes other devices •, but
coats of arms were not introduced into seals nor in¬
deed used at all till about the reign of Richard 1. who
brought them from the croisade in the Holy Land,
where they were first invented and painted on the shields
of the knights, to distinguish the variety of persons ot
every Christian nation who resorted thither, and who
could not, when clad in complete steel, be otherwise
known or ascertained. , . .
This neglect of signing, and resting only upon the
authenticity of seals, remained very long among us; tor
it was held in all our books, that sealing alone was sut-
ficient to authenticate a deed : and so the common form
of attesting deeds, “ sealed and delivered, continues to
this day ; notwithstanding the statute 29 Car. H. c. 3.
revives the Saxon custom, and expressly directs the sign¬
ing in all grants of lands and many other species ot
deeds : in which, therefore, signing seems to be now as
necessary as sealing, though it hath been sometimes held
that the one includes the other. .. , ,
The king’s great seal is that whereby all patents,
commissions, warrants, &c. coming down from the king
are sealed ; the keeping whereof is in the hands of the
lord chancellor. The king’s privy seal is a seal that is
usually first set to grants that are to pass the great seal.
Seal. See Keeper of the Pnvy Seal.
] SEA
Seal is also used for the wax or lead, and the im¬
pression thereon affixed to the thing scale .
1 An amalgam of mercury with gold, reduced to
consistence of butter, by straining off part 0 the mer¬
cury through leather, has been recommended as a pro¬
per material for taking off the impression of seals in wax.
In this state, the compound scarcely contains one part
of mercury to two of gold ; yet is of a silver whiteness,
as if there was none of the precious metal in it. In
this state it grows soft on being warmed or worked be¬
tween the fingers ; and is therefore proper for the pur¬
pose above mentioned, but is not superior to some amal¬
gams made with the inferior metals, as is well known
to some impostors, who have sold for this use amalgams
of the base metals as curious preparations ot gold.
Seal. See Phoca, Mammalia Index.
SEALER, an officer in chancery appointed by tbe
lord chancellor or keeper of the great seal, to seal the
writs and instruments there made in his presence.
SEALING, in Architecture^ the fixing a piece 01
wood or iron in a wall with plaster, mortar, cement,
lead, or other solid binding. For staples, hinges, and
ioints, plaster is very proper.
Sbaling-fCa.v. See Wax.
SEAM, or Seme, of corn, is a measure of ei0ht bn-
^Seam of Glass, the quantity of 120 pounds, or 24
stones, each five pounds weight. The seam of wood is
an horse-load working. u 1 . oa
Seam, in mines, the same with a stratum or bed , as
a seam of coal.
SEAMANSHIP.
n» « v n this word we express that noble art, or, more
Definition, g j the qualifications which enable a man to
exercise the noble art of working a ship. A seaman,
in the language of the profession, is not merely a mari¬
ner or labourer on hoard a ship, but a man who under¬
stands the structure of this wonderful machine, and eve¬
ry subordinate part of its mechanism, so as to enable him
to employ it to the best advantage for pushing her for¬
ward in a particular direction, and for avoiding the num-
berless dangers to which she is exposed by the violence
of the winds and waves. He also knows what courses
can be held by the ship, according to the wind that
blows, and what cannot, and which of these is most con¬
ducive to her progress in her intended voyage j and he
must be able to perform every part of the necessary ope¬
ration with his own hands. As the seamen express it,
he must be able to “ hand, reef, and steer.
a We are iustified in calling it a noble art, not only by
Importance ^ which it is quite needless to amplify or
embellish, but by its immense extent and difficulty, and
the prodigious number and variety of principles on which
it isPfounded—all of which must be possessed in such a
manner that they shall offer themselves without reflec¬
tion in an instant, otherwise the pretended seamen is but
a lubber, and cannot be trusted on Ins watch.
The art is practised by persons without what we call
education, and in the humbler walks of life, and there¬
fore it suffers in the estimation of the careless specta. r.
3
It is thought little of, because little attention is paid
to it. But if multiplicity, variety, and intricacy of
principles, and a systematic knowledge of these prin¬
ciples, intitle any art to the appellation of scientific and
liberal, seamanship claims these epithets m an eminent
degree. We are amused with the pedantry of the sea¬
man, which appears in his whole language. Indeed it
is the only pedantry that amuses. A scholar, a soldier,
a lawyer, nay, even the elegant courtier, would disgust
us were he to make the thousandth part of the allusions
to’his profession that is well received from the jolly sea¬
man ; and we do the seaman no more than justice, riis
profession must engross his whole mind, otherwise he can
never learn it. He possesses a prodigious deal ot know¬
ledge ; but the honest tar cannot tell what he knows, or
rather what he feels,-for his science is really at his fin- .
gers ends. We can say with confidence, that it a pei-DifflcuKy
son of education, versed in mechanics, and acquainted of the ait,
with the structure of a ship, were to observe wfih at¬
tention the movements which are made on board a first or
second rate ship of war during a shifting storm, under
the direction of an intelligent officer, he would be rapt
in admiration. , .ffi
What a pity it is, that an art so important, so dim-
cult, and so intimately connected with the invariable
laws of mechanical nature, should be so held by its pos¬
sessors, that it cannot improve, but must die with each
individual. Having no advantages of previous educa¬
tion,
75
SEAMANSHIP.
hich has
ben zeal-
Lwly eulti
ited by
tion, they cannot arrange their thoughts $ they can
hardly be said to think. They can far less express or
communicate to others the intuitive knowledge which
they possess j and their art, acquired by habit alone, is
little different from an instinct. We are as little in-
titled to expect improvement here as in the architec¬
ture of the bee or the beaver. The species (pardon
the allusion, ye generous hearts of oak) cannot improve.
Yet a ship is a machine. We know the forces which
act on it, and we know the results of its construction—
ail these are as fixed as the laws of motion. What hin¬
ders this to be reduced to a set of practical maxims, as
well founded and *as logically deduced as the working
of a steam engine or a cotton mill. The stoker or the
spinner acts only with his hands, and may “ whistle as
he ‘works, for want of thought but the mechanist, the
engineer, thinks for him, improves his machine, and di¬
rects him to a better practice. May not the rough sea-
man look for the same assistance ; and may not the inge¬
nious speculatist in his closet unravel the intricate thread
of mechanism which connects all the manual operations
with the unchangeable laws of nature, and both furnish
the seaman with a better machine and direct him to a
more dexterous use of it ?
We cannot help thinking that much may be done j
nay, we may say that much has been done. We think
highly of the progressive labours of Renaud, Pitot, Bou-
e French guer? -Hamel, Groignard, Bernoulli, Euler, Romme,
‘dloso- and others j and are both surprised and sorry that Bri-
iers- tain has contributed so little in these attempts. Gor¬
don is the only one of our countrymen who has given
a professedlv scientific treatise on a small branch of the
subject. The government of France has always been
strongly impressed with the notion of great improve¬
ments being attained by systematic study of this art ;
and w7e are indebted to the endeavours of that ingenious
nation for any thing of practical importance that has
been obtained. M. Bouguer rvas professor of hydro¬
logy at one of the marine academies of France, and
was enjoined, as part of his duty, to compose disserta¬
tions both on the construction and the working of ships.
His Traite du Navirc, and his Manoeuvre des Vaisseaux,
are undoubtedly very valuable performances ; So are
those of Euler and Bernoulli, considered as mathemati¬
cal dissertations, and they are wmnderful works of ge¬
nius, considered as the productions of persons who hard¬
ly ever saw a ship, and were totally unacquainted with
the profession of a seaman. In this respect Bouguer had
great superiority, having always lived at a sea-port,
and having made many very long voyages. His trea¬
tises therefore are infinitely better accommodated to the
demands of the seamen, and more directly instructive ;
but still the author is more a mathematician than an ar¬
tist, and his performance is intelligible only to mathe¬
maticians. It is true, the academical education of the
young gentlemen of the French navy is such, that a
great number of them may acquire the preparatory
knowledge that is necessary ; and we are well inform¬
ed that, in this respect, the officers ol the British navy
are greatly inferior to them.
But this very circumstance has furnished to many
persons an argument against the utility of those per¬
formances. It is said, “ that notwithstanding this su¬
perior mathematical education, and the possession of
those boasted performances of M. Bouguer, the French
Al u men t
a list tire
« |ty of
tllii- pet¬
ti -lumces.
are greatly inferior, in point of seamanship, to our coun¬
trymen, who have not a page in their language to in¬
struct them, and who could not peruse it if they had it.”
Nay, so little do the French themselves seem sensible
of the advantage of these publications, that no person
among them has attempted to make a familiar abridge¬
ment of them, written in a way fitted to attract atten¬
tion } and they still remain neglected in their original
abstruse and uninteresting form.
We wish that we could give a satisfactory answer to
this observation. It is just, and it is important. These
very ingenious and learned dissertations are by no means
so useful as we should expect. They are large books,
and appear to contain much 5 and as their plan is logical,
it seems to occupy the whole subject, and therefore to
have done almost all that can be done. But, alas ! they
have only opened the subject, and the study is yet in its
infancy. The whole science of the art must proceed
on the knoAvledge of the impulsions of the wind and
water. These are the forces which act on the machine $
and its motions, which are the ultimatum of our re¬
search, whether as an end to be obtained or as a thing
to be prevented, must depend on these forces. Now it
is with respect to this fundamental point that we are 6
as yet almost totally in the dark. And in the perform- which are
ances of M. Bouguer, as also in those of the other au conf®ssed'
thors we have named, the theory of these forces, by ()jjse|^°t" g‘ir
which their quantity and the direction of their action fundamen-
are ascertained, is altogether erroneous ; and its results tal prin-
deviate so enormously from what is observed in the mo- cIBles 5
tions of a ship, that the person who should direct tire
operations on shipboard, in conformity to the maxims
deducible from M. Bouguer’s propositions, would be
baffled in most of his attempts, and be in danger of
losing the ship. The whole proceeds on the supposed
truth of that theory which states the impulse of a fluid
to be in the proportion of the square of the sine of tire
angle of incidence ; and that its action on any small
portion, such as a square foot of the sails or hull, is the
same as if that portion were detached from the rest, and
were exposed single and alone, to the wind or water in
the same angle. But we have shown, in the article
Resistance of Fluids, both from theory and experi¬
ence, that both of these principles are erroneous, and
this to a very great degree, in cases which occur most
frequently in practice, that is, in the small angles of in¬
clination. When the wind falls nearly perpendicular
on the sails, theory is not very erroneous : but in these
cases, the circumstances of the ship’s situation are ge¬
nerally such that the practice is easy, occurring almost
without thought j and in this case, too, even consider¬
able deviations from the very best practice are of no
great moment. The interesting case is, where the in¬
tended movement requires or depends upon very oblique
actions of the wind on the sails, and its practicability
or impracticability depends on a very small variation of
this obliquity ; a mistake of the force, either as to in¬
tensity or direction, produces a mighty effect on the re¬
sulting motion. This is the case in sailing to windward ;
the most important of all the general problems of sea¬
manship. The trim of the sails, and the-course of the
ship, so as to gain most on the wind, are very nice
things ; that is, they are confined within very narrow
limits, and a small mistake produces a very considerable
efleet. The same thing obtains in many of the nice pro-
K 2 blems
;6
Wems of tacking, box-bauling, wearing after lying to in
^ l^hTerror in the second assertion of the theory is still
greater, and the action on one part of the sail or hull i
so greatlv modified by its action on another adjoining
part, that a stay-sail is often seen hang.ng ike a loose
rag, although there is nothing between it and the wi >
and this merely because a great sail m its neighbourhood
sends off a lateral stream of wind, winch coniplete y
hinders the wind from getting at it. Till the theory
the action of fluids be established, therefore, we cannot
tell what are the forces which are acting on every point
of the sail and hull: Therefore we cannot tell either the
mean intensity or direction of the whole force which
acts on any particular sail, nor the intensity and mea
direction elf the resistance to the hull j circumstances
absolutely necessary for enabling us to say what will be
their energy in producing a rotation round any particu-
lar ax's. In like manner, we cannot by such a com¬
putation, find the spontaneous axis of conversion (see
Rotation), or the velocity of such conversion. In
short, we cannot pronounce with tolerable confidence
a priori M will be the motions in any case, or what
dispositions of the sails will produce the movement
wish to perform. The experienced seamen learns by
habit thegeneral effects of every disposition of the sails ,
tSd though his knowledge is far front being accurate,
it seldom leads him into any very blundering operation.
Perhaps he seldom makes the best adjustment possible,
but seldomer still does he deviate very far from it j and
in the most general and important problems, such as
working to windward, the result of much experience
and many corrections has settled a trim of the sails
which is certainly not far from the truth, hut (it must
be acknowledged) deviates widely and unif^!y
the theories of the mathematician’s closet. I he honest
tar, therefore, must be indulged in Ins joke on the use¬
less labours of the mathematician, who can neither hand,
reef, nor steer. . , „
After this account of the theoretical performances m
the art of seamanship, and what we have said in another
place on the small hopes we entertain of seeing a perfect
theory of the impulse of fluids, it will not be expected
7 that we enter very minutely on the subject m this place ;
though use nor is it our intention. But let it be observed that the
may be theory is defective in one point only ; and although tins
Tde °f is a most important point, and the errors m it destroy
1 ^ the conclusions of the chief propositions, the reasonings
remain in full force, and the modus operandi is precisely
such as is stated in the theory. Ihe principles ot 11
art are therefore to he found in these treatises ; but lalse
inferences have been drawn, by computing from errone¬
ous quantities. The rules and the practice of the com¬
putation, however, are still beyond controversy: Nay,
since the process of investigation is legitimate, we may
make use of it in order to discover the very circumstance
in which we are at present mistaken : for by converting
the proposition, instead of finding the motions by means
of the supposed forces, combined with the knom. nu-
chanism, we may discover the forces by means ol
S mechanism and the observed motions..
DMign of ' We shall therefore in this place g.ve a very general
Uns article. . y tl,e movements oi a ship under sal , ■■
IroTthey are produced and modified by the action ot
the wind on her sails, the water on her rudder and on
SEAMANSHIP-
her bows. We shall not attempt a precise determ™.
tion of any of these movements; hut we shall say eno g
to enable the curious landsman to understand how tins
mighty machine is managed amidst the fury of the winds
and waves : and, what is more to our wish, we hope
enable the uninstructed but thinking seaman to gene¬
ralise that knowledge which he possesses -, to class h.s
ideas, and give them a sort ofrat.onal system ; and even
to improve his practice, h, making him sensible of the
immediate operation of every thing he does, and ii w t
manner it contributes to produce the movement which
he has in view. r- . . , .9
A ship may be considered at present as a mass ot inert A sh.p eon-
matter in Je space, at liberty to move m every d.rec- sidejed a.
tion, according to the forces which impel or resist her . spaceim_
and when she is in actual motion, in the direction of her p?]]ed aI)d
course we may still consider her as at rest in absolute resitted by
space/but exposed to the impulse of a current of water =te
moving equally fast in the opposite direction: for in
both cases the pressure of the water on her bows is the
same; and we know that it is possible, and frequently
happens in currents, that the impulse of the wind on
her sails, and that of the water on her bows, balance
each other so precisely, that she not only does not stir
from the place, but also remains steadily in the same
position, with her head directed to the same pent of the
compass. This state of things is easily conceived by
any person accustomed to consider mechanical subjects,
and every seaman of experience has observed it. it
is of importance to consider it in tins point of view, be¬
cause it gives us the most familiar notion of the man¬
ner in which these forces of the wind and water are set
in opposition, and made to .balance or not to balance
each other by the intervention of the ship, in the same
manner as the goods and the weights balance each other
in the scales by the intervention of a beam or steelyard. I0
When a ship proceeds steadily in her course, without Impute cf
changing her rate of sailing, or vary.ng the drrectron of the wrn^
her head, we must in the first place conceive the accu- opp0iitet0
mulated impulses of the wind on all her sails as precise-lhat ofl]ie
ly equal and directly opposite to the impulse of the wa-water on
ter on her bows. In the next place, because the ship the bows;
does not change the direction of her keel, she resembles
the balanced steelyard, in which the energies of the two
weights, which tend to produce rotations in opposite di¬
rections, and thus to change the position of the beam, .
mutually balance each other round the fulcrum: so the
energies of the actions of the wind on the difterent sails
balance the energies of the water on the diflerent parts
ol tile hull. ... , . C rrri
The seaman has tiro principal tasks to perform. Ine
first is to keep the ship steadily in that course which
will bring her farthest on in the line of her intended
voyage. This is frequently very different from that
line, and the choice of the best course is sometimes a „
matter of considerable difficulty It is sometimes pos- Skin rf J
sible to shape the course precisely along the line of 1 )e . din
voyage; and yet the intelligent seaman knows that heypinghi,
#.i j   «-* f It »o nnvr
voyage; and yet the intelligent seaman knows that »eshapingbi»
will arrive sooner, or with greater safety,.at his port, course,
by taking a different course ; because he will gain more
by increasing his speed than he loses by increasing the
distance. Some principle must direct him in the selec¬
tion of this course. This we must attempt to lay before
the reader.
Having chosen such a course as he thinks most advan-
77
SEAMANSHIP.
tageous, he must set such a quantity of sail as the
strength of the wind will allow him to carry with safety
and effect, and must trim the sails properly, or so adjust
their positions to the direction of the wind, that they
may have the greatest possible tendency to impel the
ship in the line of her course, and to keep her steadily
in that direction.
His other task is to produce any deviations which he
sees proper from the present course of the ship 5 and to
produce these in the most certain, the safest, and the
most expeditious manner. It is chiefly in this movement
that the mechanical nature of a ship comes into view,
and it is here that the superior address and resource of
an expert seaman is to be perceived.
Under the article Sailing some notice has been
taken of the first task of the seaman, and it was there
shown how a ship, after having taken up her anchor
and fitted her sails, accelerates her motion, by degrees
which continually diminish, till the increasing resistance
of the water becomes precisely equal to the diminished
impulse of the wind, and then the motion continues uni¬
formly the same so long as the wind continues to blow
with the same force and in the same direction.
It is perfectly consonant to experience that the im¬
pulse of fluids is in the duplicate ratio of the relative
velocity. Let it be supposed that when water moves
one foot per second, its perpendicular pressure or im¬
pulse on a square foot is m pounds. Then, if it he
moving with the velocity V estimated in feet per second,
its perpendicular impulse on a surface S, containing any
number of square feet, must be m SV1.
In like manner, the impulse of air on the same sur¬
face may be represented by n SV1} and the proportion
of the impulse of these two fluids will be that of in to n.
We may express this by the ratio of <7 to I, making
m
i|e of M. Bouguer’s computations and tables are on the
[iter supposition that the. impulse of sea-water moving one
n ted foot per second is 23 ounces on a square foot, and that
Fj-ces ^ impU]se Gf tlie w;nd js the same when it blows at
a foot. ^ie ra*e 24 feet Per second. These measures are all
French. They by no means agree with the experi¬
ments of others } and what we have already said, when
treating of the Resistance of Fluids, is enough to
show us that nothing like precise measures can be ex¬
pected. It was shown as the result of a rational inves¬
tigation, and confirmed by the experiments of Buat
and others, that the impulsions and resistances at the
same surface, with the same obliquity of incidence and
the same velocity of motion, are different according to
the form and situation of the adjoining parts. Thus
the total resistance of a thin board is greater than that
of a long prism, having this board for its front or bow,
$tc.
We are greatly at a loss what to give as absolute
measures of these impulsions.
1. With respect to water. The experiments of the
Irench academy on a prism two feet broad and deep,
and four feet long, indicate a resistance of O.973 pounds
avoirdupois to a square foot, moving with the velocity
of one foot per second at the surface of still water.
Mr Boat’s experiments on a square foot wholly im¬
mersed in a stream were as follow 1
A square foot as a thin plate - 1,81 pounds.
Ditto as the front of a box one foot
long - - - - 1,42
Ditto as the front of a box three feet
long - _ - - 1,29
The resistance of sea-water is about greater.
2. With respect to air, the varieties are as great.'—•
The resistance of a square foot to air moving with the
velocity of one foot per second appears from Mr Ro¬
bins’s experiments on 16 square inches to be on a
square foot - . - 0,001596 pounds,
Chevalier Borda’s on 16 inches 0,001757
 on 81 inches 0,002042
Mr Rouse’s on large surfaces 0,002291
Precise measures are not to be expected, nor are they
necessary in this inquiry. Here we are chiefly interest¬
ed in their proportions, as they may be varied by their
mode of action in the different circumstances of obliqui¬
ty and velocity.
We begin by recurring to the fundamental proposi¬
tion concerning the impulse of fluids, viz. that the abso¬
lute pressure is always in a direction perpendicular to
the impelled surface, whatever may be the direction of ^
the stream of fluid. We must therefore illustrate the Direct im-
doctrine, by always supposing a flat surface of sailPulseon
stretched on a yard, which can be braced about in anytlie SfA
direction, and giving this sail such a position and such jar to the'''
an extent of surface, that the impulse on it may be the yard,
same both as to direction and intensity with that on
the real sails. Thus the consideration is greatly simpli¬
fied. The direction of the impulse is therefore perpen¬
dicular to the yard. Its intensity depends on the ve¬
locity with which the wind meets the sail, and the obli¬
quity of its stroke. We shall adopt the constructions
founded on the common doctrine, that the impulse is as
the square of the sine of the inclination, because they
are simple ; whereas, if we were to introduce the value's
of the oblique impulses, such as they have been obser¬
ved in the excellent experiments of the Academy of
Paris, the constructions would be complicated in tire
extreme, and we could hardly draw any consequences
which would be intelligible to any but expert mathema¬
ticians. The conclusions will be erroneous, not in kind
but in quantity only } and we shall point out the neces¬
sary corrections, so that the final results will be found
not very different from real observation.
If a ship were-a round cylindrical body like a flat A ship4,
tub, floating on its bottom, and fitted with a mast and compared
sail in the centre, she would always sail in the directiont0 au ob"
perpendicular to the yard. This is evident. But she*01^ box
is an oblong body, and may be compared to a chest,
whose length greatly exceeds its breadth. She is so
shaped, that a moderate force will push her through
the water with the head or stern foremost} but it re¬
quires a very great force to push her sidewise with the
same velocity. A fine sailing ship of war will require
about 12 times as much force to push her sidewise as
to push her head foremost. In this respect therefore she
will very much resemble a chest whose length is 12 times
its breadth } and whatever be the proportion of these
resistances in different ships, we may always substitute
a box which shall have the same resistances headwise
and sidewise.
Let EFGH (fig. 1.) be the horizontal section of
such -
78
V-J OL-4 — -
-rri—itES'ivSs
pass through C. For as the whole stream has one inch
• , i m VT' flip eouivalent ot the equal im
Mt.on to the sule EF, .o e?ut™ e
nation to the moe ^ - 1"I";, M „el.pe„dio„lar to
the middle ot 1,1. ^ - ^ f- ^
C and YC v to be a yard hoisted on it caiiyi p
XS ’ X t „ vard he first conceived as braced ng1
Matses lee- sail. Fet th y as represented by
way when athwart at right angles to ’ . r ,| j ^
not sailing y, Then, whatever be the direction ot the w no
directly be- , Jr, . t • „ •] ^ will impel the vessel in toe dir
fTdthe CB But if the sail has the oblique position Y y, the
wind, FlJ- i direction CD perpendicular to
’cTandwll boA posh the vessel ahead and sidewise :
Fl’the tapnlse CD is equivalent to the two -pulse
CK and Cl (the sides ot a rectangle of which
, r i\ The force Cl pushes the vessel ahead,
t',e, elf on hes hei sidewise, 'she most the.efore take
Lme tom 1 ate lirection » i, such that the tes,stance
S Ae wTr to the plane FG is to its resistance to the
'll:lTl.eang> SCB between the real course and Ae di¬
rection of the head is called the Leeway ; and m e
course of this dissertation \ve shall express it by the
symbol x. It evidently depends on the s^Pe ot 1
vessel and on the position of the yard. An accurate
knowledge of the quantity of leeway, corresponding to
diHerent°circuinstances of obliquity ot impulse, extent o
surface &c. is of the utmost importance in the Pi actl
r •’ rtinn • and even an approximation is valuable.
TlTsubject is’so very difficult that this must content ns
How'to f° LrtV beAe velocity of Ac ship in Ac direction
find the ^ ^ anq let the surfaces FG and IE be callet an
qaantity of ’ Then tlie resistance to the lateral motion is
leeway, B. ^ ^ CB, and that to the direct motion
is w Y^ X A^ X sine*, b CK, or wY8 X A Xcos.* 6CB.
Therefore these resistances are m the proportion o
^/Xsine% .r to A'Xcos.% « (representing the angle o
leeway b CB by the symbol x). m-A'
Therefore we have Cl : CK, or Cl . ID-A.
TJ. • 2 A' • Br • sine x — A : B * tan-
cos.*^ : B' • sine .r, = A . B
cos. .r
geLefthe angle YCB, to which Ae yard is braced
UP be called the Trim of the sails, and expressed )
tlm symbol b. This is the complement ol the angle
Now -Cl i ID ~ rad. i tan. D^I)
•nCI* m : cotan. b. Therefore we have finally i : eo-
tan. izzA.' : B' * tan.**, and A' * cotan. b=V ‘ tan¬
gent2*, and tan.cot. b. This equation evi-
_ l ancl B' = 12. Therefore 1,732 _ 12 X tatt*
gent**, and tangent* *=--^-, =0,i4434» and tan.
*=0,3799, and *— 20° 48', very nearly two points of
k This computation, or rather Ae equation which gives
room for it, supposes the resistances proportional to the
sXres of the shies of incidence. The experiments oi
squares 01 u p . f which an abstract is given
1 S S-xce 0/ Fluids, show that this
suDDOsition is not far from the troll, when the angle of
incidence is great. In Ae present case the angle ot in¬
cidence on the front FG is about 7o», and the erpen-
ments just now mentioned show that the res-stance
exceed the theoretmal ones o„^ Bot^m angle
IwElhaUn this inclination the "
-Pr'V"the pre,i
sent instance. Therefore a much smaller leeway wiU
suffice for producing a lateral resistance which will ba¬
lance the lateral impulse CK, arising trom the obliquity
rf the sail viz. 30°. The matter ol laet is, that a pie
“! girsailiog iip, with her sails braced ,0 A.s angk
at a medium, will not make above five or six degiees
leeway in smooth water and easy weather j and yet in
this situation the hull and rigging present a very great
surface to the wind, in the most improper positions, -o
as to have a very great effect in increasing her leeway.
And if we compute the resistances for this leeway ot
six degrees by the actual experiments of the French A-
cademy on the angle, we shall find the result not far
from the truth j that is the direct and lateral resistances
will be nearly in the proportion ot Cl to iU.
It results from this view of the matter, that the
way is in general much smaller than what the usual theo-
1} We'Tlso see, that according to whatever law the re-whiM
sistances change by a change of inclination, the leeway!'^,
remains the same while the trim ot the sails is the same. ^ ^
The leeway depends only on the d.rection of the im¬
pulse of the wind *, and this depends solely on the posi¬
tion of the sails with respect to the keel, whatever may
be the direction of the wind. This is a very important
observation, and will be frequently referred to in the
progress of the present investigation. Note, howeyer,
that we are here considering only the action on the sails,
and on the same sails. We are not considering the ac¬
tion of the wind on the hull and rigging. 1 his may be
very considerable *, and it is always in a lee direction,
and augments the leeway J and its influence must be so
much the more sensible as it bears a greater propoition
to the impulse on the sails. A ship under courses, or
close-reefed topsails and courses, must make more leeway
than when under all her canvass trimmed, to the same
angle. But to introduce this additional cause ot devia¬
tion here would render the investigation too complicated ^
to be of any use.
dentlv ascertains the mutual relation between the trim
of Ae sails ana Ae leeway in evevy case where we can to .ot “"J V;u b c0„s]d, ral,l.v illustrated by at-HWj
tell Ae proportion between ‘i-.«S'S‘"e Ais prS- tending to tbe manner in whirl, a lighter is tracked a-^,
^■mt^noTci:::;: by’die’^iqiiity of the course, long a canal, or swings to its anchor in a
Thus, suppose the yard braced up to an ang c o 30
with the keel. Then cotan. 30 = F732 vfry neal
Suppose also that the resistance sidew.se uw 2 time
greater than the resistance headwise. Ibis gives
long a canal, or swings 10 ns
track rope is made fast to some staple or bolt F on the
deck (fig. 2 ), and is passed between two ot the timbei-Fig. '
heads of the bow D, and laid hold of at F on shore.
The men or cattle walk along the path I1 G, the iope
keeps
19
SEAMANSHIP.
keeps extended in the directions I)F, and the lighter ar¬
ranges itself in an oblique position AB, and is thus
dragged along in the direction a b, parallel to the side
of the canal. Or, if the canal has a current in the op¬
posite direction b a, the lighter may be kept steady in
its place by the rope DF made fast to a post at F. In
this case, it is always observed, that the lighter swings
in a position AB, which is oblique to the stream a h.
Now the force which retains it in this position, and
which precisely balances the action of the stream, is cer¬
tainly exerted in the direction DF 5 and the lighter
would be held in the same manner if the rope were
made fast at C amidship, without any dependence on the
timberheads at D ; and it would be held in the same
position, if, instead of the single rope CF, it were riding
by two ropes CG and CH, of which CH is in a direc¬
tion right ahead, but oblique to the stream, and the
other CG is perpendicular to CH or AB. And, draw¬
ing DI and DK perpendicular to AB and CG, the
strain on the rope CH is to that on the rope CG as Cl
to CK. The action of the rope in these cases is pre¬
cisely analogous to that of the sail y Y ; and the
obliquity of the keel to the direction of the motion, or
to the direction of the stream, is analogous to the lee¬
way. All this must be evident to any person accustom¬
ed to mechanical disquisitions.
ndela Y most important use may be made of this illustra-
Lj tion. If an accurate model be made ot a ship, and if
it be placed in a stream of water, and ridden in this
manner by a rope made fast at any point D ot the bow,
it will arrange itself in some determined position AB.
There will be a certain obliquity to the stream, mea¬
sured by the angle B 0 & and there will be a corre-
sponding obliquity of the rope, measured by the angle
FCB. Let y CY be perpendicular to CF. Then CY
will be the position of the yard, or trim of the sails cor¬
responding to the leeway b CB. Then, it we shitt the
rope to a point of the bow distant from D by a small
quantity, we shall obtain a new position of the ship,
both with respect to the stream and rope j and in this
way may be obtained the relation between the position
of the sails and the leeway, independent of all theory,
and susceptible of great accuracy 5 and this may be
done with a variety of models suited to the most usual
;) forms of ships.
s K- In farther thinking on this subject, we are persuaded
that these experiments, instead of being made on mo¬
dels, may with equal ease be made on a ship of any size.
»• ' Let the ship ride in a stream at a mooring D (fig. 3.)
by means of a short hawser BCD from her bow, hav¬
ing a spring AC on it carried out from her quarter.
She will swing to her moorings, till she ranges herself
in a certain position AB with respect to the direction
o ^ of the stream j and the direction of the hawser DC
will point to some point E of the line of the keel. Now,
it is plain to any person acquainted with mechanical dis¬
quisitions, that the deviation BE b is precisely the lee¬
way that the ship will make when the average position
of the sails is that of the line GEH perpendicular to
ED; at least this will give the leeway which is produ¬
ced by the sails alone. By heaving on the spring, the
knot C may be brought into any other position we please;
and for every new position of the knot the ship will take
a new position with respect to the stream and to the haw¬
ser. And we persist in saying, that more information
will be got by this train of experiments than from any
mathematical theory: for all the theories of the impulses
of fluids must proceed on physical postulates with respect
to the motions of the filaments, which are exceedingly
conjectural. 21
And it must now be farther observed, that the sub-The com-
stitution which we have made of an oblong parallelopi-P31'**011 of
ped for a ship, although well suited to give us clear n0- an 0yong
tions of the subject, is of small use in practice : for it is body is
next to impossible (even granting the theory of oblique only use-
impulsions) to make this substitution. A ship is of afl1* t0 8"e
form which is not reducible to equations ; and therefore f‘cai ,10*
the action ot the water on her bow or broadside can only t],e subject,
be had by a most laborious and intricate calculation for
almost every square foot of its surface. (See Bezoutfs
Cours cle Mathem. vol. v. p. 72, &c.). And this must
be different for every ship. But, which is more un¬
lucky, when we have got a parallelepiped which will
have the same proportion of direct and lateral resistance
for a particular angle of leeway, it will not answer for
another leeway of the same ship ; for when the leeway
changes, the figure actually exposed to the action of the
water changes also. When the leeway is increased,
more of the lee-quarter is acted on by the water, and a
part of the weather-bow is now removed from its action.
Another parallelepiped must therefore be discovered,
whose resistances shall suit this new position of the keel
with respect to the real course of the ship.
We therefore beg leave to recommend this train of
experiments to the notice of the Association for the
Improvement of Naval Architecture as a very
promising method for ascertaining this important point.
And we proceed, in the next place, to ascertain the re¬
lation between the velocity of the ship and that of the
wind, modified as they may be by the trim of the sails
and the obliquity of the impulse. 22
Let AB (fig. 4, 5, and 6.) represent the horizontal The rela-
section of a ship. In place of all the drawing sails, that *lon
is, the sails which are really filled, we can always substi- ye]oc;ty 0f
tute one sail of equal extent, trimmed to the same angle the ship
with the keel. This being supposed attached to the and wind
yard DCD, let this yard be first of all at right angles asoertfdn”
to the keel, as represented in fig. 4. Let the wind^!’
blow in the direction WC, and let CE (in the direction
WC continued) represent the velocity V of the wind.
Let CF be the velocity v of the ship. It must also be
in the direction of the ship’s motion, because when the
sail is at right angles to the keel, the absolute impulse
on the sail is in the direction of the keel, and there is
no lateral impulse, and consequently no leeway. Draw
EF, and complete the parallelogram CFE e, producing
e C through the centre of the yard to w. Then w C
will be the relative or apparent direction of the wind,
and C<? or FE will be its apparent or relative velocity :
For if the line C e be carried along CF, keeping always
parallel to its first position, and if a particle of air move
uniformly along CE (a fixed line in absolute space) in
the same time, this particle will always be found in that
point of CE where it is intersected at that instant by
the moving line C; so that if C e were a tube, the par¬
ticle of air, which really moves in the line CE, would
always be found in the tube C e. While CE is the real
direction of the wind, Ce will be the position of the
vane
L:.
8o
S £ A M A
vane at the mast head, which will therefore mark the
apparent direction of the wind, or its motion relative to
^wTmay conceive this in another way. Suppose a
cannon-shot fired in the direction CE atthe pssmgship,
and that it passes through the mast at C with u. vel
city of the wind. It will not pass through the ott-s de
of die ship at P, in the line CE: tor while the shot
moves from C to P, the point P has gone forward, and
the point p is now in the place where P was when the
Ihot passed through the mast. The shot will therefore
pass through the ship’s side in the point p, arid a per¬
son on board seeing it pass through C and p will say
that its motion was in the line C p. _ .
„r. 23 Thus it happens, that when a ship is in motion the
When a .. p ti „ .vintl \s always ahead of its
^ip is in apparent f-ection of he wind s ^ ^ ^
motion the real direction. Ihe line tu y , .
apparent the an„le WCB. ' It is easy to see from the construe
direction of ^ the difference between the real and apparent
lhe,w s directions of the wind is so much the more remarkab e
is always direction sldn is greater : For the angle
is-.’,- i'i"h.;y,;•£*
from the or ECe depends on the magnitude o Ce or
real direo- ^ Ia proportion to CE. Persons ^ much accus-
tlon' f ’ a to attend to these matters are apt to think all at-
Son to thl differed ,o be nothing but nDectat.on
of nicety. They have no notion that the velocity of a
can have Ly sensible proportion to that of the
wind “ Swift as the wind” is a proverbial expres
Son ; yet the velocity of a ship always bears a very seU-
Shle /ronortion to that of the Wind, and even very fie-
n ntW exceeds it. We may form a pretty exact no-
Son of the velocity of the wind by observing the sha¬
dows of the summer clouds flying along the face °f a
country, and it may be very well measured by tlllS ™
thod The motion of such clouds cannot be very difter-
ent from that of the air below •, and when the pressure
of the wind on a flat surface, while blowing with a ve¬
locity measured in this way, is compared with its pres
sure when its velocity is measured by more>i;n^C^'
tionable methods, they are found to agiee with a
sirable accuracy. Now observations of tins kind, fre¬
quently repeated, show that what we call a pleasant
brisk gale blows at the fate of about 16 miles an hour,
oc about l q feet in a second, and exerts a pressure of
half a pound on a square foot. Mr Smeaton has re-
nuently^observed the sails of a windmill, driven by such
1 v/inl moving faster, nay much faster, towards their
extremities, so that the sail, instead of being pressed to
the frames on the arhis, was taken aback, and flu e -
ing on them. Nay, we know that a good ship, with
alf her sails set and the wind on the beam, will in sue i
a situation sail above ten knots an hour in smooth wa¬
ter There is an observation made by every experienc i
aeaman, which shows this difference between the reaUind
annarent directions of the wind very distinctly. When
. ship that is sailing briskly with the wmd on the beam
tacks about, and then sails equally well on the other
tack the wind always appears to have shifted and come
more ahead. This is familiar to all seamen. The sea¬
man iudges of the direction of the wind by the position
of the ship’s vanes. Suppose the ship sailing due western
the starboard tack, with the wind apparently N. N. W.
the vane pointing S. S. E. If the ship put about, and
stands due east on the larboard tack, the vane will
found no longer to point S. S. E. but perhaps S. S. W. the
N S H 1 £. , ,
wind appearingN.N.E.and the ship must le nearly ciose-
hauled in order to make an east course. Ihe wind ap¬
pears to have shifted four points It the
again, the wind returns ^ The ce.
often observed a g ea r. > - tukins? the amusement tion of ft
lebrated astronomer Dr Bradley, tak g • , j Bradley si
of sailing in a pinnace on the nver Thames
this and was surprised at it, imagining that the change
of wind was owing to the approaching to or retiring
from the shore. The boatmen told him that it always
iZened at sea, and explained it to him in the best
manner they were able. The explanation struck him,
and set him a musing on an astronomical phenomenon
X-h he had been puzzled by for some years, and
Which he called Tit/ ABLATION OF THE FIXED
stars. Every star changes its place a small matter
for half a year, and returns to it at the comp etion of
Ihe year. He Compared the stream of light from the
sta/to the Wind, and the telescope of the astronomer to
the ship’s vane, while the earth was like the ship, mo¬
ving in opposite directions when in the opposite points
of its orbit. The telescope must always be pointed a-
head of the real direction of the star m the same man¬
ner as the vane is always in a direction ahead of the
Wind ; and thus he ascertained the progressive motion
of light, and discovered the proportion m its velocity
to the ’velocity uf the earth in its by ohsemng
the deviation which was necessarily K'ven to he tele
scope. Observing that the light shifted its ^ection
about Ab", he concluded its velocity to he about
times greater than that of the earth •, just as the intolli-
gent seamen would-conclude from tbrs apparent shcUng
of the wind, that the yelocity of the wind is about
triple that of the ship. This is indeed the best method
for discovering the velocity of the wind. Let the di
rection of the vane at the mast-head be very accurately
noticed on both tacks, and let the velocity of the ship
be also accurately measured. The angle between ie
directions of the ship’s head on these different tacks be-
ina halved, will give the real direction of the wmd,
which must he compared with the position of the vane
in order to determine the angle contained between the
real and apparent directions of the wind or the angfe
EO- or half of the observed shifting of the wind Will
show the inclination of its true and apparent directions.
This being found, the proportion of E C to I C ^ng. . J
is easily measured. . . ,
We have been very particular on this point, because
since the mutual actions of bodies depend on their rela¬
tive motions only, we should make prodigious mistakes
if we estimated the action of the wind by its real dir -
tion and velocity, when they differ so much from the
relative or apparent.
lative or apparent. . . c ,, , •. .fVtlocit'
We now resume the investigation of the velocity ot^.
the ship (fig. 4-), having its sails at right angles to the heni#
keel, and the wind blowing in the direction and with ^
the velocity CE, while the ship proceeds in the freest^
tion of the keel with the velocity CF. Produce E*,^
which is parallel to BC, till it meet the yard in g, and
draw F G perpendicular to Eg. Let a represent the
angle WCD, contained between the sail and the real
direction of the wind, and let b be the angle of trim
DCB. CE the velocity of the wind was expressed by
V, and CF the velocity of the ship by v.
The absolute impulse on the sail is (by the usual
theory
SEAMANSHIP.
Si
llieory) proportional to the square of the relative velo¬
city, and to the square of the sine of the angle of inci¬
dence j that is, to FE2 X sin. 2 w CD. Now the
angle GFE = w CD, and EG is equal to FExsin.
GFE 5 and EG is equal to E^—g G. But E^ =
EC X s*n. ECg, = V X sin. a; and g-G=CF, =zv.
Therefore EG = V x sin. a—v, and the impulse is
proportional to V X sin. a—v*. If S represent th# sur¬
face of the sail, the impulse, in pounds, will be « S ( V x
sin. a—v)3.
Let A be the surface which, when it meets the wa¬
ter perpendicularly with the velocity v, will sustain the
same pressure or resistance which the bows of the ship
actually meets with. This impulse, in pounds, will be
m A f2. Therefore, because we are considering the
ship’s motion as in a state of uniformity, the two pres¬
sures balance each other; and therefore m A v2~n S (V
X sin. a—o)2, and ™ A c2 =: S (V X sin. a — c’)2 ;
n
therefore Jvzr^/Sx VXsin.cr—and
^ V^Sx^Xsin.a Vx sin. a Vxsin. a
/ m , /— / m A.
V—A + x/S +IV(
« • - ' «S ' ' ^'s+I*
We see, in the first place, that the velocity of the
ship is (cceteris paribus) proportional to the velocity of
the wind, and to the sine of its incidence on the sail
jointly ; ior while the surface of the sail S and the
equivalent surface for the bow remains the same, v in¬
creases or diminishes at the same rate with V • sin. a.—
When the wind is right astern, the sine of a is unity,
V
and then the ship’s velocity is
J
in A
n S
+ !•
Note, that the denominator of this fraction is a com¬
mon number ; for m and n are numbers, and A and S
A
being quantities of one kind, ^ is also a number.
It must also be carefully attended to, that S express¬
es a quantity of sail actually receiving wind with the
inclination a. It will not always be true, therefore,
that the velocity will increase as the wind is more abaft,
because some sails will then becalm others. This ob¬
servation is not, however, of great importance ; for it
is very unusual to put a ship in the situation considered
hitherto ; that is, with the yards square, unless she be
right before the wind.
If we would discover the relation between the velo¬
city and the quantity of sail in this simple case of the
wind right aft, observe that the equation v.
sj in A
gives us
. m A
and —— i
n o
J
in A
v v=z\T, and
y
n S
+ l
rn A
n S
t> = V —
n S
—V—vz. and . ~
and because
propor-
m A ( V—vy ’
n and in and A are constant quantities, S
i 1,2
tional to or the surface of sail is proportional
to the square of the ship’s velocity directly, and to the
square of the relat.ve velocity inversely. Thus, if a
f
Vol. XIX. Part I.
ship be sailing with one*eighth of the velocity of the
wind, and we would have her sail with one fourth of it,
we must quadruple the sail. This is more easily seen
in another way. The velocity of the ship is proportional
to the velocity of the wind ; and therefore the relative
velocity is also proportional to that of the wind, and the
impulse of the wind is as the square of the relative ve¬
locity. Therefore, in order to increase the relative ve¬
locity by an increase of sail only, we must make this
increase of sail in the duplicate proportion of the increase
of velocity.
Let us, in the next place, consider the motion of a
ship whose sails stand oblique to the keel. ^
The construction for this purpose differs a little from Its velocity
the former, because, when the sails are trimmed to any when the
oblique position DCB (fig. 5. and 6.), there must be a '’^'!sslan^
deviation from the direction of the keel, or a leeway 0
BC b. Call this x. Let CF be the velocity of the ship. Fig. ?. and
Draw, as before, Eg- perpendicular to the yard, and6-
I G perpendicular to Eg-; also draw FII perpendicu¬
lar to the yard : then, as before, EG, which is in the
subduplicate ratio of the impulse on the sail, is equal to
Eg—Gg-. Now E g is, as before, r=Vxsin. c, and
Gg- is equal to FH, which is =rCFXsin. FCH, or —
rXsin. Therefore we have the impulse ~n S
(V • sin. a—v • sin. (£-f-#)2.
This expression of the impulse is perfectly similar to
that in the former case, its only difference consisting in
the subductive part, which is here t;Xsin. b-j-x instead
of v. But it expresses the same thing as h fore, v:z.
the diminution of the. impulse. The impulse being rec¬
koned solely in the direction perpendicular to the sail,
it is diminished solely by the sail withdrawing itself in
that direction from the wind ; and as g-E may be con¬
sidered as the real impulsive motion of the wind, GE
must be considered as the relative and effective impul¬
sive motion. The impulse would have been the same
had the ship been at rest, and had the wind met it per¬
pendicularly with the velocity GE.
We must now show the connection between this im- Connec-
pulse and the motion of the ship. The sail, and con-tion be-
sequently the ship, is pressed by the wind in the direc- twe<n the
tion Cl perpendicular to the sail or yard with the force
which we have just now determined. This (in the state oj- t}ie sj •
of uniform motion) must be equal and opposite to the
action of the water. Draw 1L at right angles to the
keel. The impulse in the direction CT (which we may
measure by Cl) is equivalent to the impulses CL and
LI. By the first the ship is impelled right forward,
and by the second she is driven sidewise. Therefore
we must have a leeway, and a lateral as well as a direct
resistance. We suppose the form of the ship to he
known, and therefore the proportion is known, or disco¬
verable, between the direct and lateral resistances cor¬
responding to every angle x of leeway. Let A be the
surface whose perpendicular resistance is equal to the di¬
rect resistance of the ship corresponding to the leeway
at, that is, whose resistance is equal to the resistance real¬
ly felt by the ship’s bows in the direction of the keel
when she is sailing with this leeway ; and let li in like
manner be the surface whose perpendicular resistance is
equal to the actual resistance to the ship’s motion in the
direction LI, perpendicular to the keel. (N. B. This
is not equivalent to A and B' adapted to the rectangular
box, but to A' * cos.2 x and B' • sin.2 #). Wi liavq
L there foie
2
therefore A : B=rCL : LI» LI— ^
s E A M A
CLB
Also,
because CI=v/CL^ + Ll% we have A : B*
:CL : Cl, and CI=5I^±^. The resistance
N S H I F.
ever may be the angle ECD, so long as the angle DCL
13 We also see that it is very possible for the velocity
of the ship on an oblique course to exceed ia o
the wind. P This will be the case when the number
sin. a
in the direction LC is properly measured by wAu% as
hasten "ready observV Therefore the re~.n
the direction 1C must be expressed by m»J + L-!
or fmaking C the surface which is equal to VA +» »
:„(S”a!iclfwill therefore have the same t-rpenrhcular
resistance to the water having the velocity u) it may
eXTherefore^ because there is an equilibrium_between-
the impulse and resistance, we have mCv-nb{
exceeds unity, or when sin. a isr
greater than J:j~ + sin. 6+7. Now this may easily
/ c . — .
V 9'--+Sin. o+ X
b
sin.• sin. 6+7)- and or ,C,-=S (V- sin.
■fsin.T+7y, and V 5 a/ C c= V S (V • sin. o-t. •
sin. b~\-n).
J s • V • sin, a
Tlierefore v —-
V • sin. a
JC . r-r-
\/ q ^rg+ sinA + a>
V?-/C + VS-sin. b+x
Sin. a
--V
V 9
Observe that the quantity which is the coefficien
of V in this equation is a common number j ior 8 "•
is a number, being a decimal fraction of the radius I,
Sin. ZT+Tf is also a number, for the same reason. And
T71/ •
since m and n were numbers of pounds, - or ? .s a
common number. And because C and S are surfaces,
or quantities of one hind, is also a common num-
'"Xhis is the simplest expression that we can think of
for the velocity acquired by the s up, though it must
be acknowledged to be to© complex to be of very
nrompt use. Its complication arises from the necessity
Tinu-oducing the leeway *. This affects the whole of
the denominator •, for the surface C depends on it, be.
cause C + and A and B are analogous to
A' cos * x and B' sin.* x.
Important But we can deduce some important consequences
consequen- r t|)is theorem. „
ces dedu- J W| -j t] surface S of the sail actually filled by the
rrd fT wind reml ns the same, and the angle DCB, which in
the foie- wind icira of the sa,ls, also remains
going laeo future we shall call rue x , , , airfare
tiie same, both the leeway .r and the substi uted suitace
C remains the same. The denominator is therefore con¬
stant i and the velocity of the ship is proportional to
Ts . V ■ sin. «, Unit is, directly as the veloc.ly of the
•n i directlv as the absolute inclination of the vund to
the yartl^an*^directly as the square root of the surface
We’allo learn rrcal t,ie construction of the figure that
VC n-uallel to the yard cuts CE in a given ratio. I or
CF i n', constant ratio to E g, a. has been just now
demon "rated. And the angle DCF » constant Ijerc-
fore CF • sin. b, or FH or C g, is proportional to L g,
and OC to EC, or EC is cut m one proportion, what-
rcm.
be by sufficiently enlarging S aud f +J;
It is indeed frequently seen in fine sailers with all their
sails set and not hauled too near the wind.
AYe remarked above that the angle ot leeway x af¬
fects the whole denominator of the fraction which ex¬
presses the velocity. Let it ^hserved hayhe^angle
ICL is the complement of LCD, oi o • ^
CL : LI, or A : B=i : tan. ICL, i . cot. > *
B=A • cotan. b. Now A is equivalent to A. cos. x
and thus b becomes a function ot *. C is evidently so,
Wlmr /aETB1. Therefore before the value ot this
fraction can be obtained, we must be able to compute,
bv our knowledge of the form of the ship, the vaiue ot
iTr every angle .v of leeway. This can be done only
by resolving her bows into a great number of elemen¬
tary planesf and computing the impulses on each and
adding them into one sum. The computation .s of .m-
mense labour, as may be seen by one example given by
Eouguer. When the leeway is hut small, nut exceed-
hig L degrees, the substitution of the rectangular prism
o/one determined form is abundantly exact lor all lee¬
ways contained within this limit ; and we shall soon see
reason for being contented with this approximation. We
may now make use of the formula expressing the velo¬
city for solving the chief problems in this part of the
C And firstki it he required to determine the best posi- problem£
tion of the sail for standing on a given course o 6, To deter-
when CE the direction and velocity of the wind, and itsmnv^,
angle with the course \VCF, are given. 1 his problem ^ of t]i(
i.off exercised the talents of the mathematicians eversai,sfor
since the days of Newton. In the article Pneumatics gtandin^
we gave the solution of one very nearly related to A
namely, to determine the position of the sail 'vh,ch when Ae
would produce the greatest impulsion in the direction ptdil.eeti(,n
the course. The solution was, to place the yard CD in and vete
such a position that the tangent ot the angle ECD may+ot^
be one half of the tangent of the angle DCAA . _ Ih18 jls a,)gle
will indeed be the best position ot the sail ioi beginning with ti,e
the motion ; but as soon as the ship begins to move incourSear
the direction CF, the effective impulse of the wind is given,
diminished, and also its inclination to the sail. 1 he
anede DC u> diminishes continually as the ship aceth>
rafes ; for CF is now accompanied by its equal V,
and by an angle EC e or WC w. CF increases and
the impulse on the sail diminishes, till an equilibrium
obtains between the resistance of the water and the im¬
pulse of the wind. The impulse is now measured by
CE* X sin-5 c CD instead of CE*Xsin.2 ECD, that is,
by EG* instead of E o*. . . r
Tills introduction of the relative motion oi the win dr
renders the actual solution of the problem extremely
difficult.
4r- 7-
vS E A M A
difficult. It is very easily expressed geometrically :
Divide the angle w CF in such a manner that the tan¬
gent of DCF may be half of the tangent ef DCm>, and
the problem may be constructed geometrically as fol¬
lows.
Let WCF (fig. 7.) he the angle between the sail and
course. Round the centre C describe thecircle WDFY;
produce WC to Q, so that CQm WC, and draw QY
parallel to CF cutting the circle in Y j bisect the arch
WY in D, and draw DC. DC is the proper position
of the yard.
Draw the chord WY, cutting CD in V and CF in
T; draw the tangent PD cutting CF in S and CY
in R.
It is evident that WY, PR, are both perpendicular
to CD, and are bisected in \ and D; therefore (by
reason of the parallels QY, CF) 4 : 3—QW : CW,
=YW : TW, -RP : SP. Therefore PD : PS=2 : 3,
and PD : DS—2 : t. Q. -E. Z). But this division
cannot be made to the best advantage till the ship has
attained its greatest velocity, and the angle w CF has
been produced.
We must consider all the three angles, o, b, and x, as
variable in the equation which expresses the value of t>,
and we must make the fluxion of this equation rr 0;
then, by means of the equation B ~ A- cotan. b, we
must obtain the value ol b and of b in terms of .r and x.
With respect to a, observe, that if we make the angle
WCF—/), we have p~a-\-b-\-x ; and p being a con¬
stant quantity, we have Substituting for
b, a and b, their values in terms of x and x, in the
fluxionary equation =: 0, we readily obtain .r, and then
n and b, which solves the problem.
Let it be required, in the next place, to determine
the course and the trim of the sails most proper for ply¬
ing to windward.
era II . ^raw FP perpendicular to WC. CF is the
;ter- rnol;'on of the ship ; but it is only by the motion PC
m the that she gains to windward. Now CP is =: CF X
HJfean(J cosin- WCF, or V • cosin. {a + b+x). This must be
iiinpt t*ie rendered a maximum, as follows.
By means ol the equation which expresses the value
of v and the equation B= A’ cotan. we exterminate
the quantities v and b ; we then take the fluxion of the
quantity into which the expression v • cos.
is changed by this operation. Making this fluxion —0,
we get the equation which must solve the probltm.
Tdiis equation will contain the two variable quantities
a and x with their fluxions ; then make the coefficient
of x equal to 0, also the coefficient of a equal to 0. This
will give two equations which will determine a and x,
and from this we get b—p—a—x.
Should it be required, in the third place, to find the
termiL,- the ^es!" course an(l trim of the sails for getting away from
bel ,UrSe a g!ven line of c«>ast CM (fig. 6 ), the process perfectly
and m of resembles this last, which is in fact getting away from
[ift *',s fora line of coast which makes a right angle with the wind,
wjliim I herefore, in place of the angle WCF, we must substi¬
tute the angle WCM=t: WCF. Call this angle e. We
must make v ' cos. (ez±zuz±zhnhr.v) apnaximum. The
analytical process is the same as the former, only c is
here a constant quantity
These are tne three principal problems which can be
N S H I P.
8.
ed of the motion of the ship when impelled by an ob¬
lique sail; and therefore making leeway ; and they may
be considered as an abstract of this part of M. Bouguer’s
work. We have only pointed out the process for this
solution, and have even omitted some things taken no¬
tice of by M. Bezout in his very elegant compendium.
Our reasons will appear as we go on. The learned read¬
er will readily see the extreme difficulty of the subject,
and the immense calculations which are necessary even
in the simplest cases, and will grant that it is out of the
power of any but an expert analyst to derive any use
from them j but the mathematician can calculate tables
for the use of the practical seaman. Thus he can calcu¬
late the best position of the sails foradvaneing in a course
90° from the wind, and the velocity in that course ;
then for 83°, 8c°, 750, &c. M. Bouguer has given a ^<,>81 bl
table 01 this kind ; but to avoid the immense difficulty
of the process, he has adapted it to the apparent dirtc-tfe best
tion of the wind. We have inserted a few of his num-!,ositlon °f
hers, suited to such eases as can be of service, namely, ^ su*ls
when all the sails draw, or none stand in the way of j1,,
others. Column 1st is the apparent angle of the wind course*
and course ; column 2d is the corresponding angle of
the sails and keel $ and column 3d is the apparent angle
of the sails and wind.
.33
Bou-
T
<u>CF
2
DCB
103'
99
94
89
84
'53'
r3
25
28
23
79 06
73 39
68 —
42°
40
37
35
32
30
27
25
3°
.3
iHJD
6l° 2*
30
3°
3°
59
56
54
5!
49
46
43
>3
55
28
53
06
00
34
sa nost
pr iifr ol¬
id: b; to
*’ili trd.
H).
way
a give
line c
coast;
3
Obse 1
iioas
the
preee • ig solved by means of the knowledge that we have obtain-
■ijroilr
In all these numbers we have the tangent of m CD
double of the tangent of DCF.
But this is really doing but little for the seaman. Inutility of
The apparent direction of the wind is unknown to bun these calcu¬
li jj the ship is sailing with uniform velocity ; and he isiatiuas.
still uninformed as to the leeway. It is, however, of ser¬
vice to him to know, for instance, that when the angle
of the vanes and yards is 36 degrees, the yard should be
braced up to 370 30' &c.
But here occurs a new difficulty. By the construc¬
tion of a square-rigged ship it is impossible to give the
yards that inclination to the keel which the calculation,
requires. Few ships can have their yards braced up to
37 3o/ 5 a,1{^ yet ibis is required in order to have an in¬
cidence of 36 , and to hold a course 940 23' from the
apparent direction of the wind, that is, with the wind
apparently 40 23' abaft the beam. A good sailing ship
in this position may acquire a velocity even exceeding-
that of the wind. Let us suppose it only one half of
this velocity. We shall find that the angle W C w is iu
this case about 29 , and the ship is nearly going 1 230
from the wind, with the wind almost perpendicular to
the sail j therefore this utmost biacing up of the sails is
only giving them the position su-ted to a wind broad on
the quarter. It is impossible therefore to comply with
the demand of the mathematician, and the seaman must
be contented to employ a less favourable disposition of
his sails in all cases where his
least eleven points from the wind.
L 2
course does not lie at
Let
84
Tig. 6,
SEAMANSHIP.
Let us see Aether tills restriction, arising from ne¬
cessity, leaves any thing in our choice, and makes one
course preferable to another. We see that there are a
prodigious number of courses, and these the most usual
and the most important, which we must hold with one
trim of the sails-, in particular, sailing with the wind on
the beam, and all cases of plying to windward, must be
performed with this unfavourable trim of the sails. VVe
are certain that the smaller we make the angle of inci¬
dence, real or apparent, the smaller will be the velocity
of the ship} but it may happen that we shall gain more
to windward, or get sooner away from a lee-coast, or
any object of danger, by sailing slowly on one course
than by sailing quickly on another.
We have seen that while the trim of the sails remains
the same, the leeway and the angle of the yard and
course remains the same, and that the velocity of the
ship is as the sine of the angle of real incidence, that
is, as the sine of the angle of the sail and the real di¬
rection of tire wind.
Let the ship AB (fig. 8.) hold the course CF, with
the wind blowing in tbe direction WC, and having her
vnrds DCD braced up to the smallest angle JWiJ
Which the rigging can admit. Let CF be to CL as
the velocity of the ship to the velocity of the wind,
join FF and draw Cw parallel to EF j it is evident
that FE is the relative motion ot the wind, and w L'U
is the relative incidence on the sail. Draw EO parallel
to the yard DC, and describe a circle through the points
COF Alien we say that if the ship, with the same wind
and ti’e same trim of the same drawing sails, be made to
sail on any other course CJ\ her velocity along CL is
to the velocity along C/ as CF is to C/; or, m other
words, the ship will employ the same time in going from
C to any point of the circumference CF O.
join f O. Then, because the angles Ck O, c f O are
on the same chord CO, they are equal, and / O is pa¬
rallel to d C (1, the new position of tbe yard com spend¬
ing to tbe new position of the keel a l), making the
” d C /irzDCB. Also, by the nature of the circle,
ken from 360°, leaves 150°, of which the half M m is
the line CF is to C/as the sine of the angle CFO to
the sine of the angle CO./’, that is (on account of tlie
parallels CD, OF and C d, Of), as the sine of VCD
to the sine of WC d. But when the trim of the sails
remains the same, the velocity of the ship is as the sine
of the angle cf the sail with the direction of the wind j
there fore^CF is to Of as the velocity on CF to that on
C f and the proposition is demonstrated.
'Let it now be required to determine the best course
for avoiding a rock R lying in the direction CK, or Urn
To deter¬
mine tb
7 c°, and the angle MC m is 370 30'. 1 his added t»
ECM makes EC m 107° 30', leaving WC 771—^2 30 ,
and the ship must hold a course making an of
7 2° 30' with the real direction of the wind, and WCD
will be 370 30'.
This supposes no leeway. But if we know that un¬
der all the sail which the ship can carry with safety and
advantage she makes 5 degrees of leeway, the angle
DC m of the sail and course, or is 40 . Iben
C0-F0M=220°, which being taken from 36c0 leaves
140°, of Which the half is 70°, =M m, and the angle
MC m = 350, and EC m = 105°, and WC m = 75 ,
and the ship must lie with her head 70° from the wind,
making 5 degrees of leeway, and the angle V\CD is
J The general rule for the position of the ship is, that
the line on shipboard which bisects the angle h+x may
also bisect the angle WCM, or make the angle between
the course and the line from which we wish to withdraw
equal to the angle between the sail and the real direc¬
tion of the wind. .
It is plain that this problem includes that ot plyingCorollam
to windward. We have only to suppose ECM to be
oo°j then, taking our example in the same ship, with
the same trim and the same leeway, we have b-\-a—40 .
This taken from 9c0 leaves 50° and V C n~<)C> 25~-■
65, and the ship’s head must lie 6o° from the wind, and
the yard must be 250 from it.
It must be observed here, that it is not always eligi¬
ble to select the course which will remove the ship fast¬
est from the given line CM 5 it may be more prudent
to remove from it more securely though more slowly.
In such cases the procedure is very simple, viz. to shape
the course as near the wind as is possible.
The reader will also easily see that the propriety of
these practices is confined to those courses only where
the practicable trim of the sails is not sufficiently sharp.
Whenever the course lies so far from the wind that it is
possible to make the tangent of the apparent angle of
the wind and sail double the tangent of the sail and
course, it should be done. _ 37
These are the chief practical consequences which can xhe adjust.
be deduced from the theory. But we should consider mtnt of tie
how far this adjustment of the sails and course can be^ls/If
performed. And here occur difficulties so great as to
 _    c_. theory H"-
make it almost impracticable. We have always suppo-practjcai)le,
sed the position of the surface of the sail to be distinctly
observable and measurablebut this can hardly be af¬
firmed even with respect to a sail stretched on a yard.
Here we supposed the surface of the sail to have the
same inclination to the keel that the yard has. Ibis is
by no means the casej the sail assumes a concave form,
of which it is almost impossible to assign the direction
of the mean impulse. We believe that this is always
considerably to leeward of a perpendicular to the yard,
lying between Cl and CE (fig. 6.). This is of some
mine me ior avoiuiiiy « v ^ PO
best course .ylthdrawins as fast as possible from a line ot coast r
    . 1 n   11.1 pr\ ..^.1 lot nr. Im
void
rock
WlUHiiaiviiJi; a* xcxo* .... t  , . ^ .
Draw CM through R, or parallel to 1 Q, and let m ie
the middle of the arch C m M. It is plain that m is
the most remote from CM of any point of the arch
C m M, and therefore the ship will recede farther from
the coast PQ in any given time by holding the course
C m than by any other course. , r AT
This course is easily determined 5 for the arch C mM
This course is easily determined5 tor tne area v, /« ^ advantage, being equivalent to a sharper trim. M e can-
^ o r roh CO 4-arch OML and the arch CO not affirm this, however, with any confidence, because
360 (AU J t}ie nn„ie CFO or twice the it renders the impulse on the weather-leech of the sail
is the measure of twice_the angle ^ exceedingly feeble as hardly to have any effect. In
sailing close to the wind the ship is kept so near, that
the weather-leech of the sail is almost ready to receive
the wind edgewise, and to flutter or shiver. T he most
effective or drawing sails with a side-wind, especially
when
angle DCB, or twice b+x, and the arch OM mea¬
sures twice the angle ECM. . .
Thus, suppose the sharpest possible trim of the sails
t0 be 250, and the observed angle ECM to be /0 ,
then CO4OM is 700+i4°° <>r 210 * Tlus beinS ta'
SEAMANSHIP.
Tbtheorj
its*!' eiro-
aet»i.
when plying to windward, are the staysails. We be¬
lieve that it is impossible to say, with any thing ap¬
proaching to precision, what is the position of the gene¬
ral surface of a staysail, or to calculate the intensity and
direction of the general impulse ; and we affirm with
confidence that no man can pronounce on these points
with any exactness. If we can guess within a third or
a fourth part of the truth, it is all we can pretend to j
and after all, it is but a guess. Add to this, the sails
coming in the way of each other, and either becalming
thi m or sending the wind upon them in a direction
widely different from that of its free motion. All these
points we think beyond our power of calculation, and
therefore that it is in vain to give the seaman mathema¬
tical rules, or even tables of adjustment ready calculat¬
ed ; since he can neither produce that medium position
of bis sails that is required, nor tell what is the position
which he employs.
7 his is one of the principal reasons why so little ad¬
vantage has been derived from the very ingenious and
promising disquisitions of Bouguer and other mathema¬
ticians, and has made us omit the actual solution of the
chief problems, contenting ourselves with pointing out
the process to such readers as have a relish for these
analytical operations.
But there is another principal reason for the small
progress which has been made in the theory of seaman¬
ship : Ibis is the error of the theory itselfj which sup¬
poses the impulsions of a fluid to be in the duplicate ra¬
tio of the sine ot incidence. 7 he most careful compari¬
son which has been made between the results of this
theory and matter of fact is to be seen in the experi¬
ments made by the members of the Royal Academy of
Sciences at Paris, mentioned in the article Resistance
of Fluids. We subjoin another abstract of them in the
following table ; where col. ist gives the angle of inci¬
dence 5 col. 2d gives the impulsions really observed 5
col. 3d the impulses, had they followed the duplicate
ratio ot the sines ; and eol. 4th the impulses, it they were
in the simple ratio of the sines.
Angle
of
Incid.
90
84
78
72
66
60
54
48
42
36
3°
24
18
12
6
Impul
sion
observed
IOOO
989
958
908
845
771
693
615
543
480
440
424
4T4
406
400
Impulse
as
Sine
IOOO
989
957
905
835
75c
655
552
448
346
250
96
43
11
Impulse
as
Sine.
IOOO
995
978
95i
914
866
809
743
669
587
500
407
3C9
208
ICK
Here we see an enormous difference in the great oh
Equities When the angle of incidence is only s,x de¬
crees, the observed impulse is forty times greater than
the theoretical impulse ; at 120 it is ten times greater;
at 18° it is more than four times greater; and at 240
it is almost three, times greater.
No wonder then that the deductions from this theory
are so useless and so unlike what we familiarly observe.
We took notice of this when we were considering the
leeway of a rectangular box, and thus saw a reason for
admitting an incomparably smaller leeway than what
would result from the laborious computations necessary
by fhe theory. This error in theory has as great an in¬
fluence on the impulsions of air when acting obliquely
on a sail ; and the experiments of Mr Robins and of
the Chevalier Borda on the oblique impulsions of air are
perfectly conformable (as far as they go) to those of
the academicians on water. The oblique impulsions of
the wind are therefore much more efficacious for pres¬
sing the ship in the direction of her course than the
theory allows us to suppose ; and the progress of a ship
plying to windward is much greater, both because the
oblique impulses of the wind are more effective, and be¬
cause the leeway is much smaller, than we suppose.
Were not this the case, it would be impossible for a
square-rigged ship to get to windward. The impulse
on her sails when close hauled would be so trifling that
she would not have a third part of the velocity which
we see her acquire : and this trifling velocity would be
wasted in leeway ; for we have seen that the diminution
of the oblique impulses of the water is accompanied by
an increase of leeway. But we see that in the great ob¬
liquities the impulsions continue to be very considerable
and that even an incidence of six degrees gives an im¬
pulse as great as the theory allows to an incidence of
40. We may therefore, on all occasions, keep the yards
more square ; and the loss which we sustain by the di¬
minution of the very oblique impulse will be more than
compensated by its more favourable direction with re¬
spect to the ship’s keel. Let us take an example of
this. Suppose the wind about two points before the
beam, making an angle of 68° with the keel. The
theory assigns 430 for the inclination of the wind to
the sail, and 150 for the trim of the sail. The perpen¬
dicular impulse being supposed 1020, the theoretical
impulse for 4 90 is 465. This reduced in the proportion
of radius to the sine of 250, gives the impulse in the di¬
rection of the course only 197.
But if we ease oil the let- braces till the yard makes
an angle of 50° with the keel, and allows the wind an
incidence of no more than 180, we have the experiment¬
ed impulse 414, which, when reduced in the proportion
ot radius to the sine of 50°, gives an effective impulse
317. In like manner,, the trim 56°, with the incidence
12 , fiives an effective impulse 337 ; and the turn 62°
with the incidence only 6°, gives 353.
TxrHnnClVVV°U,kUat fi,St sisllt aJTear tIlat angle
DCB o! 62° and WCD of 6° would be better for bold¬
ing a course within 6 points of the wind than any
more oblique position of the sails ; but it will only pive
a greater initial impulse. As the ship accelerates,°the
wind apparently comes ahead, and we must continue to
brace up as the ship freshens her way. It is not unusual
lor her to acquire half or two thirds of the velocity of
the wind ; in which case the wind comes apparently
ahead more than two points, when the yards must
he braced up to 350, and this allows an impulse no
greater than about 70. Now this is very frequently
observe dl
85
.19
and the de¬
ductions
from it use¬
less.
-86
S E A M A
observed in good ships, wbieli in a brisk gale and smooth
water will go five or six knots close-hauled, the ship s
head six points from the wind, and the sails no moie
than just full, but ready to shiver by the smallest lutt.
All this would be impossible by the usual theory; and in
this respect these experiments ot the l rench academy
gave a fine illustration of the seaman’s practice. Ihey
account for what we should otherwise be much puzzled
to explain ; and the great progress which is made by
a ship close-hauled being perfectly agreeable to what
we should expect from the law ot oblique impulsion
deducible from these so often mentioned experiments,
while it is totally incompatible with the common theory,
should make us abandon the theory without hesitation,
and str nuously set about the establishment ot anotlin,
founded entirely on experiments. For this purpose the
S pro experiments should be made on the oblique impulsions
per for rst.t- of ^ oty as great a scale as possible, and ,n as great a
Wishing an- imstanees. so as to furnish a series nt nn-
,other
of air on as great a t*  . ’ . , • a t ;m
variety of circumstances, so as to lurnish a series of m
pulsions tor all angles of obliquity. We have but tour
or five experiments on this sidijeet, viz. two by Mr
Koliins, and two or three by the Chevalier Borda. Hav¬
ing thus gotten a series ot impulsions, it is vei y pi a
cable to raise on this foundation a practical institute, and
to give a table of the velocities of a ship suited to every
angle of inclination and of trim ; for nothing is more
certain than the resolution of the imPulse CU’^
to the sail into a force in the direction of the keel, and
a Wearl^ilso disposed to think that experiments might
he made on a model very nicely rigged with sa«B and
trimmed in every different degree, which wonld point
out the mean direction of the impulse on the sails, and
the comparative force of these impulses in different d -
rections of the wind. The method would be very si¬
milar to that for examining the impulse of the water on
the hull. If this can also be ascertained experimental¬
ly, the intelligent reader will easily see that the whole
motion of a ship under sail may be determined for every
case. Tables may then be constructed by calculation,
or by graphical operations, which will give the velo¬
cities of a sh:p in every different course and correspond-
to every trim of sail. And let ,t be here observed,
that the trim of the sail is not to be est,mated m de-
orees of inclination of the yards ; because, as we have
'already remarked, we cannot observe nor adjust the la¬
teen sails it this way. But, in making the experiments
for ascertaining the impulse, the exact position of the
tacks and sheets of the sails are to be noted ; and
this combination of adjustments is to pass by the name
of a certain trim. Thus that trim ot all the sails
may be called 40, whose direction is experimentally
found equivalent to a flat surface trimmed to the obli-
1 Having done this, we may construct a figure for each
trim similar to fig. 8. where, instead of a circle, we shall
have a curve COM'P, whose chords GF cf, &g.
are proportional to the velocities in these courses; and
by means of this curve we can find the point m, which
iff most remote from any line CM from which we wish
to withdraw : and thus we may solve all the principal
problems of the art. .
F Me hope that it will not he accounted presumption
in us to expect more improvement from a theory
^ I
N S H I P- , .
founded on judicious experiments only, than from a
theory of1 the impulse of fluids, winch ,s ou„d so . -
consistent with observation, ami of whose ‘
authors, "in^Xvft’o ietmmeud *
strong suspicions. .Aga , ° . ,•, < QnrtrTY r<?ccra-
this view of the subject t° the atten to mended
FOR the Improvement of Naval Archi the Society
Should these patriotic gentlemen entertain a favourable <or ,ile lm.
Should tliese pauiui b - , t corre-provement
opinion of the plan, and honour ^ w.tn t nn_ ^ NaTal
spondence, we will cheerfully impat Arcbitec-
tions of the way in which both
ments may be prosecuted with success, and result
Gained bwhich we may confide ; and we content our-
stives at present with offering to the public these hints,
which are not the speculations of a man ot mere science,
but of one who, with a competent knowledge ot the
aws of mechanical nature, has the experience ot sev eial
v^rs service in the royal navy, where the art 0 work¬
ing of ships was a favourite object ol his scientific at- ^
^ WUh these observations we conclude our discussion Means e*
of the fir-t part of the seaman’s task, anf ‘o,.Fevent or I
to consider the means that are employet P c .produced:-
Z p””aUCf any deviations from the umform teet.lmeal ,iali0„s |
course winch has been selected. . 1 • r ^101'
Here the ship is to be considered as a body m free eosue.
space, convertible round her centre of inertia. For
whatever may he the point round which she turns, this
motion may Always be considered as compounded ot a
rotation round an axis passing through her centie of
gravity or inertia. She is impelled by the wind and by
the water acting on many surfaces differently incline
to each other, and the impulse on each is perpendicular
to the surface. In order therefore that she may con¬
tinue steadily in one course, it is not only necessary that
the impelling forces, estimated in their mean d.rection,
be equal and opposite to the resisting forces estimated
in their mean direction ; but also that these two direc¬
tions may pass through one point, otherwise she will be
affected as a log of wood is when pushed in opposite
directions by two forces, which are equal indeed, in
are applied to different parts of the log. A ship must
be considered as a lever, acted on in different parts by
forces in different directions, and tfie whole balancing
each other round that point or axis where the equiva¬
lent of all the resisting forces passes. This may bt con¬
sidered as a point supported by this resisting force and
as a sort of fulcrum: therefore, in order that the ship
may maintain her position, the energies or momenta of
all the impelling forces round this point must balance
Ca Whenea ship sails right afore the wind, with her yards Implies
square, it is evident that the impulses on each side ot Uie ailin?rigti|
keel are equal, as also their mechanical mometita \ ou\u\ before the |
any axis passing perpendicular through the keel. howimldd«-
are the actions of the water on her bows But when she en ^
are tne acuous 01 ujc    7 , ^se on
sails on an oblique course, with her yards braced up on ^ ^
either side, she sustains a pressure in the direction sall,ngot-
(fig. c.) perpendicular to the sail. This, by giving her ^eij.
a lateral pressure LI, as well as a pressure CL ahead,
causes her to make leeway, and to move in a line G 0 in¬
clined to CB. By this means the balance ol action on
the two bows is destroyed ; the general impulse on t ie
lee-bow is increased ; and that on the weather-bow is 1-
xmnished.
37
SEAMANSHIP.
minished. The combined impulse is therefore no longer
in the direction BC, but (iu the state of uniform mo¬
tion) in the direction 1C.
Suppose that in an instant the whole sails are annihi¬
lated, and the impelling pressure Cl, which precisely ba¬
lanced the resisting pressure on the bows, removed. The
ship tends, by her inertia, to proceed in the direction
C b. This tendency produces a continuation of the re¬
sistance in the opposite direction IC, which is not di¬
rectly opposed to the tendency of the ship in the direc-
tiotrC£; therefore the ship’s head would immediately
come up to the wind. The experienced.seaman will re¬
collect something like this when the sails are suddenly
lowered when coming to anchor. It does not happen
solely from the obliquity of the action on the bows :
It would happen to the parallelepiped of tig. 2. which
was sustaining a lateral impulsion B’sinAi’, and a direct
impulsion A • cos.1 .r. These are continued for a mo¬
ment after the annihilation of the sail: but being no
longer opposed by a force in the direction CD, but by
a force in the direction C b, the force B • sin.* .v must
prevail, and the body is not only retarded in its motion,
but its head turns towards the wind. But this effect
of the leeway is greatly increased by the curved form
of the ship’s bows. This occasions the centre of effort
of all the impulsions of the water on the leeside of the
ship to be very far forward, and this so much the more
remarkably as she is sharper afore. It is in general not
much abaft the foremast. Now the centre of the ship’s
tendency to continue her motion is the same with her
centre of gravity, and this is generally but a little be¬
fore the mainmast. She is therefore in the same con¬
dition nearly as if she were pushed at the mainmast in
a direction parallel to C and at the foremast by a
force parallel to 1C. The evident consequence of this
is a tendency to come up to the wind. This is inde¬
pendent of all situation of the sails, provided only that
they have been trimmed obliquely.
This tendency of the ship’s head to windward is call¬
ed griping in the seaman’s language, and is greatest
in ships which are sharp forward, as we have said al¬
ready. This circumstance is easily understood. What¬
ever is the direction of the ship’s motion, the absolute
impulse on that part of the bow immediately contigu¬
ous to B is perpendicular to that very part of the sur¬
face. The more acute, therefore, that the angle of
the bow is, the more will the impulse on that part be
perpendicular to the keel, and the greater will be its
energy to turn the head to windward.
Profeetyof Thus we are enabled to understand or to see the pro-
t'ie i posi- priety of the disposition of the sails of a ship. We see
sails flle ier crow^ed with sails forward, and even many sails
extended far before her bow, such as the spritsail, the
bowsprit topsail, the fore-topmast staysail, the jib, and
flying jib. The sails abaft are comparatively smaller.
Hie sails on the mizenmast are much smaller than those
on the foremast. All the staysails hoisted on the main¬
mast may be considered as headsails, because, their cen¬
tres of effort are considerably before the centre of gra¬
vity of the ship : and notwithstanding this disposition,
it generally requires a small action of the rudder to
counteract the windward tendency of the lee-bow. This
is considered as a good quality when moderate ; be¬
cause it enables the seaman to throw the sails aback,
and stop the ship’s way in a moment, if she be in danger
. 4
■WP
snip,
from any thing a head 5 and the ship which does not
carry a little of a weather helm, is always a dull sailer. ^
In order to judge somewhat more accurately of the Ac tion of
action of the water and sails, suppose the ship AB tiie
(fig. 9.) to have its sails on the mizenmast D, the main-tllc
mast I>, and foremast F, braced up or trimmed alike, pp/ n,
and that the three lines D /, E c, I J\ perpendicular to
the sails,^ are in the proportion of the impulses on the
sails. The ship is driven a-head and to leeward, and
moves in the path u C b. This path is so inclined to
the line of the keel that the medium direction of the
resistance of the water is parallel to the direction of the
impulse. A line Cl may be drawn parallel to the lines
D ?, E e, I and equal to their sum : and it may be
drawn from such a point C, that the actions on all the
parts ol the hull between C and B may balance the
momenta of all the actions on the hull between C and A.
Ibis point may justly be called the centre oj effort, or^clU^ ^
the centre oj resistance. We cannot determine this point effort
for want of a proper theory of the resistance of fluids.
Nay, although experiments like tho^e of the Parisian
academy should give us the most perfect knowledge of
the intensity of the oblique impulses on a square foot,
we should hardly be benefited by them : for the action of
the water on a square foot of the hull at p, for instance,
is so modified by the intervention of the stream of wa¬
ter which has struck the hull about B, and glided along
the bow B 0 p, that the pressure on p is totally different
from what it would have been were it a square foot or
suilace detached from the rest, and presented in the
same position to the water moving in the direction £ C.
1 or it is found, that the resistances given to planes join¬
ed so as to form a wedge, or to curved surfaces, are
widely different from the accumulated resistances, calcu¬
lated for their separate parts, agreeably to the experi¬
ments of the academy on single surfaces. We therefore
do not attempt to ascertain the point C by theory 5 but
it may be accurately determined by the experiments
which we have so strongly recommended j and we offer
this as an additional inducement for prosecuting them.
Draw through C a line perpendicular to Cl, that is, to bc/de-
parallel to the sails } and let the lines of impulse of the ternmied
three sails cut it in the points i, k, and m. This lineb> t“xPc«-
im may he considered as a lever, moveable round C}ments-
and acted on at the points 1, k, and m, by three forces.
Hie 1 otatory momentum of the sails on the mizenmast
is D z x z G ; that of the sails on the mainmast is
E e? X & C ; and the momentum of the sails on the fore¬
mast is F/x »zC. The two first tend to press forward
the arm C z, and then to turn the ship’s head towards
the wind. 1 he action of the sails on the foremast tends
to pull the arm C z« forward, and produce a contrary briuru pre-
rotation. If the ship under these three sails keeps stea-served by
dily in her course, without the aid of the rudder, we tt:c Position
must have D i x iC + Ee X k C=Ff x mC. Thisof the suiis>
is very possible, and is often seen in a ship under her
mszen topsail, main topsail, and fore topsail, all parallel
to one another, and their surfaces duly proportioned by
reeling. If more sails are set, we must always have a
similar equilibrium. A certain number of them will
have their efforts directed from the larboard arm of the
lever im lying to leeward of Cl, and a certain number
will have their efforts directed from the starboard arm
lying to windward of CL The sum of the products of
each of the fust set, by their distances from C, must he
equal
88
S E A M A
equal to the sum of the similar products of ‘be »ther
set. As this equilibrium .s all that is necessary for pre
serving the ship’s position, and the cessation ot t is . ^
mediately followed by a conversion ; and as the ■
of the shin may be had by means of the thiee square
sails only, when their surfaces are prope-'y Portion¬
ed—it is plain that every movement may he ex.ecu*
explained by their means. This will greatly simplify
future discussions. We shall therefore »"PP0S * “S
that there are only the three topsails set, and ba^them
surfaces are so adjusted by leefing, i
exactly balance each other round that point h ot e
middle line AB, where the actions ol ^e 'baLce
different parts of her bottom in bke ma 1
each other. This point C may be differently
HfP sliin accordinu; to the leeway she makes, depend, g
cnTthe'trirnofHie sails J and therefore although a certain
TM-onortion of the three surfaces may balance each other
in one state of leeway, they may happen not to do so in
another state. But the equilibrium is evidently attama
in every case, and we therefore shall always suppose .
5° jt .Jjst now be observed, that when this equilibrium
C°!1Se' f is destroyed, as, for example, by turning the edge ot the
quc-nce of is destioyci, , i ...u;,.!, flip seamen call s/wt’er-
destiojing mizcn-topsail to the wind, which the sea™d
ft. in* the mizen-topsail, and winch may be cons.derea as
equivalent to the removing the miven-topsa, entile! , it
docs not follow.,hat ^.ip con^’
^STs1 rChody, still acted Z by a number of
forces which no longer balance each other ; and she
must therefore begin to turn round a spontaneous axi
reonver ion, wh4 must he determined in the way set
?",he article Kotat.o,. It is ?f
point out in general where this axis is situated. 1 here
Firr. io, fore let G (fig. 10.) be the centre ol gravity
ship- Draw the line qG v parallel to the yai s» ^
Tl D d in q, E c in r, Cl in f, and h /m VV mle
the three sails are set, the line q v may be ^ons.dered ^
a lever acted on by four forces, vi*. D r/, impeH .g
lever forward perpendicularly in the point q , L e
pelling it forward in the point r ; F/, impelling it for¬
ward in the point v ; and Cl, impellmg it backvvard n
the point t. These forces balance each other both in
respect of progressive motion, and
for Cl was taken equal to the sum of D
Y f; so that no acceleration or retardation ol the ship
nrooress io her coarse is supposed.
1 But by taking away the mizen topsail, both the eq, i-
iJumsare desLyed'. A part D r/of ^accelerating
force is taken away ; and yet the ship, by her n ertia or
inherent force, tends, for a moment, to pi'oceed n
direction Cp with her former velocity j and by this
de'ncy exertf foi a mimient the enme ~ C »n he
water, and sustains the same resistance IC. She must
therefore be retarded in her motion by the excess of th
resistance IC over the remaining impelling forces L e
and F f, that is, by a force equal and opposite to D d.
Bhe will therefore be retarded in the same manner as i
th‘ miz“n-topsail were still set, and a force equa a.
in k action wore applied ,n G t v centre of
gravity, and she would soon acquire a " nailer velocity,
Slich would again bring all things r to
and she would stand on in the same cou.se w tuout
changing either her leeway or the oo iuon of her head.
But die equilibrium of the lever is also destroyed.
N S H I P. .
It is now acted on by three forces only, viz. E ^ and
F /; impelling it forward in the points r and v, and IC
impelling it backward in the point t. Make r t; : r o=
£ e-UF/': F /; and make o p parallel to Cl and equal
to Ye=¥ f. Then we know, from the common prin¬
ciples of mechanics, that the force o p act mg at o will
have the same momentum or energy to turn lever
round any point whatever as the two forces Ye and Yf
auTed at r and ; and now the lever is acted on by
two forces, viz. IC, urging it backwards in the pmnt
t and o p urging it forwards in the point o It must
therefore turn round like a floating log, wh.ch gets two
blows in opposite directions. It we now make lY-op
: o p=t o *, or IC—o p lC=:t o : o . and apply to
the point .r a force equal to IC-o P m the direction IC ,
we know by the common principles ot mechanics, that
this force IC—o p will produce the same rotation round
any poTnt aS the (wo fokes IC and » r applied in their
propk directions at t and o. Le, us examine the
situation of the point x. .
The force IC-opts evidently =D d, and op ts
_p .ip' f Therefore ot : t .i-=rD d : 0 p. But be*
cause, When ail the sails were Hied, there was an equi-
librium round C, and therefore round and because the
force o p acting at o is equivalent to F and F/dCt‘"g
at r and v, we must still have ttie equilibrium , and
therefore we have the momentum D dxq j—° P XjJ-
Therefore o t : t q=D d : o p and < q=t x. There¬
fore the point x is the same with the point q. St
Therefore, when we shiver the mizen-topsail, the ro- By shirer-
tQt;nn nf the ship is the same as if the ship were at rest, in? the
Kd™ tee eq„.Pl and opposite to the action of the tm-^
zen-topsail were applied at q or at D, or at any point
in the line D </• . . j i a
This mierht have been shown in another and shorter
way. Suppose all sails filled, the ship is in equilibria
This will be disturbed by applying to D a force oppo¬
site to D d, and if the force be also equal to D d, it is
evident that these two forces destroy each other, and
that this application of the force d D is equ.valent o
the taking away of the mizen-topsail. But we chose to
Give the whole mechanical investigation ; because it
rave us an opportunity of pointing out to the reader, m
a case of very easy comprehension, the precise manner
in which the ship is acted on by the different sails and
by the water, and what share each ot them has m the
motion ultimately produced. We shall not repeat this
manner of procedure in other cases, because a ht le re¬
flection on the part of the reader will now enable him
to trace the modus operandi through all its steps.
We now see that, in respect both of progressive mo-
m and of conversion, the ship is affected by shivering
...... .   :r.. evuiM and
tion ami o. tun vcx.-nv/u, w.v. —*r -7-—~ ^ , n
the sail D, in the same manner as if a force equal an
opposite to D d were applied at D, or at any point in
the line D d. We must now have recourse to the prin¬
ciples established under the article Rotation.
Let p represent a particle of matter, ?• its radius vec¬
tor, or its distance p G from an axis passing througli
the centre of gravity G, and let M represent the whole
quantity of matter of the ship. Then its momentum
of inertia is—fp'r (see Rotation, 18.). The
ship, impelled in the point D by a force in the d'rec-
tion d I>, will ' egin to turn round a spontaneous verti¬
cal axis, passing through a point S of the line q ,
0 which
S E A M A
whicli is drawn through the centre of gravity G, per¬
pendicular to the direction D of the external force,
and the distance GS of this axis from the centre of gra-
r p ' r%
vity Is = j^Q- (see Rotation, N° 96.), and it is
taken on the opposite side of G from q, that is, S and q
are on opposite sides of G.
Let us express the external force by the symbol F.
It is equivalent to a certain number of pounds, being
the pressure of the wind moving with the velocity V
and inclination a on the surface of the sail D ; and may
therefore be computed either by the theoretical or ex¬
perimental law of oblique impulses. Having obtained
this, we can ascertain the angular velocity of the rota¬
tion and the absolute velocity of any given point of the
ship by means of the theorems established in the article
Rotation.
Jtioii of But before we proceed to this investigation, we shall
rudder, consider the action of the rudder, which operates pre-
IK cisely in the same manner. Let the ship AB (fig. 11.)
have her rudder in the position AD, the helm being
hard a starboard, while the ship sailing on the star¬
board tack, and making leeway, keeps on the course
a b. The lee surface of the rudder meets the water
obliquely. The very foot of the rudder meets it in the
direction DF parallel to a b. The parts farther up
meet it with various obliquities, and with various velo¬
cities, as it glides round the bottom of the ship and
falls into the wake. It is absolutely impossible to cal¬
culate the accumulated impulse. We shall not be far
mistaken in the deflection of each contiguous filament,
as it quits the bottom and glides along the rudder j
but we neither know the velocity of these filaments, nor
the deflection and velocity of the filaments gliding
without them. We therefore imagine that all compu¬
tations on this subject are in vain. But it is enough
for our purpose that we know the direction of the ab¬
solute pressure which they exert on its surface. It is
in the direction D i/, perpendicular to that surface. W^e
also may be confident that this pressure is verv consi¬
derable, in proportion to the action of the water on the
ship s bows, or of the wind on the sails 5 and we may
suppose it to be nearly in the proportion of the square
°fthe yel°city of the ship in her course 5 but wre cannot
affirm it to be accurately in that proportion, for reasons
that will readily occur to one who considers the way in
^ which the water falls in behind the ship.
Q atestin ^ observed, however, that a fine sailer always
a e sailer.steers well, and that all movements by means of the
rudder are performed with great rapidity, when the
velocity of the ship is great. We shall see by and by,
that the speed with which the ship performs the anau-
lar movements is in the proportion of her progressive
velocity : For we shall see that the squares of the times
of performing the evolution are as the impulses inverse-
y, which are as the squares of the velocities. There is
perhaps no force which acts on a ship that can be
more accurately determined by experiment than this,
f-et the ship rule in a stream or tideway whose velocity
is accurately measured 5 and let her ride from two moor¬
ings so that her bow may be a fixed point. Let a
small tow-line be laid out from her stern or quarter at
ight angles to the keel, and connected with some ap-
pamtus fitted^ u^shore or on board another ship, by
f
NSHIP*. 89
which the strain on it may be accurately measured 5 a
person conversant with mechanics will see many ways -4
in which this can be done. Perhaps the following may How to de-
be as good as any : Let the end of the tow-line be fixed tenniue it.
to some point as high out of the water as the point of
the ship from which it is given out, and let this be very
high. Let a block with a hook be on the rope, and
a considerable weight hung on this hook. Things be¬
ing thus prepared, put down the helm to a certain angle,
so as to cause the ship to sheer off from the point to
which the far end of the tow-line is attached. This will
stretch the rope, and raise the weight out of the water.
Now heave upon the rope, to bring the ship back again
to her former position, with her keel in the direction of
the stream. When this position is attained, note care¬
fully the form of the rope, that is, the angle which its
two parts make with the horizon. Call this angle a.
Every person acquainted with these subjects knows that
the horizontal strain is equal to half the weight multi¬
plied by the cotangent of a, or that 2 is to the co-
tangant of a as the weight to the horizontal strain.
Now it is this strain which balances and therefore mea¬
sures the action of the rudder, or D e in fig. 11. There¬
fore, to have the absolute impulse D d, we must increase
D e in the proportion of radius to the secant of the
angle b which the rudder makes with the keel. In a
great ship sailing six miles in an hour, the impulse on
the rudder inclined 30® to the keel is not less than
1000 pounds. The surface of the rudder of such a
ship contains near 80 square feet. It is not, however
very necessary to know this absolute impulse D r/, be¬
cause it is its part D e alone which measures the energy
of the rudder in producing a conversion. Such experi¬
ments, made ivith various positions of the rudder, will
give its energies corresponding to these positions, and
will settle that long disputed point, which is the best
position for turning a ship. On the hypothesis that
the impulsions of fluids are in the duplicate ratio of the
lines of incidence, there can be no doubt that it should
make an angle of 540 44' with the keel. But the form
of a large ship will not admit of this, because a tiller of
strength sufficient for managing the rudder in sailing
with gieat velocity has not room to deviate above 30°
from the direction of the keel 5 and in this position of
the rudder the mean obliquity of the filaments of v'a-
ter to its surface cannot exceed 40° or 450. A greater
angle would not be of much service, for it is never
m want of a proper obliquity that the rudder fails of
producing a conversion.
A ship misses stays in rough weather for want of a Why5a ship
sufficient progressive velocity, and because her bow's are !nissesstay*.
beat off by the waves : and there is seldom any diffi- &c“
culty in wearing the ship, if she has any progressive
motion. It is, however, always desirable to give the
rudder as much influence as possible. Its surface should
be enlarged (especially below) as much as can be done
consistently with its strength and with the power of the
steersmen to manage it j and it should be put in the
most favourable situation for the water to get at it with
great velocity ; and it should be placed as far from the
axis of the ship’s motion as possible. These points are
attained by making the stern-post very upright, as has
always been done in the French dockyards. The Bri¬
tish ships have a much greater rake ; but our builders are
gradually adopting the French forms, experience ha-
M
ving
9°
S E A M A
vine taught us that their ships, when in our possession,
ave^rnuch more obedient to the helm than our own -
In order to ascertain the motion produced by the ac
tiou of the rudder, draw from the centre of giavity a
line Go perpendicular to Dd (D d being drawn
through the centre of effort of the rudder), limn, as in
the consideration of the action of the sails we may con-
ceive the line ? G as a lever connected with the ship, and
impelled by a force D d acting perpendicularly at q. Ih
consequence of this will be, an incipient conversion of
the ship about a vertical axis passing through some
point SPin the line q G, lying on the other side of G
from q; and we have, as in the former case, Gb_
fp • rS
M • G 2'
The action Thus the action and effects of the sails and of the
of the rad- rudder are perfectly similar, and are to be considered m
dcr similar tjie samc maiiner. A\e see that the action ot t
to that of , thou h of a small surface in comparison ot the sails,
5 - ^ nf watpv is many
N S H I P. .
the consideration of the momentary evolution is sufficient
for enabling us to compare the motions of ships actuated
by similar forces, which is all we have in view a present,
llie velocity v, generated in any time t by the conti
nuance of an invariable momentary acceleration (which
is all that we mean by saying that it 18 Pr^duC^ bJ1
action of a constant accelerating force), is as the acoe
leration and the time jointly. Now what we ca” ^
angular velocity is nothing but this momentarj acce -
ration. Therefore the velocity v generated in the tim
V- yG
t — r t.
t p 58
The expression of the angular velocity is also the ex-
pression of the velocity t; of a point situated at the di¬
stance 1 from the axis G. , . , •
Let « he the space or arch of revolution described in
the time t by this point, whose distance from G is
r ?G . . ,
t t, and taking the
— I.
Then si — v t —
the sails, ^ ’ b t iror tiie impulse of water is many
hundredSs^eater fhan that of the wind; and the
arm o G of the lever, by which it acts, is incomparah y
trreater than that by which any of the impulsions on the
sails produces its effect; accordingly the ship yields
much more rapidly to its action than she does to the la-
teral impulse of a sail. .
Observe here, that if G were a fixed or supported
axis, it would be the same thing whether the absolute
force D d of the rudder acts in the direction D d, or
its transverse part D * acts in the direction D <?, both
would produce the same rotation 5 but it is not so in a
free bodv. The force D d both tends to retard the
ship’s motion and to produce a rotation : It retards it as
much as if the same force D rHiad been immediately ap¬
plied to the centre. And thus the real motion of the
shin is compounded of a motion of the centre in a di¬
rection parallel to D d, and of a motion round the centre.
These two constitute the motion round S.
Vmnloved As the effects of the action of the rudder are both
as an*exam- more remarkable and somewhat more simple than those
pie of the 0f the sails, we shall employ them as an example ot the
motions of mecj,anism 0f the motions of conversion m general ; and
conversion. ^ we must content ourselves in a work like this with
what is very general, we shall simplify the investigation
by attending only to the motion of conversion. VV e
can get an accurate notion of the whole motion, it want¬
ed for any purpose, by combining the progressive or re¬
trograde motion parallel to D d with the motion of ro¬
tation which we are about to determine.
In this case, then, we observe, in the first place, that the
DA' qG
angular velocity (see Rotation, N 22.) is ’
and, as was shown in that article, this velocity of rota¬
tion increases in the proportion of the time of the forces
uniform action, and the rotation would be uniformly ac¬
celerated if the forces did really act uniformly. I his,
' however, cannot be the case, because, by the ship s
t hange of position and change of progressive velocity,
the direction and intensity of the impelling force is con¬
tinually changing. But if two ships are performing
similar evolutions, it is obvious that the chang^ot force
are similar in similar parts of the evolution. Therefore
4
fluent 2 =
F • qG
VP
-ft
This arch measures the whole
angle of rotation accomplished in the time t. These
are therefore as the squares of the times from the begin¬
ning of the rotation. , , . , „ .1
Those evolutions are equal which are measured y
equal arches. Thus two motions of 45 degrees each
are equal. Therefore because * is the same m both,,
1 Y- G
the quantity “TT"^— P is a constant quantity, and t* is
pr
F ' qG
reciprocally proportional to
10f-
fPr
and t is proportional to
or is proportional
 That
F?G . v/F‘?G „
is to say, the times of the similar evolutions of two
ships are as the square root of the momentum ot iner¬
tia directly, and as the square root of the momentum of
the rudder or sail inversely. This will enableyys'to
make the comparison easily. Let us suppose the ships
perfectly similar in £orm and rigging, and to difler only
in length L and I3 ' ^■oj'pr7, as Ls to /L
For the similar particles P and p contain quantities of
matter which are as the cubes of their lineal dimensions,
that is, as L3 to /3. And because the particles are si¬
milarly situated, R2 is to r* as L2 to l*. Therefore
P • R* : p • i^—U : /s. Now F is to / as L* to l1.
For the surfaces of the similar rudders or sails are as
the squares of their lineal dimensions, that is, as L2 to
/*. And, lastly, G <7 is to £ <7 as L to /, and therefore
F • G <7 : y* g <7 =L3 : l3. Therefore we have T2 :
T P • R* fp-r*
-.Z y —— • — — L* : and T :
P =
lj_
I*
F • G <7 /• gq L3
t — D \ 1. $9
Therefore the times of performing similar evolutions Times of a“
with similar ships are proportional to the lengths of therahftr e'^
ships when both are sailing equally fast j and since thej?^°^
evolutions are similar, and the forces vary similarly ing^ps,
their
9i
SEAMANSHIP.
their different parts, what is here demonstrated of the
smallest incipient evolutions is true of the whole. They
therefore not only describe equal angles of revolution,
but also similar curves.
A small ship, therefore, works in less time and in
less room than a great ship, and this in the proportion
of its length. This is a great advantage in all cases,
particularly in wearing, in order to sail on the other
tack close-hauled. In this case she will always be to
windward and a-head of the large ship, when both are
got on the other tack. It would appear at first sight
that the large ship will have the advantage in tacking.
Indeed the large ship is farther to windward when again
trimmed on the other tack than the small ship when she
is just trimmed on the other tack. But this happened
before the large ship had completed her evolution, and
the small ship, in the mean time, has been going forward
on the other tack, and going to windward. She will
therefore be before the large ship’s beam, and perhaps
as far to windward.
We have seen that the velocity of rotation is propor¬
tional, to F X G </• F means the ab¬
solute impulse on the rudder or sail, and is always per¬
pendicular to its surface. This absolute impulse on a
sail depends on the obliquity of the wind to its surface.
The usual theory says, that it is as the square of the
sine of incidence : but we find this not true. We must
content ourselves with expressing it by some as yet un¬
known function p of the angle of incidence «, and call it
<p a ; and if S be the surface of the sail, and V the ve¬
locity of the wind, the absolute impulse is n VJS Y,p a.
This acts (in the case of the mizen-topsail, (fig. 10.)
by the lever tj G, which is equal to I)G X cos. DG y,
and DG q is equal to the angle of the yard and keel j
which angle we formerly called b. Therefore its energy
in producing a rotation is « V*S X « X DG X cos. A
Leaving out the constant quantities n, V*, S, and DG,
its energy is proportional to <p a X cos. b. In order,
therefore, that any sail may have the greatest power
to produce a rotation round G, it must be so trimmed
that pay. cos. b may be a maximum. Thus, if we
would trim the sails on the foremast, so as to pay the
ship off from the wind right a-head with the greatest
effect, and if we take the experiments of the French
academicians as proper measures of the oblique impulses
of the wind on the sail, we will brace up the yard to an
angle of 48 degrees with the keel. The impulse corre¬
sponding to 48 is 615, and the cosine of 48° is 669.
These give a product of 411435. If we brace the sail
to 54.44, the angle assigned by the theory, the effective
impulse is 405274. If we make the angle 45*, the im¬
pulse is 408774. It appears then that 48° is preferable
to either of the others. But the difference is inconsi¬
derable, as in all caees of maximum a small deviation
from the best position is not very detrimental. But the
difference between the theory and this experimental
measure will be very great when the impulses of the
wind are of necessity very oblique. Thus, in tacking
ship, as soon as the headsails are taken aback, they
serve to aid the evolution, as is evident: But if we were
now to adopt the maxim inculcated by the theory, we
shotud immediately round in the weather-braces, so as
to increase the impulse on the sail, because it is then
very small ; ana although we by this means make yard
more square, and therefore diminish the rotatory mo¬
mentum of this impulse, yet the impulse is more increased
(by the theory) than its vertical lever is diminished.—
Let us examine this a little more particularly, because
it is reckoned one of the nicest points of seamanship to
aid the ship’s coming round by means of the hea<jsails;
and experienced seamen differ in their practice in this
manoeuvre. Suppose the yard braced up to 40°, which
is as much as can be usually done, and that the sail
shivers (the bowlines are usually let go when the helm is
put down), the sail immediately takes aback, and in
a moment we may suppose an incidence of 6 degrees.
The impulse corresponding to this is 400 (by experi¬
ment), and the cosine of 40° is 766. This gives 306400
for the effective impulse. To proceed according to the
theory, we should brace the yard to 70°, which would
give the wind (now 340 on the weather-bow) an inci¬
dence of nearly 36°, and the sail an inclination of 20°
to the intended motion, which is perpendicular to the
keel. For the tangent of 20° is about 4- of the tangent
of 36°. Let us now see what effective impulse the ex¬
perimental law of oblique impulsions will give for this
adjustment of the sails. The experimental impulse for
36° is 480 ; the cosine of 70° is 342; the product is
164160, not much exceeding the half of the former.
Nay, the impulse for 36°, calculated by the theory,
would have been only 346, and the effective impulse
only 11833 2. And it must be farther observed, that this
theoretical adjustment would tend greatly to check tiie
evolution, and in most cases would entirely mar it, by
checking the ship’s motion a-head, and consequently the
action of the rudder, which is the most powerful agent
in the evolution j for here would be a great impulse di¬
rected almost astern.
We were justifiable, therefore, in saying, in the be¬
ginning of this article, that a seaman would frequently
find himself baffled if he were to work a ship according
to the rules deduced from M. Bouguer’s work; ami w-e
see by this instance of what importance it is to have the
oblique impulsion of fluids ascertained experimentally.
The practice of the most experienced seaman is directly
the opposite to this theoretical maxim, and its success
greatly confirms the usefulness of these experiments of
the academicians so often praised by us.
We return again to the general consideration of the
rotatory motion. We found the velocity v~-—
fPr'
It is therefore proportional, cater is paribus, to q G.
We have seen in what manner q G depends on the po¬
sition and situation of the sail or rudder when the point
G is fixed. But it also depends on the position of G.
With respect to the action of the rudder, it is evident
that it is so much the more powerful as it is more re¬
mote from G. The distance from G may be increased
either by moving the rudder farther aft or G farther
forward. And as it is of the utmost importance that a
ship answer her helm with the greatest promptitude,
those circumstances have been attended to which distin¬
guished fine steering ships from such as had not this
quality 5 and it is in a great measure to be ascribed to
this, that, in the gradual improvement of naval architec¬
ture, the centre of gravity has been placed far forward.
Perhaps the notion of a centre of gravity did not come
into the thoughts of the rude builders in early times j but
theyobserved that those boats and ships steered best which
2 had
60
A nice poii t
of seaman¬
ship.
2 S E A M A
Ilad their extreme breadth before the middle point and
consequently the bows not so acute as the. em. Th. «
so contrary to what one would expect, that it at racted
attention more forcibly ; and, being somewhat "iystt
ous it might prompt to attempts of improvement, by
exceeding in this singular maxim, ^e hel.eve that
has been carried as far as is compatible with other es
OfimV “^'.Xe'thrt^th^is the chief cwciunstmice in
tistdlhS tlmbestl^^r^ centre ofgravi-
°V couM be accurately ascertained. A practice pre-
f“em,SS 7ails which is the opposite of what we are now ad-
rttsJLi:1;
St- ffo’rwmd, b^removi^g a part of the bows out
C tliwater It has not always tins etlect, toi the
form of the harping aloft is frequently such, that the
tendency to gripe is diminished by immersing more
trjv-mg Uiestcircnmstances, and attending only
‘of ‘ItatrUS gravity forward.
The same advantage is gained to the action of the after
sails But, on the other hand, the act.on of the head-
saib is diminished by It i and we -U ^ry a
a headsail whose centre of gravity is before the centre ot
•rravity of the ship *, that is, all the sails hoisted on t
bowsprit and foremast, and the staysails hoisted o„ the
mainmast ■, for the centre of gravity is seldom farbtfoi
lh S^posTthat when the rudder is put into the posi¬
tion AD (fig. ix.), the centre of gravity could be
shifted to g, fo as to increase ^ G, and that tins is done
without increasing the sum of the products ji / . It
obvious that the velocity of conversion will be increased
in the proportion off? G to q g. Tins is very possible,
by bringing to that side of the ship parts of her loading
Xch were situated at a distance from G on the other
side*. Nay, we can make this change in such a manner
that J'p r* shall even he less than it was before, by
taking care that every thing which we shift shall he
nearer to g than it was formerly to G. Suppose it all
placed in one spot m, and that m is the quanuty of mat¬
ter so shifted, while M is the quantity of matter in the
whole ship. It is only necessary that m-gG shall be
less than the sum of the products pr* corresponding to
the matter which has been shifted. Now, although the
matter which is easily moveable is generally very small
To comparison to the whole mutter of the slop and there-
fore can make but a small change in the place of the
centre of gravity, it may frequently be brought from
' places so remote that it may occasion a very sensible di¬
minution of the quantity/p r% which expresses the
62 whole momentum of inertia. . ,
A practice This explains a practice of the seamen in small w -
of seamen ^ or sklffs, who in putting about are aecus ome
in putting lace themselves to leeward of the mast. 1 hey even
pSed.*' find that they can aid the quick motions of these fight
N S H I P. , . f f
boats by the way in which they rest on their two feet,
sometimes leaning all on one foot, and sometimes on it
other. Ami we have often seen this evolution very sen¬
sibly accelerated in a ship of war, by the crew running
suddenly, as the helm is put down, to the lee-bow. And
we havJ heard it asserted by very expert seamen that
after all attempts to wear ship (after lying to in a sto )
have failed, they have succeeded by the crew collec in
themselves near the weather fore-shrouds the moment
the helm was put down. It must be agreeable to he
reflecting seaman to see this practice supported by u -
doubted mechanical principles.
ubted mechanical principles evolution The e™1"-
It will appear paradoxical to say " , tionaccele-
may be accelerated even by an addition of matter to the rated by
shin - and though it is only apiece of curiosity, our additi0nal
SrsL, wUh to be made sensible of .t. Let™ better,
the addition, placed in some point m lying beyond G
from q. Let S be the spontaneous centre of conversion
beforJ the addition. Let be the velocity of rotation
round g, that is, the velocity of a point whose distance,
from /is i, and let ? be the radius vector, or distance of
a particle from g. We have (Rotation, N 22.) i_
T'qg  But we know (Rotation, N° 23.)
that Jf e=fp e + M • G Therefore ti =
i * qg
+ M • Gg1 -j- m * mg*
Let us determine Gg-
“"Lei mG'hl cklled ix. Then, by the nature of the
centre of gravity, M + m: M=Gi» -.gm=^-gm, and
g and ™ ■ g m1 = =^=K‘- In like
xM-f-w
manner, M * Gg*=:
M m*
M -\-m%
. Now m M*-fM mx
M -fi m%
_ M m X M + m. Therefore M * G gx + m ‘ g m
MwX(M + m)^ _ M m
—— —  
s\ Let » be =
M+m* ' M + ot
m then M • G* +m-gm*=M n z*. Also Gg-
Al-fw’
z=n being =^—«. Let ? G be called c : then
’ m + n
A ^ 1 x O/-N 1 „ 11^,1 „
qg=c+n%; Also let SG be called e.
We have now for the expression of the velocity
r(c_j-7i2s) F x. c+nz -
v —
, or v— aj X
J'p r* + M n iVA JPr
But
M-f-n
(Rotation, N° ^fpr =ce. Therefore, finally,t>=r
M
F c +n%
ll * ce+n%*
Had there been no addition of matter
It remains to
F c
made, we should have had vz=. ^ ~
show, that 2; may he so taken that — may be less than
_c+n_z_' Now ^ c ijg t0 <2 as c e to 2;’, that is, if »
ce+nz*
93
S E A M A N S FI I P.
be taken equal to e, the two fractions will be equal.
But if z be less than e, that is, if the additional matter
is placed anywhere between S and G, the complex frac-
c
tion will be greater than the fraction —, and the velo¬
city of rotation will be increased. There is a particular
distance which will make it the greatest possible, name¬
ly, when 3 is made = A ^c>+nce—c), as will
easily be found by treating the fraction
c -f- re 2;
with
64
Fued
ijund a
s(!ntane-
axi».
ce-^-nz*’
considered as the variable quantity, for a maximum.
In what we have been saying on this subject, we have
considered the rotation only in as much as it is per¬
formed round the centre of gravity, although in every
moment it is really performed round a spontaneous axis
lying beyond that centre. This was done because it af-
51; rota- forded an easy investigation, and any angular motion
t .1 per- round the centre of gravity is equal to the angular
motion round any other point. Therefore the extent
and the time of the evolution are accurately defined.—
From observing that the energy of the force F is pro¬
portional to q G, an inattentive reader will be apt to
conceive the centre of gravity as the centre of motion,
and the rotation as taking place, because the momenta of
the sails and rudder, on the opposite side of the centre
of gravity, do not balance each other. But we must
always keep in mind that this is not the cause of the ro¬
tation. The cause is the want of equilibrium round
the point C (fig. 10.), where the actions of the water
balance each other. During the evolution, which con¬
sists of a rotation combined with a progressive motion,
this point C is continually shifting, and the unbalanced
momenta which continue the rotation always respect the
momentary situation of the point C. It is nevertheless
always true that the energy of a force F is proportional
(cateris paribus) to q G, and the rotation is always
made in the same direction as if the point G were really
the centre of conversion. Therefore the mainsail acts
always (when oblique) by pushing the stern away from
the wind, although it should sometimes act on a point
of the vertical lever through C, which is a-head of C.
These observations on the effects of the sails and
rudder in producing a conversion, are sufficient for ena¬
bling us to explain any case of their action which may
occur. We have not considered the effects which they
tend to produce by inclining the ship round a horizon¬
tal axis, viz. the motions of rolling and pitching. See
Bolling and Pitching. To treat this subject pro¬
perly would lead us into the whole doctrine of the equi¬
librium of floating bodies, and it would rather lead to
maxims of construction than to maxims of manoeuvre.
M. Bouguer’s Traite du Navire, and Euler’s Scientia
Navalis are excellent performances on this subject, and
we are not here obliged to have recourse to any errone¬
ous theory.
It is easy to see that the lateral pressure both of the
u ue wa- °.n ant^ ^ie water on the rudder tends
t on the *nc^ne the ship to one side. The sails also tend to
> and press the ship’s bows into the water, and if she were
vtid on kept from advancing, vyould press them down consider-
bfce'each^f^'^* ^ ^ie ship’s motion, and the prominent
der. -01111 ier bows, the resistance of the water to the
lore part of the ship produces a force which is directed
1 Iferent
rations
the wa-
upwards. The sails also have a small tendency to raise
the ship, for they constitute a surface which in general
separates from the plumb-lime below. This is remark¬
ably the case in the staysails, particularly the jib and
fore-topmast staysail. And this helps greatly to soften
the plunges of the ship’s bows into the head seas. The
upward pressure also of the water on her bows, which
we just now mentioned, has a great effect in opposing
the immersion of the bows which the sails produce by
acting on the long levers furnished by the masts. M.
Bouguer gives the name oipoint velique to the point V
(fig. 12.) of the mast, where it is cut by the line CV, Fig. u.
which marks the mean place and direction of the whole
impulse of the water on the bows. And he observes, that
if the mean direction of all the actions of the wind
on the sails be made to pass also through this point*
there will be a perfect equilibrium, and the ship will
have no tendency to plunge into the water or to rise
out of it y for the whole action of the water on the
bows, in the direction CV, is equivalent to, and may
be resolved into the action CE, by which the progres¬
sive motion is resisted, and the vertical action CD, by
which the ship is raised above the water. The force
CE must be opposed by an equal force YD, exerted by
the wind on the sails, and the force CD is opposed by
the weight of the ship. If the mean effort of the sails
passes above the point V, the ship’s bow will be pressed
into the water •, and if it pass below V, her stern will
be pressed down. But, by the union of these forces,
she will rise and fall with the sea, keeping always in a
parallel position. We apprehend that it is of very little
moment to attend to the situation of this point. Ex¬
cept when the ship is right afore the wind, it is a thou¬
sand chances to one that the line CV of mean resistance
does not pass through any mast 5 and the fact is, that
the ship cannot be in a state of uniform motion on any
other condition but the perfect union of the line of
mean action of the sails, and the line of mean action of
the resistance. But its place shifts by every change of
leeway or ot trim ^ and it is impossible to keep these
lines in one constant point of intersection for a moment,
on account of the incessant changes of the surface of the
water on which she floats. M. Bouguer’s observations
on this point are, however, very ingenious and original. ^
We conclude, this dissertation, by describing some ofcinefevo_
the chief movements or evolutions. What we have saidlutions de-
hitherto is intended for the instruction of the artist, bysci'ibeci-
making him sensible of the mechanical procedure. The
description is rather meant for the amusement of the
landsman, enabling him to understand operations that
are familiar to the seaman. The latter will perhaps
smile at the awkward account given of his business by
one wb'- cannot hand, reef, or steer.
To tack S/iip.
The ship must first be kept full, that is, with a
very sensible angle of incidence on the sails, and by
no means hugging the wind. For as this evolution is
chiefly performed by the rudder, it is necessary to give
the ship a good velocity. When the ship is observed
to luff up of herself, that moment is to be catched for
beginning the evolution, because she will by her inhe¬
rent force continue this motion. The helm is then put
down. When the officer calls out Helm’s a-lee, the
fore-sheet, fore-top bowline, jib, and flag sail sheets for¬
ward.
94
S E A M A
ward, are let go. The jib » frequently hauled down
Thus the obstacles to the ship’s head conung up to he
wind by the action of the rudder are removed. It he
mainsail is set, it is not unusual to clue up the wea her
side, which may be cons.dered as a headsa.l, because it
is before the centre of gravity. The m.zen must
be hauled out, and even the sail braced to windward.
Its power in paying off the stern ^om be wind c„„
spires with the action of the rudder. I*
nerial nukler. The sails are immediately taken aback.
In this state the effect of the mizen-topsail would be
to obstruct the movement, by pressing the ste™ ^ c° ^
trarv way to what it did before. It is therefore either
immediately braced about sharp on the other tack, 01
lowered. 'Bracing it about evidently tends to pay
round the stern from the wind, and thus assist in bnug-
ln,r tlie head up to the wind. But in this position it
checks the progressive motion of the ship, on which the
evolution clfiefly depends. For a rapid evolution, Aere-
fore it is as well to lower the nnzen-topsail. Mean
time, the headsails are all aback, and the action ot the
wind on them tends greatly to pay the ship round
increase this effect, it is not unusual to haul the lore-top
bowline again. The sails on the mainmast are now a -
most becalmed-, and therefore when the wind is right a-
, i or a little before, the mainsail is hauled round and
traced up sharp on t,. other tack with all expedition.
The staysail sheets are now shifted over to their places
for the other tack. The ship is now entirely under the
power of the headsails and of the rudder, ^ 1 ieir ^
lions conspire to promote the conversion. T he ship has
' uired an angular motion, and will preseive it, so that
‘row the evolution is secured, and she tails oil apace fiom
the wind on the other tack. The farther action ot tlte
rudder is therefore unnecessary, and would even be pie-
u cial by causing the ship to fall off too much from
the wind before the sails can be shifted and trimmed for
sailing on the other tack. It is therefore proper to right
the helm when the wind is right ahead, that is oinng
the rudder into the direction of the keel. 1 he ship con
tinues her conversion by her inherent torce and the ac-
‘“men kc'ship ts Men T"1 f»“r iff fr°™
the wind, the headsails are hauled round and trimmed
sharp on the other tack with all expedition 5 and al¬
though this operation was begun with the wind four
paints on the bow, itwill be six before the sails are braced
up and therefore the headsails will immediately h .
The after-sails have filled already, while the headsails
u-ere inactive, and therefore immediately check the far¬
ther falling off from the wind. All sails now diaw,
for the staysail sheets have been shifted oyer while they
were becalmed or shaking in the wind Ihe sup now
gathers way, and will obey the smallest motion ot the
helm to bring her close to the wind.
11 We have here supposed, that during all this ope,-a-
tion the ship preserves her progressive motion, bhe
must therefore have described a curve line, advancing
Xthe while to windward. Fig. 13- ^ a representa-
' tion of this evolution when it is performed ,n the com-
pletest manner. The ship standing on the course E a,
with the wind blowing in the direction W1 , has her
helm put hard a-lee when she is in the position A. SI e
immediately deviates from her course, and describing a
curve*, comes to the position B, wkh the wind blowing
N S H I P.
in the direction WF of the yards, and the square-sails
now shiver. The mizen-topsail is here represented
braced sharp on the other tack, by which its tendency
to aid the angular motion (while it checks the progres¬
sive motion) is distinctly seen. The main aml
are now shivering, and immediately after are taken a-
back. The effect of this on the headsails is distinctly
seen to he favourable to the conversion, by pushing the
point F in the direction F f; but for the «anie reason it
continues to retard the progressive motion. ,^ he"
ship has attained to the position C, the mainsail ishauled
round and trimmed for the other tack. _ e *TP ( i8
the direction Fi still aids the conversion and ictaids
the progressive motion. When the ship has attained a
posidon between C and D, such that the mam and mi-
Ln topsail yards are in the direction of the wind, there
is notlung to counteract the force of the headsails. to
pay the ship’s head off from the wind. F.ay, during
the progress of the ship to this intermediate position, it
any wind gets at the main or nnzen topsails, it acts
their anterior surfaces, and impels tne a ter par s o
the ship away from the curve a 6 c cl, aim thus aids the
revolution. We have therefore said, that when onoe
the sails are taken fully aback, and particularly when
the wind is brought right ahead, it lS scarce possih
for the evolution to fail -, as soon therefore as the main
topsail (trimmed for the other tack) shivers, we are
certain that the headsails will he filled by the t'^e they
are hauled round and trimmed. The staysails are fille
before this, because their sheets have been shifted, and
they stand much sharper than the square-sails; and
thus every thing tends to check the falling oft from the
wind on the other tack, and this no sooner than it should
be done. The ship immediately gathers way, ami holds
on in her new course d G. .
But it frequently happens, thatin this conversion the
ship loses her whole progressive motion. This sometimes
happens while the sails are shivering before they are
taken fully aback. It is evident, that m this case there
is little hopes of success, for the ship now lies like a log,
and neither sails nor rudder have any action. Ihe ship
drives to leeward like a log, and the water acting on the
lee side of the rudder checks a little the driving of the
stern. The head therefore falls oft again, and by and
by the sails fill, and the ship continues on her former
tack. This is called MISSINQ stays, and it is generally
owing to the ship’s having too little velocity at the be¬
ginning of the evolution. Hence the propriety of keep¬
ing the sails well filled for some little time before. Boug 1
weather, too, by raising a wave which beats violently
on the weather-bow, frequently checks the first lulling
of the ship, and heats her off again. , , ,
If the ship lose all her motion after the headsai s
have been fully taken aback, and before we have
brought the wind right ahead, the evolution becoines
uncertain, but by no means desperate -, for the action
of the wind on the headsails will presently give her stern¬
way. Suppose this to happen when the ship is in the po¬
sition C. Bring the helm over hard to windward, so
that the rudder shall have the position represented. y
the small dotted line of. It is evident, that the resist¬
ance of the water to the stern-way ot the rudder acts in
a favourable direction, pushing the.stern outwards, n
the mean time, the action of the wind on the beat sai s
pushes the head in the opposite direction. I hese.ac-
1 tions
MM
95
SEAMANSHIP.
trons conspire therefore in promoting the evolution ; and
if the wind is right ahead, it cannot fail, hut may even
be completed speedily, because the ship gathers stern¬
way, and the action of the rudder becomes very power¬
ful ; and as soon as the wind comes on the formerly lee-
bow, the action of the water on the now lee-quarter will
greatly accelerate the conversion. When the wind
therefore has once been brought nearly right ahead,
there is no risk of being baffled.
But should the ship have lost all her headway con¬
siderably before this, the evolution is very uncertain :
for the action of the water on the rudder may not be
nearly equal to its contrary action on the lee-quarter;
in which case, the action of the wind on the headsails
may not be sufficient to make up the difference. When
this is observed, when the ship goes astern without
changing her position, we must immediately throw the
headsails completely aback, and put the helm down
again, which will pay off the ship’s head from the wind
enough to enable us to fill the sails again on the same
tack, to try our fortune again ; or we must BOXHAUL
the ship, in the manner to be described by and by.
Such is the ordinary process of tacking ship ; a pro¬
cess in which all the different modes of action of the
nidder and sails are employed. To execute this evolu¬
tion in the most expeditious manner, and so as to gain
as much on the wind as possible, is considered as the
test of an expert seaman. We have described the pro¬
cess which is best calculated for ensuring the movement.
But if the ship be sailing very briskly in smooth water,
so that there is no danger of missing stays, we may gain
more to windward considerably by keeping fast the
fore top bowline and the jib and stay-sail sheets till the
square-sails are all shivering: For these sails, continu¬
ing to draw with considerable force, and balancing each
other tolerably fore and aft, keep up the ship’s velocity
very much, and thus maintain the power of the rudder.
If we now let all fly when the square sails are shivering,,
the ship may be considered as without sails, but exposed
to the action of the water on the lee-bow, from which
arises a strong pressure of the bow to windward, which
conspires with the action of the rudder to aid the con¬
version. . It evidently leaves all that tendency of the
bow to windward which arises from leeway, and even
what was counteracted by the formerly unbalanced ac¬
tion of these head-staysails. This method lengthens the
whole time of the evolution, but it advances the ship to
windward. Observe, too, that keeping fast the fore¬
top bowline till the sail shivers, and then letting it go,
insures the taking aback of that sail, and thus instantly
produces an action that is favourable to the evolution/
The most, expert seamen, however, differ among
themselves with respect to these two methods, and the
first is the most generally practised in the British navy,
because the least liable to fail. The forces which op¬
pose die conversion are sooner removed, and the produc¬
tion of a favourable action by the backing of the fore¬
top-sail is also sooner obtained, by letting go the fore¬
top bowline at the first.
Having entered so minutely into the description and
rationale of this evolution, we have sufficiently turned
the reader’s attention to the different actions which co¬
operate in producing the motions of conversion. We
shall therefore be very brief in our description of the
other evolutions.
To wear Ship.
When the seaman sees that Ids ship will not go a-
bout head to wind, but will miss stays, he much change
his tack the other way ; that is, by turning her head
away from the wind, going a little way before the wind,
and then hauling the wind on the other tack. This is
called wearing or veering ship. It is most neces¬
sary in stormy weather with little sail, or in very faint
breezes, or in a disabled ship.
The processs is exceedingly simple ; and the mere
narration of the procedure is sufficient for showing the
propriety of every part of it.
Watch for the moment of the ship’s falling off, and
then haul up the mainsail and mizen, and shiver the
mizen topsail, and put the helm a-weather. When the
ship falls off sensibly (and not before), let go the boiv-
Imes. Ease away the fore sheet, raise the fore-tack, and
gather aft the weather fore-sheet, as the lee-sheet is
eased away. Round in the weather-braces of the fore
and main-masts, and keep the yards nearly bisecting the
angle of the wind and keel, so that when the ship is
before the wind the yards may be square. It may even
be of advantage to round in the weather-braces of the
main-topsail more than those of the head-sails ; for the
mainmast is abaft the centre of gravity. All this
whiie the mizen-topsail must be kept shivering, by
rounding in the weather-braces as the ship pays off
from the wind. Then the main top-sail will be braced
up for the other tack by the time that we have brought
the wind on the weather-quarter. After this it will
be full, and will aid the evolution. When the wind
is right aft, shift the jib and stay-sail sheets. The evo¬
lution now goes on with great rapidity; therefore brisk¬
ly haul on board the fore and main tacks, and haul out
the mizen, and set the mizen-staysail as soon as they will
take the wind the right way. We must now check the
great rapidity with which the ship comes to the wind
on the other tack, by righting the helm before we bring
the wind on the beam ; and all must be trimmed sharp
fore and aft by this time, that the headsails may take
and check the coming to. All being trimmed, stand
on close by the wind.
We cannot help losing much ground in this move¬
ment. I herefore, though it be very simple, it requires
much attention and rapid execution to do it with as lit¬
tle loss of ground as possible. One is apt to imasrine at
first that it would be better to keep the headsails braced
up on the former tack, or at least not to round in the
weather-braces so much as is here directed. When the
ship is right afore the wind, we should expect assistance
from the obliquity of the head-sails ; but the rudder be¬
ing the principal agent in the evolution, it is found that
more is gained by increasing the ship’s velocity than by
a smaller impulse in the headsails more favourably di¬
rected. Experienced seamen differ, however, in their
practice in respect of this particular.
To hoxhaal a Ship.
This is a process performed only in critical situa¬
tions, as when a rock, a ship, or some danger, is sudr
denly seen right ahead, or when a ship misses stays. It
requires the most rapid execution.
The ship being close-hauled on a wind, haul up the
mainsail,
9<5
S E A M A
mainsail and mixen, and stiiver tlie t0Psallsf’^
helm hard a-lee altogether Ea.se the fore-tack^let
go the head >»»>">“. “n<1 ThTsht"";!! quickly 'o3'
sharp on the other tack, l he smp wi , j ^
her way, get stern-way, and then fall ott ? j ^
action of the headsails and ot the mvertc
When she has fallen off eight points, ^ a .
sails square, which have hitherto been kept s'nven
This will at first increase the power of . <Y
increasing the stem-way, and at the same i The
no opposition to the conversion which is going •
continuation of her circular motion will presently cause
Sen, to take the wind on their after surface . This
Mettd^:^. SX;:&.S7etir,:%ogthat the rud-
Kletlulon becaeuse the ship has li«le or no way
tl rouffli the water, and will frequently remain long m
this posit on. But as there are no counteracting forces
this posiuoi . Then the weather-braces
the ship continues to ial! oil. , , . that- the
rpdaa itt, a-head aa^"
tion with the rudder. T hu the wm b ,me the
the quarter, and ^ ' A couth,nation of the
rotation vvmil^liow ^li‘the headsails, ^a”jd tke*^ aetion
square, and the evolution ,s now completed in the sam
“wtammlmce'” li the sails aback the moment
that U,e helm is .putharda-.ee the after-sail^no
more aback than just to square ^J ^ rudder into
N S H I P.
She falls off
beating of the water on her weather-how.
but little, and soon comes up again. , , ,
Thus a ship lying to is not like a mere log, hut h
a certain motion which keeps her under command To
get under weigh again, we must watch the time o fall¬
ing off*, and when this is just about to finish, brace
about briskly, and fill the sail which was aback, lo
aid this operation, the jib and fore-top mast stay-j>ai
may be hoisted, and the mizen brailed up: or, when
the intended course is before the wind or large, back
the fore-topsail sharp, shiver the main and mizen op-
sail, brail up the mizen, and hoist the jib and foie-top-
mast stay-sails altogether, . ,
In a storm with a contrary wind, or on a lee shore, a
ship is obliged to lie-to under a very low sail, borne sail
is absolutely necessary, in order to keep the ship steadi¬
ly down, otherwise she would kick about like a cork,
and roll so deep as to strain and work herself to pieces.
Different ships behave best under different sails. In a
very violent gale, the three lower stay-sails are in gene¬
ral'well adapted for keeping her steady, and distribu¬
ting the strain. This mode seems also well adapted tor
wearing, which may be done by hauling down the mi¬
zen staysail. Under whatever sail the ship is brought-
to in a storm, it is always with a fitted sail and never
with one laid aback. The helm is lashed down hard
a-lee; therefore the ship shoots ahead, and comes up
till the sea on her weather-bow beats her oil again.
Getting under weigh is generally difficult-, because the
ship and rigging are lofty abaft, ami Inntler her from
falling off readily when the helm is put hard a-weather.
We must watch the falling off, and assist the ship by
some small headsail. Sometimes the crew get up on
the weather-shrowds in a crowd, and thus present a sur¬
face to the wind.
These examples of the three chief evolutions will
enable those who are not seamen to understand the pro¬
priety of the different steps, and also to understand the
evoiution i» rlpservinp* ot pnety oi tne aineitut cillu ~ ^ .
There is another problem of seaman P , , an ®v0_ lthJ evolutions as they are described by practical au-
our attention, which cannot proper y i thors. We are not acquainted with any performance
lution. This is lying-to. This is done in geneialJ7 ,   w]lAiP nrP. considered in a
thors. vy e are ulm. tn.4uciJiJi.vu ...n. r . .
in our language where the whole are considered in a
connected and systematic manner. There is a book on
this subject in French, called Le Maticeuvner, by JV .
Burde de Ville-Huet, which is in great reputation in
France. A translation into English was published some
years ago, said to be the performance of the Chevalier
de Sausenil a French officer. But this appears to be a
bookseller’s puffj for it is undoubtedly the work 0.
some person who did not understand either the I reach
language, or the subject, or the mathematical principles
which are employed in the scientific part. The blun¬
ders are not such as could possibly be made by a French¬
man not versant in the English language, but natural
for an Englishman ignorant of French. No French
gentleman or officer would have translated a work ot
ffu^l by others. Bot.tl,eie^a^that ^ s|
shaU lie easily, and under command, ready to piocee
.1 and easily brought under weigh.
“ to"we or^main-topsail to .be mas^
brie that sail sharp aback, haul out the mixen, and
Cla|up'p0!e the'fore-topiil to be aback ; the other sails
sl,;„t the ship"“2
impulse _ nv almost shivering. The ship stands still
now shivering, or almost g the after_sails> gentleman or omcer womu nave ii*..ajauv„ ~ --
awhile, and then falls o , proCess is thus this kind (which he professes to think so highly of) to
which again shoot her ^t*' ™** * a d deal serve the rivals and foes of his country. But indeed
repeated. A ship lying - main-topsail be it can do no great harm m this way, lor the scientific
ahead and also to leewau . t-u tiie di- part of it is absolutely unintelligible for want of science
aback, the ship shoots aiea , direction of in the translator ; and the practical part is full of blun-
nainished impulse ol the ti avvin^ c impulse on the ders for want of knowledge of the French language.
the keel is balanced by the mcrea ed .mpo^se 0^ tn ^ accomit« f tbe subject w;tll hU p;.oper
driving slowly tokeward • antfshe at last falls off by tbe respect and diffidence. We do not profess to teach :
SEAMAN S UM1
/'Lin; (cnzAx/x.
Fiq.2. G
£.jr, f
97
S E A M A
kit W pointing but the defects of the celebrated works
of M. Bouguer, and the course which may be taken
to remove them, while we preserve much valuable know¬
ledge which they contain, we may perhaps excite some
persons to apply to this subject, who, by a combination
N S H I P.
of what is just in M. Bouguer’s theory, with an expe¬
rimental doctrine of the impulses of fluids, may produce
a treatise of seamanship which will not be cerffined to
the libraries of mathematicians, but become a manual
for seamen by profession.
tsas
SEA
Seamen. SEAMEN, such persons as serve the king or others
■“"V*—^ at sea by navigation and fighting ships, &c. See
Maritime State.
Seamen fighting, quarrelling, or making any disturb¬
ance, may be punished by the commissioners of the navy
with fine and imprisonment. Registered seamen are
exempted from serving in any parish office, &c. and are
allowed bounty money beside their pay. By the law of
merchants, the seamen of a vessel are accountable to the
master or commander, the master to the owners, and
the owners to the merchants, for damage sustained ei¬
ther by negligence or otherwise. Where a seaman is
hired for a voyage, and he deserts before it is ended,
he shall lose his wages j and in case a ship be lost in a
storm, the seamen lose their wages, as well as the owners
their freight.
Means of Preserving the Health of Seamex. See
Medicine, N° 351.
In addition to what has been said on this subject in
the place referred to, we shall subjoin some valuable ob¬
servations which we have met with in the sixth volume
of the Memoirs of the Royal Society of Medicine at
Paris for the years 1784 and 1785.
In 1783, the marshal de Castries, intending to make
some changes in the regulations of the navy, particu-
larly with regard to diet, proposed to the society the
two following questions: I. “ What are the most whole¬
some aliments for seamen, considering the impossibility
of procuring them fresh meat ? And what kinds of salt
meat or fish, of pulse, and of drink, are most proper for
them, and in what quantity, not omitting to inquire
into the regimens in use amongst other maritime nations
for what may be adopted by us, and into what expe¬
rience has evinced the utility of, from the accounts of
the most celebrated navigators P” 2. “ A number of
patients labouring under different diseases being assem¬
bled in naval hospitals, and different constitutions af¬
fected by the same disease requiring difference of diet,
what general dietetic rules for an hospital would be best
adapted to every exigence, dividing the patients into
three classes ; the first in which liquids alone are proper,
the second in which wre begin to give solids in small
quantities, and the state of convalescence in which a
fuller diet is necessary ?” A committee wTas appointed
to draw up an answer to these, who investigated the
subject very minutely. The result of their labours is
there given at large. The observations most worthy of
notice are, that the scurvy of the English seamen, who
live chiefly on salt meat, is a putrid disease j whilst that
of the Dutch, who use farinaceous vegetables and dried
pulse in large quantities, has more of an hydropic&l
tendency. A mixture of both, even at the same meal,
is recommended. Ibis is supported by philosophical
reasoning, and the example of Captain Cook, who was
partly indebted to this mixed regimen for the preserva-
Vol. XIX. Part I. \
SEA
tion of his crew. Salt fish should never be used : salt
beet grows hard, and after boiling its fibrous parts only
remain, which are more calculated to load the stomach
than recruit the strength. Salt bacon may be kept at
sea j 8 months ; it does not lose its moist and nuti i-
mental parts, and unites better with pulse, but should
not be used when rancid. Live animals kept on board
ships tend to produce diseases amongst the crew. RiOe
should be used largely. Our puddings are bad food :
the flour would be much better made into bread, which
might be done at sea, with no great trouble. Sour krout
should be used freely. Mustard, vinegar, sugar, molas¬
ses, and honey, are good antiscorbutics. Of drinks,
wine is the best: wort, spruce-beer, or the Russian qisas,
are good substitutes. Spirits are only to be used in cold
climates, and in small quantity. The greater part of
the excellent memoir in answer to the second question,
perfectly coincides with M. Duhamel du Monceaux’s
“ Means of Preserving the Health of Seamen,” and
M. Poissonnier des Perrieres’s treatises “ On the Dis¬
eases of Seamen,” and “ On the advantages of changing
the Diet of Seamen,” and his “ Examination of Pringle’s
Dissertation.”
Seam^ii,
Seapoys.
. SEAPOYS, or Sepoys, natives of Indostan ser¬
ving in a military capacity under the European powers,
and disciplined after the European manner.
The Seapoys of the English East India Company
compose perhaps the most numerous, regular, and best
disciplined body of black troops in the world. They
are raised from among the natives of the country, and
consist of Moors or Mahometans, Raja-poots, Hindoos*
Pariars, besides many intermediate casts peculiar to
themselves j the whole modelled in all corresponding
particulars, and disciplined in every respect as the arnir
of Great Britain.
The military establishments of Bengal, Madras, and
Bombay, have each their respective numbers, that of
Bengal exceeding the rest. The Seapoys are formed
into complete, uniform, and regular battalions, as our
marching regiments at home, being intended to repre¬
sent and answer fully to every purpose in India to the
like troops in Europe. A battalion consists of 700
men, of complete effective strength. In each there are
eight companies, including two flank ones or grena¬
diers. They are respectively commanded by their own
black and European officers j to each company there
is attached a subaltern, who takes the command, under
whom are two native commissioned officers, bearing the
rank of subidar and jimindar; of eight subalterns, six
are lieutenants, the other ensigns 5 exclusive is a staff,
of adjutant and surgeon. The black non commissioned
officers answer to our serjeants and corporals, and are
called havUdars and naigues. There is also to each
corps an English serjeant-major, drill and store serjeant;
to each battalion is a band of drums and fifes, and to
N each
S E
each a pair of colours
whole.
A r qS ] SEA
^ ! L f nrul Here he might live as he pleases, being perfect- geap0yS>
A captain commands the within hb jurisdiction. Such stations being Scai-ch-
Tb^ir iackets which are made entirely after the Eu-
n fashion arl of a red colour with yellow facings
r(rlvom by an th: infantry of .be company on . e
Coromandel coast). The rema.n.ng patrol the.
tire resembles more the country or Indian habit an
consists of a dark blue turban, broad and round at t p,
descending deep to the bottom, the sides ol whic ,
concave form, are crossed by a "'h‘te]’anf; ^’“"gar-
front, fastened under a rose above. A» an^nntk
'm^eV^UttCgo. round their middle
^ Si^tTthe speca.
turfwk a lively and fanciful military impress.on, as
they unite in thek eaterior traits respeettvely Ind.an and
E“Fheyaare brought to the utmost exactness of disci-
i- L thromdi their evolutions and manoeuvres with
a regularity and precision equal to, and not surpassed by
Euronean Lops. In action they are brave and steady,
and have bere„Pk„ot,n to stand where Europeans have
^TLr discipline puts them on a footing with Euro¬
peans troops, with whom they are always real y
in TheTr'utilitV and services are evident; they secure to
"3-.-=c:i^3==
address peculiar to the native forces of the countiy
They are considered with respect in the eyes
other natives, though they sufficiently, and with a good
grace, feel and assert their own consequence. In larg
” • ibfx /Intv is ffreat, as Mad
ly absolute Wiunn iiu jui f f _ warrant.
lucrative, with management may produce great tor , 
tunes Neither is the condition hard to a P-on con¬
versant in the language of the country, or tha of the
Seapoys called Moors (which most ofheers in the com
pany’s service acquire) *, otherwise the loss of society is
not recompensed by other advantages, as you forget your
"w„ language, grow melancholy, and pass your days
The peace establishment atMadras, oousistsof 3oSea.
poy battalions, but in time of war is augmented as oc¬
casion requires j or frequently each corps is strengthen¬
ed by the1 addition of two companies, which are reda
ced ao-ain in time of peace, the officers remaining SUP *
numeraries in the service. In garrison they are quarter-
Tin barraeks : they live agreeably to the usage ot
the country, sleep on the ground on a mat or thin car
net In their persons they are cleanly, but appear
best advantage1!,, their uniform. OB' duty they go as
the other natives in poor circumstances; and have on y
a cloth round their middle and over their shou deis. A.
to the different casts, the Moormen or Mussel men asser t
pro eminence, as coming into the country by conquest.
I„ their persons they are rather robust and n their
tempers vindictive. Their religion and dress is distinct
from the Hindoos, who are mild and passive m tlmi
temper, faithful, steady, and good soldiers. I he Ta
riars are inferior to the others, live under different cir¬
cumstances, dwell in huts, and associate not on equal
terms with the rest •, they do all mema offices, are ser¬
vants to Europeans, and think themselves happy when
by them employed, though they are equally good Sea-
P°Saving thus treated of the company’s Seapoys, we
shall observe that they are kindly attentive to their offi¬
cers when often in circumstances requiring their assist¬
ance j are guilty of few vices j and have a strong at¬
tachment for those who have commanded them. Hmt
acute historian Hr Robertson, has remarked as a proof
.. , ,t . • man bns recourse m similar situa-
other natives, ‘-■'v - ^ In lartre acute historian-l/i iiuucuovxw,     *
grace, feel and assert their own consequence, i n h * ingenuity of man has recourse in similar situa-
Prisons where the duty is great as Madras, Eond. am/cx])eiUe„ts> ,hat the European powers,
cherry, Trichinopoly, Vellore, &c. two “ ^ ,laYei form;„g the establishment of these native troops,
lions might be present together, exclusive of . P ado ted the same maxims, and, prooably without know-
If sent singly up the country, they are liable to be 1 have ,„0delled their battalions ot Seapoys upon
tached, sometimes by one or more t,« sa’me principles as Alexander the Great d.d h,s pi,a-
a station dependent on the clnefgarr^on or bean pPrsians.
tmirters otherwise they are dispersed through U.e di    * loud of general
quarters,  fn„,.ther. with a non-commission*
nuarters, otherwise they are u.spc™ ,
itricts four or five together, with a non-commissioned
officer (this is a part of the service which is called going
2 comLnd), on hills, or in villages, to pr^erve »nler
convey intelligence, and assist the tass,Ida,,
cutwall of the place, m cases of emergency. 1 hey also
enforce the police, and prevent in such cases the coun-
ri, from being invested with thieves, which o,herw.se
have combined, forming a banditt,, to rob passe,,ge.s
.,1 _rnvp.sn manv mslcinccs
IX oi Persians. # . . , r '
SEARCH-WARRANT, in Law, a kind of general
warrant issued by justices of peace or magistrates ot
towns for searching all suspected places for stolen goods.
In Scotland this was often done formerly •, and in some
English law books there are precedents requiring the
constable to search all such suspected places as he and
the party complaining shall think convenient •, but such
practice is condemned by Lord Hale, Mr Hawkins, and
r. i . _.,t omrmn- flip English and Scotcu
try irom ueiug nanspngers practice is condemneu uy a^uiu Aidte,
have combined, forming a banditti, instances’ the best authorities both among the English and Scotch
and plunder cattle, of which there aie so y corn. lawyers. However, in case of a complaint, and oath
upon record. As for such British officers i ^ mJe of goodg stolen, and that the party suspects that
destinations of their those goods are in a P-dcula,; house and shows Ue
rtanv’s service as are ' r-',1 •
obliged to follow the fortunes and destinations ot the
T T with their respective corps, leading a Ufe often
deplete with adventures of a peculiar nature. An in¬
dividual iu such cases is frequently secluded ^-om those
of his own colour, when up .the country, or deUched
upon command, where in a frontier garrison or lull foit
ill the interior parts of India none but natives are to be
made ot goocis sioien, anu tuett “"-r- -
those goods are in a particular house, and shows tlie
cause of such suspicion, the justice may grant awarran
to search not only that house but other suspected pla¬
ces *, and to attach the goods, and the party in whose
custody they are found, and bring them before him or
some other justice, to give an account how he came t>y
them, and to abide such order as to law shall appertaia,
SEA [ 99 ] SEE
iearch- winch Warrant should he directed to the constable or
L.airant other public olllcer, who may enter a suspected house
il _ and make search.
1 ^isoning.^ SEARCHER, an officer in the customs, whose bu¬
siness it is to search and examine ships outwards bound,
if they have any prohibited goods on board, &c. (12
Car. II.). There are also searchers of leather, &c.
See Alnager.
Searcher, in ordnance, is an iron socket with
branches, from four to eight in number, a little bent
outwards, with small points at their ends j to this socket
is fixed a wooden handle, from eight to twelve feet
long, of about an inch and a quarter diameter. After
the gun has been fired, this searcher is introduced into
it, and turned round, in order to discover the cavities
within. The distances of these cavities, if any be
found, are then marked on the outside with chalk, when
another searcher that has only one point, about which
a mixture of wax and tallow is put, is introduced to take
the impression of the holes j and if there be any hole, a
quarter of an inch deep, or of any considerable length,
the gun is rejected as unserviceable.
SEARCLO I'H, or Cerecloth, in Surgery, a form
of external remedy somewhat harder than an unguent,
yet softer than an emplaster, though it is frequently
used both for the one and the other. The cerecloth is
always suppose to have wax in its composition, which
distinguishes and even denoaunates it. In effect, when
a liniment or unguent has wax enough in it, it does not
differ from a cerecloth.
SEASIN, in a ship, the name of a rope by which
the boat rides by the ship’s side when in harbour, &c.
SEASONING, the first illness to which persons
habituated to colder climates are subject on their arrival
. ora in the West Indies. This seasoning, unless they live
| ojrical very temperately, or are in a proper habit of body
leases, (though some people are unmolested for many months),
seldom suffers them to remain long before it makes its
appearance in some mode or other ; particularly if at
first they expose themselves in a shower of rain, or too
long in the sun, or in the night air j or when the body
is much heated, if they drink large draughts of cold
liquors, or bathe in cold water j or use much exercise ;
or commit excess in drinking wine or spirits 5 or by
heating the body and inflaming the blood j or by sub¬
jecting themselves to any cause that may suddenly check
„ perspiration, which at first is generally excessive.
Some people, from a favourable state of body, have
no seasoning. Thin people, and very young people,
are most likely to escape it. Women generally do from
their temperance, and perhaps their menstruation con¬
tributes to their security j indeed hot climates are fa¬
vourable to the delicacy of their habits, and suitable to
their modes of life. Some escape by great regularity
of living ; some by the breaking out of the rash, called
the pnckly-heat; some by a great degree of perspira¬
tion ^ and some by observing a cooling regimen. The
disorders are various that constitute this seasoning of
new-comers as they are called 5 depending on age, con¬
stitution, and habit of body. But all seasoning diseases
are of the inflammatory kind j and yield to antiphlo¬
gistic treatment proportioned to their violence. Wheii
all precaution to guard against sickness has failed, and
prudence proved abortive to new-comers, they will have
this comfort at least for their pains, that their disorders
will seldom be severe or expensive, and will generally Seasoning .
have a speedy termination 5 and that their seasoning, II
as it is emphatically called, will be removed by bleed-
ing, a dose of salts, rest, and a cooling regimen. *
Seasoning of Timber. See Timber.
SEASONS, in Cosmography, certain portions or
quarters of the year, distinguished by the signs which
the sun then enters, or by the meridian altitudes of the
sun 5 consequent on which are different temperatures
of the air, different works in tillage, &c. See Wea¬
ther.
The year is divided into four seasons, spring, sum¬
mer, autumn, and winter. The beginnings and endings
of each whereof, see under its proper article. It is to
be observed, the seasons anciently began differently from
what they now do : witness the old verses,
Dat Clemens hyemem ; dat Petrus ver cathedrains;
JEstuat Urbanus; autumnat Bartholomceus.
SEAT, in the manege, is the posture or situation of
a horseman upon the saddle.
SEATON, a small fishing town on the south coast
of Devon, between Lyme and Sidmouth. Risdon says
“ our learned antiquarians would have it to be that
Maridunum whereof Antonine spake, placed between
Dunnovaria and Isca}” for Maridunum in British is
the same with Seaton in English, “ a town upon a hill
by the sea-side.” This place is memorable for the
Danish princes landing there in the year 937.
SEBACIC acid, so called, because it is procured
from fat. For an account of its preparation and pro¬
perties, see Chemistry, page 540, and N° 802.
St SEBASTIAN, a handsome, populous, and strong
town of Spain, in the province of Guipuscoa, with a
good and well frequented harbour. It is seated at the
foot of a mountain ; and the harbour secured by two
moles, and a narrow entrance for the ships. The town
is surrounded with a double wall, and to the sea-side is
fortified with bastions and half moons. The streets are
long, broad, and straight, and paved with white flag¬
stones. At the top of the mountain is a citadel, with
a garrison well furnished with cannon. The town car¬
ries on a considerable trade, the greatest part of which
consists of iron and steel, which some reckon to be the
best in Europe. They also deal in wood, which comes
from Old Castile. W. Long. 1. 59. N. Lat. 43. 23.—
The capital of Brasil in South America is likewise call¬
ed Sebastian.
SEBASTLANO, called Del Piombo, from an office
in the lead mines given him by Pope Clement VII.
was an eminent Venetian painter, born in 1485. He
was first a disciple of old Giovanni Bellino 5 continued
his studies under Giorgione •, and having attained an
excellent manner of colouring, went to Rome, where
he insinuated himself into the favour of Michael Ange¬
lo. He has the name of being the first who invented
the art of preparing plaster-walls for oil-painting \ but
was so slow and lazy in his work, that other hands were
often employed to finish what he Jiegan. He died in
1547-
SEBESTEN. See Cordia, Botany Index.
SEBILEJ, a sect among the ancient Samaritans,
whom St Epiphanius accuses of changing the time ex¬
pressed in the law, for the celebration of the great an¬
nual feasts of the Jews.
N 2
SEBURAI,
SEC [ . 10° 1 ,
SEBURAI, Sebur-t.i, a name uliicli llie ^',sC0,e'M
to suc!i of their rabbins or doctors as l.ved and ta t
-^^tth^t^fibe ancients,
a name given by Avicenna, Serapion, and others, to a
,.00t which was like ginger, and was brought
F tst Indies and used as a provocative to veneiy. Ihe
^emete^ of their works have rendered this word
in Jo; and hence some have supposed that ourcry^-
wn or eryngo^s the root meant by it: but this does
annei r to be the case on a strict inquiry, and there
b some reason to believe that the famous root, at tins
nECALfS I^o^^nginf.,o the
jSlaiY and incite natnrai method ranktnR.n-
der the 4th order, Gramm. *» Botany and Agri-
*UTheEce™/to'r common rye, has glumes with rough
fr’mJes It is a native of the island ot Candia, was in-
Induced into England manv ages ago, and ^ie on y
suecies of rye cultivated in this kingdom, there aie,
however two varieties, the wmtei t^f^J^than the
at'thcsaL time with
whett and sometimes mixed with it, but as t ie y
rinens sooner than the wheat, this method must be vei-y
excentionable. The spring rye is sown along with the
^ ^ - T rlhte’r “ mi Itirrime ^
the nrain produced is lighter, ami u ,
dom?sown except where the autumnal crop hailed
Rye is commonly sown on poor, diy, limestone, 0
sandy soils, where wheat will not thrive. By continu-
ina to sow it on such a soil for two or three yeais
wit! at length ripen a month earlier than that which ha
keen raised for years on strong cold ground.
live is commonly used for bread either alone or mi -
ed with wheat. This mixture is called meshn and wa«
formerly a very common crop m some P^r * ol Bntam
Mr Marshall tells us, that the farmers in Yorkshire
believe that this mixed crop is never aftected by mi-
dew, and that a small quantity of rye sown among wheat
will prevent this destructive disease. Eye is much used
for bread in some parts of Sweden and Norway by
poor people. About a century ago rye-bread was also
much used in England; but being made of a black
kind of rye, it was of the same colour, clammy, very
detergent, and consequently not so nourishing as vv ea *
Rye is subject to a diso>ase which the French cal er-
„ot and the English horned rye ; which sometimes hap¬
pens when a very hot summer succeeds a rainy spring.
According to Tissot, horned rye is such as suffers an
irregular vegetation in the middle substance between
the grain and the leaf, producing an ex credence of a
brownish colour, about an inch and a ba’f long, and
two tenths of an inch broad. Bread made ot this kind
of rye has a nauseous acrid taste, and produces spasmo¬
dic and gangrenous 'disorders. In 1596, an epidem
disease prevailed in Hesse, which the physicians ascrib¬
ed to bread made of horned rye. Some we are told,
were seized with an epilepsy, and these seldom ever re-
S E C
. others became lunatic, and continued stupid
the rest of their lives : those who apparently recovered
had annual returns of their disorder in January and e-
bruary ; and the disease was said to be contagious at
least in a certain degree. The tacts Much we have
now mentioned are taken from a work ot lissot, which
was never printed. The same disease was occasioned
by the use of this bread in several parts of the con.
tinent in the years 1648, i675,.*7°2> ^ ^
and 1736; and has been very minutely described by
Hoffman, A. O. Goelicke, Vater Burgliart, and J. A.
^in^the year 1709, one fourth part of all the rye
raised in the province of Salonia in 1 ranee was horn¬
ed, and the surgeon to the hospital et Orleans had no
less then 500 patients under his care that were distem¬
pered by eating it: They were called ergots, hom er-
VZt (A), the French name for horned rye *, they con-
tisted chiefly of men and boys, the number ot women
and lirls being very small. The first symptom was a
kind of drunkenness, then the local disorder began in
the toes, and thence extended sometimes to the thigh,
and the trunk itself, even after amputation which is a
good argument against that operation before the gan-
STn thr/eaf'iylO, the celebrated Fontenelle de¬
scribes a case in the History of the Academy of Sciences
of France, which exactly resembles that ot tbe Poor
mily at Wattisham. A peasant at Blois, who had eat¬
en horned rye in bread, was seized with a mortification
which first caused all the toes of one foot to fa 1 off,
then the toes of the other, afterwards the remainder of
the feet, and, lastly, it ate oft the flesh of both his legs
and thighs, leaving the bones bare.
Horned rye is not only hurtful to man, but to other
animals; it has been known todestroyeventhefl.es
that settled upon it; sheep, dogs deer, geese, ducks,
swine, and poultry, that were fed with it for experi¬
ment, died miserably, some convulsed, others moi tihed
and ulcerated. ,
SECANT, in Geometry, a line that cuts another or
divides it into parts. The secant of a circle is a line
drawn from the circumference on one side to a point
without the circumference on the other ; and it is de¬
monstrated hv geometers, that of several secants drawn
to the same'point, that is the longest which passes
through the centre of the circle. I he portions, hovy-
ever "of these several secants that are without the circle
are so much the greater as they recede from the centre,
and the least external portion is ot that secant which
passes through it. . . .. ,
Secant, in Trigonometry, denotes a right line drawn
from the centre of a circle, which, cutting the circum¬
ference, proceeds till it meets with a tangent to the same
circle. See Geometry. . . ,. t
Line of Secants, one of those lines or scales which
are usually put upon sectors. See Sector, N 12. _ 1
SECEDERS, a numerous body of Presbyterians m Secede*
Scotland, who have withdrawn from the communion
of the established church. As they take up their
ground
f
(A) Ergot is F«nch for a cock’s spar, and horned rye was called ergo, from the resemblance of its excrescence
to that part.
SEC [ i
ground upon the establishment of religion from 1638 to
1650, which they hold to be the purest period of the
Scottish church, we shall introduce our account of them
by a short view of ecclesiastical history from that pe¬
riod to the era of their secession. With our usual can¬
dour and impartiality we mean to give a fair statement
of those events with which, as they say, their secession
is connected.
James I. having for some time previous to his death
entertained a wish to form the church of Scotland as
much as possible upon the model of that in England, his
son Charles, with the assistance 0 Archbishop Laud,
endeavoured to carry the design into execution, by esta¬
blishing canons for ecclesiastical discipline, and introdu¬
cing a liturgy into the public service of the church.—
Numbers of the clergy and laity of all ranks took the
alarm at what they considered to be a bold and dan¬
gerous innovation ; and after frequent applications to
the throne, they at last obtained the royal proclamation
for a free parliament and general assembly. The assem¬
bly met in 1638, and began their labours with a repeal
of all the acts of the six preceding parliaments, which
had favoured the designs of James. They condemned
the liturgy, together with every branch of the hierarchy.
They cited all the Scottish bishops to their bar ; and
after having excommunicated nine of them, and deposed
five from their episcopal office, they restored kirk-ses¬
sions, presbyteries, and synods provincial as well as na¬
tional. See Presbyterians.
These proceedings were ratified by the parliament
which met in 1640. The law of patronage was in full
force for several years after this period •, yet great care
was take n that no minister should he obtruded on the
Christi«n people contrary to their inclinations 5 and in
1649 it was abolished as an oppressive grievance.
The restoration of Charles II. in 1660 changed the
face of affairs in the church of Scotland. All that the
general assembly had done from 1638 to 1650 was ren¬
dered null and void, the covenants were pronounced to
be unlawful, episcopacy was restored, and the king was
declared to be the supreme head of the church in all
causes civil and ecclesiastical. During this period the
Prysbyterians were subjected to fines and imprisonment,
while numbers of them were publicly executed for their
adherence to their political and religious tenets.
The Revolution in 1688 gave a different turn to the
affairs of the church. The first parliament which met
after that event, abolished prelacy and the king’s supre¬
macy in ecclesiastical affairs. They ratified the West¬
minster Confession ol Faith, together with the Presby¬
terian form of church-government and discipline, “ as
agreeable to the word of God, and most conducive to
the advancement of true piety and godliness, and the
establishment of peace and tranquillity within these
realms.” That same parliament abolished patronage,
and lodged the election of ministers in the hands of
heritors and elders, with the consent of the congre¬
gation.
In the reign of Queen Anne the true Protestant re¬
ligion was ratified and established, together with the
Presbyterian form of church-government and discipline j
and the unalterable continuance of both was declared to
be an essential condition of the union of the two king¬
doms in all time coming. In 1712 the law respecting
patronage was revived, in resentment, it has been said’
01 ] SEC
of that warm attachment which the church of Scotland Saceders.
discovered to the family of Hanover ; but the severity *■»—-y— ■
of that law was greatly mitigated by tbe first parliament
of George I. slat. 50. by which it is enacted, that, if
the presentee do not signify his acceptance, the presen¬
tation shall become void and null in law. The church,
however, did not avail herself of this statute j and an
event which happened not many years afterwards gave
rise to the secession. , 2
In 1732 more than 40 ministers presented an address Origin of.
to the general assembly, specifying in a variety of in¬
stances what they considered to be great defections from
the established constitution of tbe church, and craving
a redress of these grievances. A petition to the same
effect, subscribed by several hundreds of elders and pri¬
vate Christians, was offered at the same time 5 but the
assembly refused a bearing to both, and enacted, that
the election of ministers to vacant charges, where an
accepted presentation did not take place, should be com¬
petent only to a conjunct meeting of elders and heri¬
tors, being Protestants. To this act many objections
were made by numbers of ministers and private Chri¬
stians. They asserted that more than thirty to one in
every parish were not possessed of landed property, and
were on that account deprived of what they deemed
their natural right to choose their own pastors. It was
also said, that this act was extremely prejudicial to the
honour and interest of the church, as well as to the edi¬
fication of the. people *, and, in fme, that it was directly
contrary to the appointment of Jesus Christ, and the
practice of the apostles, when they filled up the first
vacancy in the apostolic college, and appointed the
election of deacons and elders in the primitive church.
—Many of those also who were thought to he the
best friends of the church expressed their fears that
this act would have a tendency to overturn the ecclesi¬
astical constitution which was established at the Revo¬
lution. 3
Mr Ehenezer Erskine, minister at Stirling, distin-They op-
guisbed himself by a bold and determined opposition to pQSe ^ie
the measures of the assembly in 1732. Being at tbat Jhj ,^U ^Sr”f
time moderator of the synod of Perth and Stirling, he assembly; »
opened the meeting at Perth with a sermon from Psalm
cxviii. 22. “ The stone which the builders rejected is
become the head stone of the corner.” In the course
of his sermon he remonstrated with no small degree of
freedom against the act of the preceding assembly with
regard to the settlement of ministers, and alleged that
it was contrary to the word of God and the establish¬
ed constitution of the church. A formal complaint
was lodged against him for uttering several offensive ex¬
pressions in his sermon before tbe synod. Many of
the members declared that they heard him utter no¬
thing but sound and seasonable doctrine j but his accu¬
sers insisting on their complaint, obtained an appoint¬
ment of a committee of synod to collect what were
called the offensive expressions, and to lay them before
the next diet in writing. This was done accordingly 5
and Mr Erskine gave in his answers to every article of
tbe complaint. After three, days warm reasoning on
this affair, the synod by a majority of six found him 4
censurable j against1 which sentence be protested, and f°r which
appealed to the next general assembly. When 'he as_ F.eir inini-
semblv met in May 1733, ^ affirmed the sentence ot
the synod, and appointed Mr Erskine to be rebuked
and
Seceded
SEC [
and admonished from the chair. Upon which he pro¬
tested, that, as the assembly had found him censurable,
and had rebuked him for doing what he conceived to
be agreeable to the word of God and the standards ol
the church, he should be at liberty to preach the same
truths, and to testify against the same or similar evils,
on every proper occasion. To this protest Messrs Wil¬
liam Wilson minister at Perth, Alexander Moncilet
minister at Abernethy, and James Fisher minister at
Kinclaven, gave in a written adherence, under tire Ion
jvinciaven, gave m    ' . r .
of instrument 5 and these four withdrew, intending to
return to their respective charges, and act agreeably to
their protest whenever they should have an opportuni¬
ty Had the affair rested here, there never would have
been a secession •, but the assembly resolving to carry
on the process, cited them by their officer to compear
next day. They obeyed the citation > and a committee
was appointed to retire with them, in order to persuade
them to withdraw their protest. Ihe committee ha¬
ving reported that they still adhered to their protest,
the assembly ordered them to appear before the com¬
mission in August following and retract their protest ',
and if they should not comply and testify then sor¬
row for their conduct, the commission was empowered
to suspend them from the exercise of their mimstry,
with certification that if they should act contrary to
said sentence, the commission should proceed to an
higher censure. j 4.1
5 , , The commission met in August accordingly 5 and the
iTtt four ministers still adhering to their protest were sus-
pended from the exercise ol them office and cited to
their office, the next meeting of the commission in ISovember tol-
lowing. From this sentence several ministers and elders,
members of the commission, dissented. The commis¬
sion met in November, and the suspended ministers
compeared. Addresses, representations, and letters from
several synods and presbyteries, relative to the business
now before the commission, were received and read.
The synods of Dumfries, Murray, Foss, Angus and
Mearns, Perth and Stirling, craved that the commis¬
sion would delay proceeding to a higher censure. 1 he
synods of Galloway and Fife, as also the presbytery ot
Dornoch,addressed the commission for lenity, tenderness,
and forbearance, towards the suspended ministers j and
the presbytery of Aberdeen represented that in their
iudgment, the sentence of suspension inflicted on the
foresaid ministers was too high, and that it was a stretch
of ecclesiastical authority. Many members of the com¬
mission reasoned in the same manner, and alleged that
the act and sentence of last assembly did not oblige them
to proceed to an higher censure at tins meeting ot the
commission. The question, however, was put, Proceed
to an higher censure, or not ? and the votes being
numbered, were found equal on both sides : upon which
Mr John Goldie the moderator gave his casting vote
to"proceed to a higher censure-, which stands in their
minutes in these words : “ The rnmm.ssion did and
a in   - commission did
hereby do loose the relation ol Mr Ebenezer Erskine
minister at Stirling, Mr William Wilson minister at
Perth Mr Alexander Moncrief minister at Abernethy,
and Mr James Fisher minister at Kinclaven, to their re-
6 spective charges, and declare them no longer ministers
deprived of £ ^ church ; and do hereby prohibit all ministers ot
tlieir li' this church to employ them, or any of them, in any mi¬
nisterial function. And the commission do declare the
vings
102 ] SEC
churches of the said ministers vacant from and after the Sectim
date of this sentence.” r**“
This sentence being intimated to them, they protest¬
ed, that their ministerial office and relation to their re¬
spective charges should be held os valid as if no such
sentence had passed ', and that they were now obliged to
make a secession from the prevailing party in the eccle¬
siastical courts 5 and that it shall be lawful and warrant¬
able for them to preach the gospel, and discharge evciy
branch of the pastoral office, according to the word ot
God and the established principles of the church ot bcot-
l.uid. Mr Ralph Erskine minister at Dunfermline, Mr
Thomas Mair minister at Orwel, Mr John M‘Laren
minister at Edinburgh, Mr John Currie minister at
Kin<dassie, Mr James Wardlaw minister at Dunierm-
line, and Mr Thomas Nairn minister at Abbotshal, pro¬
tested against the sentence of the commission, and that
it should be lawful for them to complain of it to any
subsequent general assembly ol the church.
The secession properly commenced at tins date. And
accordingly the ejected ministers declared in their pro¬
test that they were laid under the disagreeable necessity
of seceding, not from the principles and constitution ot
the church of Scotland, to which, they said, they steri-
fastly adhered, but from the present church-courts.
Which had thrown them out from ministerial communion.
The assembly, however, which met in May 1734 did so
far modify the above sentence, that they empowered
the synod of Perth and Stirling to receive the ejected
ministers into the communion of the church, and restore
them to their respective charges •, but with this express
direction, “ that the said synod should not take upon
them to judge of the legality or formality ot the former
procedure of the church judicatories in relation to this
affair, or either approve or censure the same.” As this
appointment neither condemned the act ol the prece-
assembly nor the conduct of the commission, the
seceding ministers considered it to be rather an act ot
trrace than of justice, and therefore they said they could
not return to the church-courts upon this ground j and
they published to the world the reasons of their relusal,
and th« terms upon which they were willing to return
to the communion of the established church. They now
erected themselves into an ecclesiastical court, which they
called the Associated Presbytery, and preached occasion¬
ally to numbers of the people who joined them in diller-
ent parts of the country. They also published what
they called an Act, Declaration, and Testimony, to the
doctrine, worship, government, and discipline of the
church of Scotland, and against several instances, as
they said, of defection from these, both in former and in
the present times. Some time after this several ministers
of the established church joined them, and the Associa¬
ted Presbytery now consisted of eight ministers. But
the general assembly which met in 1738 finding that
the number of Seceders was much increased, ordered
the eight ministers to be served with a libel, and to be
cited to the next meeting of the assembly in 1739'
They now appeared at the bar as a constituted presby¬
tery, and having formally declined the assembly’s autho- ^
rity, they immediately withdrew. The assembly which <kgfi
met next year deposed them from the office of the mi-deffi
nistry} which, however, they continued to exercise in
their respective congregations, who still adhered to them,
and erected meeting houses, where they preached till
their
SEC
Tic di-
sifeders. their death. Mr James Fisher, the last survivor of them,
''-re—' was, by an unanimous call in 1741, translated from
Kinclaven to Glasgow, where he continued in the exer¬
cise of his ministry among a numerous congregation,
respected by all ranks in that large city, and died in
1775 much regretted by his people and friends.- In
1745 the seceding ministers were become so numerous,
that they were erected into three different presbyteries,
tinder one synod, when a very unprofitable dispute di¬
vided them into two parties.
The burgess oath in some of the royal boroughs of
Scotland contains the following clause : “ I profess
and allow with my heart the true religion presently
professed within this realm, and authorised by the laws
thereof. I will abide at and defend the same to my
viiamong^^e,S en<^ renounc*ng the Romish religion called Pa-
thaselves Messrs Ebenezer and Ralph Erskine, James
alwttthe Fisher, and others, affirmed that this clause was no way
lenity of contrary to the principles on which the secession was
tljpurgess forme,J? an4 that therefore every Seceder might lawfully
swear it. Messrs Alexander Moncrief, Thomas Mair,
Adam Gibb, and others, contended on the other hand
that the swearing of the above clause was a virtual re¬
nunciation of their testimony. And this controversy was
so keenly agitated, that they split into two different
parties, and now met in different synods. Those of
them who assert the lawfulness of swearing the burgess
oath are called Burghers, and the other party who con¬
demn it are called Antihuigher Seceders. Each party
claiming to itself the lawful constitution of the Associate
Synod, the Antiburghers, after several previous steps,
excommunicated the Burghers on the ground of their
sin and of their contumacy in it. This rupture took
place in 1747, s*nce which period no attempts to effect
a reunion have been successful. They remain under the
jurisdiction of different synods, and hold separate com¬
munion, although much of their former hostility has
been laid aside. The Antiburghers consider the Burgh¬
ers as too lax and not sufficiently steadfast to their tes¬
timony. The Burghers on the other hand contend
that the Antiburghers are too rigid, in that they have
introduced new terms of communion into the society.
The Antiburghers having adopted ideas with regard to
what they call covenanting, which the Burghers never
approved (a), have been in use of renewing in their
several congregations the Scottish covenant, by causing
their people formally swear to maintain it. In other
respects the differences between the two parties are not
material. The Antiburghers are most numerous on
f i°3 ]
SEC
9
anjorm
sej ate
eoimuai-
the north of the Tay, and the Burghers on the south of Seeeders,
it. ' v 1
What follows in this article is a further account of . *°
those who are commonly called the Burgher Seceders. °,!
Th ese have a greater number of people in their com-cr s^ced-~
muniori than the Antiburghers, and for some years ers.
past they have greatly increased in the southern and
western districts of Scotland. As there w’ere among
them from the commencement of their secession several
students who had been educated at one or other of the
universities, they appointed one of their ministers to give
lectures in theology, and train up candidates for the
ministry. Messrs William Wilson, minister at Perth,
and Alexander Moncrief minister at Abernethy, were
their professors of theology before their separation from
the Antiburghers.
Since that period Mr Ebenezer Erskine minister at
Stirling, Mr James Fisher minister at Glasgow, Mr
John Swanston minister at Kinross, and Mr John Brown
minister at Haddington, have succeeded each other iu
this office. At present Mr George Lawson minister
at Selkirk is their professor of theology, and there
are between thirty and forty students who attend his
lectures annually. The number of their ministers is
about an hundred, and each of their congregations
contains from two hundred and fifty to three thou¬
sand persons ; and there are among them at present
more than twenty vacant charges. Where a congrega¬
tion is very numerous, as in Stirling, Dunfermline, and
Perth, it is formed into a collegiate charge, and provi¬
ded with two ministers. They are erected into six dif¬
ferent presbyteries, united in one general synod, which
commonly meets at Edinburgh in May and Septem¬
ber (b). They have also a synod in Ireland composed
of three or four different presbyteries. They are legally
tolerated in Ireland 5 and government some years ago
granted 500I. per annum, and of late an additional
500I. which, when divided among them, affords to
each minister about 20I. over and above the stipend
which he receives from his hearers. These have besides
a presbytery in Nova Scotia j and some years ago, it is
said, that the Burgher and the Antiburgher ministers re¬
siding in the United States formed a coalition, and
joined in a general synod, which they call the Synod of
New York and Pennsylvania. They all preach the doc¬
trines contained in the Westminster confession of Faith
and Catechisms, as they believe these to be founded on
the sacred scriptures. They catechise their hearers
publicly, and visit them from house to house once every
year.
(a) This is the account which the Burghers give of their own notions respecting the covenant. One of the
most enlightened of their opponents, however, assures us that they acknowledge covenanting to be a moral duty,
and that the solemn vows of our ancestors are obligatory. But since the breach in the synod they have never
engaged in this work *, giving as their reason, that this is not the proper season.
(b) Ihe constitution of the Antiburgher church differs very little from that of the Burghers. The supreme
court among them is designed The General Associate Synod, having under its jurisdiction three provincial synods
in 1 cot and and one in Ireland. In the former country there are eleven presbyteries ; in the latter four. They
lave a ew congregations in England, and a presbytery in connection with them in North America. The
num ei 01 ministers belonging to the general synod is a hundred and thirty-seven j and in Scotland there are
mne een vacancies, ihey, as well as the Burgher Seceders, have a professor of theology, whose lectures every
cane,1 a e 01 t.ie °™ce °f a pi'eacher is obliged to attend, we have been told for no less than five or six sessions !
Purely the session must be of short duration!
t
SEC
[ 104. ]
SEC
SfeceJeis
year. They will not give the Lord’s supper to those
*—v   who are ignorant of the principles of the gospel, nor to
such as are scandalous and immoral in their lives.
They condemn private baptism, nor will they admit
those who are grossly ignorant and profane, to be spon-
sers for their children. Believing that the people have
a natural right to choose their own pastors, the settle¬
ment of their ministers always proceeds upon a popu¬
lar election *, and the candidate who is elected by the
maioritv is ordained among them. Convinced that the
charge of souls is a trust of the greatest importance,
they carefully watch over the morals of their students,
and direct them to such a course of reading and study
as they judge most proper to qualify them for the pro¬
fitable discharge of the pastoral duties. At the ordina¬
tion of their ministers they use a formula of the same
kind with that of the established church, which their
ministers are bound to subscribe when called to if, and
if any of them teach doctrines contrary to the bcriptures
or the Westminster Confession of Faith, they are sure of
bein" thrown out of their communion. By this means
uniformity of sentiment is preserved among them ; nor
has any of their ministers, excepting one, been prosecuted
for error in doctrine since the commencement of their
, r secession. , .11
Their rules They believe that the holy scriptures are the sole
of faith, criterion of truth, and the only rule to direct mankind
to glorify and enjoy God, the chief and eternal good j
and that “ the Supreme Judge, by which all controver¬
sies of religion are to be determined, and all the decrees
of councils, opinions of ancient writers, doctrines of
men and private spirits, are to be examined, and in
Avhose sentence we are to rest, can be no other but the
Holy Spirit speaking in the Scriptures. Ihey are
fully persuaded, however, that the standards of publ.c
authority in the church of Scotland exhibit a just and
consistent view of the meaning and design of the holy
scriptures with regard to doctrine, worship, government,
and discipline ; and they in so far differ from the dissent¬
ers in England, in that they hold these standards to be
not only articles of peace and a test of orthodoxy, hut
as a bond of union and fellowship. They consider a
simple declaration of adherence to the scriptures as too
equivocal a proof of unity in sentiment, because Anans,
Socinians, and Arminians, make such a confession ot
their faith, while they retain sentiments which they
(the Seceders) apprehend are subversive of the great
doctrines of the gospel. They believe that Jesus Christ
is the only King and Head of the Church, which is
his body ; that it is his sole prerogative to enact laws
for the government of his kingdom, which is not of this
world ; and that the church is not possessed of a legisla¬
tive, but only of an executive power, to he exercised in
explaining and applying to their proper objects and ends
those laws which Christ hath published in the scriptures.
Those doctrines which they teach relative to faith and
practice are exhibited at great length in an explanation
of the Westminster Assembly’s Shorter Catechism, by
way of question and answer, in two volumes, composed
chiefly by Mr James Fisher late of Glasgow, and pub¬
lished by desire of their synod.
For these 50 years past, the grounds or their secession,
they allege, have been greatly enlarged by the public
administrations of the established church, and particu.ar-
ly by the uniform execution of the law respecting patro-
5
nage, which, they say, has obliged many thousands of Secede
private Christians to withdraw from the parish-churches nr-
and join their society.
It is certain, however, that their number has rapidly-
increased of late, especially in the large cities of the
kingdom. They have three different congregations in
Edinburgh, two in Glasgow, and two in London, be¬
sides several others in the north of England. In most
of their congregations they celebrate the Lord s supper
twice in the year, and they catechise their young people
concerning their knowledge of the principles of
previously to their admission to that sacrament When
any of them fall into the sin of fornication or adultery,
the scandal is regularly purged according to the form ot
process in the established church •, and those ot the de¬
linquents who do not submit to adequate censure are
publicly declared to be fugitives from discipline, and
are expelled the society. They never accept a sum ot
money as a commutation for the offence. J hey con¬
demn all clandestine and irregular marriages, nor will
they marry any persons unless they have been proclaime
in the parish-church on two different Lord’s days at least. u
When they separated from the established church, ™d
they remained firm in their attachment to the state 5 andplc6i
they were not many years formed into a distinct society, \
when they expelled from their communion a Mr Jhomas
Nairn minister at Kirkcaldy, who had taught doctrines
inimical to the civil government of the nation In 1745
there was not one of their number who joined the pre¬
tender to the British Crown. They are still of the same
sentiments and in their public assemblies they always
pray for our sovereign King George, with the royal fa¬
mily, and for all who are in authority under them. Ibey
are so far from wishing the overthrow of the present ci¬
vil government, that when the nation was lately in dan-
gerof being thrown into a fermentation by the circula¬
tion of inflammatory and seditious writings, they warmly
recommended peace and order in society. The same re¬
marks, we believe, are equally applicable to the Anti-
buryker seceders. No legal disqualifications, as in the
case of the dissenters in England, exclude them fiom
any place of public trust in the municipal government
of the country •, and some of them are frequently in the
magistracy of the royal boroughs. Ihey are not, how¬
ever, legally tolerated, but are supported by the mild¬
ness of administration and the liberal spirit of the times.
Avowing their adherence to the doctrines contained in
the pubfic standards of the church of Scotland, together
with the preshyterian form of government, from which
they never intended to secede, they deny that they aie
either schismatics or sectaries, as they have been ire
quently called : and when they withdrew from the ec¬
clesiastical courts, they did not, they say, constitute a
church of their own, different from the national church,
but profess to be a part of that church, endeavouring to
hold by her reformed principles, in opposition to those
deviations from them which they have specified in their ij
Act and Testimony. Most of them live in habits 0 Ibeir*
friendship and intimacy with their brethren ot the esta cr
blishment, and they profess an affectionate regaid lor
all those of every denomination who love Jesus Cl n^t
in sincerity and truth. In the late re-exhibition of then’
testimony, they have declared to the world, that, were
the grounds of their secession happily removed, t ef
would account it one of the most singular felicities 0
their
SEC r TO
their time to return with pleasure to the communion of
the established church.
SECH1UM, a genus of plants belonging to the mo-
noecia class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 34th order, Cucurbitacece. See Botany Index.
SECKENDORF, Guy Lewis de, a very learned
German, descended from an ancient and noble family,
was born at Aurach in Franconia in 1626. He was
n good linguist, learned in law, history, and divinity j
and is said to have been a tolerable painter and engra¬
ver. He was honourably employed by several of the
German princes ; and died counsellor of state to Fre¬
deric III. elector of Brandenburg, and chancellor of
the university of Halle, in 1692. He wrote many
books, particularly “ A history and defence of the
Lutheran religion,” 2 vols folio, Frankfort, 1602, in
Latin.
SECKER, Thomas, a learned and respectable pre¬
late of the church of England, was born, in 1693, at a
village called Sibthorp, in the vale of Belvoir, in Not¬
tinghamshire. His father was a Protestant dissenter, a
pious, virtuous, and sensible man ; who, having a small
paternal fortune, followed no profession. His mother
w-as the daughter of Mr Brough, a substantial gentle¬
man farmer of Shelton in the same county. He recei¬
ved his education at several private schools and acade¬
mies in the country, being obliged, by various accidents,
frequently to change his masters.
Notwithstanding this disadvantage, he had at the age
of 19 not only made considerable progress in Greek and
Latin, and read the best writers in both languages, but
had acquired a knowledge of French, Hebrew, Chaldee,
and Syriac j had learned geography, logic, algebra,
geometry, conic sections, and gone through a course of
lectures on Jewish antiquities and other points, prepa¬
ratory to the critical study of the Bible. He had been
destined by his father for orders among the Dissenters.
With this view, during the latter years of his education,
his studies were chiefly turned towards divinity, in which
he had made such quick advances, that by the time he
was 23 he had carefully read over a great part of the
Scriptures, particularly the New Testament, in the ori¬
ginal, and the best comments upon it j Eusebius’s Ec¬
clesiastical History, I he Apostolical Fathers, Whiston’s
Primitive Christianity, and the principal writers for and
against Ministerial and Lay Conformity.—But though
the lesult of these inquiries was a well-grounded belief
©f the Christian revelation, yet not being at that time
able to decide on some abstruse speculative doctrines,
nor to determine absolutely what communion he should
embrace $ he resolved like a wise and honest man, to
pursue some profession, which should leave him at li¬
berty to weigh those things more maturely in his
thoughts, and not oblige him to declare or teach pub¬
licly opinions which were not yet thoroughly settled in
his own mind.
In 1716, therefore, he applied himself to the study of
physic, and after gaining all the medical knowledge he
Could, by reading the usual preparatory books, and at-
tending the best lectures during that and the following
winter m London, in order to improve himself farther,
in January 1718-19 he went to Paris. There he lod¬
ged in the same house with the famous anatomist Mr
YYinslow,. whose lectures he attended, as he did those of
the matena medica, chemistry, and botany, at the Ling’s
voL. A1A. Part I.
5 ] SEC
gardens. He saw the operations of surgery at the J/o-
tcl Diet/, and attended also for some time M. Gregoire,
the accoucheur, but without any design of ever prac¬
tising that or any other branch of surgery. Here he
became acquainted with Mr Martin Benson, afterwards
bishop of Gloucester, one of the most agreeable and vir¬
tuous men of his time ; with whom he quickly became
much connected, and not many years after was united
to him by the strictest bonds of affinity as well as affec¬
tion.
. During the whole of Mr Seeker’s continuance at Pa¬
ris, he kept up a constant correspondence with Mr Jo¬
seph Butler, afterwards bishop of Durham, with whom
he became acquainted at the academy of one Mr Jones,
kept first at Gloucester, and afterward at Tewksbury!
Mr Butler having been appointed preacher at the Rolls
on the recommendation of Dr Clarke and Mr Edward
lalbot, son to Bishop Talbot, he now took occasion to
mention his friend Mr Seeker, without Seeker’s know¬
ledge, to Mr lalbot, who promised, in case he chose to
take orders in the church of England, to engage the
bishop his father to provide for him. This was°com¬
municated to Mr Seeker in a letter from Mr ^Butler
about the beginning of May 1720. He had not at
that time come to any resolution of quitting the study
of physic ; but he began to foresee many obstacles to
his pursuing that profession-, and having never disconti¬
nued his application to theology, his former difficulties
both with regard to conformity and some other doubtful
points had gradually lessened, as his judgment became
stronger and his reading and knowledge more exten¬
sive. It appears also from two of his letters still in be¬
ing, written from Paris to a friend in England, (both
of them prior to the date of Mr Butler’s above mention¬
ed), that he was greatly dissatisfied with the divisions
and disturbances which at that particular period prevail¬
ed among the Dissenters.
In this state of mind Mr Butler’s unexpected propo¬
sal found him ; which lie was therefore very well dispo¬
sed to take into consideration ; and after deliberating
on the subject o( such a change for upwards of two
months, he resolved at length to embrace the offer, and
for that purpose quitted France about the beginning of
August 1720.
On his arrival in England, he was introduced to Mr
Talbot, with whom he cultivated a close acquaintance ;
but it was unfortunately of very short duration ; for in
the month of December that gentleman died of the
smallpox. _ This was a great shock to all his friends,
who had justly conceived the highest expectations of
him ; but especially to an amiable lady whom he had
lately married, and who was very near sinking under so
sudden and grievous a stroke. Mr Seeker, beside shar¬
ing largely in the common grief, had peculiar reason
to lament an accident that seemed to put an end to all
his hopes 3 but he had taken his resolution, and he
determined to persevere. It was some encouragement
to him to find that Mr Talbot had, on his deathbed,
recommended him, together with Mr Benson and Mr
Butler, to his father’s notice. Thus did that excellent
young man (for he was but 29 when he died), by his
nice discernment of characters, and his considerate 00od
nature, provide most effectually, in a few solemn^mo-
ments, for the welfare of that church from which he
himself was so prematurely snatched away ; and at the
D same
Sec 1 er.'
Seeker.
S
E C [ 106 3
same time laised up, avhen he least tlmught of it tl.e Me beeker.
-truest friend and protector to his wife and unborn
daugliter; who afterwards found in Mr Seeker all that
tender care and assistance which they could have hoped
for from the nearest relation. fr;ends
It being judged necessary by Mr Secke
that he should Uve a degree at Oxford *, and havmg
been informed, that if he should previously take the
degree of Doctor in Physic at Leyden, it would pro-
1MV help him in obtaining tlie other, be even 0
and took his degree there in March .7^=
part of bis exercise for it, he composed »"<> Pr‘“‘<!d a
dissertation de Medici™ StMca, »h‘ch 18
and is thought by the gentlemen of that protession
be a sensible and learned performance.
In April the same year, he entered himself a gentle¬
man commoner of Exeter college, Oxford •, after which
he obtained the degree of Bachelor °f AltS,’
quence of the chancellor’s recommendatory letter
C° He^ow spent a considerable part of his time m -Lon-
don where he (1uiekly gained the esteem »f
most learned and ingemons men of tho e days part.™
lar'v of Dr Clarke, rector of St James s, and the ceie
brafed Dean Berkeley, afterwards blsh°P o C!°y l
with whom he every day became more delated, and
more closely connected. He paid ic^uen n »
titude and friendship to Mrs Talbot, widow of Mr Ed
ward Talbot, by whom she had a daughter five mo
Tfer Ids del’easL With her lived Mrs Cathmane Ben
sister to Bishop B-on w cm .0 n^ny -F ^
Seeker,
son
she*greatly resembled. She had been for several years
Mrs Talbot’s inseparable companion, and was of un
ieakahle service to her at the time of her husband s
death, by exerting all her courage, acUvity, an goo
sense fo/which she possessed a large share), to SUP'
Vort her friend under so great an affliction, and by a -
CwardV attending her "sickly infant with the uturns
care and tenderness, to which, under providence, was
owing the preservation of a very valuable life.
Bishop Talbot being in 1721 appointed to the see of
Durham, Mr Seeker was m 1722 ordained deacon by
him in St James’s church, and priest not long after m
the same place, where he preached his first sermon
March 28 1723. The bishop’s domestic chaplain at
^at time wal Dr Bundle, a man of warm fancy and
very brilliant conversation, but apt sometimes to be
carried by the vivacity of Ins wit into indiscreet and
ludicrous expressions, which created him enemies, and
on one occasion, produced disagreeable consequences.
 With him Mr Seeker was soon after associated in
the bishop’s family, and both taken down by Ins lord-
ship to Durham in July I723" ,
In the following year the bishop gave Mr Seeker the .
rectory of Houghton-le-Sprmg. 1 his preferment put¬
ting it in his power to fix himself m the world, in a
manner agreeable to his inclinations, he soon after made
•1 proposal of marriage to Mrs Benson j which being ac¬
cented they were married by Bishop Talbot in 1725.
IT*; ea/nest veqnest of bhh, Mrs Talbot and her
daughter consented to live with them, and the two
milies from that time became one.
About this time Bishop Talbot also gave preferments
to Mr Butler and Mr Benson, whose rise and progress
in the church are here interwoven with the history of
SEC
Mr Seeker. In the winter of 1725-6, Mr ®utler fil^.
published his incomparable sermons ; on vvh.ch a, D,
Beilby Porteous and Dr St.nton inform us Mr Seeker
took pains to render the stjde m^
ry'm^TaUeTohTnT' Mr Seiker give his friend
the same assistance in that noble work the Analogy 0.
E HeTo’w^ak up all the time he possibly could to Ins
residence a® Houghton, applying Inmselt '’‘th a'acr,l>
to all the duties of a country clergyman, and suppo
nr, that useful and respectable character hroughont
;lh the strictest propriety. He omitted nothmg wU.ch
be thought would ^e of^us^to *e souls
his MnveTtion and his sermons to the level of their
understandings j he visited them in private, he cat c u
sed the young and ignorant, he received his country
neighbours and tenants very kindly and hosI^ably’ ^
was of great service to the poorer sort of them by his^
skill inSnhysic, which was the only use he ever n^de of
t Though this place was in a very remote par o the
L\A, yet the solitude of it perfectly suited his studious
disposition, and the income arising from it bounded his
ambition. Here he would have been content to jive and
die • here as he has often been heard to declare, be
spent some of the happiest hours of his life : and it was
no thought or choice of his own that removed luni to
a higher and more conspicuous situation j but Mrs See¬
ker’s health, which now began to decline, an
thought to be injured by the dampness of the situation,
obliged him to think of exchanging it for a beaJ;
thy one. Accordingly, an exchange was made through
the friendly interposition of Mr Benson (who generous¬
ly sacrificed his own interest on this occasion by ie-
linquishing a prebend of bis own to serve his fi end)
iviUi Dr Finney, prebendary of Durham, and rector of
Rvton • and Mr Seeker was instituted to Ryton and
S?e pre’hend Juue 3. l7*7- ^.e two followrugyea»
he lived chiefly at Durham, going every week to o*-
ciate at By ton, and spending there two or three month
together in the summer. . , , .
In July 1732 he was appointed chaplain to the king ,
for which favour he was indebted to Dr Sherlock who
having heard him preach at Bath, had conceived the
highest opinion of his abilities, and thought them well
worthy of being brought forward into public notice.
From that time an intimacy commenced between then ,
and he received from that great prelate many solid
proofs of esteem and friendship. , ,
His month of waiting at St James’s happened to be
August, and on Sunday the 27th of that month he
preached before the queen, the king being then abroad.
A few days after, her majesty sent for him into her
closet, and held a long conversation with him j in t le
course of which he took an opportunity of mentioning
to her his friend Mr Butler. He also, not long alter
this, on Mr Talbot’s being made lord chancellor, touna
means to have Mr Butler effectually recommended to
him for his chaplain. The queen also appointed him
clerk of her closet •, from whence he rose, as his talents
became more known, to those high dignities which He
afterwards attained.
terwavds attauifici* #
Mr Seeker now began to have a public character,
and stood high in the estimation of those who were a -
Seeker.
]
SEC
SEC [ 107
1Z ptZtdica^T'tS Ztftoll1’" at t!'e 'hUrth “ »"« “f ^ ^ h*-
ZnX*:? . ^rrn,,ich “ihe—- - «•». >»
fered of placing him in an advantageous uoint 0f vmw' ^ f C0^.pOSe’ “ were tru,y excellent and ori-
n, Tvrriipliif .„K„ , ™ pomt 0t w: S^. His faculties were now in their full vigour, and
1%^ rT^ 1 ^ 1 ^ view#
Dr iyrrwhit, who succeeded Dr Clarke as rector of
St James s in I729» ^°und that preaching in so large a
church endangered his health. Bishop Gibson, there¬
fore, his father-in-law, proposed to the crown that he
should be made residentiary of St Paul’s, and that Mr
Seeker should succeed him in the rectory. This arrange¬
ment was so acceptable to those in power, that it took
place without any difficulty. Mr Seeker was instituted
rector the iSth ol May l?33 5 an^ ,n the beginning of
July went to Oxford to take his degree of Doctor of
Laws, not being of sufficient standing for that of divi¬
nity. On this occasion it was that he preached his ce¬
lebrated Act Sermon, on the advantages and duties of
academical education, which was universally allowed to
be a masterpiece of sound reasoning and just composi¬
tion : it was printed at the desire of the heads of houses,
and quickly passed through several editions. It is now
to be found in the second collection of Occasional Ser¬
mons, published by himself in 1766.
It was thought that the reputation he acquired by
this sermon, contributed not a little toward that promo¬
tion which very soon followed its publication. For in
December X734, he received a very unexpected notice
from Bishop Gibson, that the king had fixed on him to
be bishop of Bristol. Dr Benson was about the same
time appointed to the see of Gloucester, as was Dr Fle¬
ming to that of Carlisle ’, and the three new bishops
were all consecrated together in Lambeth Chapel, Jan.
19’ I734‘5> ^ie consecration-sermon being preached by
Dr Thomas, afterwards bishop of Winchester.
The honours to which Dr Seeker was thus raised in
the prime of life did not in the least abate his diligence
and attention to business j for which, indeed, there was
now more occasion than ever. His learned biographers,
Messrs Porteous and Stinton, now relate the manner in
which he set about the visitation of his diocese, and the
ceremony of confirmation, which he performed in a
great numbei of places j he also preached in several
churches, sometimes twice a day. The affairs of his
parish of St James’s being likewise in great disorder,
he took extraordinary pains to regulate and adjust every
thing, particularly the management of the poor ; and
thus even in a temporal view became of signal service
to his parishioners. But, say our authors, “ it was their
spiritual welfare which engaged, as it ought to do, his
chief attention. As far as the circumstances of the
times, and the populousness of that part of the metro¬
polis allowed, he omitted not even those private admo¬
nitions and personal applications which are often attend¬
ed with the happiest effects. He allowed out of his
own income a salary for reading early and late prayers,
which had formerly been paid out of the offertory' mo-
Dey. He held a confirmation once every year, ex¬
amined the candidates several weeks before in the vestry,
and gave them religious tracts, which he also distributed
at other times very liberally to those that needed them,
xie drew up, for the use of his parishioners, that admi¬
rable course of Lectures on the Church Catechism which
hath been lately published, and not only read them once
every week on the usual days, but also every Sunday
he had an audience to speak before that rendered the
utmost exertion of them necessary. He did not, how¬
ever, seek to gratify the higher part, by amusing them
with refined speculations, or ingenious essays, unintelli-
gible to the lower part, and unprofitable to both: but
he laid before them all, with equal freedom and plain¬
ness, the great Christian duties belonging to their re¬
spective stations, and reproved the follies'and vices of
every rank among them, without distinction or pallia¬
tion. He studied human nature thoroughly in all its
various forms, and knew what sort of arguments would
have most weight with each class of men. He brought
the subject home to their bosoms, and did not seem t»
be merely saying useful things in their presence, but ad¬
dressing himself personally to every one of them. Few
ever possessed, in a higher degree, the rare talent of
touching on the most delicate subjects with the nicest
propriety and decorum, of saying the most familiar
things without being low, the plainest without being
feeble, the boldest without giving offence. He could
descend with such singular ease and felicity into the
minutest concerns of common life, could lay open with
so much address the Various workings, artifices, and eva¬
sions of the human mind, that his audience often thought
their own particular cases alluded to, and heard with
surprise their private sentiments and feelings, their way®
of reasoning and principles of acting, exactly stated and
described. His preaching was, as the same time, highly
rational and truly evangelical. Fie explained with per¬
spicuity, he asserted with dignity, the peculiar charac¬
teristic doctrines of the gospel. He inculcated the
utility, the necessity of them, not merely as speculative
truths, but as actual instruments of moral goodness,
tending to purify the hearts and regulate the" lives of
men ; and thus, by God’s gracious appointment, as welt
as by the inseparable connection between true faith and
right practice, leading them to salvation.
“ These important truths he taught with the autho¬
rity, the tenderness, the familiarity, of a parent instruct¬
ing his children. . Though he neither possessed nor af¬
fected the artificial eloquence of an orator who wants
to amuse or to mislead, yet he had that of an honest
man who wants to convince, of a Christian preacher
who wants to reform and to save those that hear him.
Solid argument, manly sense, useful directions, short,
nervous, striking sentences, awakening questions, fre¬
quent and pertinent applications of scripture j all these
following each other in quick succession, and coming
evidently from the speaker’s heart, enforced by his elo¬
cution, his figure, his action, and above all, by the cor¬
responding sanctity of his example, stamped conviction,
on the minds of his hearers, and sent them home with
impressions not easy to be effaced. It will readily be
imagined that with these powers he quickly became one
of the most admired and popular preachers of his time.”
In 1737, lic succeeded to the see of Oxford, on the
promotion of Dr Potter to that of Canterbury, then va¬
cant by the death of Archbishop Wake.
. In tlie sPr‘ug of 1748, Mrs Seeker died of the gout
m her stomach. She was a woman of great sense and
^ 2 merit.
Seeker;
SEC
merit, In.t of a weak ana sickly constitution,
shop’s affection and tenderness lor her were suited to hi
character. In 1750, ^ was installed dean ofSt Paul s
forwhich he gave in exchange the rectory of bt James s
and his prebend of Durham. “ It was no wonder (say
our authors) that, after presiding over so extensive an
populous a parish for upwards of 17 years, he should
willingly consent to be released from a burden which be¬
gan now to grow too great for his strength. When he
preached his farewel sermon, the whole audience melted
into tears : he was followed with the prayers and good
wishes of those whom every honest man would be most
ambitious to please •, and there are numbers still living
who retain a strong and grateful remembrance of his in¬
cessant and tender solicitude lor their welfare. Having
now more leisure both to prosecute his own studies and
to encourage those of others, he gave Dr Church con¬
siderable assistance in bis First and Second f ™
of the Miraculous Powers, &c. against Mr Middleton,
and he was of equal use to him in his Analysis oj Lord
BolmMroke's Works. About the same time began the
late Archdeacon Sharp’s controversy with the followers
of Mr Hutchinson, which was carried on to the end ol
the vear 1755-” Bishop Seeker, we are told read over
all Dr Sharp’s papers, amounting to three volumes by),
and corrected and improved them throughout. Eut the
ease which this late change of situation gave him was
soon disturbed by a heavy and unexpected stroke, the
loss of his three friends, Bishops Butler, Benson, and
Berkeley, who were all cut off within the space ol one
^ Our authors next give an account of the part which
Dr Seeker bore, in the house of lords, in respect to
the famous repeal of the Jew bill j for which the duke
of Newcastle moved, and was seconded by the Bishop,
in a speech which, we are told, was remarkably well re¬
ceived. At length his distinguished merit prevailed
over all the political obstacles to his advancement, and
placed him, without any efforts or application of his
own, in that important station which he had shown him¬
self so well qualified to adorn. On the death ot Arch¬
bishop Hutton, he was promoted to the see ol Canter¬
bury, and was confirmed at Bow-church, April 21.
j/y^§ * on which occasion our authors observe, that 111
accepting this high and burdensome station, Dr Seeker
acted on that principle which influenced him through
life • that he sacrificed his own ease and comfort to con¬
siderations of public utility j that the mere secular ad¬
vantages of grandeur were objects below his ambition j
and were, as lie knew and felt, but poor compensations
for the anxiety and difficulties attending them. He had
never once through his whole life asked prefeiment for
himself,nor shown any unbecoming eagerness for it; and
the use he made of his newly-acquired dignity very
clearly showed, that rank, and wealth, and power, had
in no other light any charms for him, than as they en¬
larged the sphere of his active and industrious benevo¬
lence.
He sought out and encouraged men of real genius
or extensive knowledge; he expended 300I. in arran¬
ging and improving the manuscript library at Lambeth;
r 108 1 sec
The hi- and observing with concern, that the libraiy of
books in that palace had received no ~
time ol Archbishop lennison, ie mace of Fu-
to collect hooks in all languages from most Pa‘^
rone at a very great expence, with a view ol suppljing
that chasm; which he accordingly did by leaving them
to the library at his death, and ^-rehy rendered hat
collection one of the noblest and most useful in the king
d° AH designs and institutions which tended to advance
good morals and true religion, he patronized wiffi zed
and tienerosity : he contributed largely to the mainte
nance of schools for the poor ; to rebuilding °r
ing parsonage houses and places of woy up , ,
no less than 600I. towards erecting a chapel in the pa¬
rish of Lambeth. To the society lor promoting U
tian knowledge he was a liberal benefactor ; and to that
for propagating the gospel m foreign parts, of which he
was the president, lie paid much attention ; was co
stant at all the meetings of its members even 30.met,"ie*
when his health would but ill permit, and superintended
their deliberations with consummate prudence and tem-
Secker.
P Whenever any publications came to his knowledge
that were manifestly calculated to corrupt good morals
or subvert the foundations of Christianity, he ci n
utmost to stop the circulation of them ; yet the wretch¬
ed authors themselves he was so far from wishing to treat
with any undue rigour, that he has more than once ex¬
tended his bounty to them in distress. And when their
writings could not properly he suppressed (as was too
often the case) by lawful authority, he engaged men ot
abilities to answer them, and rewarded them for their
trouble. His attention was everywhere. _ Lven the
falsehoods and misrepresentation ot writers in the news¬
papers, on religious or ecclesiastical subjects, he general¬
ly took care to have contradicted ; and when they seem¬
ed likely to injure, in any material degree, the cause ol
virtue and religion, or the reputation ot eminent and
worthy men, he would sometimes take the trouble ot
answering them himself. One instance of this Fine ,
which does him honour, and deserves mention, was his
defence of Bishop Butler, who, in a pamphlet publish¬
ed in 1767, was accused of having died a 1 apist.. Ihe
conduct which he observed towards the several divisions
and denominations of Christians in this kingdom was
such as showed his way of thinking to he truly liberal
and catholic. The dangerous spirit of popery, indeed,
he thought should always he kept under proper legal
restraints, on account ol its natural opposition not oa y
to the religious, but the civil rights of mankind. He
therefore observed its movements with care, and exhort¬
ed his clergy to do the same, especially those who were
situated in the midst of Roman Catholic families y
against whose influence they were charged to be upon
their guard, and were furnished with proper books or
instructions for that purpose. He took all fit opportu¬
nities of combating the errors of the church of Rome in
his own writings (a) ; and the best answers that were
published to some of the late hold apologies for popery
were written at his instance, and under his direction.
(a) See particularly his sermons on the rebellion in 1745 ; on the Protestant working schools in Ireland ; on the
4 5
SEC [i
With the Dissenters his Grace was sincerely desirous
of cultivating a good understanding. He considered
them, in general, as a conscientious and valuable class
of men. W7ith some of the most eminent of them,
Wratts, Doddridge, Leland, Chandler, Lardner, he
maintained an intercourse of friendship or civility. By
the most candid and considerate part of them he was
highly reverenced and esteemed ; and to such among
them as needed help he showed no less kindness and li¬
berality than to those of his own communion.
Nor was his concern for the Protestant cause confined
to his own country. He was well known as the great
patron and protector of it in various parts of Europe j
from whence he had frequent applications for assistance,
which never failed of being favourably received. To
several foreign Protestants he allowed pensions, toothers
lie gave occasional relief, and to some of their universi¬
ties was an annual benefactor.
In public affairs, his Grace acted the part of an honest
citizen, and a worthy member of the British legislature.
From his first entrance into the house of peers, his par¬
liamentary conduct was uniformly upright and noble.
He kept equally clear from the extremes of factious pe¬
tulance and servile dependence; never wantonly thwart¬
ing administration from motives of party zeal or private
pique, or personal attachment, or a passion for popula¬
rity ; nor yet going every length with every minister
from views of interest or ambition. He admired and
loved the constitution of his country, and wished to
preserve it unaltered and unimpaired. So long as a due
regard to this was maintained, he thought it his duty to
support the measures of government; but whenever they
were evidently inconsistent with the public welfare, he
opposed them with freedom and firmness. Yet his op¬
position was always tempered with the utmost fidelity,
respect, and decency, to the excellent prince upon the
throne; and the most candid allowances for the una¬
voidable errors and infirmities even of the very best mi¬
nisters, and the peculiarly difficult situation of those who
govern a free and high-spirited people. He seldom
spoke in parliament, except where the interests of re¬
ligion and virtue seemed to require it; but whenever
lie did, he spoke with propriety and strength, and was
heard with attention and deference. Though he never
attached himself blindly to any set of men, yet his chief
political connections were with the late duke of New¬
castle and Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. To these he
principally owed his advancement; and he had the good
fortune to live long enough to show his gratitude to
them or their descendants.
For more than ten years, during which Dr Seeker
enjojed the see of Canterbury, he resided constantly at
Ins archiepiscopal house at Lambeth. A few months
efore his death, the dreadful pains he felt had compel¬
led him to think of trying the Bath waters: but that
esign was stopped by the fatal accident which put an
end to his life.
His Grace had been for many years subject to the
gou , w ic , m the latter part of his life, returned with
09 ] SEC
more frequency and violence, and did not go off in a
regular manner, but left the parts affected for a long
time very weak, and was succeeded by pains in different
parts of the body. About a year and a half before he
tiled, after a fit of the gout, he was attacked with a
pain in the arm, near the shoulder, which having conti¬
nued about 12 months, a similar pain seized the upper
and outer part of the opposite thigh, and the arm soon
became easier, i bis was much more grievous than the
former, as it quickly disabled him from walking, and
kept him in almost continual torment, except when he
was in a reclining position. During this time he had
two or three fits of the gout ; but neither the gout nor
the medicines alleviated these pains, which, with the
want of exercise, brought him into a general bad habit
of body.
On Saturday July 30. 1768, he ivas seized, as he
sat at dinner, with a sickness at his stomach. He re¬
covered before night; but the next evening, while his
physicians were attending, and his servants raising him
on his couch, he suddenly cried out that his thigh-bone
was broken. The shock was so violent, that the servants
perceived the couch to shake under him, and the pain
so acute and unexpected, that it overcame the firmness
he so remarkably possessed. He lay for some time in
great agonies ; but when the surgeons arrived, and dis¬
covered with certainty that the bone was broken, he
was perfectly resigned, and never afterwards asked a
question about the event. A fever soon ensued. On
Tuesday he became lethargic, and continued so till
about five o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, when he
expired with great calmness, in the 75th year of his
age.
On examination, the thigh-bone ivas found to be ca¬
rious about four inches in length, and at nearly the
same distance from its head. The disease took its rise-
from the internal part of the bone, and had so entirely
destroyed its substance, that nothing remained at the
part where it was broken but a portion of its outward
integument; and even this had many jierforations, one
of which was large enough to admit two fingers, and
was filled with a fungous substance arising from within
the bone. There was no appearance of matter about
the caries, and the surrounding parts were in a sound
state. It was apparent that the torture which he un¬
derwent during the gradual corrosion of this bone must
have been inexpressibly great. Out of tenderness to his
family he seldom made any complaints to them, but to
his physicians he frequently declared his pains were so
excruciating, that unless some relief could be procured
he thought it would be impossible for human nature to
support them long. Yet he bore them for upwards of
six months with astonishing patience and fortitude; sat
up generally the greater part of the day, admitted his
particular friends to see him, mixed with his family at
the usual hours, sometimes with his usual cheerfulness;
and, except some very slight defects of memory, retain¬
ed all his faculties and senses in their full vigour till
within a few days of his death. He was buried, pur¬
suant
Seeker.
swmon^anTother works^^ nUmber of occasIotlal passages to the same purpose, in various parts of his lectures,
SEC
t
Seeker,
Second.
Slant to Ilia own directions, in a covered passage, lead
from a private door of tlie palace to the “°°
of Lambeth chord, ; and he forbade any monument o,
epitaph to be placed over him. p,-] Rur.
Bv his will he appointed the Rev. 1) '<
ton 'cano: of Chri^ church, " C^rmeT -
, ,, already f.'V “ocoT^ « u^t To "L Dr^
S St^on Ms clmplains -, to pa, tbe interest
fhereof to Mrs Talbot and her daughter during the.r
r J
decease transferred to charitable purposes ,
13,0001. are to be transpre g j for the Vro-
disproportionate or tioublesor great-
The dignity of his form corresponded with the great
ness of his mind, and inspired at all times respect and
• W neculiarly so when he was engaged in any of
awe , bu p r11L.t;onS 0f reli"ion, into which he en-
f° His olntenE was open, ingennons, and expressive
1113 count. Tt varied easily with his spirits
aldTiTf'eihfg., so as to he a faithful interpreter of his
mind which was incapable of the least dissimulation. It
could’ speak dejection, and, on occasion, anger, veiy
Strongly*» but when it meant to show pleasure or appro-
hation/it softened into a most gracious smile, and dif¬
fused over all his features the most benevolent and re¬
viving complacency that can be imagined.
SECOND, in Geometry, Chronology, &c. the 60th
part of a prime or minute, whether of a degree or of an
h° Second, in Music, one of the musical intervals •, being
only the difference between any sound and the nex
nearest sound, whether above or below it.
Second Major, in Music. See Interval.
Second Minor, in Music. See Interval.
Second Sight, in Erse called Taisrh, is a mode of
seeing superadded to that which nature generally be-
stows This gift or faculty, which is neither voluntary
nor constant, is in general rather troublesome than agree¬
able to the possessors of it, who are chiefly found among
the inhabitants of the highlands of Scotland, those o
the Western isles, of the isle of Man, and of Ireland, t
is an impression made either by the mind upon the eye,
Tr bv the eve upon the mind, by which things distant or
future are perceived, and seen as if they were present.
A man on a journey far from home falls f™»> ^J>orse >
another, who is perhaps at work about the house, » e
him bleeding on tbe ground, commonly with a landscape
of the place where the accident befals him. Another
seer, driving home his cattle, or wandering in idleness,
musing in the sunshine, is suddenly surprised by the ap-
to 1 SEC
pearance of a hrldal ceremony, or funeral procession,
and counts the mourners or attendants, of whom, 1 1 -
knows them, he relates the names ; if he knows them
not, he can describe the dresses. Hungs distant aie
seen at the instant they happen.
Of thinos future, Johnson says that he knows no ru e
pretended “to for determining the time between the nigh
and lire event; but we are informed by Mr Grose, that
in general the time of accomplishment bears some rela¬
tion to the time of the day in which the impressions are
received. Thus visions seen early m the morning (which
seldom happens) will be much sooner accomplished than
those appearing at noon ; and those seen at noon will
take place in a much shorter time than those happening
at night; sometimes the accomplishment of the las,
does not fall out within a year or more. .
These visions are not confined to solemn or important
events : nor is it true, as is commonly reported, that to
the second sight nothing is presented but phantoms ot
evil The future visit of a mountebank, or pipei , a
plentiful draught of fish •, the arrival of common travel¬
lers : or, if possible, still more trifling matters Inin t hese,
—are foreseen by the seers. A gentleman told Dr John¬
son, that when he had once gone far from his ovyn island,
one of his labouring servants predicted his ««“>•". “n'1
described the livery of his attendant winch he had ne¬
ver worn at home; and which had been, without any
previous design, occasionally given him.
As many men eminent for science and literature have
admitted the reality of this apparently useless gift, we
shall, without interposing our own opinion, give the
reflections of two of the first characters of the age
Upon it, and leave our readers to form their own
judgment. By Dr Beattie of Aberdeen it is thus ac¬
counted for. ,
The Highlands of Scotland are a picturesque but a
melancholy country. Long tracts of mountainous de¬
sert, covered with dark heath, and often obscured by
misty weather 5 narrow valleys, thinly inhabited, an
bounded by precipices resounding with the tall of tor¬
rents ; a soil so rugged, and a climate so dreary, as in
many parts to admit neither the amusements ot pas¬
turage nor the labours of agriculture; the mournful
dashing of waves along the friths and lakes that inter¬
sect the country ; the portentous noises which every
change of the wind and every increase or diminution of
the waters is apt to raise in a lonely region full 0
echoes and rocks and caverns; the grotesque and
ghastly appearance of such a landscape by the light ot
the moon : objects like these diffuse a gloom over the
fancy, which may be compatible enough with occasion¬
al and social merriment, but cannot fail to tincture the
thoughts of a native in the hour of silence and solitude.
If these people, notwithstanding their reformation in
religion, and more frequent intercourse with strangers,
do still retain many of their old superstitions, we nee
not doubt but in former times they must have been much
more enslaved to the horrors of imagination, when bese
with the bugbears of Popery and Paganism. Most ot
their superstitions are of a melancholy cast. 1 ia 0
second sight, bv which some are still supposed to be haunt¬
ed, is considered by themselves as a misfortune, on ac¬
count of the many dreadful images it is said to o tru e
upon the fancy. It is said that some of the Alpine re¬
gions do likewise lay claim to a sort of second
Sormib
SEC [ i
ISior is it wonderfu], that persons of a lively imagination,
— immured in deep solitude, and surrounded with the stu¬
pendous scenery of clouds, precipices, and torrents,
should dream (even when they think themselves awake)
of those few striking ideas with which their lonely lives
are diversified : of corpses, funeral processions, and other
subjects of terror ; or of marriages, and the arrival of
strangers, and such like matters of more agreeable cu¬
riosity.
Let it be observed also, that the ancient Highlanders
ot Scotland had hardly any other way of supporting
themselves than by hunting, fishing, or war 5 professions
that are continually exposed to latal accidents. And
hence, no doubt, additional horrors would often haunt
their solitude, and a deeper gloom overshadow the ima¬
gination even of the hardiest native.
A sufficient evidence can hardly be found for the re¬
ality of the second sight, or at least of what is commonly
understood by that term. A treatise on the subject was
published in the year 1762, in which many tales were
told of persons whom the author believed to have been
favoured, or haunted, with these illuminations ; but most
of the tales were trifling and ridiculous: and the whole
work betrayed, on the part of the compiler, such extreme
credulity, as could not fail to prejudice many readers
against his system.
. That any of these visionaries are apt to bo swayed
in their declarations by sinister views, we will not say:
but this may be said with confidence, that none but ig¬
norant people pretend to be gifted in this way. And
in them it may be nothing more, perhaps, than short
hts ot sudden sleep or drowsiness, attended with lively
dreams, and arising from some bodily disorder, the ef-
ffict of idleness, low spirits, or a gloomy imagination,
xor it is admitted, even by the most credulous High¬
landers, that as knowledge and industry are propaga¬
ted in their country, the second sight disappears in pro¬
portion; and nobody ever laid claim to the faculty who
was much employed in the intercourse of social life (a).
A or is it at all extraordinary, that one should have the
appearance of being awake, and should even think one’s
sell so, during those fits of dosing; that they should
come on suddenly, and while one is engaged in some
business. The same thing happens to persons much
tatigued, or long kept awake, who frequently fall asleep
tor a moment, or fora long space, while they are stand¬
ing or walking, or riding on horseback. Add but a
lively dream to this slumber, and (which is the frequent
ellect of disease) take away the consciousness of having
ecu asleep, and a superstitious man may easily mistake
Jm dream for a waking vision ; which, however, is soon
toi gotten when no subsequent occurrence recals it to
his memory ; but which, if it shall be thought to re-
semieany utureevent, exalts the poor dreamer into a
Highland prophet. This conceit makes him more re¬
cluse and more melancholy than ever; and so feeds his
dissTn^ 7ld TUiplieS hlS visions : which, if they are not
dissipated by business or society, may continue to haunt
ix] SEC
him as long as he lives; and which, in their progress
through the neighbourhood, receive some new tinctures
of the marvellous from every mouth that promotes their
circulation. As to the prophetical nature of this se¬
cond sight, it cannot be admitted at all. That the
Deity should work a miracle in order to give intimation
of the frivolous things that these tales are made up of
the arrival of a stranger, the nailing of a coffin, or the
colour of a suit of clothes; and that these intimations
should be given for no end, and to those persons only
who are idle and solitary, who speak Gaelic, or who live
among mountains and deserts—is like nothing in nature
or providence that we are acquainted with; and must
therefore, unless it were confirmed by satisfactory proof
(whicn is not the case), be rejected as absurd and in¬
credible.
Ihese visions, such as they are, may reasonably
enough be ascribed to a distempered fancy. And that
in them, as well as in our ordinary dreams, certain ap¬
pearances should, on some rare occasions, resemble cer¬
tain events, is to be expected from the laws of chance ;
and seems to have in it nothing more marvellous or su-
pernatural, than that the parrot, who deals out his scur¬
rilities at random, should sometimes happen to salute the
passenger by his right appellation.
To the confidence of these objections Dr Johnson re¬
plies, that by presuming to determine what is fit, and
what is beneficial, they presuppose more knowledge of
the universal system than man has attained ; and there¬
fore depend upon principles too complicated and exten¬
sive for our comprehension; and that there can be no
security in the consequence when the premises are not
understood ; that the second sight is only wonderful be¬
cause it is rare, for, considered in itself, it involves no
more difficulty than dreams, or perhaps than the regu¬
lar exercise of the cogitative faculty ; that a general opi¬
nion ot communicative impulses, or visionary representa¬
tions, has prevailed in all ages and all nations ; that par¬
ticular instances have been given with such evidence, as
neither Bacon nor Bayle has been able to resist; that
sudden impressions, which the event has verified, have
been felt by more than own or publish them ; that the
second sight of the Hebrides implies only the local fre¬
quency of a power, which is nowhere totally unknown ;
and that where we are unable to decide by antecedent
reason, we must be content to yield to the force of tes¬
timony. By pretension to second sight, no profit was
ever sought or gained. It is an involuntary affection,
in which neither hope nor fear are known to have any
part. Those who profess to feel it do not boast of it as
a privilege, nor are considered by others as advantage¬
ously distinguished. They have no temptation to feign,
and their hearers have no motive to encourage the im¬
posture.
Second Terms, in Algebra, those where the unknown
quantity has a degree of power less than it has in the
term where it is raised to the highest. The art of
throwing these second terms out of an equation, that
derstanding* uffiversaffv'admiTit except^the m^^t^^t the1Is,and.ers of a.n degrees, whether of rank or un-
against conviction. He affirms ton P| L 1 • U'l3ters,| vvho> acc?rding to reJect ^ m consequence of a system,
complained of the terrors to which he was exposed’ * ^ ^ ^ ^ HebndeS a second-sigbted gentleman, who
SEC
[ H2 ]
SEC
' , ;s of forming a new equation where they have no place,
S“| is*one of the moat ingenious and useful mvenuons m all
' algSEcbNDAEY, in general, something that acts as
sprnnd or in subordination to another.
Secondary or Secundary, an officer who acts as se¬
cond or next to the chief officer. Such are the seconda¬
ries of the courts of king’s bench and common pleas ,
the secondaries of the compters, who are next the she¬
riffs of London in each of the two compters , two se
condaries of the pipe j secondaries to the remembra -
06 Circles of the Ecliptic are circles of Ion-
gitnde of the stars; or circles which, l“ssinS ' " ““L ,;
poles of the ecliptic, are at right angles to the echpt
See Circles of Latitude. ATftaphy-
Secosdary Qualities of Bodies. See METAPHY
gics N° i
SFCONDAT. See Montesqjjieu. ,
SFCHETLRIES bird, the falco serpentanus and
Sagittarius of Linnseus, hut classed by Latham under the
otnus Vultur. See Ornithology Index.
S SECRETARY, an officer who, by his master s or¬
ders, writes letters, dispatches, and
„hich he renders authentm by u, mg ^
whoVrToffioer^tha^'ha^uruler their management and
direction the most important affairs »f the kingdom
and are obliged constantly to attend on the king. /
receive and dispatch whatever comes to their hands, ei-
Ser from the crown, the church, the army, private
grants, pardons, dispensations, &c. as likewise peti i
to the sovereign, which, when read, are returned to
them • all which they dispatch according to the king s
direction. They have authority to commit persons tor
tasonAnd other offences against the state as censer
valors of the peace at common law, or as justice
peace throughout the kingdom. They are members of
fte privy-council, which is seldom or never held with¬
out one If them bling present. As to the business and
correspondence in all parts of this kingdom, it is mana¬
ged hi either of the secretaries without any distinction,
hut with respect to foreign affairs, the business is divi¬
ded into two provinces or departments the southern
and the northern, comprehending
states that have any intercourse with Great lintain ,
each secretary receiving all letters and addresses fiom
and making all dispatches to, the several princes and
states comprehended in his province. Ireland and the
Plantations are under the direction of the elder secreta¬
ry, who has the southern province, winch also compie-
l7ends France, Italy, Switzerland, Spain, Portugal, and
Turkey, the northern province includes the Low Coun¬
tries, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Poland, and Mus¬
covy Each of the secretaries has an apartment in a
the voyal houses, both for their own accommodation and
their officers ; they have also a table at the king
charge, or else boanl-wages. The two secretaries for
Britain have each two under secretaries and «^ ch f
clerk*, with an uncertain number ot other clerks a
translators, all wholly depending on them. Io the se¬
cretaries of state belong the custody of that ^ J
called the signet, and the direction of two other offices,
.one called the paper-office, and the other ' ^ *
In addition to these, there is a secretary foi the wai
partment, whose office must be temporary. 2. Secre- Secretary
tary of an embassy, a person attending an ambassador, g
for writing dispatches relating to the negociation. 1 hex  
is a great difference between the. secretaries ot an em¬
bassy and the embassador’s secretary the last being a
domestic or menial of the ambassador, and the first a
servant or minister ot the prince. 3. i he secxetaiy
war, an officer of the war office, who has two chief
clerks under him, the last ot which is the secretary s
messenger. There are also secretaries in most ot the
other offices. . q, puv
SECRETION, in the animal economy, bee 1 HY-
siology Index. ,
SECT, a collective term, comprehending all such as
follow the doctrines and opinions of some famous divine,
ph SECTION, in general, denotes a part of a divided
thing, or the division itself. Such particularly, are
the subdivisions of a chapter-, called also paragraphs
and articles: the mark ot a section is
Section, in Geometry, denotes a side or surface of a
body or figure cut off by another-, or the place xihere
lines, planes, &c. cut each other. .
SECTOR, in Geometry, is a part of a circle com¬
prehended between two radii and the arch : or it is a
mixed triangle, formed by two radii and the arch ot a ^
C11 Sector, is also a mathematical instrument, of great
use in finding the proportion between quantities of the
same kind: as between lines and lines, surfaces and sur¬
faces &c. whence the French call it the compass oj pi'O-
portion. The great advantage of the sector above the
common scales, &c. is, that it is made so as to fit all
radii and all scales. By the lines of chords, sines &c.
on the sector, we have lines of chords sines, &c. to any
radius betwixt the length and breadth ol the sector
when open* •
The real inventor of this valuable instrument is un¬
known : yet of so muah merit has the invention appear¬
ed, that it was claimed by Galileo, and disputed by na-
t!°The sector is founded on the fourth proposition of
the sixth book of Euclid ; where it is demonstrated,
that similar triangles have their homologous sides pro¬
portional. An idea of the theory of ^ construction
may be conceived thus. Let the lines AB, AC (1 late Flaw
CCCCLXXVIIL fig. I.) represent the legs ol tbe see-ccccfc
tor; and AD, AE, two equal sections from the centie .
if now the points CB and DE be connected, the lines
CB and DE will he parallel j therefore the triangles
ADE ACB will be similar 5 and consequently the
sides AD, DE, AB, and BC, proportional 5 that is, as
AD : DE : : AB : BC : whence, il AD be the halt,
third, or fourth part of AB -, DE will be a half, third,
or fourth part of CB : and the same holds of all the rest.
If, therefore, AD he the chord, sine, or tangent ot any
number of degrees to the radius Ab ", DE will he ie ^
same to the radius BC. < •„*o(lescriWi
Description of the Sector, I he instrument consi
of two rules or legs, of brass or ivory, or any other mat¬
ter, representing the radii, moveable round an axis or
ioint, the middle of which expresses the centre -,
are drawn on the faces of the rulers several scales, which
may be distinguished into single and double. ^
The double scales, or lines graduated upon the lacesFig.j'
of
<ectoi'
ad
sti-
the
ons on
lector
ines.
SEC f i
of the instrument, and which are to be used as sectoral
J lines, proceed from the centre; and are, I, Two scales
of equal parts, one on each leg, marked ein. or L. j
each of these scales, from the great extensiveness of its
use, is called the line of lines. 2. Two lines of chords
marked cho. or c. 3. Two lines of secants marked
SEC. or s. A line of polygons marked pol. Upon the
other face the sectoral lines are, 1. Two lines of sines
marked sin. or s. 2. Two lines of tangents marked
Tan. or T. 3. Between the line of tangents and sines
there is another line of tangents to a lesser radius, to
supply the defect of the former, and extending from 4 c0
to 7 50, marked t.
Each pair of these lines (except the line of poly¬
gons) is so adjusted as to make equal angles at the
centre 5 and consequently at whatever distance the sec¬
tor be opened, the angles will be always respectively
equal. That is, the distance between 10 and 10 on
the line of lines, will be equal to 60 and 60 on the line
of chords, 90 and 90 on the line of sines, and 45 and
45 on the line of tangents.
Besides the sectoral scales, there are others on each
face, placed parallel to the outward edges, and used as
those of the common plane scale. 1. These are a line
of inches. 2. A line of latitudes. 3. A line of hours.
4. A line of inclination of meridians. 5. A line of
chords. Three logarithmic scales, namely, one of num¬
bers, one of sines, and one of tangents. These are used
when the sector is fully opened, the legs forming one
line (a).
The value of the divisions on most of the lines is de¬
termined by the figures adjacent to them j these pro¬
ceed by tens, which constitute the divisions of the first
order, and are numbered accordingly j but the value of
the divisions on the line of lines, that are distinguished
by figures, is entirely arbitrary, and may represent any
value that is given to them j hence the figures, 1, 2, 3,
4, 8tc. may denote either 10, 20, 30, 40, or 100, 200,
300, 400, and so on.
The line of lines is divided into ten equal parts, num¬
bered 1, 2, 3, to 10 } these may be called divisions of
thefrst order; each of these is-again subdivided into 10
other equal parts, which may be called divisions of the
second order; each of these is divided into two equal
parts, forming divisions of the third order. The divi¬
sions on all the scales are contained between four pa¬
rallel lines ; those of the first order extend to the most
distant j those of the third to the least; those of the
second to the intermediate parallel.
. ^ hen the whole line of lines represents 100, the di¬
visions of the first order, or those to which the figures
are annexed, represent tens ; those of the second order
mnts; those of the third order the halves of these units,
it the whole line represent ten, then the divisions of the
first order are unitsj those of the second tenths: the
thirds twentieths.
In the line of tangents, the divisions to which the
numbers are affixed, are the degrees expressed by those
numbers. Every fifth degree is denoted by a line some-
jF t^an ^ie rest ’ ^etween every number and
aie *0Ur ^visions longer than
VOL. 2V1A. 1 art I. • ^
13 ] SEC
the intermediate adjacent ones, these are whole de- Sector,
greesj the shorter ones, or those of the third order, are ——v—<
30 minutes.
From the centre, to 60 degrees, the line of sines is
divided like the line of tangents, from 60 to 70 ; it is
divided only to every degree, from 70 to 80, to every
two degrees, from 80 to 90 j the division must be esti¬
mated by the eye.
I he divisions on the line of chords are to be estima¬
ted in the same manner as the tangents.
The lesser line of tangents is graduated every two
degrees, from 45 to 50 j but from 50 to 60 to every
degree j from 60 to the end, to half degrees.
The line of secants'from o to 10 is to be estimated
by the eye $ from 20 to 50, it is divided to every two
degrees $ from 50 to 60, to every degree ; from 60 to
the end, to every half degree.
Use of the Line oj Equal Parts on the Sector, i . Division of
To divide a given line into any number of equal parts, a given line
suppose seven. Take the given line in your compasses; b.v t,lc
and setting one foot in a division of equal parts, that0* c<lua*
may be divided by seven, for example 70, whose seventh paitS'
part is 10, open the sector till the other point fall ex¬
actly on 70, in the same line on the other leg. In this
disposition, applying one point of the compasses to 10 in
the same line; shut them till the other fall in 10 in the
the same line on the other leg, and this opening will be
the seventh part of the given line. Note, if the line
to be divided be too long to be applied to the legs of
the sector, divide only one half of one fourth by seven,
and the double or quadruple thereof will be the seventh
part of the whole.
2. lo measure the lines of the perimeter of a poly-To moa-
gon, one of which contains a given number of equalsure 1
parts. Take the given line in your compasses, and setlimctei ot
it parallel, upon the line of equal parts, to the numbera pol3,gOU'
on each leg expressing its length. The sector remain¬
ing thus, set otl the length of each of the other lines
parallel to the former, and the number each of them
falls on will express its length. 6
3. A right line being given, and the number of parts Sn' n-ac-
it contains, suppose 120, to take from it a shorter line,tion.
containing any number of the same parts, suppose 23.
lake the given line in your compasses, open the sector
till the two feet fall on 120 on each leg; then will the
distance between .25 on one leg, and the same number
on the other, give the line required.
4. To multiply by the line of equal parts on the MulJpli-
sector. lake the lateral distance from the centre of the cation,
line to the given multiplicator ; open the sector till
you fit that lateral distance to the parallel of 1 and r,
or 10 and 10, and keep the sector in that disposition ;
then take in the compasses the parallel distance of ti e
multiplicand, which distance, measured laterally on the
same line, will give the product required. Thus, sup¬
pose it were required to find the product of 8 multi¬
plied by 4 : take the lateral distance from the centre
of the line to 4 in your compasses, i. e. place one foot
of the compasses in the beginning of the divisions, and
extend the other along the line to 4. Open the sector
till you fit this lateral distance to the parallel of 1 and
direction's.6 ^ I>laCe<1 ^ d^erent orilers on different sectors, but they may easily be found by these general
Sector.
Division in
general.
SEC [ 11
! or 10 and 10. Then take the parallel distance of 8,
the multiplicand j 1. e. extend the compasses from 8, in
this line, on one leg, to 8 in the same line on the other ,
and that extent, measured laterally, will give the pio-
dU c. To divide by the line of equal parts on the sector.
Extend the compasses laterally from the beginning o
the line to I, and open the sector till you fit that exten
to the parallel of the divisor *, then take the parallel di¬
stance of the dividend, which extent, measured m a late¬
ral direction, will give ! ’
suppose it was required to divide 36 by 4: extend the
compasses laterally, the beginning of the line to 1, and
fit to that extent the parallel of 4, the divisor j then ex¬
tend the compasses parallel, from 36 on one leg 0 3
on the other, and that extent, measured laterally, will
Proportion. ^ 6. ■Proportion by the line of equal Parts*
is the fourth proportional. Example. To find a fouith
proportional to 8, 4, and 6, take the lateral distance of
4, and make it the parallel distance of 8 j then the pa-
jallel distance of 6, extended from the centre, shall
reach to the fourth proportional 3.
In the same manner, a third proportional is found to
two numbers. Thus, to find a third proportional to 8
and 4, the sector remaining as in the former example,
the parallel distance of 4, extended from the centre
shall reach to the third proportional 2. In all these
cases if the number to be made a parallel distance be
too great for the sector, some aliquot part of it is to be
taken, and the answer is to be multiplied by the number
bv which the first number was divided.
" Use of the Line of Chords on the Sector, i. I o open
the sector so as the two lines of chords may make an
angle or number of degrees, suppose 40. lake the c 1-
atancp from the joint to 40, the number of the degrees
proposed, on the line of chords *, open the sector till the
distance from 60 to 60, on each leg, be equal to the
given distance of 40 ; then will the two lines on the sec¬
tor form an angle of 40 degrees, as was leqmred.
2 The sector being opened, to find the degrees ot
its aperture. Take the extent from 60 to 60, and lay
it off on the line of chords from the centre -, the num¬
ber whereon it terminates will show the degrees, &c.
1CT To’lay off any number of degrees upon the cir¬
cumference of a circle. Open the sector till the di¬
stance between 60 and 60 be equal to the radius ol the
given circle-, then take the parallel extent of the chord
of the number of degrees on each leg of the sector, and
lay it off on the circumference of the given circle.—
Hence any regular polygon may be easily inscribed in
tt a given circle. T T*
Une of Use of the Line of Polygons on the Sector. 1. lo
polygon'. Inscribe a regular polygon in a given circle. lake the
semidiameter of the given circle m the compasses, and
adiust it to the number 6, on the line of polygons, on
each leg of the Sector : then, the sector remaining thus
opened, take the distance of the two equal numbers,
expressing the number of sides the polygon is to have -,
e. gr. the distance from 5 to 5 for a pentagon, from 7
to 7 for a heptagon, &c. These distances carried about
Sector.
10
Line of
chords.
4 ] SEC
tie circumference of the circle, will (Me it into so
many equal parts.
2. To describe a regular polygon, e. g. a pentagon,
on a given right line. Take the length of the hue m
the compasses, and apply it to the extent of the mim- ^
her C, C, on the lines of polygons. The sector thus
opened, upon the same lines take the extent from 6 0
6 ; this will be the semidiameter of the circle the po¬
lygon is to he inscribed in. If then, with this dis¬
tance, from the ends of the given line, you describe two
arches of a circle, their intersection will be the oentis
of the circle. . 1 . • 1
o On a right line, to describe an isosceles tnangte,
having the angles at the base double that at the ver¬
tex. Open the sector, till the ends of the given line
fall on 10 and 10 on each leg j then take the distanee
from 6 to 6. This will he the length of the two equal
sides of the triangle. 11
Use of the Lines of Sines, Tangents, and Secants, on Sines, u»;
the Sector. By the several lines disposed on the sec-
tor, we have scales to several radii -, so that having a
length or radius given, not exceeding the length of the
sector when opened, we find the chord, sine, &c
thereto: e. gr. Suppose the chord, sine, or tangent ot
10 degrees, to a radius of 3 inches required y make 3
inches the aperture between 60 and 60, on the lines of
chords of the two legs y then will the same extent reach
from 45 to 45 on the line of tangents, and from 90 to
no on the line of the sines on the other side 5 so that to
whatever radius the line of chords is set, to the same
are all the others set. In this disposition, therefore, it
the aperture between 10 and 10; on the lines of chords
be taken with the compasses, it will give the chord of
10 degrees. If the aperture of 10 and 10 be m like
manner taken on the lines of sines, it will he the sine of
10 degrees. Lastly, if the aperture of 10 and 10 be m
like manner taken on the lines of tangents, it gives the
tangent of 10 degrees.
If the chord, or tangent, of 70 degrees were re¬
quired: for the chord, the aperture of half the arch,
viz. 3 5, must be taken, as before } which distance, re¬
peated twice, gives the chord of 70 degrees, lo find
the tangent of 70 degrees to the same radius, the small
line of tangents must be used, the other only reaching
to 4;: making, therefore, 3 inches the aperture be¬
tween 45 and 45 on the small line -, the extent between
70 and 70 degrees on the same, will he the tangent 0
70 degrees to 3 inches radius. >
To find the secant of an arch, make the given radius
the aperture between o and o on the lines of secants :
then will the aperture of 10 and 10, or 70 and 70, on
the said lines, give the tangent of io° or 70 .
If the converse of any of these thing's were required,
that is, if the radius be required, to which a given line
is the sine, tangent, or secant, it is but making the
given line, if a chord, the aperture on the line of chords
between 10 and 10, and then the sector will stand at
the radius required-, that is, the aperture between 60
and 6o on the said line is the radius. If the given line
were a sine, tangent, or secant, it is hut making it t e
aperture of the given number of degrees j then will the
distance of 90 and 90 on the sines, of 45 and 45 on the
tangents, of c and o on the secants, be the radius.
Sector of an Ellipse, of an Hyperbola, Sfc. is a pan-
;ctor,
iwular.
SEC [ i
resembling the circular sector, being contained by three
1-ines, two of which are radii, or lines drawn from the
- centre of the figure to the curve, and the intercepted arc
or part of that curve.
Sector of a Sphere, is the solid generated by the re¬
volution of the sector of a circle about one of its radii ;
the other radius describing the surface of a cone, and
the circular arc a circular portion of the surface of the
sphere of the same radius. So that the spherical sector
consists of a right cone, and of a segment of the sphere
having the same common base with the cone. Hence
the solid content of it will be found by multiplying the
base or spherical surface by the radius of the sphere, and
taking one third of the product.
Astronomical Sector. See Astronomical Sector.
Dialing Sector. See Dialling.
SECULAR, that which relates to affairs of the pre¬
sent world, in which sense the word stands opposed to
spiritual, ecclesiastical: thus we say secular power, &c.
Secular, is more peculiarly used for a person who
lives at liberty in the world, not shut up in a monastery,
nor bound by vows, or subjected to the particular rules
of any religions community 5 in which sense it stands op¬
posed to regular. The Romish clergy are divided into
Secular and regular, of which the latter are bound by
monastic rules, the former not.
Secular Gaines, in antiquity, solemn games held
among the Romans once in an age. These games last¬
ed three days and as many nights ; during which time
sacrifices were performed, theatrical shews exhibited,
with combats, sports, &c. in the circus. The occasion
of these games, according to Valerius Maximus, was to
stop the progress of a plague. Valerius Publicola was
the first who celebrated them at Rome in the year of
the city, 245. The solemnity was as follows: The
whole world was invited by a herald to a feast which
they had never seen already, nor ever should see again.
Some d ays before the games began, the quindecemviri
in the Capitol and the Palatine tf/mple, distributed to
the people purifying compositions, of various kinds, as
flambeaus, sulphur, &c. From hence the populace
passed to Diana’s temple on the Aventine mount, with
wheat, barley, and oats, as an offering. After this
whole nights were spent in devotion to the Destinies.
When the time of the games was fully come, the people
assembled in the Campus Martins, and sacrificed to Ju¬
piter, Juno, Apollo, Latona, Diana, the Parc*, Ceres,
Pluto, and Proserpine. On the first night of the feast,
the emperor, with the quindecemviri, caused three altars
to be erected on the banks of the Tiber, which they
sprinkled with the blood of three lambs, and then pro¬
ceeded to regular sacrifice. A space was next marked
out for a theatre, which was illuminated with innumer¬
able flambeaus and fires. Here they sung hymns, and
celebrated all kinds of sports. On the day after, havimr
offered victims at the Capitol, they went to the Campus
Martius, and celebrated sports to the honour of Apollo
and Diana. 1 hese lasted till next day, when the noble
matrons, at the hour appointed by the oracle, went to
the Capitol to sing hymns to Jupiter. Ou the third day,
which concluded the solemnity, twenty seven boys, and
as many girls, sung in the temple of Palatine Apollo
hymns and verses in Greek and Latin, to recommend
the city to the protection of those deities whom they
designed particularly to honour by their sacrifices.
15 ]. SEC
The inimitable Carmen Seculare of Horace was com- Secular
posed for this last day, in the Secular Games held by f}
Augustus. Sccundus.
It has been much disputed whether these games were V
held every hundred, or every hundred and ten years.
Valerius Antius, Varro, and Livy, are quoted in sup¬
port of the former opinion : In favour of the latter
may be produced the quindecemviral registers, the
edicts of Augustus, and the words of Horace in the
Secular poem,
Certus undenos decies per annos.
It was a general belief, that the girls who bore a
part in the song should be soonest married; and that
the children who did not dance and sing at the coming
of Apollo, should die unmarried, and at an early period
of life. J 1
Secular Poem, a poem sung or rehearsed at the se¬
cular games . of which kind we have a very fine piece
among the works of Horace, being a sapphic ode at the
end of his epodes.
SECULARIZATION, the act of converting a re¬
gular person, place, or benefice, into a secular one. Al¬
most all the cathedral churches were anciently regular,
that is, the canons were to he religious 5 but thev have
been since secularized. For the secularization of a re¬
gular church, there is required the authority of the pope,
that of the prince, the bishop of the place, the patron’
and even the consent of the people. Religious that
want to be released from their vow, obtain briefs of se¬
cularization from the pope.
SECUNDINES, in Anatomy, the several coats or
membranes wherein the fiaetus is wrapped up in the
mother’s womb; as the chorion and amnios, with tire
placenta, &c.
SECUNDUS, Joannes Nicolaius, an elegant wri¬
ter ot Latin poetry, was born at the Hague in the year
His descent was from an ancient ami honour¬
able family in the Netherlands ; and his father Nicolaus
Everardus, who was born in the neighbourhood of Mid-
dleburg, seems to have been high in the favour of the
emperor Charles V. as he was employed by that monarch
in several stations of considerable importance. We find
him first a member of the grand parliament or council
of Mechelen, afterwards president of the states of Hol¬
land and Zealand at the Hague, and lastly holding a
similar office at Meclielen, where he died, August c
1532, aged 70.
These various employments did not occupy the whole
of Everardus’s time. Notwithstanding the multiplicity
of his business, he found leisure to cultivate letters with
great success, and even to act as preceptor to his own
children, who were five sons and three daughters. They
all took the name of Nicolaii from their father; but on
what account our author was called Secwndus is not
known. It could not be from the order of his birth,
for he was the youngest son. Perhaps the name was
not given him till he became eminent ; and then, ac¬
cording to the fashion of the age, it might have its
rise from some pun, such as his being Poetarmn nemiai
Secundus. Poetry, however, was by no means the pro¬
fession which his father wished him to follow. He in¬
tended him for the law, and when he could no longer
direct his studies himself, placed him under the care of
1 2 Jacobus
SEC [ 116 ]
Seeundus. Jacobus Vale arch s. This man is said to have been every
v v 1 way Well qualified to discharge the important tru
which was committed to him ; and he certain y game
the affection of his pupil, who, in one of his poems,
mentions the death of Valeardus with every appearance
of unfeigned sorrow. Another tutor was soon provi¬
ded •, hut it does not appear that becundus devoted
much of his time to legal pursuits. Poetry and the
sister arts of painting and sculpture had engaged his
mind at a very early period •, and the imagination, on
which these have laid hold, can with difficulty submit
to the dry study of musty civilians, becundus is saic
to have written verses when but ten yea.rs 0 . ’
from the vast quantity which he left behind him, we
have reason to conclude that such writing was his prin¬
cipal employment. He found time, however, to carve
fi(Hires of all his own family, of his mistresses, ol the
emperor Charles V. of several eminent personages o
those times, and of many of his intimate friends j and
in the last edition of his works published by Scnvenus
at Leyden, 1631, there is a print of one of his mis¬
tresses with this inscription round it j Vatis amatoris
Julia sculfta manu. . , , f , . r
Secundus having nearly attained the age of twenty-
one, and being determined, as it would seem, to comply
as far as possible with the wishes of his ffither, quittc
Mechelen, and went to France, where at Bourges, a city
in the Orleanois, he studied the civil law under the cele¬
brated Andreas Alciatus. Alciatus was one of the most
learned civilians of that age 5 but what undoubtedly
endeared him much more to our author was his general
acquaintance with polite literature, and more particular¬
ly his taste in poetry. Having studied a year under
this eminent professor, and taken his degrees, becundus
returned to Mechelen, where he remained only a veiy
few months. In 1533 he went into Spain with warm
recommendations to the count of Nassau and other per¬
sons of high rank; and soon afterwards became secre¬
tary to the cardinal archbishop of Toledo, in a depart¬
ment of business which required no other qualifications
than what he possessed in a very eminent degree, a faci¬
lity in writing with elegance the Latin language. It
was during his residence with this cardinal that he wro e
his Basia, a series of wanton poems, of which the tilth,
seventh, and ninth carmina of Catullus seem to have
given the hint. Secundus was not, however, a servile
imitator of Catullus. His expressions seem to be bor¬
rowed rather from Tibullus and Propertius; and in the
warmth of his descriptions he surpasses every thing that
has been written on similar subjects by Catullus, 1 ibul-
lus, Propertius, C. Callus, Ovid, or Horace.
In 1335 he accompanied the emperor Charles V. to
the siege of Tunis, but gained no laurels as a soldier.
The hardships which were endured at that memorable
sieo-e were but little suited to the soft disposition of a
votary of Venus and the muses } and upon an enterprise
which might have furnished ample matter for an epic
poem, it is remarkable that Secundus wrote nothing
which has been deemed worthy of preservation. Hav¬
ing returned from his martial expedition, ie was sen
by the cardinal to Rome to congratulate the pope upon
the success of the emperor’s arms •, but was taken so
ill on the road, that he was not able to complete his
journey. He was advised to seek, without a moment s
SEC
delay, the benefit of his native air 5 and that happily Secundu,
recovered him. . • 1 _ nc SecvtaiS
Having now quitted the service of he archbishop of  ^
Toledo, Secundus was employed in the same office o
secretary by the bishop of Utrecht 5 and so much had he
hitherto distinguished himself by the classical elegance
of his compositions, that he was soon called upon to fill
the important post of private Latin secretary to the em¬
peror, who was then in Italy. This was the most ho¬
nourable office to which our author was ever appointed J
but before he could enter upon it death put a stop to his
career of glory. Having arrived at Saint Amand in the
district oi Tourney, in order to meet, upon business, wi h
the bishop of Utrecht, he was on the 8th of October
1^6 cutoff by a violent fever, in the very flower of
his age, not having quite completed his twenty-fifth
year. He was interred in the church of the Benedic¬
tines, of which his patron, the bishop, ^ abbot ox pro¬
abbot; and his near relations erected to his memory a
marble monument, with a plain Latin inscription.
The works of Secundus have gone through several
editions, of which the best and most copious is that of
Scriverius already mentioned. It consists of Julia, A <?g.
lib. i. ; Amores, Eleg. lib. 11. $ AD Diversos A eg.
lib iii.; Basia, styled by the editor incomparabihs et,
divinus prorsus liber; Efigrammata;, Odarum liber
unus; Efistolarum liber unus Elegwca; Epistola-
nmi liber alter, heroico carmine scriptus; IUNERUM liber
unus; Sylvte et Carminum jragmenta; Edemata
nonnulla fratrum; Itineraria SeciinAi tna, &c.j
Epistola: totidem, soluta oratwne. Of these works it
would be superfluous in us to give any character after
the ample testimonies prefixed to them of Lehus Creg.
Guraldus, the elder Scaliger, Theodore Be*a, and others
equally celebrated in the republic of etters, who all
speak of them with rapture. A French critic, indeed,
after having affirmed that the genius of Secundus never
produced any thing which was not excellent in its kind,
adds, with too much truth, Mais sa muse estunpeu trap
lascive. For this fault our author makes the following
apology in an epigram addressed to the grammarians :
Carmina cur spargam cunctis lasciva jibelhs,
Queritis ? Insulsos arceo grammaticos.
Fortia magnanimi canerem si Cmsaris arma,
Factave Divorum religiosa virum : _ ^
Quot miser exciperemque notas, patererque lituras .
Quot fierem teneris supplicium puens ?
At nunc uda mihi dictant cum Basia carmen,
Pruriet et versu mentula multa meo:.
Me leget innuptae juvenis placiturus amicae,
Et placitura nova blanda puella viro :
Et quemeunque juvat lepidorum de grege vatum
Otia festivis ludere deliciis.
Lusibus et laetis procul hinc absistite, SALVI
Grammatici, injustas et cohibite manus.
Ne puer, ab malleis caesus lacrymansque lepons
Duram forte meis ossibus optet humum.
SECURIDACA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class diadelphia. See Botany Index.
SECUTORES, a species of gladiators among the
Romans, whose arms were a helmet, a shield, and a
sword or a leaden bullet. They were armed in this man¬
ner, because they had to contend with the retiarii, who
Seditioa
S E D
sjlutores were dressed in a short tunic, bore a three-pointed lance
H in their left hand, and a net in their right. The reti-
,‘{iUlon-, arius attempted to cast his net over the head of the se-
cutor $ and if he succeeded, he drew it together and slew
him with his trident: but if he missed his aim, he im¬
mediately betook himself to flight till he could find a
second opportunity of entangling his adversary with his
net. He was pursued by the secutor, who endeavoured
to dispatch him in his flight.
Secutores was also a name given to such gladiators as
took the place ol those killed in the combat, or who
engaged the conqueror. This post was usually taken
by lot.
SEDAN is a town in France, in the department of
the Ardennes, in E. Long. 4. 45. N. Lat. 49. 46. This
is the capital of a principality of the same name, situated
on the Maese, six miles from Bouillon, and fifteen from
Charleville. Its situation on the frontiers of the territory
of Liege, Namur, and Limburg, formerly rendered it
one of the keys of the kingdom. It is extremely well
fortified. The castle is situated on a rock, surrounded
with large towers and strong walls ; here you see a
most beautiful magazine of ancient arms. The gover¬
nor’s palace is opposite the castle. From the ramparts
you have a most agreeable prospect of the Maese and
the neighbouring country. Though the town is but
small, yet it is full of tradesmen, as tanners, weavers,
dyers, &c. the manufacture of fine cloth in this city
employing a great number of hands. The principality
of Sedan formerly belonged to the duke of Bouillon,
who was obliged in the beginning of the last century to
resign it to the crown. It contained 10,544 inhabitants
in 1800.
SEDAN-chair is a covered vehicle for carrying a
single person, suspended by two poles, and borne by two
men, hence denominated chairmen. They were first
introduced in London in 1634, when Sir Sanders Dun-
comb obtained the sole privilege to use, let, and hire a
number of the said covered chairs for fourteen years.
SEDGMOOR, a large and rich tract of land in
Somersetshire, memorable for the defeat of the duke of
Monmouth, in 1685. It lies between Somerton and
Bridgewater.
SEDITION, among civilians, is used for a factious
commotion of the people, or an assembly of a number
of citizens without lawful authority, tending to disturb
the peace and order of the society. This offence is of
different kinds: some seditions more immediately threat¬
ening the supreme power, and the subversion of the
present constitution of the state ; others tending only
towards the redress of private grievances. Among the
Romans, therefore, it was variously punished, according
as its end and tendency threatened greater mischief.
See lib. i. Cod. de Seditiosis, and Mat. de Crimin. lib. ii.
n. 5. de Lcesa Majestate. In the punishment, the authors
and ringleaders were justly distinguished from those who,
with less wicked intention, joined and made part of the
multitude.
The same distinction holds in the law of England
and in that of Scotland. Some kinds of sedition in
England amount to high treason, and come within the
stat. 25 Edw. III. as levying war against the king.
And several seditions are mentioned in the Scotch acts
ot parliament as treasonable. Baijne's Crim. Law of
cotan . p. 33, 34. The law of Scotland makes riot-
S E D
ous and tumultuous assemblies a species of sedition.
But the law theie, as well as m England, is now chiefly ,,
regulated by the riot act, made 1 Geo. I. only it is to be SedW*
observed, that the proper officers in Scotland, to make ' 
the proclamation thereby enacted, are sheriffs, stewards,
and bailies of regalities, or their deputies; magistrates
of royal boroughs, and all other inferior judges and ma¬
gistrates ; high and petty constables, or other officers of
the peace, in any county, stewartry, city, or town. And
in that part ol the island, the punishment of the offence
is any thing short of death which the judges, in their
discretion, may appoint.
SEDA11\ ES, in Medicine, a general name for
such medicines as weaken the powers of nature, such as
blood-letting, cooling salts, purgatives, &c.
SE-DEIENDENDO, in Law, a plea used for him
that is charged with the death of another, by alleging
that he was under a necessity of doing what he did in
his own defence: as that the other assaulted him in such
a manner, that if he had not done what he did, he must
have been in hazard of Ins own life. See Homicide'
and Murder.
SEDIMENT, the settlement or dregs of any thing
or that gross heavy part of a fluid body which sinks to
the bottom of the vessel when at rest.
SEDLEY, Sir Charles, an English poet and wit
the son of Sir John Sedley of Aylesford in Kent, ivas
born about the year 1639. At the restoration he came
to London to join the general jubilee ; and commen¬
ced wit, courtier, poet, and gallant. He was so much
admuetl, that he became a kind of oracle amono* the
poets ; which made King Charles tell him, thatT Na¬
ture had given him a patent to be Apollo’s viceroy.
The productions of his pen were some plays, and several
delicately tender amorous poems, in which the softness
of the verses was so exquisite, as to be called by the
duke of Buckingham Sedley's witchcraft. “ There
were no marks of genius or true poetry to be descried,
(say the authors of the Biographia Britannica) ; the
art wholly consisted in raising loose thoughts and lewd
desires, without giving any alarm ; and so the poison
worked gently and irresistibly. Our author, we may
be sure, did not escape the infection of his own art, or
rather was first tainted himself before he spread the in¬
fection to others.”—A very ingenious writer of the pre¬
sent day, however, speaks much more favourably of Sir
Charles Sedley’s writings. “ He studied human na¬
ture ; and was distinguished for the art of making him- -
self agreeable, particularly to the ladies; for the verses
of Lord Rochester, beginning with, Sedley has that pre¬
vailing gentle art, &c. so often quoted, allude not to his
writings, but to his personal address.” {Lan^honi's
Effusions, &e.]—But while he thus grew in reputation
for wit and in favour with the king, he grew poor and
debauched: his estate was impaired, and his morals were
corrupted. One of his frolics, however, being followed
by an indictment and a heavy fine, Sir Charles took a
more serious turn, applied himself to business, and be¬
came a member of parliament, in which he was a fre¬
quent speaker. We find him in the house of com¬
mons in the reign of James II. whose attempts upon
the constitution he vigorously withstood ; and he was
very active in bringing on the revolution. This was
thought more extraordinary, as he had received favours
from James. But that prince had taken a fancy to Sir
Charles’*.
[ 117 f
S E D
[ ii
Sedley
ii .
Seduction
Clnirles’s daughter (though it seems she was not vei^
handsome), and, in consequence of Ins intrigues with
her, he created Miss Sedley countess of Dorchester.
' This honour, so far from pleasing, greatly shocked Sir
Charles. However libertine he himself had been, yet
he could not bear the thoughts of his daughter s dis¬
honour; and with regard to her exaltation, he on y
considered it as rendering her more conspicuously in¬
famous. He therefore conceived a hatred lor the king,
and from this, as well as other motives, readily joined
to disposses him of the throne. A witty saying ol
Sedley’s, on this occasion, is recorded. 1 hate in-
gratitude, (said Sir Charles) 5 and therefore as the
king has made my daughter a countess, I will endeavour
to make Ids daughter a queen •” meaning the princess
Mary, married to the prince of Orange, who dispossess¬
ed James of the throne at the revolution. He lived to
the beginning of Queen Anne’s reign •, and his works
were printed in two vols. Bvo. 1719’
SEDR, or Sedre, the high-priest of the sect ot A
among the Persians. The sedre is appointed by the
emperor of Persia, who usually confers the dignity on
his ^nearest relation. The jurisdiction of the sedre ex¬
tends over all effects destined for pious purposes over
all mosques, hospitals, colleges, sepulchres, and mo¬
nasteries. He disposes of all ecclesiastical employments,
and nominates all the superiors of religious houses. His
decisions in matters of religion are received as so many
infallible oracles : he judges of all criminal matters in
his own house without appeal. His authority is ba¬
lanced by that of the mudsitelud, or hrst theologue ot
SEDUCTION, is the act of tempting and drawing
aside" from the right path, and comprehends every en¬
deavour to corrupt any individual ot the human race.
This is the import of the word in its largest and most
general sense 5 but it is commonly employed to express
the act of tempting a virtuous woman to pait with hei
The seducer of female innocence practises the same
stratagems of fraud to get possession of a woman s per¬
son, that the swindler employs to get possession ot his
neighbour’s goods or money j yet the law of honour,
which pretends to abhor deceit, and which impels its
votaries to murder every man who presumes, however
justly, to suspect them of fraud, or to question their
veracity, applauds the address of a successful intrigue
thougl/it be well known that the seducer could not
have obtained his end without swearing to the truth ol
a thousand falsehoods, and calling upon God to witness
promises which he never meant to tulhl. _
The law of honour is indeed a very capricious rule,
which accommodates itself to the pleasures am conve¬
niences of higher life J but the law of the land, which
is enacted for the equal protection of high and low,
may be supposed to view the guilt of seduction with a
more impartial eye. Yet for this offence, even the laws
of this kingdom have provided no other punishment
than a pecuniary satisfaction to the injured lamilv j
which, in England, can be obtained only by one of the
quaintest fictions in the world, by the father s bringing
his action against the seducer lor the loss of las daugh¬
ter’s service during her pregnancy and nurtering. bee
Paley’s Moral Philosophy, Book III. Bart 111. Chap. 3.
The moralist, however, who estimates the merit or
8 ] S E I)
demerit of actions, not by laws of human appointmetit, Seduction,
but by their general consequences as established by fl'P-v—1
laws of nature, must consider the seducer as a cnmina
of the deepest guilt. In every civilized country, and in
many countries where civilization has made but small
progress, the virtue of women is collected as it were in¬
to a single point, which they are to guard aoove all
things, as that on which their happiness and reputation
wholly depend. At first sight this may appear a capri¬
cious regulation •, but a moment’s reflection will con¬
vince us of the contrary. In the married state so much
confidence is necessarily reposed m the fidelity ol wo¬
men to the beds of their husbands, and evils so great
result from the violation of that fidelity, that whatever
contributes in any degree to its preservation, must be
agreeable to him who, in establishing the laws of na-
turet intended them to be subservient to the real happi¬
ness of all his creatures. But nothing contributes so
much to preserve the fidelity of wives to their husbands
as the impressing upon the minds of women the highest
veneration for the virtue of chastity. She who, when
unmarried, has been accustomed to grant favours to dif¬
ferent men, will not find it easy, if indeed possio.e, to
resist afterwards the allurements of variety. It is there¬
fore a wise institution, and agreeable to the will of Him
who made us, to train up women so as that they may-
look upon the loss of their chastity as the most disgrace¬
ful of all crimes : as that which sinks them in the orde r
of society, and robs them of all their value. In this
liaht virtuous women actually look upon the loss ot
chastity. The importance of that virtue has been so
deeply impressed upon their minds, and is so closely as¬
sociated with the principle of honour, that tney canno
think but with abhorrence upon the very deed by which
it is" lost. He therefore who by fraud and falsehood
persuades the unsuspecting girl to deviate in one instance
from the honour of the sex, weakens in a great degree
her moral principle •, and if he reconcile her to a repe¬
tition of her crime, he destroys that principle entirely,
as she has been taught to consider all other virtues as
inferior to that of chastity. Hence it is that the hearts
of prostitutes are generally steeled against the misenes
of their fellow-creatures j that they lend their aid to
the seducer in his practices upon other gins •, that they
lie and swear and steal without compunction ; and that
too many of them hesitate not to commit murder it it
can serve any selfish purpose of their own.
The loss of virtue, though the greatest that man or
woman can sustain, is not the only injury which the
seducer brings on the girl whom he deceives. ie
cannot at once reconcile herself to prostitution, or even
to the loss of character ; and while a sense of shame re¬
mains in her mind, the misery which she suffers must be
exquisite. She knows that she has forfeited what in
the female character is most valued by both sexes; and
she must be under the perpetual dread of a discoveiy.
She cannot even confide in the honour of her seducer,
who may reveal her secret in a fit of drunkenness, am
thus rob her of her fame as well as of her virtue •, am
while she is in this state of anxious uncertainty, the
agony of her mind must be insupportable. J hat it is
so in fact, the many instances ot child murder by unmar¬
ried women of every rank, leave us no room to don t.
The affection of a mother to her new-born child is one
of the most unequivocal and strongest instincts in human
nature
S luction
S E D [ I
nature (see Instinct) j and nothing short of the ex¬
tremity of distress could prompt any one so far to op¬
pose her nature as to embrue her hands in the blood of
her imploring infant.
Even this deed of horror seldom prevents a detec¬
tion of the mother’s frailty, which is indeed commonly
discovered, though no child has been the consequence
of her intrigue. He who can seduce is base enough to
betray 5 and no woman can part with her honour, and
retain any well-grounded hope that her amour shall be
kept secret. The villain to whom she surrendered will
glory in his victory, if it was with difficulty obtained ;
and if she surrendered at discretion, her own behaviour
will reveal her secret. Her reputation is then irretrie¬
vably lost, and no future circumspection will be of the
smallest avail to recover it. She will be shunned by the
virtuous part of her own sex, and treated as a mere in
strument of pleasure by the other. In such circum¬
stances she cannot expect to be married with advantage.
She may perhaps be able to captivate the heart of a
heedless youth, and prevail upon him to unite his fate
to her’s before the delirium of his passion shall give him
time for reflection ; she may be addressed by a man who
is a stranger to her story, and married while he has no
suspicion of her secret 5 or she may be solicited by one
of a station inferior to her own, who, though acquaint¬
ed with every thing that has befallen her, can barter the
delicacy of wedded love for some pecuniary advantage ;
but from none of these marriages can she look for hap¬
piness. The delirium which prompted the first will
soon vanish, and leave the husband to the bitterness of
his own reflections, which can hardly fail to produce
cruelty to the wife. Of the secret, to which, in the
second case, the lover was a stranger, the husband will
soon make a discovery, or at least find room for har¬
bouring strong suspicions ; and suspicions of having been
deceived in a point so delicate have hitherto been uni¬
formly the parents of misery. In the third case, the
man married her merely for money, of which having
got the possession, he has no farther inducement to treat
her with respect. Such are some of the consequences
of seduction, even when the person seduced has the good
fortune to get afterwards a husband ; but this is a for¬
tune which few in her circumstances can reasonably ex¬
pect. By far the greater part of those who have been
defrauded of their virtue by the arts of the seducer sink
deeper and deeper into guilt, till they become at last
common prostitutes. The public is then deprived of
their service as wives and parents ; and instead of con¬
tributing to the population of the state, and to the sum
of domestic felicity, these outcasts of society become
seducers in their turn, corrupting the morals of every
young man whose appetites they can inflame, and of
every young woman whom they can entice to their own
practices.
All this complication of evil is produced at first by
arts which, if employed to deprive a man of his pro¬
perty would subject the offender to the execration of
ns fellow-subjects, and to an ignominious death : but
w n e je rorger of a bill is pursued with relentless ri-
gour by the ministers of justice, and the swindler load¬
ed wuh universal reproach, the man who by fraud and
,b?eif r entlCeC a"innocent SIrl ^ gratify his de-
lHf.a. the e^,enf her virtue, and thus introduced
mt0 a Path which infallibly lead to her own
19 ] SEE
ruin, as well as to repeated injuries to the public at Seduction
large, is not despised by his own sex, and is too often
caressed even by the virtuous part of the other. Yet Seeds,
the loss of property may be easily repaired ; the loss of
honour is irreparable ! It is vain to plead in allevia¬
tion ol this guilt, that women should be on their guard
against the arts of the seducer. Most unquestionably
they should ; hut arts have been used which hardly any
degree of caution would have been sufficient to coun¬
teract. It may as well be said that the trader should
he on his guard against the arts of the forger, and ac¬
cept of no bill without previously consulting him in
whose name it is written. Gases, indeed, occur in
trade, in which this caution would be impossible ; but
he must be little acquainted with the workings of the
human heart, who does not know that situations like¬
wise occur in life, in which it is equally impossible for
a girl of virtue and tenderness to resist the arts of the
man who has completely gained her affections.
The mentioning of this circumstance leads us to con¬
sider another species of seduction, which, though not so
highly criminal as the former, is yet far removed from
innocence ; we mean the practice which is too prevalent
among young men of fortune of employing every art
in their power to gain the hearts of heedless girls whom
they resolve neither to marry nor to rob of their ho¬
nour. Should a man adhere to the latter part of this
resolution, which is more than common fortitude can
always promise for itself, the injury which he does to
the object of his amusement is yet very great, as he
laises hopes of the most sanguine kind merely to disap¬
point them, and diverts her affections perhaps for ever
fiom such men as, had they been fixed on one of them,
might have rendered her'completely happy. Disap¬
pointments of this kind have sometimes been fatal to
the unhappy girl; and even when they have neither de¬
prived her of life, nor disordered her reason, they have
often kept her wholly from marriage, which, whatever
it be to a man, is that from which every woman ex¬
pects her chief happiness. We cannot therefore con¬
clude this article moi’e properly than with warning our
female readers not to give up their hearts hastily to men
whose station in life is much higher than their own ;
and we heg leave to assure every one of them, that the
man who solicits the last favour under the most solemn
promise of a subsequent marriage, is a base seducer,
who prefers a momentary gratification of his own to her
honour and happiness through life, and has no intention
to fulfil his promise. Or, if he should by any means
he compelled to fulfil it, she may depend upon much ill
treatment in return for her premature compliance with
his base desires.
SEDUM, Orpine, a genus of plants belonging to
the decandria class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 13th order, Succulent#;. See Botany Index.
SEED, in Physiology, a substance prepared by na¬
ture for the reproduction and conservation of the species
both in animals and plants. See Botany and Physi¬
ology.
SEEDLINGS, among gardeners, denote such roots
of gilliflowers, &c. as come from seed sown. Also
the young tender shoots of any plants that are newly
sown. ^
SEEDS, Preservation of, in a state fit for vege¬
tation, is a matter of great and general importance, be-
Seeds'
!1
Seeks.
SEE C
cause, if it be possible to accomphs]' it, svesbail tb'is be
enabled to rear many useful plants in one country w nc
are there unknown, being indigenous only in others at
v a great distance from it. .
£ gentleman infoims us, that many years ago he ob¬
served some seeds which had got accidentally among rai¬
sins being such as are raised in England with diihcultj,
after being sent from abroad in the usual manner, xle
sowed them in pots within a framing; and as everyone
of them grew, he sent orders to his sons, who were a
ItTmc^brLd, to pock up all kinds of seeiU .hey
could procure, in absorbent paper, and send
them surrounded by raisins, and others by brown moist
suo-ar; concluding, that the preservation of the former
seeds had been owing to a peculiarly favourable state o
the moisture thus afforded them. He likewise cone tided
that, as many of our common seeds, such a.s cloVer’
charlock, &c'. would lie dormant for ages within the
earth, well preserved for vegetation whenever they were
thrown to its surface, and exposed to the influence o
the atmosphere, so likewise might these foreign seeds
be equally preserved, at least for many months, by the
kindly covering and genial moisture afforded th
sugar or raisins. This opinion was fully verified as not
one in twenty of them failed to vegetate, ^^e the
same species of seeds sent home m common parcels alo g
with them, did not vegetate at all Hnvmg examined
them prior to their being committed to the earth, he ob
served^ that there was a prevailing dryness m the la“er’
while the former looked healthy and tresh, not being m
the smallest degree infested by insects, as was the case
With the others. It has been repeatedly tried to convey
seeds closed up in bottles, but this method has failed of
success, alarger proportion of air, as well as a P™perstate
of moisture, perhaps being necessary. It may be req
site to observe, that no difference was made in t
package of the seeds, respecting their being kept in
busks, pods, &c. so as to give those preserved in raisins
or sugar any advantage over the others, the w uole being
* Tmnsac- scnt equally guarded by their natural teguments
J'om* SEEDY, in the brandy trade, a term used by the
Sockti of dealers to denote a fault that is found in severa parcels
0f French brandy, which renders them unsaleable. J i
French suppose 'that these brandies obtain the flavour
Which they express by this name from weeds that grow
among the vines from whence the wine of which this
brandy is pressed was made. . ,
SEEING, the perceiving of external objects by
means of the eye. For an account of the organs of sight,
and the nature of vision, see Anatomy and Optics
.SEEKS, a religious sect settled at Patna, and so cal¬
led from a word contained in one of the commandments
of their founder, which signifies learn thou. In books
giving an account of oriental sects and oriental customs,
we find mention made both of Seeks and Seiks ; and we
are strongly inclined to think that the same tnbe is
meant to be denominated by both words. If so, differ¬
ent authors write very differently of their principles an
manners. ’NVe have already related something of the cha¬
racter of the Seiks under the article Hindoos ; but in
the Asiatic Researches, Mr Wilkins gives a much more
amiable account of the Seeks, which we lay before our
reader with pleasure.
Seek*
Arts,
vol. xvi.
j 20 ] b jl -c.
Mussulmans and the worshippers of Brahma; and,limb
our author’s account of them, must be an amiable peo¬
ple He asked leave to enter into their chapel: i hey
said it was a place of worship, open to all men, but in¬
timated that he must take off his shoes. On complying
with this ceremony, he Was politely conducted into the
hall, and seated upon a carpet in the midst of the assem¬
bly. The whole building forms a square ol about 40
feet. The hall is in the centre, divided from four other
apartments l.y wooden arches, upon pillars of the same
materials. The walls above the arches were hung with
European looking-glasses in gilt frames, and with pic¬
tures. On the left hand, as one enters, is the chancel,
which is furnished with an altar covered with cloth ot
gold, raised a little above the ground in a declining po¬
sition. About it were several flower-pots and rose-water
bottles, and three urns to receive the donations ot tlie
charitable. On a low desk, near the altar, stood a
great book, of folio size, from which some portions are
daily read in the divine service. W hen notice was
given that it was noon, the congregation arrange d them¬
selves upon the carpet on each side of the hall. ti>e
great book and desk were brought from the altar, and
placed at the opposite extremity. An old silver haired
man kneeled down before the desk, with his lace to¬
wards the altar, and by him sat a man with a drum,
and two or three with cymbals. The book was now
opened, and the old man began to chant to tae time ot
the instruments, and at the conclusion of every vtrse
most of the congregation joined chorus in a response,
with countenances exhibiting great marks of joy.
tones were not harsh ; the time was quick; and Mr il-
kins learned that the subject was a hymn in praise of the
unity, omnipresence, and omnipotence of the Deity.
The hymn concluded, the whole company got up and
presented their faces, with joined hands, towards the al¬
tar in the attitude of prayer. The prayer was a sort ot
litany pronounced by a young man in a loud and dis¬
tinct voice; the people joining, at certain periods, in
a general response. This prayer was followed by a
short blessing from the old man, and an invitation to the
assembly to partake of a friendly feast. A share was
offered to Mr Wilkins, who was too polite to refuse it.
It was a kind of sweetmeat composed of sugar and
flour mixed up with clarified butter. They were next
served with a few sugar plums; and thus ended tire
feast and ceremony. ,
In the course of conversation Mr W ilkms learnea
that the founder of this sect was Naneek Sah, who lived
about 400 years ago ; who left behind him a book,
composed by himself in verse, containing the doctrines
he had established ; that this book teaches, that there is
but one God, filling all space, and pervading all mat¬
ter ; and that there will be a day of retribution, when
virtue will be rewarded, and vice punished. (Our au¬
thor forgot to ask in what manner). It torbids murder,
theft, and such other deeds as are by the majority 0
mankind esteemed crimes, and inculcates the practice
of all the virtues ; but, particularly, a universal philan¬
thropy and hospitality to strangers and travellers. It not
only commands universal toleration, but forbids disputes
with those of another persuasion. If any one show a
sincere inclination to be admitted among them, any five
or more Seeks being assembled in any place, even on
.1 « • 1  it J i- il.„ ok/iT. nrliere sweet-
- or more oeeivs ueuig hsschiuicu m —»
*The"Selfare"'sect distiagmshed both from the the highway, they send to the first shop where sweet-
s E G [i
Seeks, nieata are sold, and procure a very small quantity of’ a
  ? 9 9  L  “ ^ j ^»*ic*i* VIrvii ti l. > VJ1 ct
'galien particular kind called bata a (Mr Wilkins does not lell
' v ' us what it is composed), which having diluted in
pure water, they sprinkle some of it on the body and
eyes of the proselyte, whilst one of the best instructed
repeats tq him the chief canons of their faith, and ex¬
acts from him a solemn promise to abide by them the
rest of his life. They offered to admit Mr Wilkins into
their society j but he declined the honour, contenting
himself with their alphabet, which they told him to
guard as the apple of his eye, as it was a sacred charac¬
ter. Mr Wilkins finds it but little different from she
Dewanagari. The language itself is a mixture of Per¬
sian, Arabic, and Shanscrit, grafted upon the provin¬
cial dialect of Punjab, which is a kind of Hindowee,
or, as we commonly call it, Moot's.
SEGAL T EN, a large island separated from the coast
of Chinese Tartary by a narrow channel. It is called
Tehoka by the natives, and Oku-Jessu bv the Chinese.
It is situated between 46° and 540 N. Lat. j but its
breadth from east to west is unknown. The frigates un¬
der the command of Perouse came to anchor in different
bays ; to the finest of which, in 48° 59' N. Lat. and
140° 32' £. Long, from Paris, the French commodore
gave the name of Baie d’Estaing.
Segalien is well wooded, and mountainous towards
the centre, but flat and level along the coast, the soil of
which is peculiarly favourable to agriculture ; and vege¬
tation is extremely vigorous. The whole surface is al¬
most covered with forests of pine, birch, oak, and wil¬
low trees : and the seas, rivers, and brooks, abound with
excellent salmon and trout. In general, the weather is
mild and foggy j and the inhabitants are healthy and
strong, and many of them live to an extreme old age.
The presents received by the natives from the French,
were only valued in proportion to their utility. Ther
make use of looms, whicii are complete instruments,
though small. The inhabitants in general do not exceed
five feet in height, although some of the tallest measure
about five feet four inches. Their countenances are ani¬
mated and agreeable ; their cheeks are large, their nose
rounded at the extremity ; they have strong voices, and
rather thick lips, which are of a dull red.
The women are not so tall as the men, but of a more
rounded and delicate form, with dresses nearly similar*
their upper lip is tattoed all over of a blue colour; the
hair ot their head is black, smooth, and of a moderate
strength, worn about six inches long behind, and they
cut it into a brush on the top of their head and over the
temples. They wear surtoutsof skin or quilted nankeen
which reach to the calf of the leg, and sometimes
lower, by which the use of drawers is in a great mea¬
sure rendered unnecessary. They all wear girdles, like
the lower orders among the Chinese, from which a
kmte is suspended as a defence against the bears, and a
number of small pockets for holding their flint and steel,
pipe and box of tobacco, for they are very great smok-
n? U Jrr 1 arC Sma11 ‘n ProPortion to the number
they Ttai,n’ W Mlfficient t0 defend them
agamst the ram and other inclemencies of the atmo-
? h^00,f ConsI,st.S io< lined planes, from
10 to 12 fi et high at their union, and three or four on
8 bread:h ^ ,h£ rn“fls ““-1 i>s
Vo^'xrxTpa'n r!'°n 1,ots in cooking’als,>
$
21] S E G
vessels made of wood and birch bark, of different forms
and workmanship. They have two meals a-dav, the
one at noon, and the other in the evening. Each fa¬
mily has its own hunting andAishmg implements, and
their arms are bows, javelins, and a kind of spontoon,
which last is employed in hunting the bear.
The only domestic animals are dogs, of a middling
size, with shaggy hair, pricked ears, and a long sharp
muzzle, with a loud but not savage cry.
I be people of Segalien are of a mild and unsuspicious
disposition, and appear to hold a commercial intercourse
wi the Chinese through the medium of the Mantchou
Ta: iars, with die Russians to the north ol their island,
and the Japanese to the south ; but the articles of trade
consist only of a few furs and whale oil.
SEGEBERG, a town of Germany, in the duchy of
Holstein, with a castle standing 011 a high mountain,
consisting of limestone, large quantities of which are
carried to Hamburg and Lubeck. It belongs to Den¬
mark, and is seated 011 the river Treve, in E. Long. 10.
9. N. Lat. 54. o.
r.Di iN, a strong town of Lower Hungary', in
the county of kzongrad, with a castle. The Imperia-
lists took it from the Turks in 1686. It is seated at
the confluence of the rivers Tesse and Masroch, in E.
Long. 20. 35. N. Lat. 46. 28.
SEGMENT of a Circle, in Geometry, is that part
of the circle contained between a chord and an arch of
the same circle.
SEGMENTS, Line of, two particular lines ou
Gunter’s sector. They lie between the lines of sines
and superficies, and are numbered, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.
They represent the diameter of a circle, so divided into
ICO parts, that a right line drawn through these parts,
and perpendicular to the diameter, shall cut the circle
into two segments, the greater of which shall have the
same proportion to the whole circle, as the parts cut off'
have to ico.
SEGNA, a city of Croatia, belonging to the house
of Austria, and seated on the coast of the gulf of Ve¬
nice. It tvas formerly a p ice of strength and great
importance; but it has suffered many calamities, and
its inhabitants at present do not amount to 7000. In
the beginning of this century it sent 50 merchant ships
tosea; but die inconveniency of its situation and badness
of its harbour, in which the sea is never calm, discou¬
raged navigation, and Segna has now very few ships be¬
longing to it. Among the customs of the Segnans, Mr
Fortis mentions one relative to the dead, which for its
singularity may he worthy of notice.
Ail the relations and friend- of the family go to Fortis's
kiss the corpse, by way of taking leave, before burial. Travels itu
Each ot them uncovers the tace, over which a hand-^0
kerchief is spread, more or less rich according to thetia'
family ; having kissed the dead person, everyone throws
another handkerchief over the face ; all which remain
to the heirs, and sometimes there are 20, 30 and more
at this ceremony. Some throw all these lia-.dkerci'.'efs
into the grave with the corpse ; and this, in former
times, was the general custom ; but then they were rich
T his seems to have ueen brought into use as a substitute
for the ancient vasa lachrymatoria.” E. Long. 1 c. 21.
N. Lat. 45. 22.
SEGNI, an ancient town of Italy, in the Campagna
Q of
S E G [ 12
of Rome, with a bishop’s see, ami tie title of .lucV-
It is said that organs weve first invented £«• *
seated on a mountain. E. Long. 13- 15* ^ 4,
1 SEGO, the metropolis of the kmgdmn o, Lambarr
•n Africa on the banks ot the Niger, in N. Lat. 14. 4-
and W Long. 2. 1. It consists of four distinct towns,
two on the northern bank of the river, called Sego
Korro, ami Sego Boo ; and two 'lie '“"nm
called Sego Soo Korro,‘and Sego See Kono, a.l s
rounded with lofty mud walls, and the houses are cou
structed of clay, several of them two stories high, and
eve. white-washed. Mosques are to he seen m every
quarter, and the streets, though narrow are sufitc ent y
broad for every useful purpose, "pfrfri.;!,,.
are wholly unknown. Accord,n? to Mt
habitants of Sego amount to 30,000 j and it is tl e con
stint i^idence'of the king of Bambarra, a considerable
part of whose revenue arises from the fare given by pa. -
senders for crossing the river. I he people, however,
are^not so hospitahle as in many other African towns, as
the Moors are here very numerous, whose bigotiy icn-
trs them the implacable enemies of every white man, if
mwnected of being a Christian. _ „ . .
^ Mr Park being therefore prohibited from ivmg
Seoo, resided for three days Aran adjacent village, ar^
v-as dismissed on the fourth, after receiving 5000 kow-
'•es from the king, to enable him to buy provisions in the
course of his journey •, and although it amounted on y o
° sterling, so very cheap were the necessaries of Ine
h? Batnbarra, that he found it sufficient to procure pro¬
visions for himself, and corn for his horse, tor not w wc
SEGOIPBE, a town of Spain, in the f
Valencia, with the title of a duchy, and a bishop s see.
TV H seated on the side of a hill, between the mountains,
iu soil very fertile in corn and wine, and where there
nre quarries'of fine marble. It was taken fr°m ^
Moors in 1 24 r, and the Romans thought it worth their
while to carry some of the marble to Rome. A v. Long.
C* SEGOVIA^ an ancient citv of Spain, of great power
in the time of the Caesars, is built upon two hills near
the banks of the Arayda in Old Castile. W. Long. 3.
48. N. Lat. 41. o. It is still a bishop s see and is di¬
stinguished for some venerable remains of antiqui y. I
the vear 1 <25 the city contained 3002 families, bm ac-
Uie A A A , ,r. •„! ,i,;<ar:(« rtn not-now exceed
i 1 vS E G
arches to the reservoir in the town, its length is 2400 SegovK
Spanish feet j its greatest height (in the I laza del Azo- v
bejo at the foot of the walls) is 104 is there compo¬
sed oi a double row of arches, built 01 large ^ ^
without mortar, and over them a hollow wall of coarser
materials for the channel of the water, cowwcd w ith
lar<re oblong flags. Of the lower range of arcades,
which are 15 feet wide by 65 high, there are 42. 1
uoper arches are 119 in number, their height 27 bpams
fS, their breadth seventeen, the transversal thickness,
01 TlfecaffiediauTa mature of the Gothic' and Moor- Travel* in
iJarehlrecuire. The Inside is very spacious, andof ma^^y
iestic simplicity. The windows are well ^PO&ed, and ^ ^
the great altar has been lately decorated with the hne goa/m^
Grenadan marble. But it is to be regretted, that m
this cathedral, as well as in most others of Spain, the
choir is placed in the middle of the nave 1 he chnrcm
is nearly upon the model of the great church of Sa.a-
manca, but it is not so highly finished.
The alcazar, or ancient palace of the Moors, stand
in one of the finest positions possible, on a rock nsi g
above the open country. A fine river washes the loot of
the precipice, and the city lies admirably well on each
side on the brow of the hill *, the declivity is woody,
and the banks charmingly rural *, the snowy mountains
and da’k forests of Saint Ildefonzo compose an awful
back-ground to the picture. Tow ards the town there is
a large court before the great outward tower, winch, as
the prison of Gil Bias, is so well described by Le Sage
that the subject requires no farther exp anation. -the
rest of the buildings form an antique palace, winch has
seldom been inhabited by any but prisoners since the
rehni of Ferdinand and Isabella, who were much at¬
tached to this situation. There are some magnificent
halls in it,
cording
Swin¬
burne's
Travels
through
Sjuiin.
r 1 ?2C tne cu\ cum-einu u
,0 Laborde the inhahitants do not not. exceed
,0*0? nersons, a scanty population lot-25 panshes
yet, beside 21 churches and a cathedral, there arc 2
C0Tb“firet object In Segovia that attracts the eye is
the aqueduct, which the singular situation of^ the city
renders necessary. As it is built upon two lulls and
the valley by which they are separated, and extends
considerably in evel v direction, it was difficult for
part of the citizens'to be supplied with water, i be
difficulty was removed, according to the opinion of the
ifruml in the reign of Trajan, by tins aqueduct, which
is one of the most astonishing and the best preserved c
the Roman works. In the opinion of Mr Swinburne,
who surveyed it in 1776, and vvho seems to ^vt
a very accurate account ot the curiosities of SegdV^, it
l superior in elegance of proportion to the 1 ont du
Gard at Nismes. ‘ It is so perfectly well preserved, that
it does not seem leaky in"any part, from tue fas ow
tms suuauuu.     . VJ
with much gilding ill the ceilings, in a seim-
ba,barons tasle. All the kings of Spain are seated m
state along the cornice of the great saloon j but it is
doubtful whether they are like the princes whose names
they bear j if that resemblance, however, he wanting,
they have no other merit to claim. The royal apart¬
ments are now occupied by a college ot young g1'11*-
men cadets, educated at the king’s expence in ait he
sciences requisite for forming an engineer, i be giamt-
master of the ordnance resides at Segovia, which is the
head establishment of the Spanish artillery.
The mint is below the alcazar, a large hui.ding,
most ancient place of coinage in the kingdom, ihe
machines for melting, stamping, and milling the coi ,
are worked by water : but there is reason to belie
that Seville has at present more business, as being nea
the source of riches, the port of Cadiz, where the ingots
of America are landed. . ,
The unevenness of the crown of the hill gives a .
look to this city. Most of the streets are crooked and
dirty, the houses wooden and very wretched •, nor do
the inhabitants appear much the richer lor their c 0^1
manufactory. Indeed, it is not in a very flourishing
condition, but what cloth they make is very tine.
The country about Segovia has the reputation ot
inp the best for rearing- the kind of sheep that produces
the beautiful Spanish wool •, but as those flocks wander
over many other parts of the kingdom, Segovia seems to
■ —frlxlc TPnuturion. Segovia (says
over many uiuc. to  , 0 . ,
have no exclusive title to this reputation. Segovia f y
Mr Townsend, whose valuable travels will be real wi
S E .1 [I
Segovia much pleasure) was once famous for its cloth made on
H the king’s account $ but other nations have since become
Sejanus^ rivals in tilis branch, and the manufacture in this city
owmends ^as been gradually declining. W hen the king gave it
mmetj up to a private company, he left about 3000I. in trade ;
but now he is no longer a partner in the business. In
the year 1612 were made here 25,300 pieces of cloth,
{rough
bain.
• j iprt-
Dic-
miry.
wliiiii consumed 44,625 quintals ol wool, and employed
34>A 9 Pe,'son!j » but at present they make only about
4000 pieces. The principal imperfections of this cloth
are, that the thread is not even, and that much grease
remains in it when it is deiiv: red to the dyer j in con¬
sequence of which the colour is apt to fail. Yet, in¬
dependently of imperfections, so many are the disad¬
vantages under which the manufacture labours, that
foreigners can adord to pay 3I. for the aroba of line
Wool, tor which the Spaniard gives no more than 2os.
and after all his charges can command the market even
in the ports of Spain.
Segovia, New, a town of North America, in New
Spam, and in the audience ot Guatimala 5 seated on
the river \ are, on the confines of the province oi Hon-
du ras. W. Long. 84. 30. N. Lat. 13. 25.
Segovia, a town ot Ameiiea, in Terra Firma, and
in the province of Venezuela, seated on a.river, near a
very high mountain, where there are mines of gold. W
Loiig. 65. 30. N. Lat. 8. 20.
Segovia, a town of Asia, in the island of Manila,
and one of the largest of the Philippines, seated at the
north end of the island, 240 miles north of Manila,
and subject to Spain. L. Long. 1 20. 59. N. Lat. 18.-^6.
SLGiiEAN i‘, is the herald’s word for a gnfiin when
drawn in a leaping posture, and displaying Ins wings as
if ready to fiv .
SEGUE, in the Italian music, is often found before
ana, allehfja, amen, &c. to show that those portions or
pai s are to be sung immediately after the last note of
that part over which it is writ; but if these words si
placet, or ad libitum, are joined therewith, it signifies,
that these portions may be sung or not at pleasure.
SEGUIER1A, a genus ol plants belonging to the
class polyandria. See Botany Index.
SEJANi, a term used in heraldry, when a lion, or
other beast, is drawn in an escutcheon sitting nke a
cat wit.1 his fore-feet straight.
SEJANUS, jTLlius, a native of V ulsinum in Tus¬
cany, who distinguished himself in the court of Tiberi¬
us. His father’s name was Seius Strabo ; a Roman
knight, commander of the pietonan guards. Ills mo¬
ther was descended from the Jumaii family. Sejanus
first gained the favour of Cains Ciesar, the grandson of
Augustus, but afterward-, he attached himself to the in
tenst and the views of fibenus, who then sat en the
imperial throne. The emperor, who was naturally of
a suspicious temper, was free and open with Sejanus,
and while he distrusted others, he communicated his
greatest secrets to this fawning favourite. Sejanus im¬
proved this confidence ; and when he had fbuun that he
possessed the esteem of liberius, he next endeavoured
to become the favourite of the soldieis, and the Car ing
of the senate. As commander of the pretorian guards
be was the second man in Rome, and in that important
Cilice lie made use of insinuations and every mean ftrti-
fice to make himself beloved and revered, i i; < affability
and condescension gained him the hearts oi the common
23 ] S E J
soldiers, and, by appointing his own favourites and ad- S.jeanrs.
herents to places ot trust and honour, all the officers and ^ v -
centurions ot the army became dt voted to Ins interest,
i he views ol Sejanus in this were well known ; yit, to
advance with more success, hq attempted to gain iln af¬
fection ol the senators. In tins lit met with no opposi¬
tion. A man who has the disposal ol places ol ho¬
nour and dignity, and who ha^. the command ot the pub¬
lic money, cannot but he the favourite ot those who are
in need ol ins assi-tance. If is evt n said, that Sejanus
gained 10 ins views all the wives of die senators, by a
piivate and miot sacred premise of inaii iagf u, each of
them, whenever he had made h.uiselt independent and
sovereign of Rome. Yet, however successful vvilh the
best and noblest lami ies in the empire, Sejanus had to
combat numbers in the uouse ol the emperor ; but these
seeming obstacles were soon removed. All the children
and grandchildren of Tiberius were sacrificed to the
amlntion ol the favourite under various pretences ; and
Drusus the son ot the emperor, by striking Sejanus,
made ln.~> destruction sure and inevitable. Livia, the
uite oi Hrusus, was gained by Sejanus; and, though
the mother of many children, sfie was prevailed upon t®
a sist her adulterer in the murder of her husband, and
she consented to marry him when JBrusus was dead. No
sooner was Drusus poisoned, than Sejanus openly decla¬
red his wish to marry Livia. This was strongly oppo¬
sed by liberius; aiuf the emperor, by recommending
Germanicus to the senators for his successor, rendered
Stjanus bold and determined. He was more urgent in
Ins demands ; and when he could not gain the consent
eit the emperor, lie persuaded him to retire to solitude
from (he noise of Rome and the troubles of the govern¬
ment. i iberius, naturally loud of ease and luxury, yield¬
ed to his representations, and retired to Campania, leav-
ing Sejanus at the head oi the empire. This was highly
gratify ing to the favourite, but he was not without a ma¬
ster. Prudence and moderation might have made him
wiiat he wished to be; but having offended the emperor
beyond forgiveness, he resolved to retrieve his loss, and
by one vigorous effort to decide the fate of the empire,
lie called together his friends and followers; lie paid
court to such as seemed dissaffected ; he held forth re¬
wards and promises; and, having increased the number
ot Ins partisans, formed a bold conspiracy, resolved by
any means to seize the sovereign power. <
A powerlul league was formed with astonishing rapi¬
dity, and great numbers of all descriptions, senators as
well as military men, entered into the plot. Among \Turph^s
these, SailiU» fSecundus was the confidential friend and Tacitus,
prune agent of the minister. W hatever was this man’s jh'00k v.
motive, whether tear, or views of interest, or ingiatituele
(tor no principle of honour can he imputed to him;, he
resolved fn betray the secret to Tiberius. Tor this pur¬
pose lie addressed himsell to Antonia, the daughter of
Anthony the triumvir, the widow of Drusus, and the '
mother of Germanicus. V\ hen tins illustrious woman,
who was honoured by the court and revered by the
people, neatd tin particulars, she sent dispatcln s to the
emp-ror by one .if her slaves. Tiberius was a It rushed,
but not dismayed, 'i he danger* pressed ; his habitual
slowness u, s out of season ; the time called tor vigour
and decisive measures. He sent Macro to Rome, with
a sp c.ai commi-u 11 to take upon him the command of
the praetorian guards. He added lull instructions lor
Q a kis
Scjar.us.
[ 124 ]
Early in the morning of Vans is situated
S E J
his conduct in all emergencies. - -
' on the . cth, before the kalends ol November, a report
rvas spread, that letters had arrived at Rome in 1 hid
the emperor signified his intention to associate S janus
with himself in the tribnllitiai, power. 1 be senate was
summoned to meet in the temple of Ap0 ' ’, t ‘v a
imnerial palace. Sejanus attended without delay. -
party of the prsetorians followed him. Macro met
£yi„ the vestibule of the temple. He approached
she minister with all demonstrations ol .
sped, and taking him aside, “ Be not surprised (he said)
that you have no letter from the prince : it is his p ea-
sure ^ cT declare yon his colleague in the tribuniUan
power; but he thinks that a matter of so.much impor
tance should be communicated to the fathers y ^ v^ic
of the consuls. I am going, to ^l.ver^ the emperors
S E I
or rails is a,hU«ev,c. See Paris. Its extent is only
co,478 hectares, (each equal to 2.47 acres) The po¬
pulation in 1817 was 780,000. The contributions for
the Year 1802 amounted to 22,499,486 traces.
Seise Inferior, a department in the north-west of
France, lying along the shores of the Channel. The
soil is fertile in corn and flax ; but is especially dis¬
tinguished as affording excellent pasturage. This de¬
partment is one of the most populous and industrious m
France, being the seat of many of the chief woollen and
cotton manufactures. Its extent is 593, to e<L^®a’
The population in 1817 amounted to 642,948. Koueu
is the chief town. . . f
Seine and Marne, a department in the north ol
France. It is fertile in corn *, affords excellent pastu¬
rage, and produces vines. Though in the immediate
of the consuls. lam going to deliver the emperor’s ^ U has few manufactures.
orders.-5’ Sejanus, elated with joy, and flushed . ;Jd ^ l 9§0 hectares. The population in
1 •.  ilam ter n a to-house ; Macro toilowea e y tvt_i.._ :a .Uo rhipf town.
Its
new dignity/entered the senate-house *, Macro followed
him. As sion ns the consuls arrived he delivered the
letter from Tiberius, and immediatly went fmt.n to
the prEetorian uua,ds. Having promised them a dona¬
tion he added, that if they followed him to the camp
they would there receive the promised oounty. *
cr Jtorian guards quitted their station. Laco, who stom
SSTufj. immediately . unounde.1 the senate-house
^l^^^—colffused,^^
£ £ his Sf at like a man benumbed, senseless amt stupA
S astonishment. His friends, who a little before
congratulated him on his new dignity deserted him o
every side. He was commanded by the consul to rise
and' "follow him, and being loaded with irons was con¬
ducted to prison. Shortly after he was condemned to
death bv the senate, and strangled. .
SEIGNIOR, », in its gi net al sigiiification, the seme
extent is 595t9So hectares. The population m 1817
amounted to 304,068. Melon is the chief town.
Seine and Oise, a department m the north-west of
France. It produces grain,, fruits, wood, S0l"e
vines ; but the wine is of an inferior quality. I he
habitants are chiefly occupied m supplying the mar¬
kets of Paris. There are, however, some manufactures
of arms, clocks, porcelain, and painted cloth. Its ex¬
tent is c7 5,042 hectares 5 and the population in 1817
as *439,972. The contributions for the year .802
amounted to 7,373.68J francs. Waffles rs the chief
t0'sEISlN, in Law, signifies possession. In this sense
Tve say, premier seisin, for the first possession, &c.
Seisin is divided into that in deed or in fact, and that
in law. A seisin in deed is where a possession is actually
taken : but a seisin in law is, where lands descend, and
the party has not entered thereon-, or in other words,
it is where a person has a right to lands, &c- a"d 13 ^
wr0ng disseised of them. A seisin in law is held to be
1L SETGNlGR, is, in its genera! signification the same tQ on . though to the bringing of an as
with lord, but is particularly used for toe mi. o . actual seisin is required -, and where seisin is al-
; and leged, the person pleading it must show of what estate
the reason is, because having granted away ne »se an C Seisin of a superior service is deemed to be a seism
profit of the land, the property or dominion he st.U erior and casual services that are incident
tains in himself. .• fthe thereto; and seisin of a lessee for years, is sufficient
SEIGNIORAGE, IS a royalty oirrerogawnot^ ‘hereto ^
Icinfr whereby he claims an allowance of go-d a , „ „ . T— in
lAUlg, J   .,1 FYir rvmn. Asseiff-
brought ln* the masTto"be exchanged for coin As seig-
niorage, out of every pound weight of gold, the king
had for bis coin 5s. of which he paid to the master of
the mint sometimes is. and sometimes is. 6d. UP0"
every pound weight of silver, the seigniorage allowed
to the king in the time of Edward IH. was 18 penny¬
weights, which then amounted to about is. out of winch
fie paid 8d. or 9d. to the master. In the reign of King
Henry V. the king’s seigniorage of every pound ot sil¬
ver was icd. See Coinage, Supplement. ^
SEIGNIORY, is borrowed from the french ^/g--
■ncurie i. e. domiualus, imperium, principatus; and
signifies with us a manor or lordship, seigniory ce
sokemans. Seigniory in gross, seems to be the title ot
him who is not lord by means of any manor, but imn
diately in his own person 5 as tenure in capite, where¬
by one holds of the king, as of his crown, is seigniory m
gross.
SETKS. See Hindostan. .
SEINE, a department of France, in which the city
r mm in reveiaiuii.
Livery of Seisin, in Law, an essential ceremony in
the conveyance of landed property j being no other
than the pure feodal investiture, or delivery of corpo¬
ral possession of the land or tenement. This was held
absolutely necessary to complete the donation; bam
feudam sine investitura nullo modo constitinpotmt: and
an estate was then only perfect when, as Fleta ex}messe&
it in our law, fit juris et seisince conjunctio. bee IEOF-
Investitures, in their original rise, were probably in¬
tended to demonstrate in conquered countries the actual
possession of the lord ; and that be did not grant a bare
litigious right, which the soldier was ill qualified to pro¬
secute, but a peaceable and firm possession. And, at a
time when writing was seldom practisi d, a mere oral gi t,
at a distance from the spot -hat was given, was not like¬
ly to be either long or accurately retained in the memo¬
ry of bystanders, who were very little interested in t c
grant. Afterwards they were retained as a public an
notorious act, that the country might take notice ofan^
s E I [ I
; (.jin, testify the transfer of the estate; and that such as claimed
v—v—~ title by other means might know against whom to bring
their actions.
In all well-governed nations, some notoriety of this
kind has been ever held requisite, in order to acquire
and ascertain the property of lands. In the Roman
law, plenum dominium was notsaid to subsist unless where
n man had both the right and the corporal possession ;
which possession could not be acquired without both an
actual intention to possess, and an actual seisin or entry
into the premisses, or part of them in the name of the
whole. And even in ecclesiastical promotions, where
the freehold passes to the person promoted, corporal
possession is required at this day to vest the property
completely in the new proprietor; who, according to
the distinction of the canonist, acquires thejusadrem,
or inchoate and imperfect right, by nomination and in¬
stitution ; but not the jus in re, or complete and full
right, unless by corporal possession. Therefore in dig¬
nities possession is given by instalment; in rectories and
vicarages by induction j without which no temporal
rights accrue to the minister., though every ecclesiastical
power is vested in him bv institution. So also even in
descents of lands, by our law, which are cast on the heir
by act of the law itself, the heir has not plenum domini¬
um, or full and complete ownership, till he has made an
actual corporal entry into the lands: for if he dies before
entry made, his heir shall not be entitled to take the pos¬
session, but the heir of the person who was last actually
seised. It is not therefore only a mere right to enter, but
the actual entry, that makes a man complete owner j so
as to transmit the inheritance to his own heirs: non jus,
sed seisina,facit stipitem.
Yet the corporal tradition of lands being sometimes
inconvenient, a symbolical delivery of possession was in
many cases anciently allowed 5 by transferring some¬
thing near at hand, in the presence of credible wit¬
nesses, which by agreement should serve to represent
the very thing designed to be conveyed , and an occu¬
pancy of this sign or symbol was permitted as equiva¬
lent to occupancy of the land itself. Among the Jews
we find the evidence of a purchase thus defined in the
book of Ruth : “ Now this was the manner in former
time in Israel, concerning redeeming and concerning
changing, for to confirm all things : a man plucked off
his shoe, and gave it to his neighbour ; and this was a
testimony in Israel.” Among the ancient Goths and
Swedes, contracts for the sale of lands were made in
the presence of witnesses, who extended the cloak of
the buyer, while the seller cast a clod of the land into
it, in order to give possession •, and a staff or wand was
also delivered from the vender to the vendee, which
assed through the hands of the witnesses. With our
axon ancestors the delivery of a turf was a necessary
solemnity to establish the conveyance of lands. And,
to this day, the conveyance of our copyhold estates is
usually made from the seller to the lord or his steward
by delivery ot a rod or verge, and then from the lord to
the purchaser by re-delivery of the same in the presence
or a jury of tenants.
Conveyances in writing were the last and most re¬
fined improvement. The mere delivery of possession,
either actual or symbolical, depending on the ocular
testimony and remembrance of the witnesses, was liable
to be forgotten or misrepresented, and became frequeut-
25 ] SEX
ly incapable of proof. Besides, the new occasions and Sekiu
necessities introduced by the advancement of commerce, 
required means to be devised ol charging and incumber¬
ing estates, and of making them liable to a multitude of
conditions and minute designations, for the purposes of
raising money, without an absolute sale of the land ;
and sometimes the like proceedings were found useful
in order to make a decent and competent provision for
the numerous branches of a family, and for other do¬
mestic views. None of which could be effected by a
mere, simple, corporal transfer of the soil from one man
to another, which was principally calculated for convey¬
ing an absolute unlimited dominion. Written deeds
wm*e therefore introduced, in order to specify and per¬
petuate tiie peculiar purposes of the party who convey¬
ed : yet still, for a very long series of years, they were
never made use of, but in company with the more an¬
cient and notorious method of transfer by delivery of
corporal possession.
Livery of seisin, by the common law, is necessary to
be made upon every grant of an estate of freehold in he¬
reditaments corporeal, whether of inheritance or for life
only. In hereditaments incorporeal it is impossible to be
made ; for they are not the object of the senses: and in
leases for years, or other chattel interests, it is not neces¬
sary. In leases for years indeed an actual entruj is ncces-
saiy, to vest the estate 111 the lessee: for a bare lease ‘»ives
him only a right to enter, which is called his interest in
the term, or interesse termini: and when he enters in pur¬
suance ot that right, he is then, and not before, in posses¬
sion of his term, and complete tenant for years. This
entry by the tenant himself serves the purpose of notorie¬
ty, as well as livery of seisin from the granter could
have done; which, it would have been improper to
have given in this case, because that solemnity is appro¬
priated to the conveyance of a freehold. And this is
one reason why freeholds cannot be made to commence
mfirturo, because they cannot (at the common law) be
made but by livery of seisin j which livery, being an
actual manual tradition of the land, must take effect in.
preesenti, or not at all.
Livery of seisin is either in deed or in law.
Livery in deed is thus performed. The feoffor, lessor,.,
or his attorney, together, with the feoffee, lessee, or his
attorney, (lor this may as effectually be done bv de¬
puty or attorney as by the principals themselves in per¬
son), come to the land or to the house j and there, in
the presence of witnesses, declare the contents of the
feoffment or lease on which livery is to be made. And
then the feoffor, if it be of land, doth deliver to the
feoffee, all other persons being out of the ground, a clod
or turf, or a twig or bough there growing, with words
to this effect: “ I deliver these to you in the name of
seisin of all the lands and tenements contained in this
deed.” But, if it be of a house, the feoffor must take
the ring or latch ol the door, the house being quite
empty, and deliver it to the feoffee in the same form j
and then the feoffee must enter alone, and shut the door,
and then open it, and let in the others. If the convey¬
ance or feoffment be of divers lands, lying scattered in
one and the same county, then in the feoffor’s possession,
livery of seisin of any parcel, in the name of the rest,
sufficeth for all; but if they be in several counties, there
must be as many liveries as there are counties. For, if
the title to these lands comes to be disputed, there
must -
S E L r *
i,e as many trials as tliere are counties, ami tile
ru y of one count, are no f tto notone.y of a
fort in another. Besides, anciently, tins seism uas oo-
“ilo be delivered cor,m paribus * ummelo, betore
ife peers or freeholders ot the neighhourhood, who
attested such delivery in the body or on jhe back
the <leed; according to the rule ot the teodal la v,
Pr.res-rirbent interests investitures feud', ct non oh .
fo which this reason is expressly f-ven • because the
peers or vassals of lord, bemu^djiy ,be,, oath
a&sxsiiss
swd"£!Sr£s
yeries as there are tenants : because »» l™*
made in this case, but by the e”"3';1 ;C" ,t.
rpn-.nt ■ and the consent ot one will not bind ttie ie.t.
And^ValWIiese cases it is prmi™. - - eu-
dnt^e the livery of seisin on the back ot the deed, spe
citying the manner, place, and time of making it • to-
geLr^with the names of the witnesses. And thus
*01 Livery in ttw is where the same is not made on the
land but in sight of it only •, the feoffor saying to the
feoffee “ T give you yonder land, enter and take pn -
,e sion’ ” Here, if the feoffee enters during the hte ot
the feoffor, it is a good livery, but not otherwise •, un¬
less he dares not enter through tear ot his ite oi >0, ay
harm • and then his continual claim, made yearly in cue
tfoflaw^snear.^h^tWland.wffl^
Te gLen or^ived by attorney, but only by the par-
tU SEIZE, in the sea-language, is to make fast or bind,
■particularly to fasten two ropes together with rope-
yarn. The seizing of a boat is a rope tied to a ring or
Lie chain in the fore-ship of the boat, by which means
it is fastened to the side of the ship.
SEIZURE, in commerce, an arrest of some mer¬
chandise, moveable, or other matter, either in con-
Sequence of some law or of some express order of
the sovereign. Contraband goods, those fraudulently
entered, or landed without entering at ah, or at
wrong places, tire subject to.eizure. In seizures among
ps, one half goes to the informer, and the other hall
th SFLAGO, a genus of plants belonging to the didy-
namia class •, and in the natural method ranking under
the 481 h order, dgsregatee. See Botany Index.
SF DEN, John, called by Grotum the gloiy of
England, was horn at Salvmgton in Sussex m 1.584;
was educated at the . free school Cluehestc. ,
whence he was sent to Hart Hall - ^
Oxford, where he staid four years. In 1612. .e 1
ed himself in Clifford’s Inn, in order to study the mv ,
and about two years after removed to the L.nei tem¬
ple, where he soon acquired great reputation by bis
learning. He had already published several of Ins uork
and this year wrote verges in Latin, G eek, ano Lng-
Jish, upon Mr Y> illiam Browne’s Britannia s 1 astora^s.
Seidell,
26 1 S E L '
“ la x6i4, he published his Titles of Honour; and in
1616 his Notes on Sir John Fortescue s book f). Z««-
dibul Legum Anglue. in 1618, he published 11s Iiisto-
ry of Tythes 5 which gave great ollence to the cleigy,
■md was animadverted upon by several writers •, and for
tint book he was called before the high commission court,
and obliged to make a public acknowledgement of his
l-ing pu',U.I;ed it. In
bv the parliament, though he was not then a member
If that house, and giving his opinion very strongly m
favour of their privileges in opposition to the couu h
was committed to the custody of the ^enff of I on-
don but. was set at liberty after five weeks confine^
ment In 1623, he was chosen burgess for Lanca tei ,
but amidst all the divisions of the nation kept himself
neuter, prosecuting his studies with such application,
E though he was the next year chosen reader of
Lyon’s Inn, he refused to perform mat 0%e-J
he was chosen burgess for Great Bed win m V dtsime,
to serve in the first parliament ot King Charles I. m
mhich he declared himself warmly against the duxe of
Buckingham j and on his Grace’s being impeached by
the House of Commons, was appointed one et the ma¬
nagers of the articles against him. In 1627 and 1628
he' opposed the court party with gieat vigom. ^
parliament being prorogued to January 20. 9»
Selden retired to the earl of Kent’s house at V\ rest, m
Bedfordshire, where he finished his
liana. The parliament being met he, among ol.icr ,
again distinguished himself by his zeal against the court,
vvlien tile king dissolving the parliament,
of the members to be brought before he King s Bench
bar and committed to the Tower. Among these uas
Mr’Selden, who insisting'on the benefit of the laws, an
refusing to make his submission, was removed to the
King’s Bench prison. Being here in danger of his n
on account of the plague then raging >n Southwark he
petitioned the lord high treasurer, at the end of lum-
^ term, to intercede with his Majesty that he m.g
be removed to the Gate house, Westminster, which was
.ranted: but in Michaelmas term following, the judges
Ejecting to the lord treasurer’s warrant by which he
had been removed to tin Gate-house, an order was made
for conveying him back to the King’s Bench, whence
I: was rid eased in the latter end of the same year 5 but
fifteen years after, the parlianu nt ordered ,him 5°;01*
for the losses he had sustained on this occasion. He was
afterwards committed with several other gentlemen, or
dispersing a libel 5 but the author who was abroad, In¬
ins discovered, they were at length set at y-
1634, a dispute arising between the English and Dutch
concerning the herring fi hew on the British coast, he
was prevailed upon bv Archbishop Laud to draw uph
Mare Clan in answer to Grotius’s Mare Liberum.
whiih greatly recommended him to the tayour 0
court.' In 1640, he was chosen member for the uni¬
versity of Oxford 5 when he again opposed the court,
though he might, by complying, have raised himself <>
very considerable po^ts. In 1643, he was appointed
one of the lay members to sit in the assembly o ' tyin
at Westminster, and was the same year appointed keep¬
er of the records m the Tower. W hilst he attended hi*
du y in the assembly, a warm debate arose 'csPiot,no
the distance of Jericho from Jtrusalem. Ihe^pat y
which contended for tire shortest distance, to gen,
S E L [ I
{Hen proof of tlieir opinion being well founded, that fishes
I !1 were carried from the one city to the other, and sold in
Sfacus.^ tj)e Their adversaries were ready to yield to
the force of this conclusive argument, when Sdden,
who despised both parties, as well as the frivolousness of
their dispute, exclaimed, “ Perhaps the fishes were salt¬
ed !” This unexpected remark left tin victory doubt¬
ful, and renewed the debate 5 and our author, who was
sick of such trifling, soon found employment more suit¬
ed to his genius; for, in 1645, he was made one of the
commissioners of the admiralty. The same year he w'as
unanimously elected master of Trinity college, Cam¬
bridge ; but declined accepting. Ue died in 1654;
and was interred in the Temple-church, where a monu¬
ment is erected to his memory. Br-Wilkes observes,
that he was a man of uncommon gravity and greatness
of soul,averse to flattery, liberal to scholars, charitable to
the poor; and though he had great latitude in his prin¬
ciples with regard to ecclesiastical power, yet he had a
sincere regard for the church of England. He wrote
many learned works besides those' already mentioned ;
the principal of which are, 1. De Jure Naturali et Gen¬
tium juxta Disctplinam Hebrceorum. 2. De Nuptiis et
Dworciis. 3. De Anno Civili veterum Hebrceorum.
4. De Nummis. 5. Dc Diis Syris. 6. Uxor Htbraica.
7. Juni Anglorum Furies altera, &c. All his works
were printed together in 1726, in 3 vols folio.
SELENITE, in Mineralogy, the crystallized sul¬
phate of lime or gypsum. See Lime, Mineralogy
Index. Selenite literally signifies moonstone, and is
expressive of the colour and so(t lustre of the mineral.
SELENOGRAPHY, a branch of cosmography,
which describes the moon and all the parts and appear¬
ances thereof, as geography does those of the earth.
See Moon, and Astronomy Index.
SELEUCIA, in Ancient Geography, surnamed Ba¬
bylonia, because situated on its confines, at the conflu¬
ence of the Euphrates and Tigris. Ptolemy places it
in Mesopotamia. It is called also Seleucia ad Tigrim,
(lolybius, Strabo, Isidores Characenus) 5 washed on
the south by the Euphrates, on the east by the Tigris,
( TheopbylaetHs) generally agreed to have been built
or enlarged by Seleucus Nicanor, master of the east
after Alexander j by means of which Babylon came to
be aeserted. It is said to have been originally called
Cache, (Ammian, Eutropiue) ; though others, as Arrian,
distinguish it, as a village, from Seleucia: and, accord¬
ing to Zosimus, the ancient name of Seleucia was Zoc/?rt-
sia. Now called Bagdad. E. Long. 44. 21. N. Eat.
I 33- I0- There were many other cities of the same
name, aM built by Selcucus Nicanor.
SELEUGIDiE, in Chronology. Era of the Se-
ieucida;, or the Syrc-Macedonian era, is a computa--
tion of time, commencing from the establishment of the
Seleuculae, a race of Greek kings, who reigned as suc¬
cessor- of Alexander the Great in Syria, as the Ptole-
mie> did in Egypt. Ibis era we find expressed in the
books of the Maccabees, and on a great number of
Greek medals struck by the cities of Syria, &c. The
Rabbins call it the era of contracts, and the Arabs
therik dilkarnain, that is, the “ era of the two horns.”
According to the best accounts, the first year of this era
fails m the year 311 B. C. being 12 years after Alex-
ander’s death.
SELEUCUS, Nicanor, one of the chief generals
27 ] SEE
under Alexander the Great, and, after his death, found- Seleucus,
er of the race of princes called Stleucidcc. He is equally
celebrated as a renowned warrior, and as the father of
bis people ; yet his virtues could not protect him from
tiie fatal ambition of Ceraunus, one of his courtiers, by
whom be was assassinated 280 B. C.
SELF-Heal, the Prunella Vulgaris, Lin. This
herb was recommended by the older physicians as a
mild restringent and vulnerary; but its virtues appear
to he very feeble, and therefore it is now rarely used.
Self-Command, is that steady equanimity which en¬
ables a man in every situation to exert his reasoning
faculty with coolness, and to do what the present cir¬
cumstances require. It depends much upon the natural
temperament of the body, and much upon the moral
cultivation of the mind. He who enjoys good health,
and has braced his frame by exercise, has always a
greater command of himself than a mtin of equal mental
powers, who has suftered his constitution to become re¬
laxed by indolence ; and be who has from bis early
youth been accustomed to make his passions submit to
Jus reason, must in any sudden emergency, be more
capable or acting properly than be who has tamely
yielded to his passion. Hence it is that recluse and
literary men, when forced into the bustle of public life,
are incapable of acting where promptness is requisite;
and that men who have once or twice yielded to a sense
of impending danger seldom acquire afterwards that
command of themselves which may be necessary to ex¬
tricate them from subsequent dangers. In one of the
earliest battles fought by the late king of Prussia, the so¬
vereign was among the first men who quitted the field :
had he behaved in the same manner a second and a third
time, he would never have become that hero whose ac¬
tions astonished Europe. A celebrated engineer among
ourselves, who was well known to the writer of this
short article, had little science, and was a stranger to
tiie principles of his own art ; but being possessed of a
firm and vigorous frame, and having been accustomed
to struggle with dangers and difficulties, he had such a
constant command of himself, as enabled him to employ
with great coolness every necessary resource in the dav
of battle.
_ it is not only in battle, and in the face of imme¬
diate danger, that self-command is necessary to enable a
man to act with propriety. There is no situation in life
where difficulties', greater or less, are not to be encoun¬
tered ; and he who would pass through life with com¬
fort to himself, and with utility to the public, must en¬
deavour to keep his passions in constant subjection to his
reason. No man can enjoy without inquietude what he
cannot 10 e without pain; and no man who is overwhelm¬
ed with despondency under any sudden misfortune can
exert the talents necessary to retrieve his circumstances.
We ought, therefore, by every means to endeavour to
obtoin a constant command of ourselves ; and nowhere
sh ill we find better lessons for this purpose than in an-
ciem Lacedemon. I here certain occupations were ap¬
pointed for each sex, for every hour, and for every Sea¬
son of life.. In a life always active, the passions have
no opportunity to deceive, seduce, or corrupt ; and the
nervous system acquires a firmness which makes it a fit
instrument to a vigorous mind.
Self Defence implies not only the preservation of
one’s life, but also the protection of las property, be¬
cause
S E L [
cause without property life cannot be preserved in a c.-
vilized nation. The extent of property essential to h e
is indeed small, and this consideration may enable us to
decide a question which some moralists have made intu-
cate Bv what means, it has been asked, may a man
protect his property ? May he kill the person who at-
tacks it, if he cannot otherwise repel the attack .
That a man, in a state of nature, may kill the per¬
son who makes an attack on his life, if he cannot other¬
wise repel the attack, is a truth which has never been
controverted 5 and he may do the same m civil society,
if his danger be so imminent that it cannot be averted
by the interposition of the protection provided for indi¬
viduals by the state. In all possible situations, except
'the three following, whatever is absolutely necessary to
the preservation of life may be lawfully performed, or
. « p ii‘ ./Mi ia the first and most sacred
128 1 S E L
any importance is, May a man put a robber to death
rather than part with a small part of his property. Mr -
Paley doubts whether he could innocently do so in a
state of nature, “ because it cannot be contended to
be for the augmentation of human happiness, that one
man should lose his life or limb, rather than another a
pennyworth of his property.” He allows, hat in cml
society the life of the aggressor may be always taken
away by the person aggrieved, or meant to be aggrieved,
when die crime attempted is such as would subject its
perpetrator to death by the laws of bis country.
H It is not often that we teel ourselves disposed to dif¬
fer in opinion from this most valuable and intelligent
writer ; hut on the present occasion we cannot help
thinking that he does not reason with his usual preci¬
sion. To us he even seems to lose sighuof his own pnn-
   . 1 1   _ ’ 4-s\ t •» 1/ *-» Q W ilXT
Self.
the preservation ot life may be lawfully pei ort”e ’ Jinles No legislature can have a right to take away
the law of self-preservation is the first and most sacred c p e^. ^N Ij> ^ ^ in such cases as individuals have
of those laws which are impressed on every mn y ^ game • ht ,n‘ a state 0f nature. If therefore a man
author of nature. . . . f ij* _ :n tue state of nature, have not a right to protect Ins
The three excepted situations are those 0 onertv by killing the aggressor, when it cannot be
in the day of battle, of a criminal about to suffer by the P P ;t app;ars to us self-evident that no,
laws of his country, and of a man called upon j • iature can have a right to inflict the punishment of
nounce his religion. The soldier hazards his life _ _ S \ , a- ,. v...f slip la ws inflictniET
nounce ins iciigiuu.   - . .
most honourable of all causes, and cannot be ray Ins
trust, or play the coward, without incurring a high de¬
gree of moral turpitude. He knows that the very pro¬
fession in which he is engaged necessarily subjects him
to danger; and he voluntarily incurred that danger tor
the good of his country, which, with great propriety,
annexes to his profession peculiar privileges and much
glory. The criminal under sentence of death cannot,
without adding to his guilt, resist the execution of that
sentence •, for the power of inflicting punishment is es¬
sential to society j and society is the ordinance ot God,
(see Society). The man who is called upon to re¬
nounce his religion ought to submit to the cruelles
death rather than comply with that request, since reli¬
gion is his only security for future and permanent hap¬
piness. But in every other situation, that which is ab¬
solutely necessary to the preservation of life is undoubt¬
edly lawful. Hence it is that a person sinking m wa¬
ter is never thought to be guilty of any crime, though
he drag his neighbour after him by his endeavours to
save himself-, and hence, too, a man in danger of perish¬
ing by shipwreck may drive another from a plank which
cannot carry them both, for since one of two lives must
be last, no law, human or divine, calls upon either ot
them to prefer his tieighbour’s life to his own.
But though the rights of self-defence authorize us
to repel every attack made upon our lite, and in case
of extremity to save ourselves at the ex pence of the life
of our innocent neighbour, it is not so evident that,
rather than give to an unjust demand a few shillings or
pounds, we may lawfully deprive a fellow creature of
life, and the public of a citizen. A few pounds lost
may he easily regained; but life when lost can never he
recovered. If these pounds, indeed, be the whole of a
man’s property; if they include his clothes, his food,
and the house where he shelters his head—-there cannot
be a doubt Hut that, rather than part with them, he may
lawfully kil the aggressor, for no man can exist with¬
out siielter, food, and raiment. But it i seldom that an
attempt is made, or is indeed practicable, to ro a man
^ once of all that he possesses. 1 he question then of
S upon ^ offences ; but if the laws inflicting
death upon the crime of robbery be morally evil, it is
certain that an individual cannot be innocent when he
prevents robbery by the death of the robber, merely
because he knows that the laws of his country have de¬
creed that punishment against those convicted ol that
crime. But we think that the protection of property
by the death of the aggressor may be completely vindi¬
cated upon more general principles. It is necessary in
every state, that property be protected, or mankind
could not subsist; but in a state of nature every man
must be the defender of his own property, which in
that state must necessarily be small : and il he be not al¬
lowed to defend it by every mean in his power, he will
not long be able to protect it all. By giving him
such liberty, a few individuals may, indeed, occasionully
lose their lives and limbs for the preservation ot a very
small portion of private property ; hut we believe that
the sum of human happiness will he more augmented by
cutting off such worthless wretches than by exposing
property to perpetual depredation ; and therefore, it
general utility be the criterion of moral good, we must
be of opinion'tliat a man may in every case lawful!v kill
a robber rather than comply with his unjust demand.
But if a man may without guilt preserve his proper¬
ty by the death of the aggressor, when it cannot be pre¬
served by any other means, much more may a woman
have recourse to the last extremity to protect her chas¬
tity from forcible violation. This, indeed, is admitte
by Mr Palev himself, and will be controverted by no
man who reflects on the importance of the female cha¬
racter, and the probable consequences of the smallest
deviation from the established laws of female honour.
See Seduction.
Self Knowledge, the knowledge of one’s own c ia-
racter, abilities, opinions, virtues, and vices. This has
always been considered as a dillieult though important
acquisition. It is difficult, because it is disagreeable to
investigate our errors, our faults, and vices ; because we
are apt to be partial to ourselves, - even when we have
done wrong ; and because time and habitual attention
5
S E L [ I
!3elf. are requisite to enable us to discover our real character.
But these difficulties are more than counterbalanced by
the advantages of self-knowledge.
By knowing the extent of our abilities, we shall ne¬
ver rashly engage in enterprises where our ineffectual
exertions may be productive of harm: by investigating
our opinions, we may discover those which have no
foundation, and those also which lead us insensibly into
vice. By examining our virtues and vices, we shall
learn what principles ought to be strengthened, and
what habits ought to be removed.
Man is a rational and intelligent being, capable of
great improvement, and liable to great vices. If he act
without examining his principles, he may be hurried
by blind passion into crimes. If he aspire at noble and
valuable acquisitions, he must act upon a plan, with de¬
liberation and fore thought; for he is not like a vege¬
table, which attains perfection by the influence of ex¬
ternal causes : he has powers within himself which must
be exerted, and exerted with judgment, in order to at¬
tain the perfection of his nature. To enable him to
employ these powers aright, he must know, first, what
is his doty j and, secondly, he must often review his
principles and conduct, that he may discover whether
he is performing his duty, or in what circumstances he
has failed. When he finds that he has fallen into er¬
ror and vice, he will naturally inquire what causes have
produced this effect, that he may avoid the same for the
time to come. 1 his is the method by which every re¬
formation in religion and science has been produced,
and the method by which the arts have been improved.
Before Lord Bacon introduced the new way of philo¬
sophizing, he must first have considered wherein true
philosophy consisted ; secondly, he must have inquired
in what respects the ancient method of philosophizing
was false or useless : and after determining these two
points, he was qualified to describe the way by which
the study of philosophy could be successfully pursued
without deviating into hypothesis and error. Luther
found out the errors of the church of Rome by com¬
paring their doctrines with the Scriptures. But had
this comparison never been made, the reformation could
never have taken place. Without self-knowledge, or
without that knowledge of our character which is de¬
rived from a comparison of our principles and conduct
with a perfect, standard of morality, we can never form
plans and resolutions, or make any exertion to aban¬
don the vicious habits which we have contracted, and
strengthen those virtuous principles in which we are
deficient.
As much may he learned from the errors of those
who have been in similar situations with ourselves 5 so
many useful cautions may be obtained from our own
errors ; and he that will remember these, will seldom be
twice guilty of the same vice.
It was evidently the intention of Providence that
man should be guided chiefly by experience. It is by
the observations which we make on what we see passing
arouni us, or from what we suffer in our own person,
Uiat we form maxims for the conduct of life. The more
minutely therefore we attend to our principles, and the
more maxims we form, we shall be the better fitted to
attain moral perfection.
With respect to our understanding, to mark the
VotTxI’xIVart''! ei‘ber
f
29 ] S E L
defects or by negligence, is also of great importance 5
for the greatest genius and most profound scholar are
liable to these errors, and often commit them as well as
the weak and illiterate. But by observing them, and
tracing them to their causes, they at length acquire an
habitual accuracy. It is true, that men of feeble minds
can never by knowing their own defects exalt themselves
to the rank of genius j but such knowledge will enable
them to improve their understandings, and so to appre¬
ciate their own powers, as seldom to attempt what is
beyond their strength. They may thus become useful
members of society j and though they will not probably
be admired for their abilities, they will yet escape the
ridicule which is poured upon vanity.
It is difficult to lay dawn precise rules for the acqui¬
sition of this self-knowledge, because almost every man
is blinded by a fallacy peculiar to himself. But when
one has got rid of that partiality which arises from self-
love, he may easily form a just estimate of his moral im¬
provements, by comparing the general course of his
conduct with the standard of his duty j and if he has
any doubt of the extent of his intellectual attainments,
be will most readily discover the truth by comparing
them with the attainments of others who have been most
successful in the same pursuits. Should vanity arise in
bis mind from such a comparison, let him then compare
the extent of his knowledge with what is yet to be
known, and he will then be in little danger of thinking
of himself more highly than he ought to think. See
Prejudice and Self-Partiality.
Self-Lovc, is that instinctive principle which impels
every animal, rational and irrational, to preserve its life
and promote its own happiness. It is very generally
confounded with selfishness; but we think that the one
propensity is distinct Irom the other. Every man loves
himself; but every man is not selfish. The seilish man
grasps at all miwei/iofe advantages, regardless of the con¬
sequences which his conduct may have upon his neigh¬
bour. Self-love only prompts him who is actuated by
it to procure to himself the greatest possible sum of hap¬
piness during the whole of his existence. In this pur¬
suit the rational self-lover will often forego a present
enjoyment to obtain a greater and more permanent one
in reversion; and he will as often submit to a present
pain to avoid a greater hereafter. Self-love, as distin¬
guished from selfishness, always comprehends the whole
of a man’s existence, and in that extended sense of the
phrase, we hesitate not to say that every man is a self-
lover; for, with eternity in his view, it is surely not
possible for the most disinterested of the human race not
to prefer himself to all other men, if their future and
everlasting interests could come into competition. This
indeed they never can do; for though the introduction
of evil into the world, and the different ranks which it
makes necessary in society, put it in the power of a man
to raise himself, in the present state, by the depression of
his neighbour, or by the practice of injustice, yet in
the pursuit of a prize which is to be gained only by so¬
berness, righteousness, and piety, there can be no rival-
ship among the different competitors. The success of
one is no injury to another; and therefore, in this sense
of the phrase, self-love is not only lawful, but absolutely
unavoidable. It has been a question in morals, whether
it be not likewise the incentive to every action, how¬
ever virtuous or apparently disinterested ?
B Those
Self.
Self.
Self.
;:rr bZe tUm, ana infer the future f,o;n the past
They own, that when a boy has had some exp r.ence
and is capable of making compansons, he wnl often
decline an immediate enjoyment which he has forme y
found productive of futu.e evil more than eqmvatent to
all its good •, but in doing so they think, and hey think
justly, that he is still actuated by the principle of self-
love,7 pursuing the greatest good of w.1uch he kn
himself to be capable. After experiencing that truth
equity, and benevolence in all his dealings is the readie ,
and indeed the only certain method of securing to himse
Ae " an/good offices of Ms WW
and much more when he has learned that tncy w
recommend him to the Supreme Being, upon whom
depend his existence and all his enjoyments, they admit
t Jt be will practice truth, equity, and benevolence ,
but still from tbe same principle, pursuing ins ow
u'tjmate happiness as the object winch be has always in
view The prospect of this great object will make him
feel an exquisite pleasure in the performance of the ac ions
which he conceives as necessary to its attainmen , i «•
}ast without attending in each instance to their conse¬
quences, he will, by tbe great associating princ.plewhick
lias been explained elsewhere (see Metaphysics,Par .
1 „„ j A feel a refined enjoyment in tbe actions tbem-
t lves and perform them, as occasions offer, without de-
KwX oi reflection. Such, tluy ,b..k. » £ or,S.n
of benevolence itself, and indeed of every vntne.
Those who take the other side of the question, can
havdlv deny that self-love thus modified may prompt to
SnS apparently disinterested condnc, ; bn. (bey
think it degrading the dignity of a own to suppose Mm
actuated solely by motives tvbich can be t,-ace,1 back
a desire of his own happiness. 1 hey observe tl.at he
Author of our nature has not left the preservation of he
individual, or the continuance of the species to the de¬
ductions of our reason, computing the sum of happiness
which the actions necessary to these ends produce
ourselves : on the contrary, He has taken care of both,
by the surer impulse of instinct planted m us for these
very purposes. And is it conceivable, say they, that He
would leave the care of our fellow-creatures a matter o
indifference, till each man should be able to discover or
be taught that by loving his neighbour, and doing h m
all the§good in his power, he would be most effectua y
promoting his own happiness ? It is dishonouring virtue
they continue, to make it proceed in any instance horn
a prospect of happiness, or a dread of misery •, and they
appeal from theory to fact, as exhibited in the conduct
of savage tribes, who deliberate little on the conse¬
quences of their actions.
q Their antagonists reply, that tbe conduct of savage
tribes is to be considered as that of children in civilized
nations, regulated entirely by the examples which they
have before them 5 that their actions cannot be tl
offspring of innate instincts, otherwise savage virtues
would, under similar circumstances, everywhere be tl
same, which is contrary to fact • that virtue proceeds
from an interested motive on either supposition , and
that the motive which the instinctive scheme holds up
1; the most selfish of the two. The other theory sup-
4
n<r in the Heart irom  
conduct The former is a rational motive, the latter
hTttotbM" more to do tvitb reason than the enjoyment
arising from eating or drinking, or from the .
between tbe sexes. But we mean "Ot to pursue bo
subject farther, as we have satd enougl on ,t m iU
articles Benevolence, Instinct, 1 Assio , .
1 IXTHROPY. We shall therefore conclude with ob-
' 1 . (i E certainly a virtuous as well as a
“eMufs^ftt-d twt “ Je self-love and social are
the same.”
SUrr v-Mui'dcr. See Suicide.
Self-Partiality, is a phrase employed by some ]dj>lo-
1 * f ^x txrptts that weakness of human natuis
sophers to express tl , Ws when com-* See W
through which men oveiva . , , p trenei al K(cmfs's
nared with others. It is distinguished from Art c<f
lartlalitv by those who make use of the expression, be-
cause it'is thought that a man is led to overrate his own
accomplishments, either by a particular instinct, 01 by a
process of intellect different from that by which lje over,-
rates the accomplishments of h.s fr.ends or ch, dreu.
The former kind of partiality is wholly selfish , the
ter nartakes much of benevolence. ,
This distinction may perhaps be deemed plausible by
those who consider the liuman mind as little more than
a bundle of instincts *, but it must appear perfectly ri¬
diculous to such as resolve the greater part of apparent
instincts into early and deep-rooted associations of idea .
If the partialities which most men have to their friend ,
their families, and themselves, he mst.net,ve, they are
certainly instincts of different kinds ; but an msuncUv.
partiality is a contradiction m terms. laiU‘ 7
founded on a comparison between two or more object,
but genuine instincts form no comparisons, bee JN-
STINCT. No man can be said to be partial to the lam
Dr Johnson, merely for thinking highly of Ms mtel-
iectoal powers ; nor was the doctor partial to himself,
though he thought in this respect with the S™"” 1 J “
his countrymen ; but if, upon a comparison with M l.on
he was deemed the greater poet of the two, such
judgment will be allowed to be partial, whether formed
bv himself or by any of his admirers. We apprehend,
however, that the process of its formation was the same
in every mind by which it was held.
The origin of self-partiality is not difficult to be
found •, and our partialities to our friends may be traced
to a similar source. By tbe constitution of our nature,
we are impelled to shun pain and to pursue pleasure ,
but remorse, the severest of all pains, is the never-fail¬
ing consequence of vicious conduct. emorse an
from the dread of that punishment which we believe
will in a future state be inflicted on vice unrepented oi
in this; and therefore every vicious person endeavouis
bv all possible means to banish that dread from his own
mind. One way of effecting this is to compare h*
own life with the lives of others •, for he fancies that it
numbers be as wicked as himself, the benevolent Lord
of all things will not involve them in one commo
ruin. Hence, by magnifying to himself the tempta¬
tions which led him astray, and diminishing the inj
which his conduct has done in the world, and by a op
ing a course diametrically the reverse, when estnna mg
‘Self,
ieiiin.
S E L [I
the morality or Immorality of the conduct of his neigh¬
bours, he soon comes to believe that he is at least not
wicked than they. Thus is self-partiality formed
in the mind, and quickly blinds him who is under its
influence so completely, as to hide from him the very
faults which he sees and blames in others. Hence the
coward thinks himself only cautious, the miser frugal.
Partiality is formed in the very same manner to natural
or acquired accomplishments, whether mental or corpo¬
real. These always procure respect to him who is pos¬
sessed of them ; and as respect is accompanied with
many advantages, every man wishes to obtain it for him¬
self. It he fails in his attempts, he consoles himself with
tiie persuasion that it is at least due to his merits, and
that it is only withheld by the envy of the public. He
compares the particular branch of science or bodily ac¬
complishment in which he himself most excels, with
those which have conferred splendour on his rival; and
easily finds that his own excellencies are of the highest
order, and entitled to the greatest share of public esteem.
Hence the polite scholar despises the mathematician j
the reader of Aristotle and Plato all the modern dis¬
coveries in physical and moral science; and the mere
experimentalist holds in the most sovereign contempt a
critical knowledge of the ancient languages. The pu¬
pil of the ancients denies the merits of the moderns,
whilst the mere modern allows nothing to the ancients j
and thus each becomes partial to his own acquisitions,
and of course to himself, for having been at the trouble
to make them.
Partiality to our friends and families is generated in
the very same way. Whenever we acquire such an af¬
fection lor them as to consider their happiness as adding
to our own (see Passion), we magnify their excel¬
lencies and diminish their defects, for the same rea¬
son, and by the same process, that we magnify and di¬
minish our own. All partialities, however, are preju¬
dices, and prejudices of the worst kind. They ought
therefore to be guarded against with the utmost care,
by the same means which we have elsewhere recom¬
mended (see Prejudice, and Metaphysics, N°98.)j
and he who is partial to his own virtue or his own
knowledge, will do well to compare the former, not
with the conduct of his neighbours, but with the express
lule of his duty; and to consider the latter as no farther
valuable than as it contributes to the sum of human
happiness.
i..L,LIAI I. emperor of the Turks, was the second
son of Bajazet II. He made war upon his father, and
though defeated in 1511, he at last dethroned him and
tooR him prisoner, and immediately dispatched him by
poison, together with his elder brother Achmet, and
us younger Korkud, an amiable and enlightened prince.
Having established his throne by these crimes, he march¬
ed against Campson-Guary sovereign of Egypt, gained
a great victory at Aleppo, and slew their general. But
though the sultan perished in that battle, the Mame-
. defermined to oppose the emperor. Selim enter-
urg their country at the head of his army, defeated the
Egyptians in two battles, and ordered Toumonbai, the
new elected sultan, who had fallen into his hands, to be
hung on a gibbet. _ He then took Cairo and Alexandria,
ami in a short time reduced all Egypt to subjection.
Pius ended the dominion of the Mameluks in Egypt,
31 ] 3 E L
which had continued for more than 260 years, He
confirmed the ancient privileges of the Venetians in
Egypt and Syria, by which they carried on their com¬
merce with India, and formed a league with them to
destroy the power of the Portuguese in that country.
(See India, N0 37-)‘ ^elim had before this gained a
great victory over the Persians, and stripped them of
Tauris and Keman. He was preparing to attack Chri¬
stendom when he was seized with an ulcerous sore in
the back. Thinking that the air of Adrianople would
restore his health, be ordered himself to be conducted
thither; but he died at Clari in Thrace on his road to
that city, in the year 1520, in the very spot where he
had poisoned his father. He reigned eight years, and
lived 54. He was a prince of great courage, sobriety,
and liberality: he was fond of history, and wrote some
verses. But these good qualities were obscured by the
most abominable crimes that ever disgraced human na¬
ture ; he made his way to the throne by shedding the
blood of his father, and secured it by murdering his bro¬
thers and eight nephews, and every bashaw who had
been faithful to his duty.
SEL1NUM, a genus of plants belonging to the pent-
andna class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 4yfh order, Umbellatce. See Botany Index.
SELKIRK, Alexander, whose adventures gave
rise to a well-known historical romance, was born at
Largo, in Fifeshire in Scotland, about the year 1676,
and was bred a seaman. He went from England, in
1703, in the capacity of sailing-master of a small vessel
called the Cinque-Ports Gulley, Charles Pickering cap¬
tain, burthen about 90 tons, with 16 guns and 63 men ;
and in September the same year sailed from Cork, in
company with another ship of 26 guns and 120 men
called the St George, commanded by that famous na¬
vigator William Dampier, intended to cruise against the
Spaniards in the South sea. On the coast of Brazil,
Pickering died, and was succeeded in his command by
bis lieutenant Thomas Stradling. They proceeded on
their voyage round Cape Horn to the island of Juan Fer¬
nandes, whence they were driven by the appearance of
two French ships of 36 guns each, and left five of Strad-
ling’s men there on shore, who were taken 01T by the
French. Hence they sailed to the coast of America,
where Dampier and Stradling quarrelled, and separated
by agreement, on the 19th of May 1704. In Septem¬
ber following, Stradling came again to the island of Juan
Fernandes, where Selkirk and his captain had a difl'er-
ence, which, with the circumstance of the ship’s being
very leaky, and in bad condition, induced him to deter¬
mine on staying there alone ; but when bis companions
were about to depart, bis resolution was shaken, and he
desired to be taken on board again. The captain, how¬
ever, refused to admit him, and he was obliged to re¬
main, having nothing but his clothes, bedding, a gun,
and a small quantity of powder and ball ; a hatchet,
knife, and kettle; his hooks, and mathematical and nau¬
tical instruments. He kept up his spirits tolerably till
he saw the vessel put off', when (as he afterwards relat¬
ed) his heart yearned within him, and melted at parting
with his comrades and all human society at once,
-Yet believe me, Areas,
Sdiai
!!
Selkiiii.
Such is the rooted love we bear mankind,
R 2
All
S E L
[ 132 3
S E L
Selkifk.
All ruffians as they v/ere, I never heard
A sound so dismal as their parting oars.
A Thomson's Agamemnon.
Tl,us left sole —cb of ^be ^
the necessaries ofl , ^ fisl tis flesh, turnips
hardly supportable. - j :ectefl languid,
and other vegetables-, yet he g^u J ^ s’arccbaWe
and melancholy, to such a c eg , ‘ f Eighteen
, from doing violence to nimseu. &
t(, re ham Horn no g reasoning, reading
months passed before ^ { j reconciled to his
“"uttl^eg'rrap/y, employing him-
condition. At g b . , ats whom he
S.lf in decorat,ng »r faifel, „f catching,
equalled in speed, a Lming them to prevent
He abo tamed V?’’kem a guard of tame cats
T^rKfend him when* adc^ep from the rats,
about him, to ucic wi-,Pn his clothes were
--,-7‘““go^kins but conid not
worn out, he made use 0f which, how-
succeed making soloes,^wt^ (o aispen-e. His on-
^adCgo ye!, ^
ears. Commodore ^ goat wflich they
about 30 years a , marked and as it appeared
shot upon landing, wa ’ under the
<0 he -r t\.k°nSi. 4. t h C» >“i" Carteret’s
lwwcr ?f Jtutyage in the Swallow sloop, that other
account «f h'sJ? moie of mal.king, as he found a
l> “, with his ears thus slit on the neighbouring .slant!
goat witl o u,• h never was. He made
of Mas,«-faera, whet^SelUrk^
with them Th^ he^eonstantly P-
fT when5 heTtken off the island, his language,
l ’ j:suse of conversation, had become scarcely mtelh-
Se In Is solitude he eontinned four years and
four months; during which time only two incidents
hamiened which he thought worth relating, the occui-
rences of everv day being in his circumstances nearly
similar. The one was, that, pursuing a goat eagerly,
he caimht it just on the edge of a precipice, which was
covered with bushes, so that he did not perceive it, and
he fell over to the bottom, where he lay (according to
Cantain Roger’s account) 24 hours senseless -, hut, as he
related to Sir R. Steele, he computed, by the alteration
of the moon, that he had lain three days When he
came to himself, he found the goat lying under him dead.
Xt was with great difficulty that he could crawl to b.s
habitation, whence he was unable to stir for ten day,
and did not recover of bis bruises for a long time. The
other event was the arrival of a ship, which he at fi
su-mosed to be French : and such is the natural love of
society in the human mind, that he was eager to aban-
1 1 %= enlitarv felicity, and surrender himself to them,
^ SU’npon their landing approach-
fn. them, he found them to be Spaniards, of whom he
had too great a dread to trust himself m their hands.
They were by this time so near that it required all n
ai-Ifty to escape, which he effected by climbing mto a
thick tree, being shot at several times as he ian ot.
Fortunately the Spaniards did not discover him, thong 1
they stayed some time under the tree where he was hid
and k dld some goats just by. In this solitude Selkirk v-
remained until the 2d of February 1709, sa^
Jwo ships come into the bay, and knew them to b.
English He immediately lighted a fire as a signal ,
amf on their coming on shore, found they were the
Duke Captain Rogers, and the Duchess Captain Court¬
ney two privateers from Bristol. He gave then the
best entertainment he could afford-, and, as they had
been a W time at sea without fresh provisions, the
toats which he caught were highly acceptable. His
habitation consisting of two huts, one to sleep in, w
other to dress his food in, was so obscurely situated, and
so difficult of access, that only one of the ship s officers
would accompany him to it f0 ^
Enard the Duke, and knew belknk very wen,
told Captain Rogers, that, when on board the Cinque-
Ports he was the best seaman in the vessel *, upon
which Captain Rogers appointed him master s mate of
the Duke After a fortnight’s stay at Juan rermindes,
the ships proceeded on their cruize against the Spa¬
niards -,Pplundered a town on the coast of Peru -, took a
Manilla Pship off California -, and returned by way of
the East Indies to England, where they arrived the is
of October 1711-, Selkirk having been absent eighi
years, more than half of which time he had spent alone
in the island. The public curiosity being excited respecU
ing him, he was induced to put his papers into the
hands of Defoe, to arrange and form them into a re¬
gular narrative. These papers must have been urawn
up after he left Juan Fernandes, as he had no means of
recording his transactions there. Captain Cooke re¬
marks, as an extraordinary circumstance that he had
contrived to keep an account ol the days of the week
and month -, but this might be done as Defoe make«
Robinson Crusoe do, by cutting notches in a post or
many other methods. From tins account of Selknk,
Defoe took the idea of writing a more extensive work,
the romance of Robinson Crusoe, and very dishonestly
defrauded the original proprietor of Ins share of the
profits. Of the time or place or manner ot this extra¬
ordinary man’s death we have received no account} bu
in 1798 the chest and musket which Selkirk had with
him on the island were in the possession ot his grand¬
nephew, John Selkirk weaver in Largo..
The circumstances of Selkirk’s seclusion from human
society during his stay on Juan Fernandes, and the sen¬
timents which that situation naturally inspired have
been so finely and characteristically dispicted by Mr
Cowper, that many of our readers, we doubt not,
will be gratified if we give the verses alluded to a
place here.
I am monarch of all I survey.
My right there is none to dispute :
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Oh, solitude ! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face ?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms.
Than reign in this horrible place.
I am out of humanity’s reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
ISlever hear the sw’eet music ot speech *,
I start at the sound of my own.
The
s E L [
k!ik. The beasts that roam over the plain,
V—-' My form with indifference see 5
They are so unacquainted with man,
1 heir tameness is shocking to me.
Society, friendship, and love|
Divinely bestow’d upon man,
Oh, had 1 the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again !
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer’d by the sallies of youth.
Religion ! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word !
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Ne’er sigh’d at the sound of a knell,
Or smil’d when a Sabbath appear’d.
Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me ?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.
How fleet is a glance of the mind !
^ Compar’d with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think on my own native land,
In a moment [ seem to be there ;
But alas ! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair.
But the sea-towl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair,
Ev’n here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There’s mercy in every place ;
And mercy, encouraging thought !
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.
. Selkirk, the capital of the county of the same name,
is a small town pleasantly situated on a rising ground,
and enjoys an extensive prospect in all directions, espe¬
cially in the course of the river Ettrick. It is remark¬
able for those plaintive airs produced in its neighbour¬
hood the natural simplicity of which are the pride of
Scotland and the admiration of strangers.
The citizens of this burgh, like the other inhabitants
ot the sheriffdom of Ettrick forest, rendered themselves
famous by adhering to the fortune of their sovereign
♦ a?!eS •’ p c*^z’ens who followed that monarch
to the plains of Flodden, a few returned loaded with
spoils taken from the English. Of the trophies of that
<lay, there yet remains in the possession of the corporation
of weavers, a standard taken by a member of that body,
it may also be mentioned, that the sword of William
Brydone, the town-clerk, who led the citizens to the
battle, and was knighted for his valour, still remains, it
*8 said, in the possession of a citizen of Selkirk, his li-
Selkirh,
Selkirk¬
shire.
133 ] S E L
neal descendant. The desperate valour of the citizens,
however, so exasperated the English, that they reduced
their defenceless town to ashes; but their grateful so-
veieign, James V. shewed his sense of their services by
a grant of an extensive tract of Ettrick forest, the trees
for building their houses, and the property as a reward
for their heroism. Selkirk is a royal burgh, uniting
with Lanark, Linlithgow, and Peebles, in sending a
member to parliament. W. Long. 2. 46. N. Lat. r c.^.
^ SELKIRKSHIRE, called also the Sheriffdom of
Ettrick Forest, a county of Scotland, extending about
20 miles in length from east to west, and about 12 in
breadth from south to north. It borders on the north
with part of Tweeddale and Mid-Lothian j on the
south and east with Tiviotdale ; and on the west with
Annandale. This county was formerly reserved by the
Scottish princes for the pleasure of the chase, and where
they had houses for the reception of their train. At
that time the face of the country was covered with
woods, in which there were great numbers of red and
fallow deer, whence it had the name of Ettrick Forest.
The woods, however, are now almost entirely cut down,
and the county is chiefly supported by the breed of sheep!
They are generally sold into the south, hut sometimes
into the Highlands, about the month of March, where
they are kept during summer 5 and after being improved
by the mountain-grass, are returned into the Lowlands
in the beginning of winter.
This county, though not very populous at present
was once the nurse of heroes, who were justly account!
ed the bulwark of t’lffr native soil, being ever ready to
brave danger and death in its defence. Of this we
have a memorable proof in the pathetic lamentations
oi their wives and daughters for the disaster of the field
“ ’■l,ere r':f •t,iave /rsters were a’ 'rei1
an ay. Ihe rivers Ettnck and Yarrow unite a little of
above the town of Selkirk, and terminate in the Tweed.
lor five miles above its junction with the Ettrick, thevo1,
Tweed is still adorned with woods, and leads the pleased
imagination to contemplate what this country must
have been in former times. The Yarrow, for about
hve miles above its junction with Ettrick, exhibits na¬
ture in a bold and striking aspect. Its native woods
still remain, through which the stream has cut its turbid
course, deeply ingulphed amidst rugged rocks. Here
certainly m a flood, stood the descriptive Thomson when
he saw it
“ Mork and boil, and foam and thunder through.”
. a Peninsula, cut out by the surrounding stream
in the middle of this fantastically wild scene of orandeur
and beauty, stands the castle of Newark, whichlias been
supposed by many to be the birthplace of Mary Scot
the flower of Yarrow. J
Ihe population of this county in 1801 amounted to
5070, and in 1811 to 5889 j but the following is the
population ot the different parishes at two different pe¬
riods, according to the Statistical History.
Parishes. Population Population in
Ettrick, “j’f
Galashiels, 998
Carry forward, 1395
*384
Selkirk
Parishes.
[ i
Population in
179c:—1798.
1384
17OO
123°
43x4
S E M
Population in
17S5-
Brought over, 1395
Selkirk, J793
Yarrow,
4368
See Selkirkshire, Supplement.
SELL, or Sill, in building, is of two kinds viz.
Ground Sell, denoting the lowest piece of timber in
-wooden building, and that on which the whole super¬
structure is raised 5 and sell of a window or of a door,
which is the bottom piece in the Irame of them on which
th SELLA TURCICA, is a deep impression between the
clinoid process of the sphenoid bone. See Anatomy
SELTZER water, is a mineral water which springs
up at Lower Seltzer, a village in the electorate of Iners,
about 10 miles from Frankfort on the Mayne, and 36
‘'‘Tetet'wSr is brought to this country in stone bot-
tles tvhich are closely corked and sealed, and contain
about 3 pints each ; and when they are well secured,
it keeps unchanged for a considerable time.
Seltzer water, according to the analysis of Beigma ,
contains in an English wine pint,
Semen,
Carbonate of lime,
      of magnesia,
  of soda,
Muriate of soda,
grs.
3
5
4
17-5
29-5
The same quantity of water also yields 17 cubic inches
of I gaseOTS substance, which is found to be almost en-
tirelv pure carbonic acid gas.
This water has been long in high repute, on ^COUnt
of its medical virtues, and we have no doubt that 1
may be used with considerable benefit in many of those
complaints which arise from a deranged state of tne sto-
3 and bowels. The usual dose of this water is om
half a pint to a pint-, but in most cases it may be diu
freely/ From its agreeable taste, and its exhilarating
effects on the spirits, it is extensively employed at able
as a common drink in Germany and Holland. In th
country also, both the real and artificial Seltzer water is
largely used for the same purpose. Seltzer water m y
he artificially imitated, by adding the ingredients dilut¬
ed by analysis, and in the same proportion.
SEM, or Shem, the son of Noah, memorable for 11
filial piety in concealing the folly and disgrace of his
father! foi} which he received a remarkable benediction,
about 2476 B. C. He lived to the age of 600 y^.
Ras Sem. See Ras Scm and Petbified City.
SEMECARPUS, a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class. See Botany Index.
SEMEN, Seed. See Botany Index.
With respect to number, plants are either furnis lec
with one seed, as sea-pink and bistort two, as wood-
roof and the umbelliferous plants -, three, as spurge
four, as the lip-flowers of Tournefort and rough-leafed
34 1 SEM
plants of Ray j or many, as ranunculus, anemone, and
P°The form of seeds is likewise extremely various, being
either large or small, round, oval heart-shaped kidney-
shaped angular, prickly, rough, hairy, wrinkled, sleek
or Sngfbluck! Willie, or brown. Most eee.lo ,»vu
only one cell or internal cavity tnose of lesser burdock,
valerian, lamb’s lettuce, cornelian, cherry, and sebesten,
l a With respect to substance, seeds are either soft, mem¬
branaceous, or of a hard bony substance } as in grom-
well, tamarind, and all the nuciferous plants.
In point of magnitude, seeds are either very large,
in the cocoa-nut j or very small, as in campanula, am-
mannia, rampions, and throat-wort.
With respect to situation, they are either dispers
promiscuously through the pulp
in water-lilv ; affixed to a suture or joining of the valves
of the seed-vessel, as in the cross-shaped and pea-bloom
flowers ; or placed upon a placenta or receptacle within
the seed-vessel, as in tobacco and thorn-apple.
Seeds are said to be naked (semna nuda)
not contained in a cover or vessel: such are those of the
lip and compound flowers, the umbelliferous ana rough,
leaved plants. Covered seeds {semina tecta) are co
tained in some vessel, whether of the capsule, pod, lie -
rv. apple, or cherry kind. .
7 A simple seed is such as bears neither crown, wing,
nor downy pappus ; the varieties in seeus, arising hom
these circumstances, are particularly enumerated under
assimilating6 the* animal and vegetable kiugdun^
Linnaeus denominates seeds the eggs of plants. I be
fecundity of plants is frequently marvellous j from
single plant or stalk of Indian lurkey wheat, aie pro¬
duced/ in one summer, 2000 seeds j of elecampane,
2000 of sun-flower, 4000-, of poppy, 32,000 ; ot a
spike of cat’s tail, 10,000 and upwards : a single frmt
or seed-vessel, of tobacco, contains 1000 seeds; that ot
white poppy, 8000. Mr Ray relates, from experiments
made by himself, that 1012 tobacco seeds are equal 1
weight to one grain ; and that the weight of the whole
quantum of seeds in a single tobacco plant, is such as
must, according to the above proportion, determine the
number to be 360,000. Hie same author estimates the
annual produce of a single stalk of spleenwor.t to be up¬
wards of one million of seeds.
The dissemination of plants respects the different me¬
thods or vehicles by which nature has contrived to dis¬
perse their seeds for the purpose of increase, ihese y
naturalists are generally reckoned four.
1. Rivers and running waters. 2. I he wind. 3. ni
mals. 4. An elastic spring, peculiar to the seeds them-
selves 1
1. The seeds which are carried along by rivers and
torrents are frequently conveyed many hundreds 0
leagues from their native soil, and cast upon a very 1 1
ferent climate, to which, however, by degrees they ren¬
der themselves familiar. ,
2. Those which are carried by the wind, are ei er
winged, as in fir-tree, trumpet-flower, tulip-tree, hire 1,
arbor-vitae, meadow rue, and jessamine, and some uin
belliferous plants ; furnished with a pappus, or downy
crown, as in valerian, poplar, reed, succulent swa ow-
wort, cotton-tree, and many of the compound flovveroj
S E M
placed within a winged cahjx or seed-vessel, as in sca¬
bious, sea-pink, dock, dioscorea, ash, maple, and elm-
trees, logwood and woad ; or, lastly, contained within
a swelled calyx or seed-vessel, as in winter cherry, cu-
cubalus, melilot, bladder nut, fumatory, bladder-sena,
heart-seed, and chick-pease.
3. Many birds swallow the seeds of vanelloe, juniper,
mi^leto?, oats, millet, and other grasses, and void them
entire. Squirrels, rats, parrots, and other animals, suf¬
fer many of the seeds which they devour to escape, and
thus in effect disseminate them. Moles, ants, earth¬
worms, and other insects, by ploughing up the earth,
admit a free passage to those seeds which have been scat¬
tered upon its surface. Again, some seeds attach them¬
selves to animals, by means of crotchets, hooks, or hairs,
which are either affixed to the seeds themselves, as in
hound’s tongue, mouse-ear, vervain, carrot, bastard par¬
sley, sanicle, water hemp-agrimony, arctopus, and ver-
bssina; to their calyx, as in burdock, agrimony, rhexiu,
small wild bugloss, dock, nettle, pellitory, and seed-
wort ; or to their fruit or seed-vessel, as in liquorice, en¬
chanter’s nightshade, crosswort, cleavers, French honey¬
suckle, and arrow-headed grass.
4. The seeds which disperse themselves by an elastic
force, have that force resident either in their calyx, as
in oats, and the greater number of ferns j in their pap¬
pus, as in centaurea crupina ; or in their capsule, as in
gerannium, herb-bennet, African spirsea, fraxinella,
horsetail, balsam, Malabar nut, cucumber, elaterium,
and male balsam apple.
Semen, in the animal economy. See Physiology
and Anatomy Index.
Semen Sanctum, or Santonicum. See Artemisia.
SEMENDRIAH, a town of Turkey in Europe, in
the province of Servia, with a good citadel. It is the
capital of a sangiacate, was taken by the Turks in 1690,
and is seated on the Danube, in E. Long. 21. 45. N.
Lat. 4 $. o.
SEMENTINiE FERINE, in antiquity, feasts held an¬
nually among the Romans, to obtain of the gods a plen¬
tiful harvest. They were celebrated in the temple of
Tellus, where solemn sacrifices were offered to Tellus
and Ceres. These feasts were held about seed-time*
usually in the month of January j for, as Macrobius ob¬
serves, they were moveable feasts.
SEMI, a word borrowed from the Latin, signifying
halj; but only used in composition with other words, as,
in the following articles.
SsMi-Arians, in ecclesiastical history, a branch of the
ancient Arlans, consisting, according to Epiphanius, of
such as, in appearance, condemned the errors of that
heresiarch, but yet acquiesced in some of the principles
thereof, only palliating and hiding them under softer
and more moderate terms. Though they separated from
the Arian faction (see Arians), they could never he
brought to acknowledge that the Son was homoousios,
that is, consubstantial, or of the same substance with
the Father j they would only allow him to be homo-
oiisios, that is, of a like substance with the Father, or
similar to the Father in his essence, not by nature, but
by a peculiar privilege.
The semi-arianism of the moderns consists in their
maintaining that the Son was from all eternity begotten
y the will of the i ather contrary to the doctrine of
[ 135 J
S E M
the orthodox, who seem to teach that the eternal gene¬
ration is necessary. Such at least are the respective opi¬
nions of Dr Clarke and Bishop Bull. See Theology.
Semicircle, in Geometry, half a circle, or that fi¬
gure comprehended between the diameter of the circle
and half its circumference.
Semicolon, in Grammar, one of the points or stops
used to distinguish the several members of a sentence
from each other.
The mark or character of the semicolon is (;), anti
has its name as being of somewhat less effect than a co¬
lon ; or as demanding a shorter pause.
The proper use of the semicolon is to distinguish the
conjunct members of a sentence. Now, bv a conjunct
member of a sentence is meant such a one as contains
at least two simple members.—Whenever, then, a sen¬
tence can be divided into several members of the same
degree, which are again divisible into other simple mem¬
bers, the former are to be separated by a semicolon,
lor instance: “ It fortune bear a great sway over him,
who lias nicely stated and concerted every circumstance
of an affair j we must not commit every thing, without
reserve, to fortune, lest she have too great a hold of us.”
Again: Si quantum in agro locisque desertis audaciapo¬
test, tantum mforo atque judiciis impudentia vale ret;
non minus in causa cederet Aldus Ccecinna Scxta JEbutii
impudentue, quam turn in vi facienda cessit audacice.
An instance in a more a complex sentence we have in
Cicero: Res familiarisprimum beneparta sit, nulloque
turpi queestu : turn quam plurimis, modo dignis, se uti-
lem prcebcat ; deinde augeatur ratione, diligentia, par-
simoma ; nec hbidinipotius luxuricequc, quam liberali-
tati et benificentice pareat.
But though the proper use of the semicolon be to di¬
stinguish conjunct members, it is not necessary that all
the members thus divided be conjunct. For upon di¬
viding a sentence into great and equal parts, if one of
them be conjunct, all those other parts, of the same de¬
gree are to be distinguished by a semicolon.—Sometimes
also it happens, that members that are opposite to each
other, but relate to the same verb, are separated by a
semicolon. Thus Cicero: Ex hue parte pudor, Mine
petulantta ; hmcfides, Mine fraudatio ; hinc pittas, il-
line scelus, &c. To this likewise may be referred such
sentences, where the whole going before, the parts fol¬
low : as “ '1 he parts of oratory are four j invention,
disposition, elocution, and pronunciation.
Semicubium, in Medicine, an half-bath, wherein the
patient is only placed up to the navel.
Semidiameter, half the diameter, or a right line
drawn from the centre of a circle or sphere to its cir¬
cumference : being the same with what is otherwise
called the radius.
Semiflosculus, in Botany, a term used to express
the flowers of the syngenesia class. These semiflosculi
are petals, hollow in their lower part, but in their up¬
per flat, and continued in the shape of a tongue.
Semitone, in Music. See Interval.
SEMINAL, something belonging to the semen or
seed.
SEMINARY, in its primary sense, the ground
where any thing is sown, to be afterwards transplanted.
Seminary, in a figurative sense, is frequently ap¬
plied to places of education, whence scholars are trans¬
planted
13
6 ]
Seminary
n
Seimpela-
gtans.
* Augusti-
m, lib; ii.
Be Gratia.
S E M t .
planted into life.-In Catholic countriea it is parten-
larly used for a kind of college mi-
are instructed in the ceremomes, &e. of tl,e a“e“ J
nistrv Of these there are great numbers , it being
ordaTned by the council of Trent, that there be a se¬
minary belonging to each cathedral, under the d,rectum
°f SEMINATION, denotes the manner or
shedding and dispersing the seeds of plants.
'"sEMIPELAGIANS, in'Ecdfaf'calJy'Z^*
name given to such as retain some tincture of 1 elag.an
iS Thetettinet ofX sect, as well as those of their
predecessors the Pelagians have them common source m
Pelagias, a g^j^n^ jjave ^een hut^simple
m»k “Hot i^derr Having gone to Rome about
Z end of the fourth century, he lived there for some
tears with reputation, and was considered both p.o“S
^ i * 4- _ — T?nfiniis a priest of Aquileia, lia\ing
have teeS: pers'™ Sm suggestedtpefa^rpl-
only person who ‘ ^ ,2“' H tent a'^
liavp elsewhere enumerated tlie neaas. ^ i
After having promulgated them m Home,
subtlety. Alter navi g p fa seme time,
they went auto S.e.ly, whe'e they li Afr;ca.
Thence, in the year 41'. “cj pa® Celestius
Polagins soon^f er we t oPalestme^i,
take the^orde/of'pi msthood •, but it being soon disccc^cml
which Aurelius the bishop presided. Celestius, »» Dei g
charged by Paullnus with denying original sin,
“ That in truth he doubted whether the sin of Adam
gwer, I hat in iru . He dld not however
was transmitted to ms posieruy. nuilfl11frh this
„„„ that children had no need of bapt. m this
rvf lEf. Pplnn-ian tenets: on the contrary, ne
was “"e,;tL iUcoorfe, in which he acknowledged, that
ThUdren w neeTof ’redemption, and that they con d
not obtain it without baptism. The bishops at t
council of Carthage condemned the <loct""“ ° ^
stins and excommunicated him. From this sentence ne
Inneafedto the bishop of Rome; but he neglected to
pursue his appeal, and went to Ephesus where he endea¬
voured to get himself ordained priest. In the mean
time Pelagius having retired into Palestine, was i y
received byU St Jerome’s enemy, John of Jerusalem
With him he entered into an engagement to attack the
renuto ion of that author. St Jerome defended himself
from S assault, and attacked the doctrines ot Pela-
gms+ and in this undertaking he was soon assisted by
It Austine. About this time, Oros,us having gone
frem Spain into Africa and thence into Palestine pub-
lished there the proceedings against Celestius at C.
t age and "vas prevailed upon by the bishop ot Jerusa-
iem to enter into a conference with Pelagms m his pre¬
sence ; but the bishop having shown too much partiality
for Pelagius, Orosius would not acknowledge n
3
S E M
f St Je~
rome'i
Works and
the Apology
of Oroiius.
We but demanded that the decision of that affair Semipe!,.
was Tl1.1 bThU h^Lfd^
f/Sytr 4” STat“hich time^e^e were in Palestine
two French prelates, who, being driven from their dio¬
ceses fled into that country, and having been apprize
ceses, nea into . and Celestlus, drew up an
abridgement from their Swo books of the errors imputed
to them!. To StTXrwereSt
‘renarrlify by Hifar’ius to St Augustine, and tto, o^
whierwben the memoir was read, Pelagius explained
sb—^rt^rp^ip
condemned at Carthage, and some others ascribed to
Celestius. He did not even hesitate to condemn them ,
upon which the bishops decided, that, since Pelagius
approved the doctrine of the church, and rejected and
condemned what was contrary to its belief, the>
knowledged him to be of the ecclesiastical and catholic
"Oro^us'eturning to Africa, took with him the me-
. . If Vp! am us -rnd presented it to a meeting of » phtty
moir against Pelagius, ana p tt ■ read 0VtTstksofSl
bishops* held at Carthage in 4 . ^ , r> je Augustin
what had been done at a former meeting against Cele-^
who-app^eTof6 tTludg^nt of the African
prelates, and declared Pelagius, Celestius, and then fol-
f n, I,.,]Innocent gave an aecouni, yfQW
lowers excommnn,eatent. B East, and theifnv*'
of this judgment to the bishops or 1 hatCmm^
matter seemed altogether at an end, when he died j du
Celestius having been made pr.est at Ephesus and hav- -5
ing gone to Constantinople, whence he was duven by
Auicus bishop of that city, who also wrote against Inn
to Asia and to Africa, he came to Home in the begin¬
ning of the pontificate of Zozimus, and undertook to
pursue the appeal, which he had formerly made from
the judgment of the synod ot Carthage. Haying ci
his accuser Paulinas, and offered to justify himsel , he
presented aConfession of Faith, in which he acknow edg¬
ed that children ought to he baptized in. order to inh
rit the kingdom of heaven *, hut he denied that the sin
of Adam was transmitted to his children. He appeared
before the bishops and clergymen assembled by the pope
and declared, that he condemned all the eiroi
which he had been charged. The pope delayed is
judgment for two months, and in the mean time re
ceived a letter and a confession of farth from Pelagm ,
very artfully drawn up. When the time for JudSni‘
arrived, Zozimus held a synod, and said, that he t long
the declarations of Pelagius and Celestius sufficient^
their justification. He was displeased at the two 11 ench
bishops for not appearing against them, an wi o t
letters on that head, one to the bishops of Afi.ca a*
another in particular to Aurelius, bishop ot ag*'
The African bishops, to the number ot 2x4, ™
regarding the judgment passed at Home, assembled a
Carthage, and, having confirmed their former deci^i ,
condemned the doctrines of the Pelagians. Ihey wr ^
S E M
Jeipela- to the bishop of Home to acquaint him, that he had
been deceived by Celestius, and discovered to him the
equivocations of his letter and of the Confession of Faith
o elagius, sending him a memoir of tlie errors of
which he snou d require a distinct and precise revocation
lorn the two heretics. The pope made answer, that,
although Ins authority was so great, that none durst
dissent from his judgment, still that he was williiur to
communicate the matter to them, and would let it
remain m the same state, until a new deliberation
could take place. 1 Jus letter was presented to a coun¬
cil he d at Carthage in 418, at which eight canons were
drawn up against the Pelagian heresy. The bishop of
Komis «n the mean time, was inclined to examine again
the an an’ ot Celestius, and to endeavour to draw from
him distinct and precise answers according to the plan
suggested by the African bishops in their memoir; but
Celestius would not come forward, and accordingly
withdrew from Rome. From his flight the pope con¬
cluded, that he imposed upon him formerly, and that he
held the new doctrines ; and, accordingly, changing his
opinion with respect to him, he approved of the decrees
ot the African prelates, and renewed the condemnations
ot his predecessor Pope Innocent, against him and Pe-
3i'*,Ae lagius . This judgment he published in a letter which
X7 w.a.sis"’t »' .'/* bi*l>opS. About the same „W an
W ^1,,ct "as by the emperor Honor,us strains,
Petagius and Celestius, ordering, that they should be
banished from Rome, and that all their followers should
be sent into exile.
In the following year Honorius published another
edict, by which it was ordered, that the bishops who
would not sign the pope’s letter, should be deprived of
their churciies. Accordingly, Julian the bishop of £-
clana, who was afterwards head of the party, and seven¬
teen other bishops were cashiered ; upon which they
wrote a letter to Rufus, bishop of Thessalonica, and
demanded a universal council from the emperor, which
he refused Celestius returned again to Rome, but was
again expelled the city j whilst his followers, being ex¬
pelled from Italy, retired to different countries. Some
of them came over into Britain, and others went into
the East. Atticus banished them from Constantinople,
and they were also banished from Ephesus. Theodo-
tus bishop of Antioch, condemned them in a synod
held at Diospohs and banished Pelagius and his fol-
JulTan tl Ut| ° IaleStl,ie’ Whlther they had returned.
Julian the bishop was condemned in a provincial synod
of Cilicia, whither he had retired to Theodoras bishop
ofMopsuesta, who was obliged to anathematize him!
What became of Pelagius is unknown, as historv gives
«o farther account of him ; but Celestius having re
r 137 j
s E M
turned to Rome, and being dt^ ITouL ^
1 ,• . ’ uuveu mence by J-’one ( e
";ld'/lllia" a">1 other bishops of their
Syu „cr,tan,ra0i>levrh're ll,ey en‘leavoured to pro-
lil ins esd of TPtT TI,f0d0SiuS t0 ass'mM' » ooun-
, Af,er thi I W' ‘ ^ 0,|de,''<, ,llem 10 leave tl>e oity.
kC n f j ‘S1they Joine(1 wth the Nestorians + and were
t’* at Ephesus Wlt]h fbem in a general council held
numlfer of Pdt3- 5 T there n.°w remained but a small
ter haviup nl *'™ m lheWest‘ ^ af-
terliaving endeavoured several times to get himself re
instated in bis bishopric, was at lace Ar 1 •
into Sicily, where he died °bl'g<!d t0 ret,re
T°Vol. Xl£ rin Leded ‘he "bo
f
rejected the doctrines of the former with respect to ori¬
ginal sin and the power of free will to do ood t- They
owned, that man had need of the grace of God to perse¬
vere in well-doing; hut they believed, that the benin-
mng ot good will and faith did not necessarily depend
upon grace 5 lor that man, by the mere force of nature
might desire to do good, and that God seconded that
good will by Ins assistance, which depended upon liber-
ty, and was given to all men. Besides these, they main-
tamed some other peculiar tenets. The origin of some
of their opinions is founded in this, that some of the
books which were written by St Augustine in his last
years, with respect to the controversies which arose in
the monastery of Adrumetum, relative to correction
grace, and predestination, having been carried into
Ga happened to give offence to several persons, and
pai icularly to the monks of Lerins, who considered his
doct^nes hostde to that of free will. This led them to
think and to maintain, that, in order to be saved it
was necsesary to leave to man the power of knowing and
desiring good by the force of nature, so that the begin-
aing might come from man. Several considerable per¬
sons in Gaul, and even some bishops, but particularly
the priests, were of this opinion. Cassia,, deacon of
Constantinople and afterwards priest at Marseilles, au-
onzed it in his conferences, and Faustus, bishop of
W supported it very strenuously. St Augustine stood
up to oppose this doctrine from its very first appearance
and was supported by Prosper and Hilarius. Pope Ce-
estm complained to the bishops of Gaul, that they suf¬
fered their priests to speak ill of the doctrines of St Au¬
gustine ; and l opes Gelasms and Hormisdas condemned
the books 0 Faustus-, and last of all, the council of
lange, held in 529, condemned particularly the prin-
cipal tenets of the Semipelagians, and put an eJd at
that time to tne controversy, about ico years after the
death oi St Augustme—See the histories of Mosheim,
-Dupin, and Fleury, &c. &c.
The Semipelagians were very numerous : and their
tCnv"of’,i,rg ‘ Va'-i0'ISl5; -«ive,l m
many o the monastic schools in Gaul, whence they
fepiead themselves far and wide through Europe. With
respect to the Greeks and other Christians of the Ea«t
we may remark that they had adopted the Semipelagian
Cas'k’n^rluT,^ ’ We,'° “ Ga“' by
Alter the period however, at which the Semipelagian
doctrines were condemned in the council of Omige^ve
find hut little notice taken of this sect by historians
Although its tenets were maintained by a^ew in the
succeeding centuries, the sect could boast of no eminent
leaders and sunk into obscurity. In the beginning in-
deed, ot the reformation n i ' • ^
Semfpel.i-
gian«.
f Hilary's
Letters to
Augustine.
 ui 11
were again brought into circulation. Every one is ac-
"'I1' the ''Utility of Luther to tholdrine of
free m l, who went so far into the opposite extreme as
0 entitle one of his works aeainst the celebrated Eras¬
mus on this subject, “ De Servo Arbitrh” But not-
wit .standing that Luther was their leader, this doctrine
of his was not adopted by some of the most eminent of
Uie reformers. His learned friend, the mild and worthy
Melancthon, although he at first (either from not \rj.
ing sufficiently considered the subject, or because this
doctrine was so unpalatable to the great body of the re¬
formers on account of the authority of Luther), joined
with
Semipela¬
gians.
* See the
\Uh ar¬
ticle, and
Me lane-
ikon's Apo
logy-
S E M t .1
tier the influence of grace, shortly attei b
op nion S0 os to run into tbo opposite ex ren e t o a _
though Luther at his outset had affirmed »t the F
tdcience of God annihilated free will in all Ins c c ,
,e was so softened down into moderation at the tune of
the (h-awing up of the famous Confess,on o Augshu g
«.*» S TJ tviU
'to'an'who possess,! the me of reason,
"^^LTres^nTlif" soWy" Ind in order to perform
Teh- duty towards society *•” wiU
Tu« M 1—7 C1‘"Sl^0s:;I 'tCr r a -
without ‘>'^»"h1S"I;s,L:i hilry, it is unne-
as are acquain wag one 0f the leading te-
^r^e^MSie^rt:^
hi^partiality for the doctrine of free will, the exerase
Xh, we see, he confined in the Con essmn „ Au?-
»-g «n. »ch actio- mere y ^aiffi,
„„r duties to soaetv. L* ^ says „ tbat the
wifiTs IVee ’that God neither wishes for "-approves
nor co-operates in the production of sin , but that the
free will of man and of the devils is the true cause of
heir sin and of their fall ” Many no doubt will be of
- • Mclanethon merits praise for having thus
corrected Luther, and for having more clearly expressed
coriecie _ ’ . , , t Confession ot
tl^X’r^ ^Xther, and extends ffie
fxSe of free will to religious or Clnust.an works.
For after having explained in the Saxon Confession of
Faith the nature of free will, and the manner ,n which
it makes a choice, and having also show", that t n
of itself sufficient in those works, or actions, which re
aard a future life, he affirms twice “ that tlm will even
after having received the influence of the Holy Spnit,
does not remain idle,” that is to say it - not merc y
passive under the influence of grace, but can reject it,
or co-operate with it, at pleasure. Necessity, it is true,
oblfeed him to express his opinion rather obscuielj.
BuAvhat he insinuates only in these last quoted wds
is clearly am! fully expressed in one of his letters to
Calvin “ l had, says he, a friend who, m reasoning
™, ^destination, believed equally the two following
Zips naraclv, that every thing happens amongst men
as it is' ordained by Providence, h"‘J>'at there ts, ne-
vertheless, a contingency in actions “ livenls-
confessed, however, that he was unable to reconcile
these two things. For n,y part, (eont.nues Melanc-
m
S E M
3 tlion'f who am of opinion, that God neither wishes for, S™,1»l,.
„or is the cause of sin, 1 acknowledge this con .agency
in the feebleness of our judgment, m order that the ig
nor ant may confess, that David fell of himsell, and va-
kmtarily, into sin j that he had it in his power to pre¬
serve the grace of the Holy Spirit which he had within
ThisTpiffion he confirms and illustrates by a passage
^l,.^Easl.,wbere.her;s,JtHaveliuttimwdl.or
words"MeUincthon seems to insinuate, ‘bat ‘1m wtU is
Zt only active in the works of reltg.on, but even be-
;-ms them without grace. This however was not .be
meaning of St Basil, as is evident from several other
p\rts of his writings j but that it was the opinion of
Melancthon appears fully from this passage as well as
feomthat which we have cited from the Confession of
Aunsburg, in which he insinuates, that the error is not
in saying, that the will can of itself commence, hut m
thinking that it can without grace finish or complete,
religious’ or Christian works. Thus it appeals, that
he considered the will capable of rejecting the influence
of grace since he declares, that David could preserve
the Holy’ Spirit when he lost it, as well as he could lose
it' when he kept it within him. But although this was
his decided opinion, he durst not avow it lully in the
Saxon Confession of Faith, but was obliged to content
himself with insinuating it gently in these words The
will even after receiving the grace of the Holy Spin ,
is not idle or without action.” All this precaution,
however* was insufficient to save Melancthon Lorn cen¬
sure. Francowitz, better known by the name of Il.yn-
cus being jealous of him and his enemy, by hi jin
enee with his party procured the condemnation of these
words of the Saxon Confession, and of the passage from
St Basil at two synods held by the Reformers ,
fanfeZme tlZ one party of the Lu,he„re un-
rvilling to adopt Melancthon’s opinion, that the tttU
Znot uassivef when tinder the influence of grace, we
are at t loss to think how they could deny it, y"‘-e‘hey
almost unanimously confess, that a person ^ ^
flnence of grace may reject and lose it. 11ns opim
is avowed "in the Confession of Aopbwg and »
lancthon’s Apology. It was even, long after that c e
elded upon anew, inculcated strongly in their book ot
Concord, and was brought frequently against them by
their opponents as a proof of inconsistency and contia
^These are not the only instances in which the Luthe¬
rans were charged with Semipelagian F^ciples Dne
of the ablest and the most learned of their °PPon^ ’
cannot help thinking, had in more than one mstatice
made good the charge against them, io prove this
need only refer to the remarks that have been made o
the eight celebrated propositions in the third book
Concord, relative to the eo-operation of he will w^
grace. According to the first seven ol tie. p 1
tions, an attentive listening to the preaching o
word of God produceth grace •, and acoo1J11?S ^
fifth, any man, even a libertine or an mhdel, is 1
has it in his power to listen attentively to the preaching
of the word of God. He has it then in ns Pow
give to himself that which to him is productive of grac ,
and may thus be the sole author of his ov\n conun ^
S E M
pela- or regeneration. In the eighth proposition it is affirm-
lls\ ed, that we are not permitted to doubt, but that the
grace ot the Holy Spirit, even though it may not be
felt, does accompany an attentive hearing of the word
of God 5 and to do away every doubt about the species
of attention which they mean, we must observe, that
they speak of attention in as much as it precedes the
grace of the Holy Spirit, and of that attention which,
in consequence of its dependence on free-will, we have
it in our power to bestow upon the word or not, just as
we please. It is the exercise of this free attention which
they say operates grace. But here it would seem, that
they were in extremes; for, as they said upon one hand,
that, when the Holy Spirit begins to move us, we act
not at all; so they maintained on the other, that this
operation of the Holy Spirit, which converts us without
any co-operation on our part, is necessarily attendant
upon an act of our wills, in which the Holy Spirit has
no share, and in which our liberty acts purely by its na¬
tural force or power. Such of our readers as are anxioiiS
to examine the progress of the Pelagian and Semipela¬
gian principles after the dawn of the Reformation, we
must refer to the works of the principal reformers and
to those of their adversaries, as well as to the different
writers upon ecclesiastical history.
SEMIRAMIS ,in fabuloushistory, a celebrated queen
of Assyria, daughter of the goddess Derceto, by a young
Assyrian. She was exposed in a desert 5 but her life
was preserved by doves for one whole year, till Sirtimas,
one of the shepherds of Ninus, found her and brought
her up as his own child. Semiramis, when grown up,
married Menones, the governor of Nineveh, and accom¬
panied him to the siege of Bactria 5 where, by her ad¬
vice and prudent directions, she hastened the king’s ope¬
rations, and took the city. These eminent services, to¬
gether with her uncommon beauty, endeared her to Ni¬
nus. The monarch asked her of her husband, and offer¬
ed him his daughter Sosana in her stead ; but Menones,
who tenderly loved Semiramis, refused; and when Ni¬
nus had added threats to entreaties, he hanged himself.
No sooner was Menones dead, than Semiramis, who was
ol an aspiring soul, married Ninus, by whom she had a
son called Ninyas. Ninus was so fond of Semiramis, that
at her request he resigned the crown, and commanded
her to be proclaimed queen and sole empress of Assyria.
Of this, however, he had cause to repent: Semiramis
put him to death, the better to establish herself on the
throne; and when she had no enemies to fear at home,
*he began to repair the capital of her empire, and by
her means Babylon became the most superb and mag¬
nificent city in the world. She visited every part of
her dominions, and left everywhere immortal monuments
ot her greatness and benevolence. To render the roads
passable and communication easy, she hollowed moun¬
tains and filled up valleys, and water was conveyed at a
gxeat expence by large and convenient aqueducts to
barren deserts and unfruitful plains. She was not less
distinguished as a warrior: Many of the neighbouring
nations were conquered ; and when Semiramis was once
told as she was dressing her hair, that Babylon had re-
vo ted, she left her toilette with precipitation, and though
only half dressed, she refused to have the rest of her
head adorned before the sedition was fuelled and tran¬
quillity re-established. Semiramis has been accused of
licentiousness; and some authors have observed that she
SEN
regularly called the strongest and stoutest men in her Scrniramu
army to her arms, and afterwards put them to death, ||
that they might not be living witnesses of her inconti- Senate,
nence. Her passion for her son was also unnatural; and “J
it was this criminal propensity which induced Ninyas to
destroy his mother with his own hands. Some say that
Semiramis was changed into a dove after death, and re¬
ceived immortal honours in Assyria. It is supposed that
she lived about 11 centuries before the Christian era,
and that she died in the 62A year of her age and the
25th of her reign. Many fabulous reports have been pro¬
pagated about Semiramis, and some have declared that
for some time she disguised herself and passed for her
son Ninyas. Lempriere's Bibliotheca Classica.
SEMPERVIVUM, House leek, a genus of plants
belonging to the class dodecandria; and in the natural
method ranking under the 13th order, Succule?itce. See
Botany Index.
SENAAR, or Sennaar. See Sennaar.
SENATE, in general, is an assembly or council of
senators ; that is, of the principal inhabitants of a state,
who have a share in the government.
The senate ol ancient Rome is of all others the most
celebrated. It exercised no contentious jurisdiction ;
but appointed judges, either from among the senators
or knights, to determine processes : it also appointed go¬
vernors of provinces, and disposed of the revenues of die
commonwealth, &c. Yet did not the whole sovereign
power reside in the senate, since it could not elect ma¬
gistrates, make laws, or decide of war and peace ; in
all which cases the senate was obliged to consult the
people.
The senate, when first instituted by Romulus, con¬
sisted of 100 members; to whom he afterwards added
the same number when the Sabines had migrated to
Rome. Tarquin the ancient made the senate consist <f
300, and this number remained fixed for a long time ;
but afterwards it fluctuated greatly, and was increased
first to 700, and afterwards to 900 by Julius Cgesar, who
filled the senate with men of every rank and order. Un¬
der Augustus the senators amounted to 1000, but this
number was reduced, and fixed to 600. The place of a
senator was always bestowed upon merit: the monarchs
had the privilege of choosing the members ; and after
the expulsion of the Tarquins, it was one of the rights
ol the consuls, till the election of the censors, who from
their office seemed most capable of making choice of
men whose character was irreproachable, whose morals
were pure, and relations honourable. Only particular
families were admitted into the senate ; and when the
plebeians were permitted to share the honours of the state,
it was then required that they should he born of free
citizens. It was also required that the candidates should
be knights before their admission into the senate. They
were to be above the age ot 25, and to have previously
passed through the inferior offices of quaestor, tribune of
the people, edile, praetor, and consul.
The senate always met of course mi the 1st of Janua¬
ry, for the inauguration of the new consuls; and in all
months, universally, there were three days, viz. the kr-
lends, nones, and ides, on which it regularly met: but
it always met on extraordinary occasions, when called
together by consul, tribune, or dictator.
To render their decrees valid and authentic, a cer¬
tain number of members was requisite, and such as
S 3 were
t 139 ]
SEN
[ 140 ]
SEN
Senate
vere aLsent vitlicut some proper cause were always
fined. In the reign of Augustus, 400 senators were
Senate, requisite to make a senate. Nothing was transacted e-
 v~' fore sunrise or after sunset. In their office the sena¬
tors were the guardians of religion 5 they disposed of the
provinces as they pleased •, they prorogued the assem¬
blies of the people 5 they appointed thanksgivings*, no¬
minated their ambassadors ; distributed the public mo¬
ney and in short had the management of every thing
political or civil in the republic, except the creating 0
magistrates, the enacting of laws and the declaration
of war or peace, which were confined to the assemblie
of the people ,
SENATOR, in general, denotes a member ol son e
'The dio-nity of a Roman senator could not be sup¬
ported without the possession of 80,000 sesterces, or
about 7000I. English money j and therefore such as
squandered away their money, and whose f01 tune was
reduced below this sum, were generally struck cut 0
the list of senators. This regulation was not ?™de m
the hist ages of the republic, when the Romans boasted
of their poverty. The senators were not permitted to
be of anv trade or profession. Ihey were distinguishe
from the rest of the people by their dress *, they More
the laticlave, half-hoots of a black colour, with a cres¬
cent or silver buckle in the form of a C *, but this last
honour was confined only to the descendants of those
hundred senators who had been elected by Romulus, as
the letter C seems to imply. See the preceding ar-
tlCAmong us, senator is a member of parliament. In
the laws of King Edward the Confessor, we are told
that the Britons called those senators whom the Saxons
called after wards aldermen and borough-masters; though
not for tlieir age, but their wM<»» j fj»
were young men, but very well skilled in the lau .
Kenulph king of the Mercians granted a charter, whit 1
ran thus viz. Consilio et consensu episcoporum et senato-
rum gent is suce largitus fuit dicto monastery &c.
In Scotland the lords ol session are called senators 01
the college of justice. t ,
SENATES AUCTOHITAS. See the next article.
Sex A T us - Consul turn, which made part of the 1 0-
man law. W hen any public matter was introduced
into the senate, which was always called referre ad se-
nutum, any senator whose opinion was asked, was per¬
mitted to speak upon it as long as he pleased, and on
that account it was often usual for the senators to pio-
tract their speeches till it was too late to determine.
"When the question was put, they passed to the side ot
that speaker whose opinion they approved, and a majo¬
rity of votes was easily collected, without the trouble
of counting the numbers. When the majority was
known, the matter was determined, and a senatus consul-
turn was immediately written by the clerks of the house,
at the feet of the chief magistrates, and it was smned
by ail the principal members of the house. W hen
there was not a sufficient number ot members to make
a senate, the decision was called senatus auctoritas, but
it was of no force if it did not afterwards pass into a se-
natus considtvrn. , „ . ,
The senatus consult a were at first left in the custody
- of the kings, and afterward of the consuls, who could
suppress or preserve them 5 but about the year of Rome
Senato?,
Seneca.
204, they were always deposited in the temple of Ce¬
res, and afterwards in the treasury, by the ediles of the
1,6 SENECA, Lucius Annaeus, a Stoic philosopher,
was born at Corduba in Spain, about the beginning o
the Christian era, of an equestrian family, which had
probably been transplanted thither m a colony liom
Rome. " He was the second son oi Marcus Annaeus Se¬
neca, commonly called the rhetorician, whose remains
are printed under the title of SuasoruB et Controversial
cum Declamationum Exccrptis ; and his youngest bro¬
ther Annaeus Mela (for there were three of them) had
the honour of being father to the poet Lucan. He was
removed to Rome, together with his father and the rest
of his family, while he was yet in his infancy. ll^ie
he was educated in the most liberal manner, and under
the best masters. He learned eloquence from las la¬
ther ; but his genius rather leading him to phnosophy,
he put himself under the stoics Attains, motion, and
Papirius Fabianus} men famous in their way, and 0
whom he has made honourable mention in Ins writings.
It is probable, too, that he travelled when he was young,
since we find him, in several parts of his works, paiti-
cularlv in his Queestiones Natura/es, making very exact
and curious observations upon Egypt and the Nile.
But this, though entirely agreeable to his own humour,
did not at all correspond with that scheme or plan ot
life which his father had drawn out for him j who,
therefore, forced him to the bar, and put him upon soli¬
citing for public employments; so that he afterwards
became quaestor, praetor, and, as Lipsius will have 1 ,
even consul. , T
In the first year of the reign of Claudius, when Jit-
lia the daughter of Germanicus was accused of adul¬
tery by Messalina, and banished, Seneca was banished
too, being charged as one of the adulterers Corsica
was the seat of his exile, where he lived eight year* ,
“ happy in the midst of those things which usually
make other people miserable *,” inter eas res beatus qua:
solent miseros facere: and here he wrote his books
of consolation, addressed to his mother Helyia, and to
his friend Polybius, and perhaps some of those trage¬
dies which go under his name ; for he says, tnodo se
levioribus studiis ibi oblectasse. Agrippina being mar¬
ried to Claudius, upon the death ol Messalina, she pie-
vailed with the emperor to recal Seneca fiom banish¬
ment j and afterwards procured him to be tutor to her
son Nero, whom she designed for the empire. Atrica-
nus Burrhus, a praetorian praelect, was joined with him
in this important charge : and these two preceptors, who
were entrusted with equal authority, had each his respec¬
tive department. By the bounty and generosity ot his
royal pupil, Seneca acquired that prodigious wealth
which rendered him in a manner equal to kings. liis
houses and walks were the most magnificent in Rome.
His villas were innumerable: and he had immense sums
of money placed out at interest in almost every part 0
the world. The historian Dio reports him to have had
2^0,cool, sterling at interest in Britain alone; and rec¬
kons his calling it in all at a sum, as one of the causes
of a war with that nation.
All this wealth, however, together with the luxury
and effeminacy of a court, does not appear to have had
any ill effect upon the temper and disposition oi Se¬
neca. lie continued abstemious, exact in his manners,
SEN [ i
and, above all, free from the vices so commonly preva-
J lent in such places, flattery and ambition. “ I had ra¬
ther (said he to Nero) offend you by speaking the truth,
than please you by lying and flattery : rnaliiervn verts
offendere, quam placere adulandod'1 How well he ac¬
quitted himself in quality of preceptor to his prince, may
be known from the iirst five years of Nero’s reign, which
have always been considered as a perfect pattern of good
government; and if that emperor had but been as ob¬
servant ol his master through the whole course of it, as
he was at the beginning, he would have been the de¬
light, and not, as he afterwards proved, the curse and
detestation of mankind. But when Poppeea and Ti-
gellinus had got the command of his humour, and hur¬
ried him into the most extravagant and abominable vices,
he soon grew weary of his master, whose life must indeed
have been a constant rebuke to him. Seneca, percei¬
ving that his favour declined at court, and that he had
many accusers about the prince, who were perpetually
whispering in his ear the great riches of Seneca, his
magnificent houses and fine gardens, and what a favou¬
rite through means of these he was grown with the peo¬
ple, made an offer of them all to Nero. Nero refused
to accept them : which, however, did not hinder Seneca
from changing his way of life ; for, as Tacitus relates,
he “ kept no more levees, declined the usual civilities
which had been paid to him, and, under a pretence of
indisposition, or some engagement or other, avoided as
much as possible appearing in public.”
Nero, in the mean time, who, as it is supposed, had
dispatched Burrhus by poison, could not be easy till
he had rid himself of Seneca also: For Burrhus was
the manager of his military concerns, and Seneca con¬
ducted his civil affairs. Accordingly, he attempted by
means of Cleonicus, a freedman of Seneca, to take him off
by poison; but this not succeeding, he ordered him to be
put to death, upon an information that he was privy to Pi-
so’s conspiracy against his person. Not that he had any
real proof of Seneca’s being concerned in this plot, but
only that he was triad to lay hold of any pretence for de¬
stroying him.—He left Seneca, however, at liberty to
choose his manner of dying; who caused his veins to be
opened immediately. His wife Paulina, who was very
young in comparison of himself, had yet the resolution
and affection to bear him company, and thereupon or¬
dered her veins to be opened at the same time; but as
Nero was not willing to make his cruelty more odious
and insupportable than there seemed occasion for, he
gave orders to have her death prevented : upon which
her wounds were bound up, and the blood stopped, in
just time enough to save her; though, as Tacitus says,
she looked so miserably pale and wan all her life after,
that it was easy to read the loss of her blood and spirits
in her countenance. In the mean time, Seneca, finding
his death slow and lingering, desired Statius Annteus
his physician to give him a dose ol poison, which had
been prepared some time before in case it should be
wanted; but this not having its usual effect, he was car¬
ried to a hot bath, where he was at length stifled with the
steams. He died, as Lipsius conjectures, in the 63d
or 64th year of his age, and in about the 10th or mh
of Nero s reign. Tacitus, on mentioning his death,
observes, that, as he entered the bath, he took of the
water, and with it sprinkled some of his nearest domes-
|.lcs’'n^’ Hiat he offered those libations to Jupiter
the Deliverer.” These words are an evident proof that
41 J ' S E N
Seneca was not a Christian, as some have imagined- him ccncca
to have been ; and that the 13 epistles from Seneca to (I
St Paul, and from St Paul to Seneca, are -upposititious Senegal
pieces. H is philosophical works are well known.— v"~
They consist of 1 24 epistles and distinct treatises ; and,
except his bocks of physical questions, are chiefly of
the moral kind, treating of anger, consolation, provi¬
dence, tranquillity of mind, constancy, clemency, the
shortness of life, a happy hie, retirement, benefits. He
has been justly censured by Quintilian and other critics,
as one of the first corrupters of the Roman style; but
his works are highly valuable, on account of the vast
erudition which they discover, and the beautiful moral
sentiments which they contain.
SENECIO, Groundsel; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class syngenesia, and to the order of polyga-
mia superflua; and in the natural method ranking under
the 49th order, Composites. See Botany Index.
SENEGAL, a part of Negroland in Africa, the
boundaries of which are not known. See Guinea.
Isle of Senegal, sometimes called Saint Louis, is a
small island in the mouth of the river Senegal, and ac¬
cording to Maskelyne’s tables is situated in N. Lat. 15.
53. W. Long. 16. 31. The Dutch were the first Eu¬
ropeans who settled at Senegal; but their colony was
expelled by the French in 1687. It was taken by the
English in 169 2; and retaken by the French the year
following. It was a second time taken possession of by
the English in 1758; but in 1779 the French recover¬
ed it, and it was ceded to the British crown by the
treaty of 1783.
The best account of this island which we have seen,
is given in the interesting voyage of M. Saugnier to the
coast of Africa. This adventurer visited Senegal in
June 178 5.
“ 1 he island (says he) properly speaking, is only a
bank of sand in the middle, of the river. It is 1000
geometrical paces long, and about 60 in its greatest
width ; is almost on a level with the river and with the
sea, being defended from the latter by Barbary point,
which is of greater elevation than the colony. The
eastern branch of the river is the more considerable of
tbe two, being about 400 toises across; the western
branch is only from 50 to 200 toises wide. The isle
consists entirely of burning sands, on the barren surface
of which you sometimes meet with scattered flints,
thrown out among their ballast by vessels coming from
Gorte, or with the ruins of buildings formerly erected
by Europeans. There is scarcely such a thing as a
garden upon the island ; European seeds in general not
thriving here. It is not surprising that the soil is so un¬
productive ; for the air is strongly impregnated with sea
salt, which pervades every thing, and consumes even
iron in a very short space of time. The heats are exces¬
sive, and rendered still more insupportable by the reflec¬
tion of the sand ; so that from ten in the morning until
four in the afternoon it is almost impossible to do any
work. During the months of January, February,
March, and April, the heats are moderated; but in
August and the following months they become so op¬
pressive as even to affect the natives themselves. What
effect then must they have upon the Europeans, sudden¬
ly transported into this burning climate ? The nights are
a little less sultry ; not always, however, but only when
the sea-breeze sets in. It is then that the inhabitants
of the colony breathe a fresher air, for which they have
been
SEN
[ H2 ]
been longing tbe whole of the d.oy ; lot ^ °J‘'
climate would Been a burning vapour. 1 he t
l^db Snityofgna,, which arec^led^
. their stings are very painful, and their multitudes
incredible. The inhabitants find but a poor de.ence i
their gauze-curtains. For my own part accused a
I had been to live among the Moors, I tv as but litt e
annoyed by these insects. Being hal a savage, I k t
"’t 'served me at III times from these impertinent
stingers, these spiteful enemies to the repose of the hu-
ma" If”the prospect of Senegal is not agreeable to the
Irdispe^alle aliment of man,,si,ere not potahlm^eHs
are dug m t e san . means : but whatever pains
water is obtained by these means , ta5te.
taken to freshen it, it ever reiams *«•
T have distilled this water myself, and observed that it
•s Mgh, its streams are fresh, but the water is only the
1 ° i Tt- rivnvps the cause oi most ot ttiose
U1 The ’fort of St Louis is a quadrangle, and has two
bastions of considerable strength •, but the^a^St ?6C 'f
rity of the. fort is its natural situation. 1 he cannon o
the fort are numerous, and the arsenal well suppl ed
^th small arms and stores Besides this fort the
French had no other upon the river, except Fort St
Joseph which stands about four leagues below the ca¬
taract ’at Govina, though they had a few factories in
di TriVrfncipnl commodity of this country is that of
eum-Senegal (see Gum-Senegal), which is a valuable
branch of commerce, as it is used m many arts and ma¬
nufactures, particularly by the painters in water-colours,
the silk-weavers, and dyers. . , , ,
The French import from the river Senegal not only
gum-arabic, but elephants teeth, hides, bees-wax, gold-
dust, cotton, ostrich feathers, ambergris, indigo, and
^Notwithstanding the barrenness of the spot, Senegal
contains more than 6000 negroes mcludmg the cap¬
tives of the Tapades, or negroes born of the black in
habitants of the country. They are Put up to
sale unless convicted of some crime. 1 heir huts, co
structed in the form of bee-hives, and supported upon
four stakes, surround the habitations of the negro m -
hitants. The entire height of those huts may rise to
about 12 feet, the width in every direction is commonly
SEN
from 10 to 12. The beds are composed of hurdles laid
upon cross-bars, supported by forked stakes at the height
of about a foot from the ground. Here the slaves sleep
promiscuously, men, women, girls, and boys.
Senega!:
A fin
is made in the middle of the hut, which is tilled with
smoke, sufficient to stifle any man but a negro.
The men are tall, and the women are accounted the
handsomest negvesses of all Africa. I be Senegal,:!,,,
may be considered as the most courageous people ot that
part of the world, without even excepting the Moors.
Their courage, however, is more nearly allied to teme¬
rity than to bravery. In the course ot the voyage to
Gal am, they meet the greatest dangers with gaiety and
song • they dread neither musket nor cannon, and are
equally fearless of the cayman or crocodile. Should one
of their companions be killed, and devoured by these
animals before their face, they are not deterred from
plunging into the water, if the working of the ship re¬
quire it. These excellent qualifications which distinguish
them, and on which they value themselves so much, do
not, however, preserve them from the common conta¬
gion of the country, which inclines them all to rapine.
They are emulous to surpass one another in a 1 the arts
of over-reaching and fraud. The conduct of the Fu-
ropeans has, no doubt, encouraged these vices as much
as the lessons of the marabous, who inculcate the duty
of plundering the Christians to the utmost ot their
P0The Yolof negroes .of Senegal are either Christians
or Mahometans, or rather one and the other, or with
more truth neither 5 religion being a matter of indiffer¬
ence to them. Those on the continent are ot the same
way of thinking, and their religious practices are kept
up only for the sake of form. A bar of iron, a few
beads, will make them change their opinion at will. By
such means are they acted upon j a sufficient proof of
their want of all religious principle. 1 he marabous, or
priests, and the men of their law, are no better than the
rest. “ I have examined the character of several ot this
order of men (says M. Saugnier), and even among the
nation of the Ponies, who are considered as great fana¬
tics, I discovered that they were only publicly attached
to their opinions. ‘ This white man (say they) does
so ; he is better informed than I, and why should not 1
imitate his example ?” This way of reasoning is com¬
mon to all that tract of country. ,
The colony of Senegal is surrounded with island^
which, on account of the proximity of the sea, are a t
more unhealthy than that on which the town is builU
They are full of standing pools, that, when dried Up by
the sun, exhale a putrid vapour that carries mortality
with it, and desolates these islands. It is doubtless tbe
same cause that takes off so many of the French at Sene¬
gal during the dangerous season of the year, llus also
may be in part occasioned by the bad quality of the wa¬
ter, which flows from the ponds in the neighbourhood
of the colony, and though incorporated with that of th*
river, comes down little agitated by the current, and »
easily distinguished by a vapidness of taste. This parti
cular is, in my opinion, essentially worthy of notice, aw
if properly attended to by onr medical men, might be¬
come the means of preserving many lives.
SENEGAL-River, see Niger. As so little is known
respecting this river, which is one of the greatest W
Africa, any additional information must be interesting
SEN [ !
fregal. We shall therefore present our readers with the account
contained in the communications presented to the Asso¬
ciation for promoting the discovery of the Interior Parts
of Africa, which, as far as we know, is the latest and
most authentic.
I he river known to Europeans by the name oi'Niger
or Senegal runs on the south of the kingdom of Cashna,
in its course towards Tombuctou ; and if the report
which Ben Alii heard in that town may be credited, it
is afterwards lost in the sands on the south of the coun¬
try of Tombuctou. In the map (a), only the known
part of its course is marked by a line j and the supposi¬
titious part by dots. It may be proper to observe, that
the Africans have two names for this river ; that is,
Neel il Abeed, or river of the Negroes ; and Neel il Ki-
beer, or the great river. They also term the Nile (that
is the Egyptian river) Neel Shem; so that the term
Neel, from whence our Nile, is nothing more than the
appellative of river ; like Ganges, or Sinde.
Of this river the rise and termination are unknown,
but the course is from east to west. So great is its ra¬
pidity, that no vessel can ascend its stream ; and such
is the want of skill, or such the absence of commercial
inducements among the nations who inhabit its borders,
that even with the current, neither vessels nor boats are
seen to navigate. In one place, indeed, the traveller
finds accommodations for the passage of himself and of
his goods 5 but even there, though the ferrymen, by
the indulgence of the sultan of Cashna, are exempted
from all taxes, the boat which conveys the merchandise
is nothing more than an ill-constructed raft; for the
planks are fastened to the timbers with ropes, and the
seams are closed both within and without by a plaster of
tough clay, of which a large provision is always carried
on the raft, for the purpose of excluding the stream
wherever its entrance is observed.
'Ine depth of the river at the place of passage, which
is more than a hundred miles to the south of the city of
Cashna, the capital of the empire of that name, is esti¬
mated at 23 or 24 feet English. Its depth is from 10
to 1 2 peeks, each of which is 27 inches.
Its width is such, that even at the island of Gongoo,
where the ferrymen reside, the sound of the loudest voice
from the northern shore is scarcely heard ; and at Tom¬
buctou, where the name of Gnewa, or black, is given
to the stream, the width is described as being that of
the Thames at Westminster. In the rainy season it
swells above its banks, and not only floods the adjacent
lands, but often sweeps before it the cattle and cottages
of the short-sighted inhabitants.
That the people who live in the neighbourhood of
the Niger should refuse to profit by its navigation, may
justly surprise the traveller : but much greater is his
astonishment, when he finds that even the food which
the bounty of the stream would give, is uselessly offered
to their acceptance ; for such is the want of skill, or
sue 1 t le settled dislike of the people to this sort of pro-
vision, that the fish with which the river abounds are
lett m undisturbed possession of its waters. See Africa,
Supplement.
43 ] SEN
SENEKA, or Senega, Raitlesnake-root, Milk-wort.
See Polygala, Botany and Materia Medica
Index.
SENESCHAL, (Seneschallus), derived from the
German sein, “ a house or place,” and scale, “ an of¬
ficer,” is a steward, and signifies one who has the dis¬
pensing of justice in some particular cases : As the high
seneschal or steward of England ; senechal de la hotel
de roi, “ steward of the king’s household, seneschal, or
steward of courts, &c.” Co. Lit. 61. Crake's Jurisd.
102. Kitch. 83. See Steward.
SENN, a sort of itinerant cow-keeper in Switzerland,
particularly in the canton of Appenzell. These men
do not raise as much hay as is requisite for their cattle
during the winter, and some of them have no grass
lands. To supply this defect, they employ agents
throughout the canton, whose province it is to inform
them where good hay may be obtained, when the senn,
who is in want of fodder, agrees with the more opulent
farmers for the winter, to whom he successively drives
his cattle when they return from the grass, in conse¬
quence of which he often visits five different places dur¬
ing the winter. The person who sells the hay provides
the senn with stabling for bis beasts, and with board
and lodgings for himself and family. The senn pays
the stipulated price for the hay, and allows his host as
much milk, whey, and a kind of lean cheese, as may
be made use of in the family, and also leaves him the
manure of Ins cows. In the middle of April, the senn
again issues forth with his herd to the fertile Alps,
which he rents during the summer.
. ^ ine cattle are the pride of the cow-keeper who inha¬
bits the Alps. He adorns his best cows with large bells
suspended from broad thongs, which are manfactured
and sold by the inhabitants of the Tyrol. These are
fastened round the cow’s neck by means of a large
buckle. The largest of these bells measure a foot in
diametei, swell out in the middle, and tapering to¬
wards the end. The whole peal of bells, including the
thongs, is worth 150 guilders, while the apparel of the
senn himself, even in his best attire, is not worth more
than 20 guilders. Ihese bells are chiefly worn in the
spring, when driven to the Alps, and in the autumn or
winter. It is surprising to see how proud and pleased
the cows stalk forth when ornamented with their hells.
One would scarcely imagine how sensible these animals
are of their rank, and even touched with vanity and
jealousy! Should the leading cow be deprived of her
honours, she is grieved at the disgrace, which is mani¬
fested by her constant lowing, abstaining from food,
and. growing lean. The rival, on whom the bado-e of
distinction has devolved, feels her marked vengeance,
being wounded and persecuted by her in the most fur:’
ous manner, until the former either recovers her bell,
or is removed from the herd. However singular this’
may appear, it is rendered indisputable by the concur¬
ring testimony of centuries.
The voice of the senn brings the cows together, when
dispersed on the Alps, who is then said to°allure them.
That the cattle can well distinguish the note of their
keeper.
(a) The map alluded to is that which
ciatiou. This work was printed in 179 r.
accompanies the volume which contains the proceedings of the Assc-
SEN
[ i
•'Scnn
kerper, appears from their hastening to l'11*1, though at
» a great distance. He furnishes that cow which is m ^
Sennaar. l)ahit of straying farthest with a small Jt <•» L'y
' v ' arrival he knows that all the rest are assembled.
SENNA, the leaf of the cassia senna ot E inn sens.
See Cassia, Botany and Matetua V^mcA Index
Senna appears to have been cultivated in T.ngland
jVoodville's the time of Parkinson (1640) ; and
Medical by keeping these plants in a ho.bed a ‘ . ’
Botani/. je frequently had them in flower; but adds, it is ye y
kroly’ha. they perfect their seeds ,n Knglan Uere
can be little doubt, however, but that some of the in
tish possessions may be found well enough adapted
the growth of this vegetable, and that the patriotic
views of the Society for encouraging Arts, &c. which
has offered a reward to those who succeed in the at-
temnt. will be ultimately accomplished.
Senna, which is in common use as a purgative, was
first known to the Arabian physicians Strapion and
Mesne: the first among the Greeks who takes any no¬
tice of it is Actuarius, but be only speaks of the 1 u« ,
and not of the leaves. To remove the disagreeable taste
of this medicine, Dr Cullen recommends coriander seed. ,
and for preventing the gnpings with which it is so -
times attended, he thinks the warmer aromatics, as car¬
damoms or ginger, would be more eflectual. _ .
The Senna Italica, or blunt-leaved senna, is a yar.e y
of the Alexandrian species ; which, by its cultivation
in the south of France (Provence), has been found to
assume this change. It is less purgative than the point¬
ed-leaved senna, and is therefore to he givc"
Land. Med. Joses. It was employed as a cathartic by
at Jamaica, where it grows on the sand banks near the
SENNAAH, a country of Africa, bordering upon
Abyssinia* with the title of a kingdom - the present go¬
vernment of which was established in the 16th centuiy
hv a race of negroes named, in their own language,
Shillook. This country, together with all the northern
parts of Africa, had been overrun by the Saracens du¬
ring the rapid conquests of the caliphs ; hut insteac
erecting any distinct principalities here, as in other
parts, they had incorporated themselves with the old
inhabitants called Shepherds, whom they found at their
arrival , had converted them to their religion, and be¬
come one people with them. In 1504 the Shillook, a
people before unknown, came from the western hanks
of the river Bahiar el Abiad, which empties itself into
the Nile, and conquered the country ; allowing the A-
rabs however, to retain their possessions on condition ot
paying them a certain tribute. These founded the city
of Sennaar, and have ever since continued to carry on
an intercourse with Egypt in the way of merchandise.
At the establishment of their monarchy the whole na¬
tion were Pagans, but soon after became converts to
Mohammedanism, and took the name of lunge, an ap¬
pellation signifying “ lords or conquerors and like¬
wise free citizens. Mr Bruce, who passed through this
country in his return from Abyssinia gives a list ot 20
kings who have reigned in it since the conquest ot the
SllThis country is inhabited by a people so barbarous
and brutish, that no history of them can lie expected.
One of the most remarkable ot their customs is that
the king ascends the throne with the expectation of be-
Senimr,
Bruce's
Travels,
vol. iv.
Jour.
vol. viii.
44 ] SEN
ing munkrc.l whenever the general rouncil of the na¬
tion thinks proper. The dreadful olhee ol executtoner
belongs to one single officer, styled ,n the language of
the country, Sid el Coom; and who is always a relation
of the monarch himself. It was from his registers that
Mr Bruce took the list of the kings already mention¬
ed, with the number of years they reigned, and which
may therefore be received as authentic. I he bid el
Coom in ofiice at the time that Mr Bruce msiU-A tms
country was named Ach.net, and was one ot his best
friends. Ble had murdered the late king, with three
of his sons, one of whom was an infant at its mother s
breast; he was also in daily expectation et performing
the same office to the reigning sovereign. He was by
no means reserved concerning the nature of his "ffice,
but answered freely every question that was put to him.
When asked bv Mr Bruce why he murdered the king s
young son in his father’s presence ? he answered, that
be did it from a principle ot duty to the king himself,
who had a right to see his son killed m a lawful and
regular manner, which was by cutting his throat with
a sword, and not in a more painful or ignominious way,
which the malice of his enemies might possibly have m-
fllCThe king, he said, was very little concerned at the
sight of his son’s deatlr, but he was so very unwilling to
die himself, that he often pressed the executioner to let
him escape ; but finding his intreaties ineffectual, he
submitted at last without resistance. On being asked
whether he was not afraid of coming into the presence ot
the king, considering the office he might possibly have
to perform? he replied, that he was not in the least afraid
on this account; that it was his duty to be with the king
everv morning, and very late rn the evening; hat the
king knew he would have no hand in promoting his
death ; but that, when the matter was absolutely de er-
mined, the rest was only an affair of decency ; and it
would undoubtedly be his own choice, rather to fall by
the hand of his own relation in private than by a hired
assassin, an Arab, or a Christian slave m the sight of the
populace. Baady the king’s father, having the misfor¬
tune to be taken prisoner, was sent to Atbara to W elled
Hassan the governor of that province to be put to death
there. But the king, who was a strong man, and always
armed, kept so much upon his guard, that W elled could
find no opportunity of killing him but by running him
through the back with a lance as he was washing his
hands! For this Welled himself was afterwards put to
death: not on account of the murder itself, but because,
in the first place, he, who was not the proper execu¬
tioner, had presumed to put the king to death ; ami, in
the next, because he had done it with a lance, whereas
the only lawful instrument was a sword. _
On the death of any of the sovereigns of this coun¬
try his eldest son succeeds to the throne of course ; on
which as many of his brothers as can be found are ap¬
prehended, and put to death by the Sid el Coom m
the manner already related. Women are excluded from
the sovereignty here as well as in Abyssinia. 16
princesses of Sennaar, however, are worse off than those
of Abyssinia, having no settled income, nor being treat¬
ed in any degree better than the daughters ol pri¬
vate persons. The king is obliged, once in his life¬
time, to plough and sow a piece of ground ; whence
he is named Baady, the “ countryman or peasant; »
title
SEN
Sdnnar.
title as common amonp the monarclis of Sennaar as C*-
sar was among the Romans. The royal family were
originally negroes j but as the kings frequently marry
Arab women, the white colour of the mother is commu¬
nicated to the child. rlhis, we are told by Mr Bruce,
is invariably the case, when a negro man of Sennaar
marries an Arab woman j and it holds equally good,
when an Arab man marries a negro woman ; and he
likewise informs us, that he never saw one black Arab
all the time he was at Sennaar.
The soil and climate of this country are extremely un-
favoui able both to man and beast, "i he men are strong
and remarkable for their size, but short-lived; and there
is such a mortality among the children, that were it
not for a constant importation of slaves, the metropolis
would he depopulated. The shortness of their lives,
however, may perhaps be accounted for, from their in¬
dulging themselves from their infancy in every kind of
excess. No horse, mule, or ass, will live at' Sennaar
or for many miles round it. The case is the same with
bullocks, sheep, dogs, cats, and poultry ; all of them
must go to the sands every half-year. It is difficult to
account for this mortality ; though Mr Bruce assures
us it is the case everywhere about the metropolis of this
country, where the soil is a fat earth, during the first
season of the rains. Two greyhounds which he brought
along with him from Atbara, and the mules he brought
from Abyssinia, lived only a few weeks after their arri¬
val at Sennaar. Several of the kings of Sennaar have
tried to keep lions, but it was always found impossible
to preserve them alive after the rains. They will live,
however, a.s well as other quadrupeds, in the sands, at
no gieat distance from the capital. No species of tree
except the lemon flowers near this city ; the cultivation
of the lose has often been attempted, but always with¬
out success. In other respects, however, the soil of Sen¬
naar is exceedingly fertile, being said to yield 300
fold ; but this is thought by Mr Bruce to be a great
exaggeration. It is all sown with dora or millet, which
is the principal food of the people ; wheat and rice are
also pi educed here, which are sold by the pound, even
in years of plenty. 'J be soil all round is strongly im¬
pregnated with salt, so that a sufficient quantity to serve
the inhabitants is extracted from it.
Senna Ait, a city of Africa, the capital of the king¬
dom of that name. It stands, according to Mr Bruce’s
observations, in N. Lat. 130 34'36< E. Long. 32°
30 30", on the west side of the Nile, and close" upon
the banks of it; the ground on which it stands being-
just high enough to prevent the inundation. The town
is very popuI(«is, and contains a great many houses. In
x oncet’s time they were all of one story ; but now
most of the officers have bouses of two stories high.
iey aie built of clay mixed with a very little straw,
and have all flat roofs; which shows that the rains here
must be much less in quantity than to the southward.
uring the tune of Mr Bruce’s residence here, however,
there, was one week of continual rain, and the Nile, af-
tei loud thunder and great darkness to the south, in-
reased violent y ; the whole stream being covered with
le wrecks of houses and their furniture; so that he
w^Pl At ^ dT°yed many villages tothesouth-
waid. About 12 miles to the north-west of Sennaar is a
t H5 ]
SEN
. • c lu-weai 01 oeonaar is a
of tlm/011 ° V1 f namet Shuddhj, from a great saint
Vol Wp* COjlstructe^ several granaries here.
These are no other than large pits dug in the ground, Senn9flr
and well plastered in the inside with clay, then filled ' v—~'
with grain when it is at its lowest price, and afterwards
covered up and plastered again at top : these pits they
call matamores. On any prospect of dearth they are
opened, and the corn sold to the people. About 24
miles north of Shaddly there is another set of granaries
named Wed-Aboud, still greater than Shaddly; and upon
these two the subsistence of the Arabs principally de¬
pends : for as these people are at continual war with
each other, and direct their fury rather against the crops
than the persons of their enemies, the whole of them
would be unavoidably starved, were it not for this ex¬
traordinary resource. Small villages of soldiers are scat¬
tered up and down this country to guard the grain af¬
ter it is sown, which is only that species of millet named
doia ; the soil, it is said, being incapable of producing
any other. I here are great hollows made in the earth
at proper distances throughout the country, which fill
with water in the rainy season, and are afterwards of
great use to the Arabs as they pass from the cultivated
parts to the sands. The fly, which is such a dreadf ul enemy
to the cattle, is never seen to the northward of Shaddly.
lo the westward of these granaries the country is
quite full of trees as far as the river Abiad, or El-aice.
In this extensive plain there arise two ridges of moun¬
tains, one called Jtbbel Moira, or the Mountain oj wa¬
ter y the other Jibbel Segud, or the Cold Mountain.
Both of them enjoy a fine climate, and serve for a pro¬
tection to the farms about Shaddly and Aboud already
mentioned. Mere also are fortresses placed in the way
of the Arabs, which serve to oblige them to pay tribute
in their flight from the cultivated country, during the
rains, to the dry lands of Atbara. Each of these di¬
stricts is governed by a descendant of their ancient and
native princes, who long resisted all the power of the
Arabs. Sacrifices of a horrid nature are said to have
been offered up on these mountains till about the year
I554> when one of the kings of Sennaar besieged first
one and then the other of the princes in their moun¬
tains ; and having forced them to surrender, he fasten¬
ed a chain of gold to each of their ears, exposed them
in the market-place at Sennaar, and sold them for
slaves at less than a farthing each. Soon alter this they
were circumcised, converted to the Mahometan religion,
and restored to their kingdoms.
^ “ Nothing (says Mr Bruce) is more pleasant than y0] jv
the country around Sennaar in the end of August and(>.475/
beginning of September. The grain, being now sprung
up, makes the whole of this immense plain appear a le¬
vel green land, interspersed with great lakes of water,
and ornamented at certain intervals with groups of vil-
lages ; the conical tops of the houses presenting at a di¬
stance the appearance of small encampments. Through
this very extensive plain winds the Nile, a delightful ri¬
ver there, above a mile broad, full to the very brim, but
never overflowing. Everywhere on these banks are
seen herds of the most beautiful cattle of various kinds.
I he banks of the Nile about Sennaar resemble the plea¬
santest part of Holland in the summer season; but soon
after, when the rains cease, and the sun exerts its utmost
influence, the dora begins to ripen, the leaves to turn
yellow and to rot, the lakes to putrefy, smell, become
full of vermin, and all its beauty suddenly disappears :
bare scorched Nubia returns, and all its terrors of poi-
T sonou*
SEN
[ 146 1
i _
sonous winds and moving sands, glowing ^nd ventilated
with sultry blasts, which are followed by a troop of ter¬
rible attendants ; epilepsies, apoplexies, v,olent f^v r j
obstinate agues, and lingenng painlul dysenteries, t
more obstinate and mortal.
“ War and treason seem to be the only employment
of this horrid people, whom Heaven lias separated by
almost impassable deserts from the rest of mankind ,
confining them to an accursed spot, seemingly to gi
them an earnest in time of the only other curse whtch
he has reserved to them for an eternal hereatter.
With regard to the climate of the country lound
Sennaar, Mr Bruce has several very curious observa¬
tions. The thermometer rises in the shade to 119 de¬
crees: but the degree indicated by this instrument does
not at all correspond with the sensations occasioned by
it ; nor with the colour ol the people who live under it.
“ Nations of blacks (says he) live w.th.n latitude 13
and 14 degrees-, about 10 degrees south of them, near¬
ly under the line, all the people are white, as we had a
opportunity of observing daily in the Galla. Sennaar,
which is in latitude 13 degrees, is hotter by the ther¬
mometer CO degrees, when the sun is most distant from
it than Gondar, which is a degree farther south, vvhen
the sun is vertical.—Cold and hot (says our author)
are terms merely relative, not determined by the lati¬
tude, but elevation of the place.. When, therefore, we
say /tot, some other explanation is necessary concerning
tbl place where we are, in order to give an adequa e
idea of the sensations of that heat upon the body and the
effects of it upon the lungs. The degree of the ther¬
mometer conveys this but very imperfectly, 90 degrees
is excessively hot at Loheia in Arabia tehx ; and yet
the latitude of Loheia is but 15 degrees', whereas 90
degrees at Sennaar is only warm as to sense j though
Sennaar, as we have already said, is in latitude 13 de-
^‘ -"At Sennaar, then, T call it cold, when one fully
clothed and at rest feels himself in want o fire. 1 cal
it cool, when one fully clothed and at rest eels he could
bear more covering all over, or in part, than he has at
that time. I call it temperate, when a man so clothed,
and at rest, feels no such want, and can take moderate
exercise, such as walking about a room without sweat-
incr I call it rearm, when a man, so clothed, does
not sweat when at rest', but, on taking moderate exer¬
cise, sweats, and again cools. I call it hot, when a man
at rest, or with moderate exercise, sweats excessive y.
1 call it very hot, when a man with thin, or little clo¬
thing, sweats much, though at rest. I call it excessive
hot, when a man, in his shirt and at rest, sweats exces¬
sively, when all motion is painful, and the knees feel
feeble, as if after a fever. X call it extreme hot, when
the strength fails, a disposition to faint comes on, a
straitness is found in the temples, as if a small cord was
drawn tight about the head, the voice impaired, the skin
dry, and the head seems more than ordinarily large and
. *-n. • t __1 J ,4to rl£»atll at liaiHl • Dllt
Ibdit. This, I apprehend, denotes death at hand ,
this is rarclv if ever effected by the sun alone, without
the addition of that poisonous wind which pursued us
through Atbara, where it has, no doubt, contributed to
the total extinction of every thing that hath the bieath
of life. A thermometer, graduated upon this scale,
would exhibit a figure very different from the common
one} for X an* convinced by experiment, that a web ol
the finest muslin, wrapt round the body at Sennaar, will Sennaar.
occasion at mid-day a greater sensation ol heat m the —v-
body, than a rise of 5 degrees in the thermometer of
Fahrenheit. P 1 1
“ At Sennaar, from 70 to 78 degrees of Fahrenheit s
thermometer is cool 5 from 79 to 92 temperate 5 at 92
degrees begins warmth. Although the degree ol he
thermometer marks a greater heat than is felt by the
body of us strangers, it seems to me that the sensations
of the natives bear still a less proportion to that degree
than ours. On the 2d of August, while I was lying
perfectly enervated on a carpet in a room deluged with
water at 12 o’clock, the thermometer at 116, 1 saw
several black labourers pulling down a house working
with great vigour, without any symptoms ol being in¬
commoded.” . . 1 ,
The dress of the people of Sennaar consists only ot
a long shirt of blue cloth, which wraps them up from
the under part of the neck to the leet. It does not
however, conceal the neck in the men, though 1 does
in the women. The men sometimes have a sash tied
about their middle 5 and both men and women go bare¬
footed in the houses, whatever their rank may be Ihe
floors of their apartments, especially those of the wo¬
men, are covered with l^ersian carpets. Loth men and
women anoint themselves, at least once a-day, with ca¬
mel’s grease mixed with civet, which, they imagine,
softens their skins, and preserves them from cutane¬
ous eruptions', of which they are so fearful, that they
confine themselves to the house if they observe the
smallest pimple on their skins, \v.th the same view
of preserving their skins, though they have a clean
shirt every day, they sleep with a greased one at night,
having no other covering but this. Their bed ,s a
tanned bull’s hide, which this constant greasing softens
very much 5 it is also very cool, though it gives a smell
to their bodies from which they cannot be freed by any
washing. . . . r .1 ^
Our author gives a very curious description of the
queens and ladies of the court at Sennaar. He had
access to them as a physician and was permitted to pay
his visit alone. He was first shown into a large square
apartment, where there were about 50 black women,
all quite naked excepting a very narrow piece ot cotton
rag about their waists. As he was musing whether
these were all queens, one of them took him by the
hand, and led him into another apartment much better
lighted than the former. Here he saw three women
sitting upon a bench or sofa covered with blue Sara
cloth ', they themselves being clothed from the neck to
the feet with cotton shirts of the same colour. Ihese
were three of the king’s wives •, his favourite, who was
one of the number, appeared to be about six feet high,
and so corpulent that our traveller imagined her to be
the largest creature he had seen next to the elephan
and rhinoceros. Her features perfectly resembled those
of a negro : a ring of gold passed through her under lip,
and weighed it down, till, like a flap, it covered her
chin, leaving her teeth hare, which were small and very
fine. The inside of her lip was made black with anti¬
mony Her ears reached down to her shoulders, an
had the appearance of wings : there was a gold ring m
each of them about five inches in diameter, and some¬
what smaller than a man’s little finger} the weight 0
which had drawn down the hole where her ear na*
SEN
Sluaar
[
Semes.
pierced so much that three fingers might easily pass
above the ring. She had a gold necklace like that
„ cahed Esc lavage, of several rows, one below another;
to which were hung rows of sequins pierced. She had
two manacles of gold upon her ancles larger than those
used for chaining felons. Our author could not imagine
how it was possible for her to walk with them, till he
was informed that they were hollow. The others were
dressed much in the same manner j only there was one
who had chains coming from her ears to the outside of
each nostril, where they were fastened. A ring was
also put through the gristle of her nose, and which hung
down to the opening of her mouth ; having all together
something of the appearance of a horse’s bridle ; and
Mr Bruce thinks that she must have breathed with dif¬
ficulty.
The poorer sort of the people of Sennaar live on the
flour or bread of millet; the rich make puddings of this,
toasting the flour before the fire, and putting milk and’
butter into it; besides which they use beef partly roast¬
ed and partly raw. They have very fine and fat horned
cattle, but the meat commonly sold in the market was
camel’s flesh. The liver and spare rib of this animal are
always eaten raw ; nor did our author see one instance
to the contrary all the time he was in the country.
Hog’s flesh is not sold in the market; but all the com¬
mon people of Sennaar eat it openly; those in office,
who pretend to be Mahometans, doing the same in
secret.
There are no manufactures in this country, and the
principal article of trade is blue Surat cloth. In for¬
mer times, wheu caravans could pass with safety, Indian
goods were brought in quantities from Jidda to Sen¬
naar, and then dispersed over the country of the blacks.
The returns were made in gold, a powder called tibbar,
civet, rhinoceroses horns, ivory, ostrich feathers, and
above ill slaves or glass, more of these being exported
from Sennaar than from ail the east of Africa. This
trade, however, as well as that of the gold and ivory, is
almost destroyed ; though the gold is still reputed to’be
^est an^ purest in Africa, and is therefore bomdit at
A. ocha to be carried to India, where it all centres at
last.
SENNERTUS, Daniel, an eminent physician, was
orn iO 1572 at Jfreslaw ; and m 1593 vvas sent to
Wittemberg, where he made great progress in philoso¬
phy and physic. He visited the universities of Leip-
81C* Je'ia> Frankfort on the Oder, and Berlin ; hut soon
returned to Wittemberg, where he was promoted to the
degree or doctor of physic, and soon after to a professor¬
ship m the same faculty. He was the first who intro¬
duced the study of chemistry into that university ; lie
gaineu a great reputation by his works and practice,
and was very generous to the poor. He died of the
plague at Wittemberg in 1637. He raised himself
enemies by contradicting the ancients. He thought the
sect °t all living creatures animated, and that the soul
of this seed produces organization. He was accused of
impiety for asserting that the souls of beasts are not ma¬
terial ; for this was affirmed to be the same thing with
asserting that they are immortal ; but he rejected this
consequence as he well might do. See Metaphysics,
a art til. chap. vt.
^ ST.NDNES, in Ancient Geography, * people of Gal-
c.tica, situated on the Sequana to the south of the
47 ] SEN
Parisii, near the confluence of the Jeauna or Yonne with Senone?
the above mentioned river. Their most considerable |j
exploit was their invasion of Italy, and taking and burn- ^ense.
mg Rome, as related under that article. This was done
by.a colony of them long before transported into Italy,
and settled on the Adriatic. Their capital Agendicum
in Gaul, was in the lower age called Senones now Sens.
In Italy the Senones extended themselves as far as the
river Aesis; hut were afterwards driven beyond the
Rubicon, which became the boundary of Gallia Cisai-
pina, (Polybius, Strabo).
SENSATION, in Philosophy, the perception of
external objects by means of the senses. See Meta¬
physics, Part I. chap. i.
SENSE, a faculty of the soul whereby it perceives
external objects by means of the impressions they make
on certain organs of the body. See Metaphysics,
Part I. and Anatomy, N° 137, &c.
Common Sense, is a term that has been variously
used both by ancient and modern writers. With some
it has been synonymous with public sense ; with others
it has denoted prudence ; in certain instances it has been
confounded with some of the powers of taste ; and, ac¬
cordingly, those who commit egregious blunders with
regard to decorum, saying and doing what is offensive
to their company, and inconsistent with their own cha¬
racter, have been charged with a defect in common
sense. Some men are distinguished by an uncommon
acuteness in discovering the characters of others ; and
this talent has been sometimes called co/wmw sejise ; si¬
milar to which is that use of the term, which makes it
to signify that experience and knowledge of life which
is acquired by living in society. To this meaning
Quintilian refers, speaking of the advantages of a
public education : Sensum ipsum quicommunis dicitur,
ubi discet, cum se a congressu, qui non hominibus solum,
sed mutis quoque animalibus naturalis est, sen'reirarit $
Lib. i. cap. 2. ’ * *
But the term common sense hath in modern times been
used to signify that power of the mind which perceives
tiuth, or ccmmands belief, not by progressive argumen¬
tation, but by an instantaneous, instinctive, and irresist¬
ible impulse ; derived neither from education nor from
habit, but from nature, acting independently of our
will, whenever its object is presented according to an
established law, and therefore called sense; and acting
in a similar manner upon all, or at least upon a great
majority of mankind, and therefore called common sense.
See Metaphysics, N° i 27.
Moral Sense, is a determination of the mind to be
pleased with the contemplation of those affections, ac¬
tions, or characters, of rational agents, which we call
good or virtuous.
This moral sense of beauty in actions and affections
may appear strange at first view; some of our moralists
themselves are offended at it in Lord Shaftesbury, as
being accustomed to deduce every approbation or aver¬
sion from rational views of interest. It is certain that
his lordship has carried the influence of the moral sense
very far, and some of his followers have carried it far¬
ther. The advocates for the selfish system seem to drive
their opinions to the opposite extreme, and we have else¬
where endeavoured to show that the truth lies between
the contending parties. See Moral Philosophy,
N° 27—32.
T 2
Public
SEN [
Public Sr.xsr, is defined by the noble author of the
Characteristics to be an innate propensity to be pleased
titb the happiness of others, and to he uneasy a the
misery. It is found, he says, in a greater 01 less d g
in all men, and was sometimes called 01
sus communis, by ancient writers. oreat
Of the reality of this public sense we have great
ioubl The coLnot of savages, who are more under
the influence of origina! instmc, than -ed m ^
K ^ “to^^lf-love —
luiv^very^ittirregard, considering them merely as in-
etruments of their own pleasure, and valuing them f
nfttlbntT else. Hence they make them toil, while they
themselves indulge in listless idleness. To their children
we believe they exhibit strong symptoms of attachment,
.i a—•iceistnnre from them in war, or ir
H8 ] SEN
form an object of intellectual and of moral philosophy.
And agreeably to this we know that we derive a gieat
deal of very useful knowledge, in an easy and simple
manner, concerning the objects that surround us in the
early part of life, from all the senses, particularly hoM
sighl and touch, and this too without labour or study.
But this is not the only purpose for which the senses
"Tt Si certain, that the senses were bestowed
upon us partly to preserve our animal existence, and
partly forour mental improvement, it seems rea8«nab*e»
even^a priori, to expect that nature would aUachsome
pleasure to such use and exercise ot them, as are taku
fated to promote these ends, and pam to the con raryi
particularly in those instances in which she has left
management of them subject to our own con rou . And
accordingly we cannot but ob^ -hat delight we^de-
Stnsei.
WC soonas they derive assistance from them in war, or in
Hu business o^f the chacej but during the helpless vears
of infancy, the child is left by the selfish father whol y
TTe'sav^'if^is^ indeed, susceptUiirof strong attachments,
Ltes are Foiably first linked together by the ob¬
servation J each other’s prowess in war, or their ski
• • il ’r o-ame • for such observation cannot fail
to show them that they may be useful t° one ano^ier;
1 WP have elsewhere shown how real friendship may
Ling from senttments originally selfish The savage is
very much attached to his horde or tribe, and this at-
tafhment resembles patriotism : but patriotism itself
not a sentiment of pure benevolence delighting in the
happiness of others, and grieving at their misery , for
the patriot prefers his own country to all others, and is
not very scrupulous with respect to the rectitude of the
means by which he promotes its interest, or depresses its
rivals ^The savage pursues with relentless rigour d
enemies of himself or of the tribe to which he belongs ,
shows no mercy to them when m h.s power, but put
them to the cruellest death, and carries their scalps to
the leader of his party. These facts, which cannot be
•fpfl are perfectly irreconcileable with innate
benevolence ’or a public sense comprehending the whole
rkce of men? and show the truth of that theory by
which we have in another place endeavoured ^ account
for all the passions, social as well as selfish, bee Fas
51 °SENSES, Pleasures and Pains of. The natural
aoreeableness, disagreeableness, and indifference of our
sensations and perceptions, present to the mind an im¬
portant and extensive field of inquiry, and on this sub¬
let we shall here make a few observations. All our
‘lenses have been certainly bestowed upon us for wise and
beneficent purposes *, and, accordingly, we find that all
o them, whei/properly cultivated, or exercised and un¬
moved are capable of affording us much p easure. The
lenses of smell and of taste seem rather intended for t
preservation of our animal existence, and in this point of
liew are properly an object of the natural history of man,
whilst the other three seem to be more pecu lai y in¬
tended for our mental improvement, and according y
riv^frmn our^senses, especially in the morning of life,
by which it would seem, that nature intended thus wm-
Jngly to invite us to the proper exercise and improve¬
ment of them-, and as it were unconsciously, acquire
much useful knowledge. It is this species of pleasure
that supports and excites boys in the constant and often
immoderate exercise of their organs of voluntary mo¬
tion 5 the powers of which are thus increased and mvi-
gorated.^xerci^e and improvement of the senses being
subservient to our intellectual improvement, nature has
kindly attached much refined and rational pleasure
to the mental exertions*, so that we are thus seduced as
it were, to the cultivation of the various extraordinary
powers and faculties of the mind. .
P It is evident that nature has given such organs and
faculties to man, as are calculated not only to make him
live, but also to render life agreeable. Here too we
obtain a slight glimpse at least of some of the final cau¬
ses of the pleasures of sense. But if it be asked how
happens, that there are such wide diversities between
our sensations, some being by nature very agreeable to
all men, and some as disagreeable, whilst there are
others so indifferent, as to give neither pleasure nor pain,
we must confess, that we cangive no satisfactory answer,
to shew how so many very different sensations are pro¬
duced by various kinds of impressions made on certain
organs of the body, and how all these different impres¬
sions excite such sensations as suggest not mi y corres¬
ponding perceptions and external qualities, but at tto
lame time affect the mind with pleasure pain, trouble,
anxiety, or disgust. To be successful in these inquir,^
we must presuppose some knowledge of the nature ot llui
connection subsisting between the mind and body,
which there is reason to think is placed beyond the li¬
mits prescribed by nature to human research.
The pleasure or pain which constantly attends certain
sensations is not uniform in degree, but varies consider¬
ably, not only in different individuals, but even m he
same persons at different times. It is not thus with the
sensations themselves. These are always constant and
uniform. The same kind of impression, when the or¬
gans, &c. are sound, uniformly and invariably P™{luce3
similar sensations*, and these are as invariably followed
by the perception of their own peculiar exciting cause.
For any particular impression is never known to exci e
in the same person a new sensation, or the perceptions o
an external object different from that which it previous y
suggested,
SEN [ i
’hises. suggested, excepting in cases of disease. And when it
'does rarely occur, as in those who cannot distinguish a
particular colour, smell or taste, from certain others,
we uniformly attribute it to disease or malconformation.
Were we not thus to have uniformly similar sensations
and perceptions of external objects from similar impres¬
sions, the senses would not be at all subservient to our
intellectual improvement; since, by giving different les¬
sons concerning the same or similar objects at different
times, they would render it impossible for us to be cer¬
tain of any thing, or to benefit by experience.
The effects of custom, which are at all times so con¬
siderable and evident with respect both to the mind and
body, (as in the case of particular organs or faculties
much improved by attention and exercise), have little or
no influence at all in interrupting or modifying this uni¬
formity in our sensations and perceptions. For no sound
or properly organized person will, either naturally or
by custom, everfinistake hardness for softness, red for
green, or sweet for bitter. But the influence of custom
in modifying the pains and pleasures of sense is well
known and considerable. For a person, who can most
accurately distinguish sweetness from sourness, will at
the same time, either by particular conformation, or
more frequently in consequence of use and habit, prefer
tvormwood or tobacco to honey.
But although we may despair of being ever able to
discover the physical cause of the pleasures and pains of
the senses, we may, however, advance a little by ob¬
serving and registering particular facts. It is, accord¬
ingly, of use to remark, that every species of sensation,
if its nature be otherwise unchanged, is agreeable or
disagreeable in proportion to its strength or intenseness.
For there is no sensation, however agreeable, that will
not become disagreeable, and even intolerable, if it be
immoderately intense. Whilst on the contrary, those,
which by their strength and nature are very trouble¬
some, if rendered more mild and moderate become not
only tolerable, but agreeable. Thus, with respect to
the senses it would seem, that pain and pleasure are
only different degrees of the same feeling, and when we
consider the great varieties of which the sensation, not
only of different organs, but even of any one of them,
is susceptible, and that each degree of these may be ac¬
companied w'ith pleasure or pain, more or less, wre must
conclude that the pains and pleasures of sense are capa¬
ble of numberless modifications both in degree and in
kind.
We frequently observe, that sensations which were
at first agreeable, if often repeated, lose their relish,
though the nature and strength of the impressions be
the same ; whilst others from being at first very disa¬
greeable, as the taste of tobacco and opium, become
very pleasing, though the nature and strength of the
impressions have suffered no change. For the explana¬
tion of such facts as these we must have recourse to the
effects of custom. Thus, in both these opposite cases,
the sensations, from being often repeated, lose part of
the strength, and of the novelty, of course, of their first
impressions; and, with respect to the former instance,
being unable to command the attention, become in the
course of time almost wholly, or altogether neglected,
whilst in the latter case, from being very offensive,
they become highly agreeable. But lit it be asked why
habit and custom produce these effects, and in what
49 ] SEN
manner, we are unable to explain it farther, than by
saying, since the fact is unquestionable, that such is the '
nature of the human constitution. Of the effects them¬
selves, no man can entertain a doubt; and their causes,
though at present unknown, may by time and inquiry
be further developed and simplified. “ The labyrinth,”
says Dr Reid, “ may be too intricate, and the thread
too fine, to be traced through all its windings ; but if
we stop where we can trace it no farther, and secure
the ground we have gained, there is no harm done ; a
quicker eye may in time trace it further.”
These principles are capable of affording us still far¬
ther explanations. Why are new sensations always more
agreeable and variety so pleasing ? Because they fix the
attention more, and are not as yet blunted by frequent
repetition or by habit. It is because some sensations
lose their wonted effect by custom and by repetition,
that we require stronger ones, or at least stronger im¬
pressions on the organs and nerves, to increase or con¬
tinue our pleasures. It is also in consequence of their
becoming less poignant through habit that we neglect
so many pleasures, which we hardly know to be such,
till they have flown for ever ; and it is because in the
morning of life every thing has more novelty, and be¬
cause habit has not destroyed their relish, that the plea¬
sures of youth are much more intense than those of age.
The degree of pleasure is similar to that which a blind
man would feel on being made to see, or to that which a
man would enjoy on suddenly acquiring a new sensitive
faculty, although by long use and habit these pleasures
are at present for the most part or wholly blotted away.
Although most sensations, when strong and lively
enough to make themselves accurately and easily distin¬
guished, generally please most, each in its own kind and
manner ; still, as there are different kinds of pleasure,
different sensations may please the mind in various ways ;
and accordingly, it is not from the lustre of the midday
sun, nor from the beautiful and lively appearance of all
nature at noon, solely, that the eyes derive pleasure, any
more than grand musical sounds are the only things that
please the ear. For we often contemplate with a very
different and a very considerable degree of pleasure the
sublime and awful scenes of nature, the twilight dark¬
ness of the shady grove, and even the gloomy horror of
night itself. We listen with delight to the tempest
shaking the forest, as well as to the gentle murmurs of
the passing stream. There is even a time when nothing
gives so much pleasure as darkness, silence, and th«
absence of all sensation.
Amidst the great variety of good and evil with which
we are every where surrounded, it is a matter of the
highest importance to be able to discern aright. This
we should be incapable of doing were we not endowed
with agreeable as well as painful sensations. These serve
to direct our choice. Whatever contributes in any de¬
gree to our preservation and to the improvement of our
organs and faculties, is accompanied with pleasure ; and
on the contrary, when we are threatened with danger a
painful sensation gives us the alarm. It is to the esta¬
blishment of this law that we are indebted for the dura¬
tion of our lives, the improved and vigorous state of our
faculties, and the enjoyment of that small portion of
happiness allotted to us by nature. “ God, (says aFrench
writer) having endowed man with various faculties, bo¬
dily as well as intellectual, in ordei’ to promote his hap¬
piness*
Sense*
 v 1
Senses.
I'iness, also vouchsafes to conduct him ^ among those’hebnging to touch, there is a cer- 1 /-
not only hy the deductions of reason b, ^ ^ whl?h> though arising from negative causes,
force of instinct and sensation, which are m P ^ arR nevertheless real and positive pleasures: as when we
and efficacious principles. Thus nature, y gradually sink from any violent or excessive degree of
of pain, instantaneously apprises us of ^hat mig p g o/irritation into I state of tranquillity and repose,
hurtful to us j and, on the contrary, by an agree-b e zcUonarj translti0n be sudden and ab-
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
our faculties, these being the two points on which our
happiness depends. Our faculties can neither be o use,
nor display themselves farther than as we exercise them,
motion or action is therefore so necessary to us, that
Without it we must inevitably sink into a deplorable
state of insensibility and languor. On the other han ,
as we are weak and limited creatures, all excessive and
violent action would impair and destroy our organs; we
must therefore use only moderate motion or exercise,
since by these means the use or perfection of our facul¬
ties is reconciled with our chief interest, which is self-
preservation. Now it is to this happy medium, 1 mean
to a moderate exercise of our faculties, that the Author
of our nature has so wisely annexed pleasure.
The pleasures of sense are thus confined within nar¬
row limits ; for they cannot be much increased without
pain, or often repeated without losing their relish, at
least in a great measure ; nor can they he long conti¬
nued partly for the same reason, and because they ex¬
haust the mind, or rather the nervous system. Hence
we see that our animal appetites are confined withm a
narrow range, as is evident from the effects of excess in
eating and drinking. All our sensitive powers are im¬
paired ; whilst, on the contrary, our intellectual powers
are strengthened and improved by use and exercise.
And in proportion as we indulge our sensitive powers,
our desire of indulgence increase, whilst the pleasures,
which are the objects of these desires, become regularly
less poignant. These, indeed, are wise regulations ot
nature f for it would seem as if she intended to whisper
gently to us in this way, by means of practical expe¬
rience, that we are not born solely for the enjoyment ot
pleasure, at least not for that of the pleasures of the
semes ; for all of them, as we have already remarked,
if much indulged, lead to listlessness and disgust, and
sometimes to considerable pain. And indeed, just as
pleasure passes thus readily into trouble and pain, so
does the sudden cessation of pain, at least when this has
been considerable, produce often extraordinary pleasure.
So that we mav here apply the beautiful allegory ot the
divine Socrates, “ that although pleasure and pain are
contrary in their nature, and have their laces turned
different ways, yet that Jupiter hath tied them so to¬
gether, that he who lays hold of the one draws the other
dong with it.” . , .
We have just said, that the sudden cessation oi pam,
at least when this has been considerable, produces often
extraordinary pleasure. But this opinion seems to be
denied in a late inquiry concerning taste. “ Among
rupt, it will not be pleasant; the pleasure arising from
the inverted action of the nerves, and not from the ut¬
ter cessation of action. From this inverted action arises
the gratification which we receive from a cool breeze,
when the body has been excessively heated; or from
the rocking of a cradle, or the gentle motion of a boat,
or easv carriage, after having been fatigued with violent
exercise. Such, too, is that which twilight, or the
gloomy shade of a thicket, affords to the eye after it has
been dazzled by the blaze of the mid-day sun ; and
such, likewise, is that which the ear receives from the
gradual diminution of loudness of tone in music.” That
pleasure follows a gradual cessation of any violent ac¬
tion or irritation, we mean not to deny ; hut we are at
a loss to comprehend how it follows that the transition
from strong pain, if it be sudden and abrupt, will not
be pleasant. .
But although the pleasures of sense be thus limited,
these limits are very different with respect to the differ¬
ent senses. Some of them are soon exhausted, and do
not anv longer distinguish well the objects that corre¬
spond to them ; nor are they pleased with those objects
which were at first very agreeable, and which they di¬
stinguish with sufficient accuracy; whilst others conti-
nue to perform their functions longer, and enjoy a more
continued pleasure. Thus the senses of smell and of
taste are almost immediately satiated; the sense of hear¬
ing more slowly ; hut the sight is in this respect the last
of all to be fatigued or satiated : whilst the pleasures
that arise from the exercise of our mental faculties are
by far the most durable of all. “ Exercise of the mind
is’ as necessary as that of the body to preserve our ex¬
istence. The senses of other animals, being more quick
than ours, are sufficient to direct them to tollovv what
is agreeable to their nature, or to shun whatever is con¬
trary thereto. But we are endowed with reason in or¬
der to supply the deficiency of our senses ; and pleasure
presents herself as an incitement to exercise, in order to
keep the mind from a state of hurtful inactivity. Plea¬
sure is not only the parent of sports and amusements,
but also of arts and sciences : and as the whole universe
is, as it were, forced by our industry to pay tribute to
our wants and desires, we cannot but acknowledge our
obligation to that law of nature, which has annexed a
degree of pleasure to whatever exercises without fatiguing
the mind. The pleasure accompanying it is sometimes
so great that it transports the very soul, so that she. seems
as it were disengaged from the body. 'Ac know w sat
is recorded in history concerning Archimedes (a.), and
several other geometricians, both ancient and modern. If
f O When Syracuse was taken hy the Romans under Marcellus, Archimedes was in his study, so intent upon
some geometrical problems, that he neither heard the clamour of the Romans, nor perceived that the city was
n this transport of study and contemplation a soldier came on him with his drawn sword : Archimedes,
him, besought him to hold his hand till he had finished the problem he was about. Bui ti soldier, deal
* through the body, although Marcellus, upon entering the city, had given orders that
ge
taken. I
on seeing h
to his intreaty, ran him
Archimedes should be spared.
SEN [i
SeBseS. we doubt the truths of such facts, we must at least ac-
■—y-knowledge their probability, since we n.tet every dav
with a number of similar examples. When we see a,
chess-player so deeply immersed in thought as to be in
a manner lost to his outward senses, should we not ima¬
gine him to be wholly engrossed with the care of his
own private affairs, or of the public weal P But the ob¬
ject of all this profound meditation is the pleasure of
exercising the mind by the movement of a piece of
ivory. From this exercise of the mind also arises the
pleasure we sometimes take in relined and delicate sen-
timents, which, after the manner of ^ irgiPs shepherdess,
{ Et fugit ad scUices, sedse cvpit ante videri), are some¬
times art lolly concealed, hut so as to afford us the plea-
* Vlieorie sure of discovering them
From some of the foregoing remarks we also see that
fiJitui c points out to us tho superiority smd excellence
of our mental faculties, thus suggesting to us that we
ougnt to cultivate them m u, as being our better and
our nobler part, to the cultivation of which that of our
sensitive faculties should he merely subservient. But,
although our pleasures are thus by nature rendered in
a great degree independent of ourselves, still we have it
in our power to make them all more durable, by vary¬
ing and mixing them with one another, or by interpo¬
sing between these that are very agreeable others that
are less pleasing, so as that no individual pleasure shall
he in excess.
Besides the circumstances already noticed, there are
others of a very different kind, winch have also consi¬
derable influence on the pleasures of the senses ; such as
different conditions of the whole body, particularly of
the nerves, or of certain organs or functions, to which
functions some organs of sense, and perhaps even the
sensation of these, are in a great measure subservient.
Ibis is one ot the causes w’hy many pleasures, which
we cultivate with all our might, cannot be immortal.
If a person be thirsty, spring water is nectar to him;
if hungry, any kind ot food is agreeable, even the smell
of food is grateful. To a man in a heat, or in a fever,
cold is pleasing 5 and to one in a cold fit nothing is so
agreeable as heat, 'j o these same persons, at other
times, so far are these things from being agreeable, that
they are often disgusting. The most decided glutton
cannot always relish a sumptuous feast.
Besides the sensations excited by external objects,
there are others also which cause pain and pleasure. If
the action of the muscles be strong, easy, and cheerful,
and not continued so as to fatigne us, it causes pleasure.
On the contrary, when this action is attended with a
sense of listlessness, lassitude, difficulty, and debility,
it causes pain more or less. In fine, various states
and affections of the mind, such as the exercise of me¬
mory, imagination, and judgment, nearly for similar rea¬
sons, are sometimes painful, at other times agreeable.
Animi aftectus, qui modici grate excitant, vebemen-
tes, aut graves et diutnrni, hujus pariter ac corporis
vires frangunt; hominem interdum statim extinguunt,
saepius longa valetudine macerant. Somni etiam, quo
ad exhaustas vires reficiendas egemus, excessus, vel
delectus, et animo et corpori nocet.”—“ Desidia, sive
animi sive corporis, utriusque vires languescunt*: ni-
nna exercitatione baud minus Iseduntur. Statuit enim
provida rerum parens, ut singularum partium, et uni-
versi corporis animique vires usu rcborentur et acuan-
] SEN
turj et huic iterum certos fines posuit : ita ut neque Sensr
quern voluit natura usus impune omittatur, neque ultra 1 y— v
modum intendatur „
1 • ip. * Comped,
Ut sue.) sensations and feelings as are agreeable Meduin.
or disagreeable, we may remark,” says Dr Reid, “ that
they difier much, not only in degree, but in kind and
in dignity. Some belong to the animal part of our na¬
ture, and are common to us with the brutes; others be¬
long to the rational and moral part. The first are
more properly called sensations, the last feelings. The
trench word sentiment is common to both.”
I he -xiitbor of nature, in the distribution of agree¬
able and painful feelings, hath wisely and benevolently
consulted the good of the human species ; and hath even
shewn us, by the same means, what tenor of conduct
we ought to hold. For, first. The painful sensations of
the animal kind are admonitions to avoid what would
hurt us ; and the agreeable sensations of this kind in¬
vite us to those actions that are necessary to the pre¬
servation of the individual, or of the kind. Secondly,
By the same means nature invites us to moderate bo¬
dily exercise, and admonishes us to avoid idleness and
inactivity on the one hand, and excessive labour and
fatigue upon the other. Thirdly, The moderate exer¬
cise of all our rational powers gives pleasure. Fourthly,
Fvery species of beauty is beheld with pleasure, and
every species of deformity with disgust 5 and we shall
lind a.i that we call beautiful, to be something estim¬
able, or useful in itself, or a sign of something that is.
estimable or useful. Fifthly, The benevolent affections
are all accompanied with an agreeable feeling, the ma¬
levolent with the contrary. And, Sixthly, The high¬
est, toe noblest, and most durable pleasure, is that of do¬
ing well and acting the part that becomes us j and the
most bitter and painful sentiment is the anguish and
remorse of a guilty conscience.” These observations
with regard to the economy of nature in the distribu¬
tion of oui painful and agreeable sensations and feelings
are so well illustrated by the elegant and judicious au¬
thor ot Theorie des Sentiments Agrcables, that we deem
it unnecessary to make any further remarks on this sub¬
ject. (See Happiness and Pleasure). A little re¬
flection may satisfy us, that the number and variety of
our sensations and feelings are prodigious. For, to
omit all those which accompany our appetites, passions,
and aftections, our moral sentiments and sentiments of
taste, even our external senses, furnish a great variety
of sensations differing m kind, and almost in every
kind an endless variety of degrees. Fvery variety we
discern, with regard to taste, smell, sound, colour,
heat, and cold, and in the tangible qualities of bodies,
is indicated by a sensation corresponding to it.
The most general and the mosr. important division of
our sensations and feelings is into the agreeable, the dis-
agi^eable, and the ineuflerent. Every thing we calf
pleasure, happiness, or enjoyment on the one hand ; and,
on the other, every thing we call misery, pain, or unea¬
siness, is sensation or feeling : For no man can for the
present be more happy, or more miserable, than he feels
himself to be. He cannot be deceived with regard to.
the enjoyment or suffering of the present moment.
But, besides the sensations that are agreeable or dis¬
agreeable, there is still a greater number that are indif¬
ferent. To these we give so little attention, that they
have no name, and are immediately forgotten as if they
hudf
SEN
[ IS
Se«t. Imd never been • it even requires attention to tbe opem-
II tions of our minds to be, convinced ot their.exis* tv
Sensibility. por this end we may observe, that to a good ear Y
‘ ' human voice is distinguishable from all “t1'"8-
voices are pleasant, some disagreeable , buf the
greater part cannot be said to be one or the othe .
Sme thing may be said of other sounds, and no less of
tastes smells, InA colours j and if we consider, that our
senses are in continual exercise while we are awake
that some sensation attends every object they present to
us and that familiar objects seldom raise any emotion
pleasant or painful } we shall see reason besules the
agreeable and disagreeable to admit a third dass of s -
sations, that may be called indifferent. But these sen
sations that are indifferent are far from being use e •
They serve as signs to distinguish things that diiler ,
^nd the information we have concerning things external
come by these means. Thus, if a man had not a mu-
sical ear so as to receive pleasure from the harmony or
melody of sounds, he would still find the sense of hear-
Imr ofgreat utility. Though sounds gave him neither
pleasure nor pain, of themselves, they would give him
much useful information •, and the same may be said of
the sensations we have by all the other senses.
SENSIBLE NOTE, in Music, is that which consti¬
tutes a third major above the dominant, and a semi-
Jone beneath the tonic. Sf, or B, is the sensible note
in the tone of ^ or C, * •, or G sharp, in the tone of
1(1 Th<rv call it the sensible note on this account, that it
causes to be perceived the tone or natural series o the
key and the tonic itself j upon which, after the chord
of the dominant, the sensible note tak,"S sb^ ^
road is under a necessity oi rising ; which has made
some’ authors treat this sensible note as a major disso¬
nance for want of observing, that dissonance, being
relation, cannot be constituted unless by two notes be¬
tween which it subsists. . , xi e
It is not meant that the sensible note is the seventh of
the tone, because, in the minor mode, this seventh can¬
not be a sensible note but in ascending ; for, in descend¬
ing, it is at the distance of a full note from the tonic,
ami of a third minor from the dominant. .
SENSIBILITY, is a nice and delicate perception ot
pleasure or pain, beauty or deformity. It is very near¬
ly allied to taste *, and, as far as it is natural, seems to
denend upon the organization of the nervous system.
It is capable, however, of cultivation, and is experien¬
ced in a much higher degree in civilized than in savage
nations, and among persons liberally educated than
among boors and illiterate mechanics. 1 he man who
has cultivated any of the fine arts has a much quicker
and more exquisite perception of beauty and deformity
in the execution of that art, than another of equal or
even greater natural powers, who has but casually in¬
spected its productions. He who has been long accus¬
tomed to that decorum of manners which characterizes
the polite part of the world, peicejves almost instantane¬
ously the smallest deviation from it, and feels himself al¬
most as much hurt by behaviour harmless in itself, as by
the grossest rudeness; and the man who has long pro¬
ceeded steadily in the paths of virtue, and often painted
to himself the deformity of vice, and the miseries ot
which it is productive, is more quickly a armed at any
deviation from rectitude, than another who, though his
i ] SEN
life has been stained by no crime, has yet thought less SennbiW
upon the principles of virtue and consequences ot vice.
Every thing which can be called sensibility, and is
not born with man, may be resolved into association,
and is to be regulated accordingly > tor sensibilities may
be acquired which are inimical to happiness and to the
practice of virtue. The man is not to be envied who
has so accustomed himself to the forms of polite address
as 10 be hurt by the unaffected language and manners oi
the honest peasant, with whom he may have occasion
to transact business nor is he likely to acquire much
useful knowledge, who has so sedu ously studied tl e
beauties of composition as to be unable to read without
disgust a book of science or of history of which the style
comes not up to his standard of perfection, lhat sen¬
sibility which we either have from nature, or necessanly
acquire, of the miseries of others, is ot the greatest use
when properly regulated, as it powerfully impels us
to relieve their distress 5 but if it by any means become
so exquisite as to make us shun the sight of misery, it
counteracts the end for which it was implanted in our
nature, and only deprives us of happiness whde it con¬
tributes nothing to the good of others. Indeed there
is reason to believe that all such extreme sensibilities are
selfish affectations, employed as apologies for withhold¬
ing from the miserable that relief which it is in our
power to give j for there is not a fact better established
in the science of human nature, than that passive per¬
ceptions grow gradually weaker by repetition, while
active habits daily acquire strength.
It is of great importance to a literary man to culti¬
vate his taste, because, it is the source ot much elegant
and refined pleasure, (see Taste) j but there is a de¬
gree of fastidiousness which renders that pleasure impos¬
sible to be obtained, and is the certain indication of ex¬
piring letters. It is necessary to submit to the artificial
rules of politeness, for they tend to promote the peace
and harmony of societv, and are sometimes a useful sub¬
stitute for moral virtue 5 but he who with respect to
them has so much sensibility as to be disgusted with all
whose manners are not equally polished with his own, is
a very troublesome member of society. It is every man s
duty to cultivate his moral sensibilities, so as to make
them subservient to the purposes for which they were
given to him •, but if he either feel, or pretend to feel,
the miseries of others to so exquisite a degree as to be
unable to afford them the relief which they have a right
to expect, his sensibilities are of no good tendency.
That the man of true sensibility has more pains and
more pleasures than the callous wretch, is universally ad¬
mitted, as well as that his enjoyments and sufferings arc
more exquisite in their kinds ; and as no man lives lor
himself alone, no man will acknowledge his want of
sensibility, or express a wish that his heart were callous.
It is, however, a matter of some moment to distinguish
real sensibilities from ridiculous affectations^ those which
tend to increase the sum of human happiness from sue 1
as have a contrary tendency j and to cultivate them all in
such a manner as to make them answer the ends lor
which they were implanted in us by the beneficent Au¬
thor of nature. This can be done only by watching
over them as over other associations, (seeMETAPHYSICS,
N° 98.) 5 for excessive sensibility, as it is not the gift 0
nature, is the bane of human happiness. “ loo muci
tenderness (asRousseau well observes) proves tbebitter-
v est
m sibi
lensit;
SEN [i
!itv, ©si curse instead of the most fruitful blessing j vexation
ve. and disappointment are its certain consequences. The
temperature of the air, the change of the seasons, the
brilliancy of the sun, or thickness of the fogs, are so
many moving springs to the unhappy possessor, and he
becomes the wanton sport of their arbitration.
SENSITIVE-plant. See Mimosa, Dionne a, and
Hedysarum, Botany Index.
The sensitive plants are well known to possess a kind
of motion, by which the leaves and stalks are contracted
and fall down on being slightly touched, or shaken with
some degree of violence.
The contraction of the leaves and branches of the
sensitive plant when touched, is a very singular pheno¬
menon. Different hypotheses have been formed by bo¬
tanists in order to explain it; but we are disposed to be¬
lieve that these have generally been deduced rather from
analogical reasoning than from a collection of facts and
observations. We shall therefore give an account of all
the important facts which we' have been able to collect
upon this curious subject; and then draw such conclu¬
sions as obviously result from them, without, however,
attempting to support any old, or to establish a new, hy-
. pothesis.
1. It is difficult to touch the leaf of a healthy sensi¬
tive plant so delicately that it will not immediately col¬
lapse, the foliola or little leaves moving at their base
till they come into contact, and then applying them¬
selves close together. If the leaf be touched with a
little more force, the opposite leaf will exhibit the same
appearance. If a little more force be applied, the par¬
tial footstalks bend down towards the common foot¬
stalk from which they issue, making with it a more acute
angle than before. If the touch be more violent still,
all the leaves situated on the same side with the one
that has been touched will instantly collapse, and the
partial footstalk will approach the common footstalk to
which it is attached, in the same manner as the partial
footstalk of the leaf approaches the stem or branch
from which it issues; so that the whole plant, from ha¬
ying its branches extended, will immediately appear
like a weeping birch.
2. These motions of the plant are performed by means
of three distinct and sensible articulations. The first,
that of the foliola or lobes to the partial footstalk ; the
second, that of the partial footstalk to the common one ;
the third, that of the common footstalk to the trunk.
The primary motion of all which is the. closing of the
leaf upon the partial footstalk, which is performed in
a similar manner, and by a similar articulation. This,
however, is much less visible than the others. These
motions are wholly independent on one another, as may
he proved by experiment. It appears that if the par¬
tial footstalks are moved, and collapse toward thepetioli,
or these toward the trunk, the little leaves, whose
motion is usually primary to these, should be affected
also ; yet experiment proves that it is possible to toueh
tne footstalks in such a manner as to affect them only,
and make them apply themselves to the trunk, while
the leaves feel nothing of the touch ; but this cannot
be, unless the footstalks are so disposed as that they can.
fall to the trunk, without suffering their leaves to touch
any part of the plant in their passage, because, if they
i-o, they are immediately affected.
3. Vs inds and heavy rains make the leaves of the sen-
■V.OL. XIX. Part 1. +
S3 ]
SEN
sitive plant contract and close ; but no such effect is Sensitive,
produced from slight showers. —v——
4. At night, or when exposed to much cold in the
day, the leaves meet and close in the same manner as
when touched, folding their upper surfaces together,
and in part over each other, like scales or tiles, so as to
expose as little as possible of the upper surface to the
air. The opposite sides of the leaves (foliola) do not
come close together in the night, for when touched thev
apply themselves closer together. Dr Darwin kept a
sensitive plant in a dark place for some hours after day¬
break ; the leaves and footstalks were collapsed as in
its most profound sleep; and, on exposing it to the iffiht,
above 20 minutes passed before it was expanded.
5. In the month of August, a sensitive plant was
carried in a pot out of its usual place into a dark cave,
the motion that it received in the carriage shut up its
leaves, and they did not open till 24 hours afterwards;
at this time they became moderately open, but were af¬
terwards subject to no changes at night or moininjr, but
remained three days and nights with their leaves fn the
same moderately open state. At the end of this time
they were brought out again into the -air, and there re¬
covered their natural periodical motions, shutting every
night, and opening every morning, as naturally and as
strongly as if the plant had not been in this forced state ;
and while in the cave, it was observed to be very little
less affected with the touch than when abroad in the
epen air.
6. Ihe great heats of summer, when there is open
sunshine at noon, affect the plant in some degree like
told, causing it to shut up its leaves a little, but never
in any very great degree. The plant, however, is least
of all affected about nine o’clock in the morning, and
that is consequently the properest time to make experi¬
ments on it. A branch of the sensitive plant cut off,
and laid by, retains yet its property of shutting up and
opening in the morning for some days ; and it holds it
longer if kept with one end in water, than if left to dry
more suddenly.
7. ihe leaves only of the sensitive plant shut up in the
night, not the branches; and if it he touched at this
time, the branches are affected in the same manner as
in the day, shutting up, or approaching to the stalk or
trunk, in the same manner, and often with more force.
It is of no consequence what the substance is with which
the plant is touched, it answers alike to all; but there
may be observed a little spot, distinguishable by its paler
colour in the articulations of its leaves, where the great¬
est and nicest sensibility is evidently placed.
8. Duhamel having observed, about the 15th of
September, in moderate weather, the natural motion
ot a branch of a sensitive plant, remarked, that, at nine
in the morning it formed with the stem an angle of 100
degrees ; at noon, 112 degrees; at three afternoon, it
returned to 100; and after touching the branch, the
angle was reduced to 90. Three quarters of an hour
after it had mounted to 112 ; and, at eight at night, it
descended again, without being touched, to 90. The
day after, in finer weather, the same branch, at eight
in the morning, made an angle of 135 degrees with the
stem ; after being touched, the angle was diminished to
8c; an hour after, it rose again to 135; being touch¬
ed a second time, it descended again to 80 ; an hour
and a half after, it had risen to 145 ; and on being
^ touched
SEN
[ 154- ]
SEN
Sensitive, touched a third time, descended to 135 i and emai led
in that position till five o’clock in the afternoon, wnen
beimx touched a fourth time it fell to no.
o The parts of the plants which have collapsed at-
terwards unfold themselves, and return to their former
expanded state. The time required for that purpose
varies, according to the vigour of the plant, the season
of the year, the'hour of the day, the state of the at¬
mosphere. Sometimes half au hour is requisite, some¬
time ; only ten minutes. The order in which the parts
recover themselves varies in like manner : sometimes it
is the common footstalk j sometimes the rib to which
the leaves are attached-, and sometimes toe leaves them¬
selves are expanded, before the other parts have made
any attempt to be reinstated in their former position.
10 If, without shaking the other smaller leaves, we
cut offthe half of aleaf or lobe belonging to the last
pair, at the extremity or summit ol a wing, the leal
cut, and its antagonist, that is to say, the first pair,
begin to approach each other then the second, and so
on successively, till all the lesser leaves or lobes of that
wincr have collapsed in like manner. Frequently, ni¬
ter 12 or 15 seconds, the lobes of the other wings,
which were not immediately affected by the stroke, shut;
whilst the stalk and its wing, beginning at the bottom,
and proceeding in order to the top, gradually recover
themselves. If, instead of one of the lesser extreme
leaves, we cut off one belonging to the pair that is next
the footstalk, its antagonist shuts, as do the other pairs
successively, from the bottom to the top. It all the
leaves of one side of a wing be cut off, the opposite
leaves are not affected, hut remain expanded. With
some address, it is possible even to cut off a branch
without hurting the leaves or making them tall. Ihe
common footstalk of the winged leaves being cut as
far as three-fourths of its diameter, all the parts which
hano- down collapse, but quickly recover without ap¬
pearing to have suffered any considerable violence by
the shock. An incision being made into one of the prin¬
cipal branches to the depth of one half the diameter,
the branches situated betwixt the section and the root
will fall down; those above the incision remain as be¬
fore, and the lesser leaves continue open ; but this di¬
rection is soon destroyed, by cutting oft one of the
lobes at the extremity, as was observed above. Lastly,
a whole wing being cut off with precaution near its in¬
sertion into the common footstalk, the other wings aie
not affected by it, and its own lobes do not shut. No
motion ensues from piercing the branch with a neeule
or other sharp instrument.
xi. If the end of one of the leaves be burned with
the flame of a candle, or by a burning glass, or by
touching it with hot iron, it closes up in a moment, and
the opposite leaf does the same, and after that the
whole series of leaves on each side of the partial or
little footstalk; then the footstalk itself; then the branch
or common footstalk; all do the same, if the burning
,has been in a sufficient degree. This proves that there
is a very nice communication between all the parts or
stance of it; but at that time, not only that particular Semh
leaf hut all the leaves placed on the same footstalk, r
close themselves up. The vapour of burning sulphur
has also this effect on many leaves at once, according as
they are more or less exposed to it; but a bottle of
very acrid and sulphureous spirit of vitriol, p.acei.
under the branches unstopped, produces no such eltect.
Wetting the leaves with spirit of wine has been observed
also to^have no effect, nor the rubbing oil of almonds
over them ; though this last application destroys many
1 From the preceding experiments the following con¬
clusions maybe fairly drawn: 1. The contraction of
the parts of the sensitive plant is occasioned by an exter¬
nal force, anti the contraction is in proportion to tbe
force. 2. All bodies which can exert any force atlecfc
the sensitive plant; some by the touch or by agitation,
as the wind, rain, &c.; some by ehemical influence, as
heat and cold. 3. Touching or agitating the plant pro¬
duces a greater effect than an incision or cutting off a
part, or by applying heat or cold.
Attempts have been made to explain these curious
phenomena. Dr Darwin, in the notes to his aumiret
poem, entitled, T/ie Botanic Garden, lays it down as a
principle, that “ the sleep of animals consists in a sus¬
pension of voluntary motion ; and as vegetables are sub¬
ject to sleep as well as animals, there is reason to con¬
clude (says he) that the various action of closing their
petals and foliage may be justly ascribed to a voluntary
power; for without the faculty of volition sleep would
not have been necessary to them.” hether this defi¬
nition of sleep when applied to animals be just, we shah
not inquire ; but it is evident the supposed analogy be¬
tween the sleep of animals and the sleep of plants baa
led Dr Darwin to admit this astonishing conclusion, that
plants have volition. As volition presupposes a mine
or soul, it were to be wished that he had given us some
information concerning tbe nature of a vegetable soul,
which can think and will. We suspect, however, that
this vegetable soul will turn out to he a mere mechani¬
cal or chemical one; for it is affected by external forces
uniformly in the same way, its volition is merely passive,
and never makes any successful resistance against those
causes by which it is influenced. All this is a mere
abuse of words. The sleep of plants is a metaphorical
expression, and has not the least resemblance to tae
sleep of animals. Plants are said to sleep when the
flowers or leaves are contracted or folded together; but
we never heard that there is any similar contraction m
the body of an animal during sleep. .
The fibres of vegetables have been compared with
the muscles of animals, and the motions of the sensitive
plant have been supposed the same with muscular motion,
iietween the fibres of vegetables and the muscles of ani¬
mals, however, there isnotthe least similarity. If muscles
be cut through, so as to he separated from the joints
to which they are attached, their powers are completely
destroyed ; but this is not the case with vegetable fibres.
The following very ingenious experiment, which was
is -l verv nice communication neuveen an ‘"to  1 .. ' , tUp
tiip . J bv means 0f which the burning, which only communicated to us by a respectable member of
the plant by mean ot wmen „ j . of Edinburgh, is decisive on this subject.
is applied to the extremity of one leaf, diffuses its influ¬
ence through every part ol the shrub. It a drop ol
aquafortis be carefully laid upon a leaf ol the sensitive
plant, so as not to shake it in the least, the leal does
aot begin to move till the acrid liquor corrodes the sub-
University of Edinburgh, is decisive on this subject.
He selected a growing poppy at that period of its
growth, before unfolding, when the head and neck are
bent down almost double. He cut the stalk where it
was curved half through on the under side, and a
through
SEN [ ,
cnsitire, through at a small distance on the upper side, and half
entenee. through in the middle point between the two sections,
so that the ends of the fibres were separated from the
stalk. Notwithstanding these several cuttings on the
neck, the poppy raised its head, and assumed a more
erect position. There is, therefore, a complete distinc¬
tion between muscular motion and the motions of a
plant, for no motion can take place in the limb of an
animal when the muscles of that limb are cut.
In fine, we look upon all attempts to explain the
motions of plants as absurd, and all reasoning from sup¬
posed analogy between animals and vegetables as the
source of wild conjecture, and not of sound philosophy.
We view the contraction and expansion of the sensitive
plant in the same light as we do gravitation, chemical
attraction, electricity, and magnetism, as a singular fact,
the circumstances of which we may be fully acquainted
with, hut must despair of understanding its cause.
What has been said under this article chiefly refers
to the mimosa sensitiva and pudica. For a full "account
of the motions of vegetables in general, see Vegetable
Motion, under the article Motion.
SENTENCE, in Law, a judgment passed in court
by the judge in some process, either civil or criminal.
See Judgment.
Sentence, in Grammar, denotes a period, or a set
of words comprehending some perfect sense or senti¬
ment of the mind. The business of pointing is to di¬
stinguish the several parts and members of sentences, so
as to render the sense thereof as clear, distinct, and full
as possible. See Punctuation.
In every sentence there are two parts necessarily re¬
quired ; a noun for the subject, and a definite verb :
whatever is found more than these two, aflects one of
them, either immediately, or by the intervention of some
other, whereby the first is affected.
Again, every sentence is either simple or compound :
a simple sentence is that consisting of one single sub¬
ject, and one finite verb.—A compound sentence con¬
tains several subjects and finite verbs, either expressly
or implicitly.
A simple sentence needs no point or distinction; only
a period to close it: as, “ A good man loves virtue
for itself.”—In such a sentence, the several adjuncts af¬
fect either the subject or the verb in a different man¬
ner. Thus the word good expresses the quality of the
subject, virtue the object of the action, and for itself
the end thereof.—Now none of these adjuncts can be
sepai'ated from the rest of the sentence : for if one be,
why should not all the rest ? and if all be, the sentence
will be minced into almost as many parts as there are
words.
But if several adjuncts he attributed in the same man¬
ner either to the subject or the verb, the sentence be¬
comes compound, and is to be divided into parts.
In every compound sentence, as many subjects, or as
many finite verbs as there are, either expressly or im¬
plied, so many distinctions may there be. Thus, “ My
o. fear8i joys, pains, all centre in you.” And thus
Latilina abiit, excessit, evasit, erupit.—The reason of
winch pointing is obvious ; for as many subjects or fi¬
nite verbs as there are in a sentence, so many members
does it really contain. Whenever, therefore, there oc¬
cur more nouns than verbs, or contrariwise, they are
to oe conceived as equal. Since, as every subject re-
55 1
SEN
quires its verbs, so every verb requires its subject, where- Sentence
with it may agree : excepting, perhaps, in some figu- !l
rative expressions. Sentiments.
^SENTICOS/E (from sentis, a “ briar or bramble”); ' Y
the name of the 35^1 order in Linnaeus’s fragments of
a natural method, consisting of rose, bramble, and other
plants, which resemble them in port and external tinc¬
ture. See Botany, Natural Method.
SENTIMENT, according to Lord Karnes, is a term
appropriated to such thoughts as are prompted by pas¬
sion. ^ It differs from a perception; for a perception
signifies the act by which we become conscious of ex¬
ternal objects. It differs from consciousness of an inter¬
nal action, such as thinking, suspending thought, inclin¬
ing, resolving, willing, &c. And it differs from the
conception of a relation among objects ; a conception of
that kind being termed opinion.
SENTIMENTS, in Poetry. To talk in the lan¬
guage of music, each passion has a certain tone, to
which every sentiment proceeding from it ought to be
tuned with the greatest accuracy : which is no easy
-work, especially where such harmony ought to be sup¬
ported during the course of along theatrical representa¬
tion. In older to reach such delicacy of execution, it
is necessary that a writer assume the precise character
and passion of the personage represented; which requires
an uncommon genius. But it is the only difficulty; for
the writer, who, annihilating himself, can thus become
another person, need be in no pain about the sentiments
that belong to the assumed character: these will flow
without the least study, or even preconception ; and
will frequently be as delightfully new to himself as to
his reader. But if a lively picture even of a single
emotion require an effort of genius, how much greater
the effort to compose a passionate dialogue with as many
different tones of passion as there are speakers p With
what ductility of feeling must that writer be endued,
-who approaches perfection in such a work ; when it is
necessary to assume different and even opposite charac¬
ters and passions in the quickest succession ? Yet this
woik, difficult as it is, yields to that of composing a
dialogue in genteel comedy, exhibiting characters with¬
out passion. The reason is, that the different tones of
character are more delicate, and less in sight, than those
of passion ; and, accordingly, many writers, who have
no genius for drawing characters, make a shift to re¬
present, tolerably well, tin ordinary passion in its simple
movements. But of all works of this kind, what is
truly the most difficult, is a characteristical dialogue
upon any philosophical subject; to interweave charac¬
ters with reasoning, by suiting to the character of each
speaker a peculiarity not only of thought but of expres¬
sion, requires the perfection of genius, taste, and jut!<>e-
ment.
Hovy difficult dialogue-writing is, will be evident,
eyen without reasoning, from the miserable compositions
or that kind found without number in all Janguages.
I he art of mimicking any singularity in gesture or in
voice, is a rare talent, though directed by sight and
hearing, the acutest and most lively of our external
senses: horv much more rare must that talent, of imitat¬
ing characters and internal emotions, tracing all their
different tints, and representing them in a lively manner
by natural sentiments properly expressed ? The truth is
such execution is too delicate for an ordinary genius;
2 and
SEN [ 1
, fol. tl,at reason the bulk of writers. Instead of ex-
5^ ]
SEN
themselves with deseribing it in langut^ .f »
and vet that operation is necessary, not less to the wri¬
ter than to the actor } because "pne but those who^-
tuallv feel a passion can represent it to the -
writer's part is the more complicated : he mus add
coinpositmn to passion : and most, in the qu.ckest sue
cession, adopt every different character. B»t » very
humble lli-rht of imagination may serve to conyeit a
Sr into a spectator, so as to figure, in some obscure
manner an action as passing m bis sight and hearing.
In that figured situation, being led naturally to wri e
like a snectator, he entertains his readers with his own
refleotio" wkh cool description, and florid declama-
tion ; instead of making them eye-witnesses, as it were,
to a real event, and to every movement of genuine pas¬
sion. Thus most of cur plays appear to be cast in the
same mould-, personages without character, the m
outlines of passion, a tiresome monotony, and a pon p
nus declamatory style. .
This descriptive manner of representing passion is a
very cold entertainment; our sympathy rs not raised
bv d»scription ; we must first be lulled into a dream ol
reality, and every thing must appear as passing in our
Xb,.y Unhappy is the player of genius who acts a part
in what may be termed a descriptive tragedy; aftei as-
Humi^ the very passion that is to be represented how
he cramped in action, when he must utter, not the
sentiments of the passion he feels but a c.U des«|p ^
in the language of a bystander ? It is that imperfec¬
tion undoubtedly, in the bulk of our plays, which con-
lines our stage almost entirely to Shakespeare, notwith-
stamling his^many irregularities. In our late English
tragedies, we sometimes find sentiments tolera y we
adapted to a plain passion : but we must not in any ot
them expect a sentiment expressive of character . an ,
upon that very account, our late performances of the
dramatic kind are for the most part intolerably m-
SiPBut it may be proper to illustrate this subject by ex¬
amples The first example shall be of sentiments that
appear the legitimate offspring of passion 5 to which
shall be opposed what are descriptive only, and illegi 1-
mate; and in making this comparison, the instances shall
be borrowed from Shakespeare and Corneille, who for
genius in dramatic composition stand uppermost m the
rolls of fame. , „ , , 1 •
I Shakespeare shall furnish the first example, being
of sentiments dictated by a violent and perturbed pas¬
sion :
Lear.-
Filial ingratitude !
Is it not as if this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to’t ?—But I’ll punish home 5
No I will weep no more.- In such a night,
To’shut me out !- -Four on, I will endure.
In such a night as this ! O Regan, Gonenil,
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all—
O ! that way madness lies ; let me shun that;
No more of that.
Kent. Good, my lord, enter here. _
Lear. Prithee, *go in thyself, seek thine own ease,
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder .
On things would hurt me more :—but 1 U go in,
In, boy, go first. You houseless poverty—-  
Nay, get thee in I’ll pray, and then 1 11 sleep
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are.
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm .
How shall your houseless beads, and umed sides,
Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these ! O I have ta en
Too little care of this ! take physic, Pomp 5
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may’st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heav’ns more just.
King Lear, act 111. sc. 5.
With regard to the French author, truth obliges us
to acknowledge, that he describes in the style of a spec¬
tator, instead of expressing passion like one who feels
it : which naturally betrays him into a tiresome mono¬
tony, and a pompous declamatory style. It is scarcely
necessary to give examples, for he never varies from that
tone. We shall, however, take two passages at a -ven¬
ture in order to be confronted with those transcribed
above. In the tragedy of Cinna, after the conspiracy
was discovered, Emilia, having nothing in view but
racks and death to herself anti her lover, receives^ par¬
don from Augustus, attended with the brightest circum¬
stances of magnanimity and tenderness. I his is a lucky
situation for representing the passions of surprise ant. gra¬
titude in their different stages, which seem naturally to
be what follow. These passions, raised at once to the
utmost pitch, and being at first too big for utterance,
must, for some moments, be expressed by violent ges¬
tures only: so soon as there is vent for words, the hist
expressions are broken and interrupted : at last, we
ought to expect a tide of intermingled sentiments, oc¬
casioned by the fluctuation of the mind between the
two passions. Emilia is made to behave in a very dif¬
ferent manner: with extreme coolness she describes her
own situation, as if she were merely a spectator ; or
rather the poet takes the task off her hands :
Ft je me rends, Seigneur, a ces hautes bontes :
Je recouvre la vue aupres de leurs claites. .
Je connois mon forfait qui me sembloit justice j
Et ce que n’avoit pu la terreur du supphee,
Je sens naitre en mon ame un repentir puissant,
Et mon coeur en secret me dit, qu’il y consent.
He ciel a resolu votre grandeur supreme _ a
Et pour preuve, Seigneur, je n’en veux que moi-meme.
J’ose avec vamte me donner cet eclat,
Puisqu’il change mon cceur, qu’il veut changer 1 etat.
Ma haine va mourir, que j’ai erne immortelle
File est morte, et ce cceur devient sujet fidele $
Ft prenant desormais cette haine en horreur,
L’ardeur de vous servir succede a sa fureur.
Act v. sc. 3.
So much in general on the genuine sentiments of jias-
sion. We proceed to particular observations. And,
first, passions seldom continue uniform any considera e
time : they generally fluctuate, swelling and subsiding
by turns, often in a quick succession and the sentl'
ments cannot be just unless they correspond to such fluc¬
tuation. Accordingly, a climax never shows better
than in expressing a swelling passion : the fol owing
passages may suffice for an illustration. ^
Senlimeii!
htimcnts
Almeria.
S E N
-How hast thou charm’d
[ i
The wildness of the waves and rocks to this *,
That thus relenting they have giv’n thee back
To earth, to light and life, to love and me P
Mourning Bride, act i. sc. 7.
I would not be the villain that thou think’st
For the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s, grasp,
And the rich earth to boot.
Macbeth, act iv. sc. 4.
The following passage expresses finely the progress
of conviction.
Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve
That tender, lovely form, of painted air,
So like Almeria. Ha ! it sinks, it falls ;
I’ll catch it e’er it goes, and grasp her shade.
’Tis life ! ’tis warm ! ’tis she ! ’tis she herself!
It is Almeria ! ’tis, it is my wife !
Mourning Bride, act ii. sc. 6.
In the progress of thought our resolutions become
more vigorous as well as our passions.
If ever I do yield or give consent,
By any action, word, or thought, to wed
Another lord; may then just heav’n show’r down, &c.
Mourning Bride, act i. sc. 1.
And this leads to a second observation, That the dif¬
ferent stages of a passion, and its different directions,
from birth to extinction, must be carefully represented
in their order; because otherwise the sentiments, by
being misplaced, will appear forced and unnatural.—
Resentment, for example, when provoked by an atro¬
cious injury, discharges itself first upon the author: sen¬
timents therefore of revenge come always first, and must
in some measure be exhausted before the person injured
think of grieving for himself. In the Cid of Corneille,
Don Diegue having been affronted in a cruel manner,
expresses scarcely any sentiment of revenge, but is to¬
tally occupied in contemplating the low situation to
which he is reduced by the affront :
O rage ! 6 desespoir! 6 vieillesse ennemie !
N’ai-je done tant vecu que pour cette infamie ?
Et ne suis-je blanchi dans les travaux guerriers,
Que pour voir en un jour fletrit tant de lauriers P
Mon bras, qu’avec respect tout 1’Espagne admire,
Mon bras qui tant de fois a sauve cet empire,
lant de fois affermi le tione de son roi,
Trahit done ma querelle, et ne fait rien pour moi!
O cruel souvenir de ma gloire passe !
Oeuvre de tant de jours en un jour effaeee !
Nouyelle dignite fatale a mon bonheur !
Precipice eleve d’ou tombe mon honneur !
Faut-il de votre eclat voir triompher le comte,
Et mourir sans vengeance, ou vivre dans la honte ?
Comte, sois de mou prince a present gouverneur,
Ce haul rang n’admet point un homme sans honneur ;
Et ton jaloux orgueil par cet affront insigne,
Malgre le choix du roi, m’en a su rendre indigne*
Et toi, de mes exploits glorieux instrument,
Mais d’un corps tout de glace inutile ornement,
Ferjadis tant a craindre, et qui dans cette offense,
M as servi de parade, et non pas de defense,
57 ] SEN
Va, quitte desormais le dernier des humains, Sentiments.
Passe pour me venger en de meilleures mains. —v—
Le Cid, act i. sc. 7.
These sentiments are certainly not the first that are
suggested by the passion of resentment. As the first
movements of resentment are always directed to its ob¬
ject, the very same is the case of grief. Yet with rela¬
tion to the sudden and severe distemper that seized
Alexander bathing in the river Cydnus, Quintus Cur¬
tins describes the first emotions of the army as directed
to themselves, lamenting that they were left without a
leader, far from home, and had scarce any hopes of re¬
turning in safety : their king’s distress, which must na¬
turally have been their first concern, occupies them but
in the second place according to that author. In the
Aminta of Tasso, Sylvia, upon a report of her lover’s
death, which she believed certain, instead of bemoaning
the loss of her beloved, turns her thoughts upon herself,
and wonders her heart does not break :
Chime, ben son di sasso,
Poi die questa novella non m’uccide.
Act iv. sc. 2.
In the tragedy of Jane Shore, Alicia, in the full pur¬
pose of destroying her rival, has the following reflec¬
tion :
O Jealousy ! thou bane of pleasing fdendship,
Thou worst invader of our tender bosoms ;
How does thy rancour poison all our softness,
And turn our gentle nature into bitterness !
See where she comes! Once my heart’s dearest blessing,
Now my chang’d eyes are blasted with her beauty.
Loathe that known face, and sicken to behold her.
Act iii. sc. 1.
These are the reflections of a cool spectator. A passion,
while it has the ascendant, and is freely indulged, sug¬
gests not to the person who feels it any sentiment to its
own prejudice : reflections like the foregoing occur not.
readily till the passion has spent its vigour.
A person sometimes is agitated at once by different
passions; and the mind in that case, vibrating like a
pendulum, vents itself in sentiments that partake of the
same vibration. I his we give as a third observation :
Queen. Would I had never trod this English earth,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
Ye’ve angels faces, but heav’n knows your hearts.
What shall become of me now ? wretched lady !
I am the most unhappy woman living.
Alas ! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes t
jj To her womeno
Shipwreck’d upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope, no kindred, weep for me :
Almost no grave allow’d me.
Henry VIIT. act iii. sc. i»
Othello. Oh devil, devil !
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight !
Desdemona. I will not stay t’offend you. [ Going
Lodovico. Truly, an obedient lady :
I.do beseech your lordship, call her back.
Oth. Mistress-——
Ties,
SEN [
Des. My lord.
Oth. What would you with her, bir i
Lod. Who, I, my lord ? ,, . , ,
Oth. Ay 3 you did wish that [ would make her turn.
Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on j
And turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep;
And she’s obedient: as you say, obedient:
Very obedient—proceed you in your tears—
Concerning this, Sir,—oh well painted passion
I am commanded home—get you away,
I’ll send for you anon—Sir, l obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice.- -Hence, avaunt .
[ Exit Desdemona.
Othello, act iv. sc. 6.
JEmilia. Oh ! my good lord, I would speak a word
with you. ,
Othello. Yes, ’tis Emilia—By and by.—She s dead.
’Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death ;
The noise was high.—Ha ! no more moving .
Still as the grave. Shall she come in ? wer t good .
I shink she stirs again—No—what’s the best.
If she come in, she’ll, sure, speak to my wile :
My wife ! my wife ! what wife ? I have no wile ;
Oh insupportable ! oh heavy hour !
Othello, act v. sc. 7.
A fourth observation is, That nature, which gave us
passions, and made them extremely beneficial when mo¬
derate, intended undoubtedly that they should be sub¬
jected to the government of reason and conscience. It
is therefore against the order of nature, that passion m
any case should take the lead in contradiction to reason
and conscience : such a state of mind is a sort of anarchy
which every one is ashamed of, and endeavours to hide
or dissemble. Even love, however laudable, is attended
with a conscious shame when it becomes immoderate:
it is covered from the world, and disclosed only to the
beloved object:
Et que 1’amour souvent de remors combattu
Paroisse une foiblesse, et non une vertu. __
Boileau, PArt. Poet, chant, in. 1. 101.
O, they love least that let men know they love.
Two Gentlemen of Verona, act i. sc. 3*
Hence a capital rule in the representation of immoderate
passions, that they ought to be hid or dissembled as much
as possible. And this holds in an especial manner with
respect to criminal passions : one never counsels the com¬
mission of a crime in plain terms ; guilt must not appear
in its native colours, even in thought; the proposal must
be made by hints, and by representing the action in some
favourable light. Of the propriety of sentiment upon
such an occasion, Shakespeare, in the Tempest, has
given us a beautiful example, in a speech by the usurp¬
ing duke of Milan, advising Sebastian to murder his
brother the king ol Naples .
Antonio.   —What might,
Worthy Sebastian,—O, what might—no more.
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face
What thou shouldst be : the occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head. -AH »• sc. 2.
A picture of this kind, perhaps still finer, is exhibited
158 1 SEN
in King John, where that tyrant solicits (act in. sc. 5.) Sent
Hubert to murder the young prince Arthur; but it is
too long to be inserted here.
II. As things are best illustrated by their contraries,
we proceed to faulty sentiments, disdaining to be in¬
debted for examples to any but the most approved au¬
thors. The first class shall consist of sentiments that ac¬
cord not with the passion ; or, in other words, senti¬
ments that the passion does not naturally suggest. n
the second class shall be arranged sentiments that may be¬
long to an ordinary passion, but unsuitable to it as tinc¬
tured by a singular character. Ihoughts that propeily
are not sentiments, but rather descriptions, make a
third. Sentiments that belong to the passion lepre-
sented, but are faulty as being introduced too early or
too late, make a fourth. Vicious sentiments exposed
in their native dress, instead of being concealed or ms-
guised, make a filth. And in the last class shall, be col¬
lected sentiments suited to no character nor passion, and
therefore unnatural.
The first class contains faulty sentiments of various
kinds, which we shall endeavour to distinguish from each
other.
1. Of sentiments that are faulty by being above the
tone of the passion, the following may serve as an ex¬
ample :
Othello.     O my soul’s joy !
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken’d death :
And let the labouring bark climb hills ot seas
Olympus high, and duck again as low
As hell’s from heaven ? Othello, act ii. sc. 6.
This sentiment may be suggested by violent and in¬
flamed passion ; but is not suited to the satisfaction how¬
ever great, that one feels upon escaping danger.
2. Instance of sentiments below the tone ol the pas¬
sion. Ptolemy, by putting Pompey to death, having
incurred the displeasure of Csesar, was in the utmost
dread of being dethroned : in that agitating situation,
Corneille makes him utter a speech full ot cool reflec¬
tion, that is in no degree expressive ol the passion.
Ah ! si je t’avois cru, je n’aurois pas de maitre,
Je serois dans le trone ou le ciel m’a fait naitre ;
Mais e’est une imprudence assez commune aux rois,
D’ecouter trop d’avis, et se tromper an choix.
Le Destin les aveugle au bord du precipice,
Ou si quelque lumiere en leur ame se glisse,
Cette fausse clarte dont il les eblouit,
Le plonge dans une goufire, et puis s’evanouit.
La Mart de Pompe'e, act iv. sc. 1.
3. Sentiments that agree not with the tone of the
passion ; as where a pleasant sentiment is grafted upon
a painful passion, or the contrary. In the following
instances, the sentiments are too gay for a serious pas¬
sion :
No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.
Eloisa to Abelard, 1. 47*
Again;
Heav’n first taught letters for some wretch’s aid,
Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid :
TKev
S EN
itimenu They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
~-v ' Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires ;
The virgin’s wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart j
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole.
Kloisa to Abelard, 1. 51.
These thoughts
Eloisa.
Satan, enraged by a threatening of the angel Gabriel,
answers thus:
l 159 J
SEN
are pretty : they suit Pope, but not
1 hen when I am thy captive, talk of chains,
Proud limitary cherub ; but ere then
lar heavier load thyself expect to feel
1 rom my prevailing arm, though heaven’s King
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers,
Us’d to the yoke, draw’st his triumphant wheels
In pi ogress thro’ the road ol heav’n star pav'd.
Paradise Lost, book iv.
The concluding epithet forms a grand and delightful
image, which cannot be the genuine offspring of rage.
4- Sentiments too artificial for a serious passion.
The first example is a speech of Percy expiring.
Yes, yes, I know to mourn : I’ll sluice this heart, Sentiment*.
The source of wo, and let the torrent in. ‘ v  
Act v. sc. 1 r.
Pope’s elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady,
expresses delicately the most tender concern and sorrow
that one can feel for the deplorable fate of a person of
worth. Such a poem, deeply serious and pathetic, re¬
jects with disdain all fiction. Upon that account, the
following passage deserves no quarter j for it is not the
language ol the heart, but of the imagination indulging
its flights at ease, and by that means is eminently dis¬
cordant with the subject. It would be a still more se¬
vere censure, if it should be ascribed to imitation, copy¬
ing indiscreetly what has been said by others :
What though no weeping loves thy ashes grace,
Nor polish’d marble emulate tby face P
What though no sacred earth allow thee room.
Nor hallow’d dirge be mutter’d o’er thy tomb ?
Yet shall thy grave with rising flow’rs be drest,
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast :
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow 5
W hile angels with their silver wings o’ershade
The ground, now sacred by thy relics made.
O, Harry, thou hast robb’d me of my growth :
I better brook the loss of brittle life,
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me :
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my
flesh.
But thought’s the slave of life, and life time’s fool j
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop.
First Part, Henry IV. act v. sc. 9.
The sentiments of the Mourning Pride are for the
most part no less delicate than just copies of nature : in
the following exception the picture is beautiful, but too
artful to be suggested by severe grief.
Almena. O no ! Time gives increase to my afflic¬
tions.
The circling hours, that gather all the woes
Winch are diffus’d through the revolving year,
Come heavy laden with th’ oppressive weight
To me ; with me, successively, they leave
The sighs, the tears, the groans, the restless cares,
And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight}
Ihey shake their downy wings, and scatter all
I he dire collected dews on my poor head ;
Ihen fly with joy and swiftness from me. Act i. sc. 1.
5. Fanciful or finical sentiments. Sentiments that
degenerate into point or conceit, however they may
amuse in an idle hour, can never be the offspring of anv
serious or important passion. In the Jerusalem of
Tasso, Tancred, after a single combat, spent with fa¬
tigue and loss of blood, falls into a swoon ; in which
Situation, understood to be dead, he is discovered by
Trminia, who was in love with him to distraction. A
more happy situation cannot be imagined, to raise grief
in an instant to its highest pitch } and yet, in venting
her sorrow, she descends most abominably into antithe¬
sis and conceit even of the lowest kind :
E in lui verso d’inefficabil vena
Lacrime, e voce di sospiri mista.
In die misero punto hor qui me mena
Tortuna ? a die veduta amara e trista ?
Dopo gran tempo i’ ti ritrovo a pena
Tancredi, e ti riveggio, e non so vista
Vista non son da te, benche presente
T’ trovando ti perdo eternamente.
Canto xix. st. 105.
Armida’s lamentation respecting her lover Rinaldo is in
the same vicious taste. Vid. canto xx. stan. 124 12c
n the same play, Almeria seeing a dead body, which
she took to be Alphonse’s, expresses sentiments strained
and artificial, which nature suggests not to anv person
upon such an occasion}
Had they or hearts or eyes, that did this deed P
Could eyes endure to guide such cruel hands ?
Are not my eyes guilty alike with theirs,
1 hat thus can gaze, and yet not turn to stone ?
—-1 ao not weep ! the springs of tears are dry’d.
And of a sudden I am calm, as if
All things were well} and yet my husband’s mur¬
der’d
Queen. Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints :
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern’d by the wat’ry moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world,
Ah, for my husband, lor my dear lord Edward.
King Richard III. act ii. sc. 2.
Jane Shore utters her last breath in a witty conceit:
Then all is well, and I shall sleep in peace- 
’Tis very dark, and I have lost you now 
Was there not something I would have bequeath’d you ?
But
S 'E N
[
Sentiments. But I have nothing left me to bestow, , ^
 v Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh mercy, Heav n .
Guilford to Lady Jane Gray, when both were con¬
demn’d to die :
Thou stand’st unmov’d;
Calm temper sits upon thy beauteous brow j
Thy eyes that flow’d so fast for Edward’s loss,
Gaze unconcern’d upon the ruin round thee,
As if thou had’st resolv’d to brave thy fate,
And triumph in the midst of desolation.
Ha! see, it swells, the liquid crystal rises, _
It starts in spite of thee- -but I will catch it,
Nor let the earth be wet with dew so rich.
Lady Jans Gray, act iv. near the end.
The concluding sentiment is altogether finical, unsuit¬
able to the importance of the occasion, and even to the
dignity of the passion of love.
Corneille, in his Examen of the Cul, answering an
obiection, That his sentiments are sometimes too much
refined for persons in deep distress, observes, that it poets
did not indulge sentiments more ingenious or rehnei
than are prompted by passion, their performances won t
often be low, and extreme grief would never suggest
but exclamations merely. This is in plain language o
assert, that forced thoughts are more agreeable than
those that are natural, and ought to be preferred.
The second class is of sentiments that may belong to
an ordinary passion, but are not perfectly concordant
with it, as tinctured by a singular character.
In the last act of that excellent comedy The Careless
Husband, Lady Easy, upon Sir Charles’s reformation,
is made to express more violent and turbulent sen i-
ments of joy than are consistent with the mildness of
. her character.
Lady Easy. O the soft treasure ! O the dear reward
of long-desiring love.—Thus! thus to have you mine,
is something more than happiness j ’tis double life, am
madness of abounding joy.
The following instances are descriptions rather than
sentiments, which compose a third class.
Of this descriptive manner of-painting the passions,
there is in the Hippolytus of Euripides, act v. an illus¬
trious instance, viz. the speech of Theseus, upon hearing
of his son’s dismal exit. In Racine’s tragedy of Esther,
rthe queen hearing of the decree issued against her peo¬
ple, instead of expressing sentiments suitable to the oc¬
casion, turns her attention upon herself, and describes
with accuracy her own situation.
Juste ciel! tout mon sang dans mes veines se glace.
Act i. sc. 3.
Again,
Aman. C’en est fait. Mon orgueil est force de plier.
L’inexorable Amen est reduit a prier.
Esther, act iii. sc. 5.
Athalie. Quel prodige nouveau me trouble et m’em-
barrasse ?
La douceur de sa voix, son enfance, sa grace,
2
160 ] S E N
Font insensiblement a mon inimitie . ,
Succeder——Je serois sensible a la pitie .
Athalie, act 11. sc. 7.
Titus. O de ma passion fureur desesperee ! .
Brutus oj Voltaire, act 111. sc. 6.
What other are the foregoing instances but describing
the passion another feels ?
The fourth class is of sentiments expressed too early
or too late. . .1 • 1
Some examples mentioned above belong to tnis class.
Add the following from Venice Preserv'd, act v. at the
close of the scene between Belvidera and her rather
Priuli The account given by Belvidera of tne danger
she was in, and of her husband’s threatening to murder
her, ought naturally to have alarmed her relenting la¬
ther, and to have made him express the most perturbed
sentiments. Instead of which, he dissolves into tender¬
ness and love for his daughter, as R he had a.ready de¬
livered her from danger, and as it there were a pcr.ect
tranquillity :
Canst thou forgive me all my follies past !
I’ll henceforth be indeed a lather , never,
Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,
Hear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,
Hear as those eyes that weep in fondness 0 er thee .
Peace to thy heart.
Immoral sentiments exposed in their native colours,
instead of being concealed or disguised, compose the
fifth class. , .
The Lady Macbeth, projecting the death of the king,
has the following soliloquy :
•The raven himself’s not hoarse
Sc r.tii
That croaks the fatal entrance of Buncan _
Under my battlements. Come, all you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And till me from the crown to the toe, top lull
Of direst cruelty *, make thick my blood,
Stop up th’ access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings ol nature
Shake my fell purpose. Macbeth, act i. sc. 7.
This speech is not natural. A treacherous murder was
never perpetrated even by the most hardened miscreant
without compunction : and that the lady here must have
been in horrible agitation, appears from her invoking
the infernal spirits to fill her with cruelty, and to stop
up all avenues to remorse. But in that state of mind
it is a never-failing artifice of self-deceit to draw the
thickest veil over the wicked action, and to extenuate
it by all the circumstances that imagination can sug¬
gest : and if the crime cannot bear disguise, the next
attempt is to thrust it out of mind altogether, and to
rush on to action without thought. Ibis last was the
husband’s method.
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand 5
Which must be acted ere they must be scann’d.
Act iii. sc. 5.
The lady follows neither of these courses, but in a de¬
liberate manner endeavours to fortify her heart in t ie
commission of an execrable crime, without even attempt¬
ing to colour it. This, we think, is not natural we
hope
SEN
tmients. hope there is no such wretch to be found as is here re-
-v'-'—' presented.
The last class comprehends sentiments that are unna¬
tural, as being suited to no character or passion. These
may be subdivided into three branches : first, sentiments
unsuitable to the constitution of man, and to the laws of
his nature } second, inconsistent sentiments ; third, sen¬
timents that are pure rant and extravagance.
When the fable is of human affairs, every event,
every incident, and every circumstance, ought to be
natural, otherwise the imitation is imperfect. But an
imperfect imitation is a venial fault, compared with that
of running cross to nature. In the Hippolytus of Euri¬
pides (act iv. sc. 5.), Hippolytus, wishing for another
self in his own situation, “ How much (says he) should
I be touched with his misfortune !” as if it were natural
to grieve more for the misfortune of another than for
one’s own.
Osmyn. Yet I behold her-—yet—and now no more.
Turn your lights inward, eyes, and view my thoughts j
So shall you still behold her—’twill not be.
O impotence of sight ! mechanic sense,
Which to exterior objects ow’st thy faculty,
Not seeing of election, but necessity.
Thus do our eyes, as do all common mirrors,
Successively reflect succeeding images.
Nor what they would, but must; a star or toad j
Just as the hand of chance administers !
Mourning Bride, act ii. sc. 8.
No man in his senses ever thought of applying his eyes
to discover what passes in his mind ; far less of blam¬
ing his eyes for not seeing a thought or idea. In Mo-
liere’s PAvare (act iv. sc. 7.) Harpagon, being robbed
of his money, seizes himself by the arm, mistaking it
for that of the robber. And again he expresses himself
as follows:
Je veux aller querir la justice, et faire donner la que¬
stion ^ toute ma maison $ a servantes, d valets, & fils, I
fille, et a moi aussi.
This is so absurd as scarcely to provoke a smile, if it
be not at the author.
[ 161 ]
SEN
Of the second branch the following example may
suffice: & r j
-Now bid me run,
And I will strive with things impossible.
Yea, get the better of them.
Julius Ccesar, act ii. sc. 3.
Of the third branch, take the following samples. Lu-
Wn, talking of Pompey’s sepulchre,
“  Romanum nomen, et omne
Imperium magno est tumuli modus. Obrue saxa
rimine plena deum. Si tota est Herculis Oete,
Et juga tota vacant Bromio Nyseia j quare
t^nus in Egypto Magno lapis ? Ornnia Lagi
Rura tenere potest, si nullo cespite nomen
Hseserit. Erremus populi, cinerumque tuorum,
Magne, metu nullas Nili cajcemus arenas.
m, . Lib. viii. 1. 708.
Anus, m Rowe’s translation :
M here there are seas, or air, or earth, or skies,
V here’er Rome’s empire stretches, Pompey lies.
Vol. XIX. Part L
Far be the vile memorial then convey’d !
Nor let this stone the partial gods upbraid.
Shall Hercules all Oeta’s heights demand,
And Nysa’s hill for Bacchus only stand $
While one poor pebble is the warrior’s doom
That fought the cause of liberty and Rome ?
If Fate decrees he must in Egypt lie,
Let the whole fertile realm his grave supply,
Yield the wide country to his awful shade,
Nor let us dare on any part to tread,
Fearful we violate the mighty dead.
Sentiments
I!
Sentinel.
1
The following passages are pure rant. Coriolanus,
speaking to his mother,
W7hat is this ?
our knees to me ? to your corrected son ?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Iillop the stars : then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun:
Murd’ring impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.
Coriolanus, act i. sc. 3.
CeBsar. — — .Danger knows full well,
1 That Caesar is more dangerous than he.
We were two lions litter’d in one day,
And I the elder and more terrible.
Julius Ccesar, act ii. sc. 4.
Ventidius. But you, ere love misled your wand’ring
eyes,
Were sure tbe chief and best of human race,
Fram’d in the very pride and boast of nature,
So perfect, that the gods who form’d you wonder’d
At their own skill, and cry’d, A lucky hit
Has mended our design. Dry den, All for Love, act i.
Not to talk of the impiety of this sentiment, it is ludi¬
crous instead of being lofty.
The famous epitaph on Raphael is not less absurd than
any of the foregoing passages :
Raphael, timuit, quo sospite, vinci,
Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori.
Imitated by Pope, in his epitaph on Sir Godfrey Knel-
ler:
Living, great Nature fear’d he might outvie
Her works j and dying, fears herself may die.
Such is the force of imitation ; for Pope of himself
would never have been guilty of a thought so extrava¬
gant.
SENTINEL, or Sentry, in military aflairs, a
private soldier placed in some post to watch the ap¬
proach of the enemy, to prevent surprises, to stop such
as would pass without orders or discovering ■who they
are. They are placed before the arms of all guards, at
the tents and doors of general officers, colonels of regi¬
ments, &c.
Sestinel Perdu, a soldier posted near an enemy, or
in some very dangerous post where he is in hazard of
being lost.
All sentinels are to be vigilant on their posts j neither
are they to sing, smoke tobacco, nor suffer any noise to
be made near them. They are to have a watchful eye
over the things committed to their charge. They are
not to suffer any light to remain, or any fire to be
^ X made,
SEP C
Sentinel made, near their posts in the night-time j .neltl,er^
n sentry to be relieved or removed from his post but y
Sepiariffi. the COrporal of the guard. They are not to su er any
 ' one to touch or ban lie their arms, or m the mght-tm
to come within ten yards of their post.
No person is to strike or abuse a sentry on his po- ,
but when lie has committed a crime, he is to be relie¬
ved, and then punished according to the rules and
tides of war. , , . ^ ,
A sentinel, on his post in the night, is o 'now
body but by the counter-sign : when he challenges, an
is answered Relief, he calls out, Stand Relief- ad¬
vance corporal! upon which the corporal halts Ins men,
ancT advances alone within a yard of the sentry’s fire¬
lock (first ordering his party to rest, on which the sen¬
try does the same), and gives him the counter-sig ,
taking care that no one hear it. . , ,
SEPIA, the Cuttle fish, a genus of animals be¬
long to the class of vermes. See HELMINTHOLOGY
^The’ officinal cuttle affords the cuttle-hone of the
shops, which was formerly used as an absorbent, ihe
bones are frequently flung on all our shores •, the amma
very rarely. The conger eels, it is said, bite off then
arms or feet: but it is added they grow again, as does
the lizard’s tail (Plin. ix. 29.); They are preyed upon
by the plaise. This fish emits (in common with the
other species), when alarmed or pursued, the black li¬
quor which the ancients supposed darkened the circum¬
ambient wave, and coacealed it from the enemy.
The endanger’d cuttle thus evades his fears,
And native hoards ot fluid satety bears.
A pitchy ink peculiar glands supply,
Whose shades the sharpest beam ot light deiy.
Pursu’d, he bids the sable fountains flow,
Ynd, wrapt in clouds, eludes th’ impending foe.
The fish retreats unseen, while self-born night,
With pious shade befriends her parent s nig it.
The ancients sometimes made use of it instead of ink.
Persius mentions the species in his description ot ti
noble student.
Jam liber, et bicolor posit is membrana capilhs,
Jnque manus charts, nodosaque vemt orundo.
Tam querimur, crassus calamo quodpendeat humor ,
Ui'o-ra quod infusa venescat sepia lijmpha.
Atlength, his book he spreads, his pen he takes *,
His papers here in learned order lays.
And there his parchment’s smoother side displays.
Put oh ! what crosses wait on studious men .
The cuttle's juice hangs clotted at our pen.
In all my life such stuff I never knew,
So gummy to—Dilute it, it will do.
Nf/y, now 'tis water l Dryden.
This animal was esteemed a delicacy by the ancients,
and is eaten even at present by the Italians. Rom.e e-
tius gives us two receipts for the dressing, which may
be continued to this day. Atheneeus also leaves us the
method of making an antique cuttle fish sausage , and
Ave learn from Aristotle, that those animals are in high¬
est season when pregnant. r* W>n the name
SEPIA PI iE, (from sepes, “ a hedge ), the name
of the 44th order of Linnaeus’s Fragments ol a Natural
Method, consisting of a beautiful collection ol woody
162 ] SEP
plants, some of which, from their size and elegance,
are very proper furniture lor hedges. Me Bcka*
SEPS, a species of Lacerta. See Erpetolocy
J/ SEPT API iE, in Natural History, an old term for
a variety of iron-stone, called also ludus Helmontiu
This mineral is of a round compressed form, and is in¬
ternally divided by septa or thin partitions ol hme spar
or pyrites ; hence the name. . , , f
SEPTAS, a genus of plants belonging to the class ot
Heptandria *, and in the natural system ranged under
the 1 3th order, Succulentce. See Botany Index.
SEPTEMBER, the ninth month ot the year, con-
sisting of thirty .lays ; it took its name as being the se¬
venth month, reckoning from March, rv.th tvh.ch the
Romans began their year.
SEPTENNIAL, any thing lasting seven years.
Septennial Elections. Blackstone, m Ins Com¬
mentaries, vol.i. P. 189. says, (after observing that
the utmost extent of time allowed the same parliament
to sit by the stat. 6 W. and M. c. 2. was three years),
“ But, by the statute 1 Geo. I. st. 2. c. 38. (in or¬
der to prevent the great and continued ex¬
pellees of frequent elections, and the violent heats and
animosities consequent thereupon, and for the peace and
security of the government, just then recovering from
the late rebellion), this term was prolonged to seven
years; and what alone is an instance of the vast au¬
thority of parliament, the very same house that was-
chosen for three years enacted its own continuance tor
e'sEPTENTRIO, in Astronomy, a constellation,
more usually called ursa minor. _
In cosmography, the term denotes the same
Avith north: and hence septentrional is app ied to any
thing belonging to the north : as septentrional signs, pa¬
rallels, &c.
SEPTICS, are those substances which promote pu¬
trefaction, chiefly the calcareous earths, magnesia, and
testaceous powders. From the many curious experi¬
ments made by Sir John Pringle to ascertain the septic
and antiseptic virtues of natural bodies, it appears thaw
there are very few substances of a truly septic nature.
Those commonly reputed such by authors, as the al¬
kaline and volatile salts, he found to be nowise
However, he discovered some, where it seemed least
likely to find any such quality j these were chalk, com¬
mon salt, and testaceous powders. He mixed twenty
grains of crabs eyes, prepared with six drams ot ox s
frail, and an equal quantity of water. Into another
phial he put an equal quantity of gall and water, but no
crahs-eyes. Both these mixtures being placed in the
furnace, the putrefaction began much sooner, where the
powder was, than in the other phial. On making a like
experiment with chalk, its septic virtue was found to be
much greater than that of the crabs-eyes : nay, what
the doctor never met with before, in a mixture ot tivo
drains of flesh, witli two ounces of water and thirty
grains of prepared chalk, the flesh was resolved into a
perfect mucus in a few days.
To try whether the testaceous powders would also
dissolve vegetable substances, the doctor mixed them
Avith barley and Avater, and compared tins mixture witn
another of barley and water alone. Alter a long ma-
ceration
SEP [ s
j Septics cerahon by a fire, the plain water was found to swell
II . the barley, and turn mucilaginous and sour ; but that
-ptuagmE wjt|) t[ie p0W(Jer kept the grain to its natural size, and
though it softened it, yet made no mucilage, and re¬
mained sweet.
Nothing could be more unexpected, than to find sea
salt a hastener of putrefaction ; but the fact is thus ; one
dram of salt preserves two drams of fresh beef in two
ounces of water, above thirty hours, uncorrupted, in a
heat equal to that of the human body 5 or, which is
the same thing, this quantity of salt keeps flesh sweet
twenty hours longer than pure water; but then half a
dram of salt does not preserve it above two hours long¬
er. Twenty-five grains have little or no antiseptic vir¬
tue, and ten, fifteen, or even twenty grains, manifestly
both hasten and heighten the corruption. The quan¬
tity which had the most putrefying quality, was found
to be about ten grains to the above proportion of flesh
and water.
Some inferences have been drawn from this experi¬
ment: one is, that since salt is never taken in aliment
beyond the proportion of the corrupting quantities, it
would appear that it is subservient to digestion chiefly
by its septic virtue, that is, by softening and resolving
meats; but in making this inference, the powers of the
digestive organs in modifying chemical action are not
taken into account.
It is to be observed, that the above experiments were
made with the salt kept for domestic uses. See Pringle’s
Observ. on the Diseases of the Army.
SEPT1ZON, or Septizonium, in Pioman antiqui¬
ty, a celebrated mausoleum, built by Septimius Severus,
in the tenth region of the city of Rome : it was so call¬
ed from septem and xona, by reason it consisted of
seven stories, each of which was surrounded by a row
of columns.
SEPPUAGESIMA; in the kalendar, denotes the
third Sunday before Lent, or before Quadragesima Sun¬
day : supposed by some to take its name from its being
about seventy days before Easter.
SEP1UAG1NT, the name given to a Greek ver¬
sion of the books of the Old Testament, from its being
supposed to be the work of seventy-two Jews, who are
usuaby called the seventy interpreters^ because seventy
is a round number.
Hie history of this version is expressly written by
Aristaeas, an officer of the guards to Ptolemy Philadel-
phus, the substance of whose account is as follows : 
Ptolemy having erected a fine library at Alexandria,
which he took care to fill with the most curious and
valuable books from all parts of the world, was inform¬
ed that the Jews had one containing the laws of Moses,
aud. the history of that people ; and being desirous of
enriching his library with a Greek translation of it, ap¬
plied to the high-priest of the Jews ; and to engage
mm to comply with his request, set at liberty all the
e\\ s whom his father Ptolemy Soter had reduced to
slavery. After such a step, he easily obtained what be
desired; Eleazar the Jewish high-priest sent back his
ambassadors with an exact copy of the Mosaical law,
written in letters of gold, and six elders of each tribe,
in all seventy-two; who were received with marks of
respect by the king, and then conducted into the isle
f , a.ros> w[iere they were lodged in a house prepared
*or their reception, and supplied with every thing ne-
63 ] SEP
cessary. They set about the translation without loss ofseptu&gint-
time, and finished it in seventy-two days; and the whole l-y-L—j
being read in the presence of the king, he admired
the profound wisdom of the laws of Moses: and sent
back the deputies laden with presents, for themselves,
the high-priest, and the temple.
Aristobulus, who was tutor to Ptolemy Physcon,
Philo who lived in our Saviour’s time, and was contem¬
porary with the apostles, and Josephus, speak of this
translation as made by seventy-two interpreters, by the
care of Demetrius Phalereus in the reign of Ptolemy
Pbiladelpbus. All the Cbristian writers, during the first
15 centuries of the Christian era, have admitted this ac¬
count of the Septuagint as an undoubted fact. Rut
since the reformation, critics have boldly called it in
question, because it was attended with circumstances
whicii they think inconsistent, or, at least, improbable.
Du Pin has asked, why were seventy-two interpreters
employed, since twelve would have been sufficient ? Such
an objection is trifling. We may as well ask, why did
King James I. employ fifty-four translators in render¬
ing the Bible into English, since Du Pin thinks twelve
would have been sufficient ?
1. Prideaux objects, that the Septuagint is not writ-
ten in the Jewish, but in the Alexandrian, dialect; and
could not therefore be the work of natives of Palestine.
But these dialects were probably at that time the same,
for both Jews and Alexandrians had received the
Greek language from the Macedonians about co years
before.
2. Prideaux faitber contends, that all the books of
the Old Testament could not be translated at the same
time ; for they exhibit great difference of style. To this
it is sufficient to reply, that they were the work of
seventy-two men, each of whom had separate portions
assigned them.
3. The Dean also urges, that Aristaeas, Aristobulus,
Philo, and Josephus, all directly tell us, that the law
was translated, without mentioning any of the other sa¬
cred books. But nothing was more common among
writers ol the Jewish nation than to give this name to
the Scriptures as a whole. In the New Testament, law
is used as synonymous with what we call the Old Testa¬
ment. Besides, it is expressly said by Aristobulus, in a
fragment quoted by Eusebius (Prcep. Evan. 1. i.),that
the whole Sacred Scripture w as rightly translated through
the means of Demetrius Phalereus, and by the command
ot Philadelphus. Josephus indeed,says the learned Dean,
asserts, in the preface to his Antiquities, that the Jewish
interpreters did not translate for Ptolemy the whole
Scriptures, but the law7 only. Here the evidence is con¬
tradictory, and we have to determine, whether Aristo¬
bulus or Josephus he most worthy of credit. We do
not mean, however, to accuse either of forgery, but only
to inquire which had the best opportunities of knowing
the truth. Aristobulus was an Alexandrian Jew, tutor
to an Egyptian king, and lived within 100 years after the
translation was made, and certainly had access to see it
in the royal library. Josephus was a native of Palestine,
and lived not until 300 years or more after the transla¬
tion wras made, and many years after it was burnt along
with the whole library of Alexandria in the wars of
Julius Coesar. Supposing the veracity of these two wri¬
ters equal, as we have no proof of the contrary, which
of them ought we to consider as the best evidence ? Ari-
X 2 stobulus
Stilling-
fleet's Ori-
gines Sa-
crce.
Q TT P F 164 J SEP
, T wfi dirt themselves in different parts of their works. Some-Septuaghn
Prideaux, indeed, seems (loubtfulwhe- ^ lie dedicated his book to Ptolemy ' r—
Philometer, at other times they say, it was addressed
to Philadelphia and his father. Sometimes they make
him the same person who is mentioned m 2 Maccabees,
chap. 1. and sometimes one of the 72 interpreters 152
years before. It is difficult to explain how authors fal
into such inconsistencies, hut it is probably occasioned
by their quoting from memory. 1 his was certainly the
practice of almost alf the early Christian writers, and
sometimes of the apostles themselves.. Mistakes were
therefore inevitable. Josephus has varied in the circum¬
stances of the same event, in his Antiquities and Mars of
the Jews, probably from the same cause j but we do not
hence conclude, that every c.rcumstance of such a rela¬
tion is entirely false. In the account of the Marquis of
Argvle’s death in the reign of Charles II. we have a
very remarkable contradiction. Lord C arendon ic-
lates, that he was condemned to be hanged, which was
performed the same day: on the contrary, Lurne,
Woodrow, Heath, Echard, concur in stating, that he
was beheaded; and that he was condemned upon the
Saturday and executed upon the Monday . Was any Jtogn
reader of English history ever sceptic enough to raise
from hence a question, whether the Marquis of Argyle
was executed or not ? Yet this ought to be left in un¬
certainty according to the way of reasoning in which
the facts respecting the translation of the Septuagin
are attempted to be disproved.
Such are the objections which the learned and inge¬
nious Prideaux has raised against the common account
of the Septuagint translation, and such are the answers
which may be given to them. We have chosen to sup¬
port that opinion which is sanctioned by historical evi¬
dence, in preference to the conjectures of modern critics,
however ingenious; being persuaded, that there are ma¬
ny things recorded in history, which, though perfectly
true yet, from our imperfect knowledge of the conco¬
mitant circumstances, may, at a distant period, seem li¬
able to objections. To those who require positive evi¬
dence, it may be stated thus. Anstieas, Anstobulus,
Philo, and Josephus, assure us, that the law was trans¬
lated. Taking the law in the most restricted sense^we
have at least sufficient authority to assert, that Pen¬
tateuch was rendered into Greek under 1 tolemy Ehila-
delphus. Aristobulus affirms, that the whole bcnp-
tures were translated by the seventy-two. Josephus:
confines their labours to the books of Moses. He there¬
fore who cannot determine to which of the two the
greatest respect is due, may suspend his opinion. It is
certain, however, that many of the other books were
translated before the age of our Saviour; for they are
quoted both by him and his apostles: and, perhaps, by
a minute examination of ancient authors, in the same
way that Dr Lardner has examined the Christian f athers
to prove the antiquity of the New Testament, the pre¬
cise period in which the whole books of the Septuagint
were composed might, with considerable accuiacy,
ascertained. •
For 400 years this translation was in high estimation
with the Jews. It was read in their synagogues in pre-
atu; .. , .... , • . 1 vp i.pen considered ference to the Hebrew ; not only in those places where
6. Besides the objections which have bee ^ ^ Greek was the common language, but in many syna-
there is only one that deserves ^.ttce The an„ent L. ^ ^ ^ whe„ (1
S contra- fhft it „as e^ly valned by the Christians, they I*-
4
Septuagint. stobulus suieiy. A “'"■'““y, *“ 7 , 'Hndv sup
v-i-v— ther there was ever such a man i and, D ,
poses that the Commentaries on the five books of Mo.es,
which bear the name of Aristobulus, were a forgery ot
the second century. To prove the existence of any hu¬
man being, who lived 2000 years before and d
not perform such works as no mere man ever perfoimed
is a task which we are not disposed to undertake , an
we believe it would not be less difficult to prove that
Philo and Josephus existed, than that such a person as
Aristobulus did not exist. If the writings which have
passed under his name were a forgery of the second cen¬
tury, it is surprising that they should have imposed upon
Clemens Alexandras, who lived in the same centuiy,
and was a man of abilities, learning, and well acquaint¬
ed with the writings of the ancients. Eusebius, too m
bis Prap. Evan, quotes the Commentaries ot Aristo¬
bulus. But, continues the learned Dean, Clemens
Alexandras is the first author that mentions them.
Now, had any such commentaries existed in the time
of Philo and Josephus, they would surely have men¬
tioned them. But is the circumstance of its not being
quoted by every succeeding author a su^e^J6*
to disprove the authenticity of any book . Neithei
lo nor Josephus undertook to give a list of preceding
authors, and it was by no means the uniform practice
of these times always to name ^the authors from 'uhom
they derived their information.”
4 Prideaux farther contends, that the sum which
Ptolemy is said to have given to the interpreters is too
sreat to be credible. If his computation were just, it
certainly would be so. He makes it 2,ooo,oool. ster-
* Blair's ling, hut other writers* reduce it to 85,421b and som
Blairs b . -.i pj. 0f Yvhich is a sum so very extra-
icctorcsora to 50,9471* ? neunei ui ' . ■' pi
the Canon, ordinary in so great and magnificent a prince as
delphusj who spent, according to a passage in Atlienseos
(lib. v.) not less than 10,000 talents on the furniture ot
one tent; which is six times more than what was spent
in the whole of the embassy and translation, which
amounted onlv to 1552 taiei'ts. _ , .
c Prideaux says, “ that what convicts the whole story
of Aristseas of falsity is, that he makes Demetrius I ha-
lereus to be the chief actor in it, and a great favourite
of the king; whereas Philadelphus, as soon as Ins father
was dead, east him into prison, where he soon after died.
But it may be replied, that Philadelphus reigned two
years jointly with his father Lagus, and it is not said
by Hermippus that Demetrius was out of favour with
Philadelphus during bis father’s life. N ow, if the Sep-
tuagint was translated in the beginning of the reign of
Philadelphus, as Eusebius and Jerome think, the dilii-
culty will be removed. Demetrius might have been
librarian during the reign of Philadelphus, and yet im¬
prisoned on the death of Lagus. Indeed, as the cause
of Philadelphus’s displeasure was the advice which -De¬
metrius gave to his father, to prefer the sons of Arsinoe
before the son of Bernice, he could scarcely show it till
his father’s death. The Septuagint translation might
therefore be begun while Philadelphus reigned jointly
with his father, but not be finished till after Ins father s
death.
Prideanx's
Connec¬
tions, vol.
iii. b. 1.
SEP [ :
jbtuftgint. came jealous of it, and at length, in the second century,
•—Aquila, an apostate Christian, attempted to substitute
another Greek translation in its place. In this work
he was careful to give the ancient prophecies concern¬
ing the Messiah a different turn from the Septuagint,
that they might not be applicable to Christ. In the
same design he was followed by Symmachus and Theo-
dotion, who also, as St Jerome informs us, wrote out of
hatred to Christianity.
In the mean time, the Septuagint, from the ignorance,
boldness, and carelessness of transcribers, became full of
errors. To correct these, Origen published a new edi¬
tion in the beginning of the third century, in which he
placed the translations of Aquila, Symmachus, andThe-
odotion. This edition was called Tetrapln, the transla¬
tions being arranged opposite to one another in four
columns. He also added one column, containing the
Hebrew text in Hebrew letters, and another exhibiting
it in Greek. In a second edition he published two ad¬
ditional Greek versions ; one of which was found at Ni-
copolis, and the other at Jericho ; this was called the
Hexapla. By comparing so many translations, Origen
endeavoured to form a correct copy of the Scriptures.
Where they all agreed, he considered them right. The
passages which he found in the LXX, but not in the
Hebrew text, he marked with an obelisk: what he
found in the Hebrew, but not in the LXX, he marked
with an asterisk. St Jerome says, that the additions
which Origen made to the LXX, and marked with an
asterisk, were taken from Theodotion. From this valu¬
able work of Origen the version of the LXX was trans¬
cribed in a separate volume, with the asterisks and obe¬
lisks for the use of the churches; and from this circum¬
stance the great work itself was neglected and lost.
About the year 300 two new editions of the LXX
were published ; the one by Hesychius an Egyptian bi¬
shop, and the other by Lucian a presbyter of Antioch.
But as these authors did not mark with any note of di¬
stinction the alterations which they had made, their edi¬
tion does not possess the advantages of Origen’s.
The best edition of the LXX is that of Dr Grabe,
which was published in the beginning of the present
century. He had access to two MSS. nearly of equal
antiquity, the one found in the Vatican library at Rome,
the other in the royal library at St James’s, which was
presented to Charles I. by Cyril, patriarch of Alexan¬
dria, and hence is commonly called the Alexandrian
MS. Anxious to discover which of these was accord¬
ing to the edition of Origen, Dr Grabe collected the
fragments of the Hexapla, and found they agreed with
the Alexandrian MS. but not with the Vatican where
it differed with the other. Hence he concluded that
the Alexandrian MS. was taken from the edition of
Origen. By comparing the quotations from scripture
in the works of Athanasius and St Cyril (who were pa¬
triarchs of Alexandria at the time St Jerome says He-
sychius’s edition of the LXX was there used) with the
Vatican MS. he found they agreed so well that he just¬
ly inferred that that MS. was taken from the edition of
Hesychius.
This version was in use to the time of our blessed
Saviour, and is that out of which most of the citations
in the New Testament, from the Old^ are taken. It
was also the ordinary and canonical translation made
use of by the Christian church in the earliest ages;
65 ] SEP
and it still subsists in the churches both of the east and Septuagi**
west, j|
Those who desire a more particular account of the Sepulchre.
Septuagint translation may consult Hody de Bibliorum ' *
Textibus, Piideaux’s Connections, Owen’s Inquiry into
the Septuagint Version, Blair’s Lectures on the Canon,
and Michaelis’s Introduction to the New Testament,
last edition.
Septuagint Chronology, the chronology which is
formed from the dates and periods of time mentioned
in the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament. It
reckons 1500 years more from the creation to Abraham
than the Hebrew bible. Dr Kennicot, in the disserta¬
tion prefixed to his Hebrew bible, has shown it to be
very probable that the chronology of thp Hebrew scrip¬
tures, since the period just mentioned, was corrupted by
the Jews, between the years 175 and 200, and that the
chronology of the Septuagint is more agreeable to
truth. It is a fact, that during the second and third
centuries the Hebrew scriptures were almost entirely
in the hands of the Jews, while the Septuagint was con¬
fined to the Christians. The Jews had therefore a
very favourable opportunity for this corruption. The
following is the reason which is given by oriental writers:
It being a very ancient tradition, that the Messiah was
to come in the sixth chiliad, because he was to come in
the last days (founded on a mystical application of the
six days creation), the contrivance was to shorten the
age of the worldfrom about 5500 to 3760; and thence to
prove that Jesus could not be the Messiah. Dr Kenni¬
cot adds, that some Hebrew copies having the larger
chronology were exant till the time of Eusebius, and
some till the year 700.
SEPTUM, in Anatomy, an inclosure or partition 5 a
term applied to several parts of the body, which serve
to separate one part from another; as, septum narium,
or partition between the nostrils, &c.
SEPULCHRAL, something belonging to sepul¬
chres or tombs : thus a sepulchral column is a column
erected over a tomb, with an inscription on its shaft;
and sepulchral lamps, those said to have been found
burning in the tombs of several martyrs and others. See
Lamp.
SEPULCHRE, a tomb or place destined for the in¬
terment of the dead. This term is chiefly used in speak¬
ing of the burying-places of the ancients, those of the
moderns being usually called tombs.
Sepulchres were held sacred and inviolable ; and the
care taken of them has always been held a religious du¬
ty, grounded on the fear of God, and the belief of the
soul’s immortality. Those who have searched or viola¬
ted them have been thought odious by all nations, and
were always severely punished.
The Egyptians called sepulchres eternal houses, in
contradistinction to their ordinary houses or palaces,
which they called inns, on account of the short stay in
the one in comparison of their long abode in the other.
See Tomb.
Regular Canons of St Sepulchre, a religious order,
formerly instituted at Jerusalem, in honour of the holy
sepulchre, or the tomb of Jesus Christ.
Many of these canons were brought from the Holy
Land into Europe, particularly into France, by Louis
the Younger; into Poland, by Jaxa, a Polish gentle¬
man 5 and into Flanders, by the counts thereof 3 many
also
q [ 166 ] S E Q
This order was, however, at arms, wherein it is certified, that the defendant hai Sequesr
secreted himself. XT. , ,
Sequestrations were first introduced by Sir Nicholas
Bacon, lord keeper in the reign ol Queen Llizabeth 5
before which the court found some difficulty in enfor¬
cing its process and decrees j and they do not seem to
be in the nature of process to bring in the defendant, but
only intended to enforce the performance of the court s
decree.
A semiestration is also made, in London, upon an
istablisbed in Palestine about the year 1.4. ,cttn 0f deU Ae course of proceeding in which ease
The knight, of this order tn Flanders cho^ Ph - act,on e°n^ed, the officer goes
lip II. king of Spain, for then mastei, in jS ’ , defendant’s shop or warehouse, when no person is
afterward, h,s son ; but he grand-master ol the order c dettnu^^^ P ^ it 0» tbe door,
of Malta prevailed on the last to resign, am utterin', these words: “ I do sequester this warehouse,
afterwards the duke ot Neve,, assumed “2 ml merchandise herein, of the defend
^“iou^’iCS ant in this action, the use of the plaintiff,” &c,afte,
S E
‘Sepulchre also came into England. ----- - .
U suppressed by Pope Innocent ^ III. who gave its re-
Scquestra-venlieg and "effects to that of our Lady ot Lethlem:
tion-' which also becoming extinct, they were bestowed on the
knights of St John of Jerusalem. But the suppression
did not take effect in Poland, where they still subsist,
as also in several provinces of Germany. These canons
follow the rule of St Augustine.
Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, a military order,
established iii Palestine about the year 1114
union of this order
and
to that of
a confirmation of the
Malta. „ , p
SEQUANI, a people anciently forming a part ot
Gallia Celtica, hut annexed to Belgica by Augustus,
separated from the Helvetii by Mount Jura, with the
Bliine on the east (Strabo), bordering on the JiLdm
and Segustiani to the south, and Lingones to the west
(Tacitus). Now Franche Compte.
SEQUESTRATION, in Common Laic, is setting
aside the thing in controversy from the possession of
both the parties that contend for it. In which sense
it is either voluntary, as when done by the consent 01
the parties •, or necessary, as where it is done by the
judge, of Ills own authority, whether the parties will or
Sequestration, in the Civil Law is the act of the
ordinary, disposing of the goods and chattels of one de¬
ceased, whose estate no man will meddle with.
A ividow is also said to sequester, when she disclaims
having any thing to do with the estate of her deceased
husband. _ ■ r • 1
Among the Romanists, in questions of marriage, where
the wife complains of impotency in the husband, she is
to be sequestered into a convent, or into the hands of
matrons, till the process be determined.
Sequestration is also used for the act of gathering
the fruits of a benefice void, to the use of the next in¬
cumbent.
Sometimes a benefice is kept under sequestration tor
many years, when it is of so small value, that no cler-
gymaU fit to serve the cure will be at the charge of ta¬
king it by institution ; in which case the sequestration is
committed either to the curate alone, or to the curate and
church-wardens jointly. Sometimes the profits of a liv¬
ing in controversy, either by the consent of the parties,
or the judge’s authority, are sequestered and placed for
safety in a third hand, till the suit is determined, a mi¬
nister being appointed by the judge to serve the cure,
and allowed a certain salary out of the profits. Some¬
times the profits of a living are sequestered for neglect
of duty, for dilapidations, or for satisfying the debts of
the incumbent.
Sequestration, in chancery, is a commission usual¬
ly directed to seven persons therein named, empowering
them to seize the defendant’s personal estate, and the
profits of his real, and to detain them, subject to the or¬
der of the court. It issues on the return ot the serjeaut
ant in this action, to the use of the plaintiff, ’ &c. after
which he sets on his seal, and makes a return of the se¬
questration in the compter’, and four days being passed
after the return made, the plaintiff may, at the next
court, have judgment to open the shop or warehouse,
and to have the goods appraised by two freemen, who
are to be sworn at the next court held tor that comp¬
ter •, and then the serjeant puts his hand to the bill ot
appraisement, and the court grants judgment thereon }
but yet the defendant may put in hail before satisfac¬
tion, and by that means dissolve the sequestration and
after satisfaction, may put in bail to disprove the debt,
&c.
In the time of the civil wars, sequestration was used
for a seizing of the estates of delinquents for the use of
the commonwealth.
Sequestration, in Scots Law. See Law Index.
SEQUIN, a gold coin, struck at Venice, and in
several parts of the Grand Signior’s dominions. In
Turkey, it is called dahob, or piece of gold, and ac¬
cording to Volney is in value about 6s. 3d. sterling.
It varies, however, considerably in its value in different
countries. At Venice it is equal to about qs. 2d. ster-
ling- _ • c •
The Venetian sequins are in great request m oyna,
from the fineness ot their standard, and the practice
they have of employing them for women’s trinkets.
The fashion of these trinkets does not require much art *,
the piece of gold is simply pierced, in order to suspend
it by a chain, likewise of gold, which flows upon the
breast. The more sequins that are attached to this
chain, and the greater the number ot these chains, the
more is a woman thought to be ornamented. Ibis is
the favourite luxury, and tbe emulation ot all ranks.
Even the female peasants, for want of gold, wear
piastres or silver pieces ", but the women of a certain
rank disdain silver ; they will accept of notiiing but se¬
quins of Venice, or large Spanish pieces, and crusadoes.
Some of them wear 260 or 300, as well lying flat, as
strung one on another, and hung near the forehead, at
the edge of the head-dress. It is a real load : but they
do not think they can pay too dearly tor the satisfac¬
tion of exhibiting this treasure at the public bath, be¬
fore a crowd of rivals, to awaken whose jealousy consti¬
tutes their chief pleasure. The effect of this luxury on
commerce, is the withdrawing considerable sums from
circulation, which remain dead } besides, that when any
of these pieces return into common use, having lost
their
S E R [ 167 ] S' E R
their weight by being pierced, it becomes necessary to
weigh them. The practice of weighing money is ge¬
neral in Syria, Egypt, and all Turkey. No piece,
however eflaced, is refused there j the merchant draws
out his scales and weighs it, as in the days of Abra¬
ham, when he purchased his sepulchre. In consider¬
able payments, an agent of exchange is sent for, who
counts paras by thousands, rejects a great many pieces
of false money, and weighs all the sequins, either sepa¬
rately or together.
SERAGLIO, formed from the Persian word sei'aw,
or Turkish word serai, which signifies a house, and is
commonly used to express the house or palace of a
prince. In this sense it is frequently used at Constan¬
tinople j the houses of foreign ambassadors are called
seraglios. But it is commonly used by way of eminence
for the palace of the grand signior at Constantinople,
where he keeps his court, and where his concubines are
lodged, and where the youth are trained up for the chief
posts of the empire.
It is a triangle about three Italian miles round, whol¬
ly within the citv, at the end of the promontory Chry-
soceras, now called the Seraglio Point. The buildings
run back to the top of the hill, and from thence are
gardens that reach to the edge of the sea. It is inclo¬
sed with a very high and strong wall, upon which there
are several watch towers : and it has many gates, some
of which open towards the sea side, and the rest into the
city; but the chief gate is one of the latter, which is
constantly guarded by a company of capoochees, or
porters; and in the night it is well guarded towards
the sea. The outward appearance is not very beautiful,
the architecture being irregular, consisting of separate
edifices in the form of pavilions and domes.
The ladies of the seraglio are a collection of beauti¬
ful young women, chiefly sent as presents from the pro¬
vinces and the Greek islands, most of them the children
of Christian parents. The brave prince Heraclius hath
for some years past abolished the infamous tribute of chil¬
dren of both sexes, which Georgia formerly paid every
year to the Porte. The number of women in the harem
depends on the taste of the reigning monarch or sultan.
Selim had 2000, Achmet had but 300, and his suc¬
cessor had nearly 1600. On their admission they are
committed to the care of old ladies, taught sewing and
embroidery, music, dancing, and other accomplishments,
and furnished with the richest clothes and ornaments.
They all sleep in separate beds, and between every
fifth there is a preceptress. Their chief governess is
called Katon Kiaga, or governess of the noble young
ladies. There is not one servant among them, for they
are obliged to wait on one another, by rotation ; the
last that is entered serves her who preceded her and her¬
self. These ladies are scarcely ever suflered to go a-
broad, except when the grand signior removes from
one place to another, when a troop of black eunuchs
conveys them to the boats, which are enclosed with lat¬
tices and linen curtains; and when they go by land
they are put into close chariots, and signals are made
at certain distances, to give notice that none approach
the roads through which they march. The boats of
the harnn, which carry the grand signior’s wives, are
nianned with 24 rowers, and have white covered tilts,
shut alternately by Venetian blinds. Among the em¬
peror’s attendants are a number of mutes, who act and
converse by signs with great quickness, and some
dwarfs, who are exhibited for the diversion of his Ma¬
jesty.
When he permits the women to walk in the gardens
of the seraglio, all people are ordered to retire, and on
every side there is a guard of black eunuchs, with sa¬
bres in their hands, while others go their rounds in
order to hinder any person from seeing them. If, un¬
fortunately, any one is found in the garden, even through
ignorance or inadvertence, he is undoubtedly killed,
and his head brought to the feet of the grand signior,
who gives a great reward to the guard for their vigi¬
lance. Sometimes the grand signior passes into the
gardens to amuse himself when the women are there;
and it is then that they make use of their utmost efforts,
by dancing, singing, seducinggestures, and amorous blan¬
dishments, to ensnare the affections of the monarch. It
is not permitted that the monarch should take a virgin
to his bed, except during the solemn festivals, and on
occasion of some extraordinary rejoicings, or the arrival
of some good news. Upon such occasions, if the sul¬
tan choose a new companion to his bed, he enters into
the apartment of the women, who are ranged in files
by the governesses, to whom he speaks, and intimates
the person he likes best ; the ceremony of the handker¬
chief which the grand signior is said to throw to the
girl that he elects, is an idle tale, without any founda¬
tion. As soon as the grand signior has chosen the girl
that he has destined to be the partner of his bed, all the
others follow her to the bath, washing and perfuming
her, and dressing her superbly, conducting her singing,
dancing, and rejoicing, to the bed chamber of the
grand signior, who is generally, on such an occasion, al¬
ready in bed. Scarcely has the new-elected favourite
entered the chamber, introduced by the grand eunuch
who is upon guard, than she kneels down, and when
the sultan calls her, she creeps into bed to him by the
foot of the bed, if the sultan does not order her, by
especial grace, to approach by the side: after a certain
time, upon a signal given by the sultan, the governess
of the girls, with all her suite, enters the apartment, and
takes her back again, conducting her with the same ce¬
remony to the women’s apartments ; and if by good
fortune she becomes pregnant, and is delivered of a boy,
she is called asaki sultaness, that is to sav, sultaness mo¬
ther ; for the first son she has the honour to be crown¬
ed, and she has the liberty of forming her court.
Eunuchs are also assigned for her guard, and for her
particular service. No other ladies, though delivered
of boys, are either crowned cr maintained with such
costly distinction as the first; however, they have
their service apart, and handsome appointments. Af¬
ter the death of the sultan, the mothers of the male
children are shut up in the old seraglio, from whence
they can never come out any more, unless any of
their sons ascend the throne. Baron de Tott in¬
forms ns,, tliat the female slave who becomes the mo¬
ther of a sultan, and lives long enough to see her son
mount the throne, is the only woman who at that period
alone acquires the distinction of sultana-mot/ier ; she is
till then in the interior of her prison with her son. The
title of bache kadun, principal woman, is the first dignity
of the grand signior’s harem; and she has a larger
allowance
Seraglio.
SEE, [ 1
allowance than those who have the title of second, third,
and fourth woman, which are the four free women the
Koran allows. , . . , i-
This is a description of the grand signior s seraglio .
we shall now add an account of the seraglio or harem,
as it is often called, of the emperor of Morocco, from
the very interesting tour of Mr Lempriere. I his gen¬
tleman being a surgeon by profession, was admitted into
tlie harem to prescribe for some of the ladies who were
indisposed, and was therefore enabled to give a particu¬
lar account of this female prison, and what is still more
curious, of the manners and behaviour of its inhabi-
a The harem forms a part of the palace. The apart¬
ments, which are all on the ground floor, are square,
very lofty, and four of them inclose a spacious square
court, into which they open by means of large folding
doors. In the centre of these courts, which are floor¬
ed with blue and white chequered tiling, is a foun¬
tain, supplied by pipes from a large reservoir on the
outside of the palace, which serves for the frequent
ablutions recommended by the Mahometan re 1gl°n>
as well as for other purposes. The whole of the
harem consists of about twelve of these square courts,
communicating with each other by narrow passages,
which afford a free access from one part of it to an¬
other, and of which all the women are allowed to avail
themselves. . ,
The apartments are ornamented on the outside with
beautiful carved wood. In the inside most of the rooms
are hung with rich damask of various colours j the floors
are covered with beautiful carpets, and there are matties
ses disposed at different distances, for the purpose of sit¬
ting and sleeping. ,
Besides these, the apartments are furnished at each
extremity with an elegant European mahogany bed¬
stead, hung with damask, having on it several mattresses
placed one over the other, which are covered with va¬
rious coloured silks 5 but these beds are merely placed
there to ornament the room. In all the apartments,
without exception, the ceiling is wood, carved and
painted. The principal ornaments in some w'ere large
and valuable looking-glasses, hung on different parts of
the walls. In others, clocks and watches of dinerent
sizes, in glass cases, were disposed in the same manner.
The sultana Lalla Batoom and another favourite were
indulged with a whole square to themselves \ but the
concubines were only each allowed a single room.
Each female had a separate daily allowance from the
emperor, proportioned to the estimation in which t ley
were held by him. The late emperor’s allowance was
very trifling : Lalla Douyaw, the favourite sultana, had
very little more than half-a-crown English a-day, and
the others less in proportion. It must be allowed, that
the emperor made them occasional presents of money,
dress, and trinkets ; but this could never be sufficient
to support the number of domestics and other expences
they must incur. Their greatest dependence therefore
was on the presents they received from those Europeans
and Moors who visited the court, and who employed
their influence in obtaining some particular favour from
the emperor. This was the most successful mode that
could be adopted. When Mr Lempriere was at Mo¬
rocco, a Jew, desirous of obtaining a very advantage¬
ous favour from the emperor, for which he had been a
68 ] SEE.
long time unsuccessfully soliciting, sent to all the prin- ‘Scraglk,
cipal ladies of the harem presents of pearls to a very » ^
large amount j the consequence was, that they all went
in a body to the emperor, and immediately obtained, the
wished-for concession. ,
The ladies separately furnish their own rooms, hire
their own domestics, and, in fact, do what they please
in the harem, but are not permitted to go out without
an express order from the emperor, who very seldom
grants them that favour, except when they are to be re¬
moved from one palace to another. In that case, a
party of soldiers is dispatched a little distance before
them, to disperse the male passengers in particular, and
to prevent the possibility of their being seem Ibis
previous step being taken, a piece of linen cloth is tied
round the lower part of the face, and afterwards these
miserable females cover themselves entirely with their
haicks, and either mount mules, which they ride like
men, or what is more usual, are put into a square car¬
riage or litter, constructed for this purpose, winch by
its lattice-work allows them to see without being seem
In this manner they set off, under the charge of a guard
of black eunuchs. This journey, and sometimes a walk
within the bounds of the palace, with which they are,
however, seldom indulged, is the only exercise they are
permitted to take. . , „ . t ,
The late emperor’s harem consisted of between 60
and 100 females, besides their domestics and slaves,
which were very numerous. Many of the concubines
were Moorish women, who had been presented to the
emperor, as the Moors consider it an honour to have
their daughters in the harem; several were European
slaves, who had either been made captives, or purchased
by the emperor; and some were Negroes.
In this group the Europeans, or their descendants,
had by far the greatest claim to the character of hand¬
some. There vvas one in particular, who was a native
of Spain, and taken into the harem at about the same
age as Lalla Douyaw, who was indeed a perfect beauty.
Nor was this lady quite singular in that respect, for
many others were almost equally handsome.
The eunuchs, who have the entire charge of the wo¬
men, and who in fact live always among them, are the
children of Negro slaves. They are generally either
very short and fat, or else tall, deformed, and lame.
Their voices have that particular tone which is obser¬
vable in youths who are just arriving at manhood •, and
their persons altogether afford a disgusting image of
weakness and effeminacy.
The same gentleman gives us a very curious account
of the manners and ignorance of these immured females,
from his own observation, when visiting the prince s ha¬
rem. “ Attended by an eunuch (says he), alter passing
the gate of the harem, which is always locked, and un¬
der the care of a guard of eunuchs, we entered a nar¬
row and dark passage, which soon brought us to the
court, into which the women’s chambers open. Me
here saw numbers of both black and white women and
children ; some concubines, some slaves, and others hi¬
red domestics.
“ Upon their observing the unusual figure of an Eu¬
ropean, the whole multitude in a body surrounded me,
and expressed the utmost astonishment at my dress and
appearance. Some stood motionless, with their hands
lifted up, their eyes fixed, and their mouths open, m
J the
s E R [ 169 ] S E R
raglio. tbe usual attitude of wonder and surprise. Some burst
into immoderate fits of laughter 5 while others again
came up, and with uncommon attention eyed me from
head to foot. The parts of my dress which seemed
most to attract their notice were my buckles, buttons,
and stockings j for neither men nor women in this coun¬
try wear any thing of the kind. With respect to the
club of my hair, they seemed utterly at a loss in what
view to consider it; but the powder which I wore they
conceived to be employed for the purpose of destroy¬
ing vermin. Most of the children when they saw me,
ran away in the most perfect consternation ", and on the
whole, I appeared as singular an animal, and I dare say
had the honour of exciting as much curiosity and at¬
tention, as a lion or man-tiger just imported from abroad,
and introduced into a country town in England on a
market-day. Every time I visited the harem, I was
surrounded and laughed at by this curious mob, who, on
my entering the gate, followed me close to the very
chamber to which I was proceeding, and on my return
universally escorted me out.
“ The greatest part of the women were uncommonly
fat and unwieldy $ had black and full eyes, round faces,
"with small noses. They were of different complexions 5
some very fair, some sallow, and others again perfect
Negroes.
“ One of my new patients being ready to receive me,
I was desired to walk into her room •, where, to my
great surprise, I saw nothing but a curtain drawn quite
across the apartment, similar to that of a theatre which
separates the stage from the audience. A female do¬
mestic brought a very low stool, placed it near the cur¬
tain, and told me I was to sit down there, and feel her
mistress’s pulse.
“ The lady, who had by this time summoned up cou¬
rage to speak, introduced her hand from the bottom of
the curtain, and desired me to inform her of all her com¬
plaints, which she conceived I might perfectly do by
merely feeling the pulse. It was in vain to ask her
where her pain was seated, whether in her stomach,
head, or back ; the only answer I could procure was a
request to feel the pulse of the other hand, and then
point out the seat of the disease, and the nature of the
pain.
“ Having neither satisfied my curiosity by exhibiting
her face, nor made me acquainted with the nature of
her complaint, I was under the necessity of informing
her in positive terms, that to understand the disease it
was absolutely necessary to see the tongue as well as to
feel the pulse *, and that without it I could do nothing
for her. My eloquence, or rather that of my Jewish in¬
terpreter, was, however, for a long time exerted in vain ;
and J. am persuaded she would have dismissed me with¬
out any further inquiry, had not her invention supplied
her with a happy expedient to remove her embarrass¬
ment. She contrived at last to cut a hole through the
curtain, through which she extruded her tongue, and
thus complied with my injunction as far as it was neces¬
sary in a medical view, but most effectually disappoint¬
ed my curiosity.
“ I was afterwards ordered to look at another of the
prince’s wives, who was affected with a scrophulous
swelling in her neck. This lady was, in the same man¬
ner as the other, at first excluded from my sight 5 but
ns she was obliged to show me her complaint, I had an
VOL. XIX. Part I. -f
opportunity of seeing her face, and observed it to be Seia-dio
very handsome.” jj°
It is curious to observe the strange and childish no- SeraPis-
tions of persons who have been wholly secluded from the
v'orld. All the ladies of the harem expected that our
author should have instantly discovered their complaints
upon feeling the pulse, and that he could cure every
disease instantaneously. He found them proud anil
vain of their persons, and extremely ignorant. “ A-
mong many ridiculous questions, they asked my inter¬
preter (says Mr Lempriere) if I could read and write ;
upon being answered in the affirmative, they expressed
the utmost surprise and admiration at the abilities of
the Christians. There was not one among them who
could do either j these rudiments of learning are in¬
deed only the lot of a few of their men, who on that
account are named Ta/fa, or explainers of the Maho¬
metan law.”
It is melancholy to reflect on the situation of these
unfortunate women. Being considered as the mere in¬
struments of pleasure, no attention is paid to the im¬
provement of their minds. They have no employment
to occupy their time. Their needle-work is performed
by Jewesses ^ their food is dressed, and their chambers
taken care of, by slaves and domestics. They have no
amusement hut a rude and barbarous kind of melan¬
choly music, without melody, variety, or taste ; and
conversation with one another, which must indeed he
very confined, uniform, and inanimate, as they never
see a new object. Excluded from the enjoyment of
fresh air and exercise, so necessary for the support of
health and life j deprived of all society hut that of their
fellow-sufferers, a society to which most of them would
prefer solitude itself $ they are only to he considered as
the most abject of slaves—slaves to the vices and caprice
of a licentious tyrant, who exacts even from his wives
themselves a degree of submission and respect which
borders upon idolatry, and which God and nature never-
meant should be paid to a mortal.
SERAI, a building on the high road, or in large
cities in India, erected for the accommodation of tra¬
vellers.
SERAPH, or Seraphim, spirits of the highest rank
in the hierarchy of angels; who are thus called from
their being supposed to be most inflamed with divine
love, by their nearer and more immediate attendance at
the throne of God, and to communicate their fervour to
the remoter and inferior orders. Seraphim is the He¬
brew plural of seraph. See Angee.
SERAPHIC, burning or inflamed with love or zeal,
like a seraph : thus St Bonaventure is called the sera-
phic doctor, from his abundant zeal and fervour.
SERAPIAS, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of gynandria ; and in the natural system arranged under
the seventh order, Orchidcce. See Botany Index.
SERAPION, a physician of Alexandria. He and
Philinus of the isle of Cos, were both scholars of Hero-
philus, and were founders of the empiric sect j which
happened about 287 B. C.
SERAPIS, in Mythology, an Egyptian deity, who
was worshipped under various names and attributes, as
the tutelary god of Egypt in general, and as the patron
of several of their principal cities. Tacitus informs us,
that he was worshipped as a kind of universal deity that
represented Esculapius, Osiris, Jupiter, and Pluto ; and
Y he
tcrapjs
II
.Serene.
* Trt,c. Hist.
lib. iv.
cap. 3.
Pint, dc
[side ft
Osiriile.
Clem.
Alex, in
Protrep.
S E R [ l1
he was sometimes taken for Jupiter Ammon, tjie bun,
and Neptune : and the honours that were rendered to
him at Alexandria were more solemn and extraordinary
than those of any other place.
Plutarch and Clemens of Alexandria, as well aa la¬
ches*, inform us, that while the first Ptolemy was em¬
ployed in fortifying Alexandria with walls, adorning 1
with temples and stately buildings, there appeared to
him in his sleep a young man of extraordinary beauty,
of a stature more than human, admonishing 1,111 "
patch into Pontus some of his most trusty ‘nends to
iriim from thence his statue : he assured him, that tl.e
ehy'mul kingdom which possessed it should prove hap
pv? glorious,0 and powerful. The young man having
thus spoken, disappeared, mounting up into heaven
a blaze of fire. , . . , , . cn,i
Ptolemy discovered his vision to the priests *, but hn
ing them ignorant of Pontus, he had recourse to an
Athenian, who informed him that near Smope, a city
of Pontus, there was a temple much resorted to by the
natives, which was consecrated to Pluto, where he had
a statue, near which stood that of a woman, ^olemy,
neglecting the injunctions ot the apparition, 1 a ;
apneared to him in a menacing attitude*, and the ki g
immediately dispatched ambassadors to t!,e Serap.an
monarch, loaded with presents, i he king 1
consented j but his subjects opposed the removal ot
statue. The god, however, ot his own accord, as we
are informed, conveyed himself to the ambassador’s ship
and in three days landed in Alexaudna. Ihe statue ot
Serapis was erected in one of the suburbs of the city,
where a magnificent temple was alter wards reared.
The statue of Scrap!s according to Macrohius, wa
of a human form, with a basket or bushel on his heaifi
signifying plenty, his right hand leaned on the head
of a serpent, whose body was wound round a figuie
with three heads, of a dog, a lion, and a woll , in hi
left hand he held a measure ol a cubit length, as it w
to take the height of the waters ol the Nile. I he fig
of Scranis is found on many ancient medals. _
The famous temple of Serapis at Alexandria was
destroyed by order of Theodosius *, and t.ie celebrated
statue of this deity was broken in pieces, and its imbs
carried first in triumph by the Christ,an» tbrongh the
city, and then thrown in'o a fierce fire, kintded fin that
purpose in the amphitheatre. As the Egyptians ascri¬
bed1 the overflowing of the Nile, to which was owing
the fertility of their country, to the benign influence ot
their god Serapis, they concluded, that now he was
destroved, the river would no longer overflow, and that
a general famine would ensue *, hut when they observ¬
ed,' on the contrary, that the Nile swelled to a greater
height than had been known in the memory o\ man,
ami thereby produced an immense plenty ol ail kinds
of provisions, many of the pagans renouncing the wor¬
ship of idols, adored the God ol the Christians.
SERENA GUTTA, the same as amaurosis, bee me¬
dicine. N° 360.
o ] S E R
of Britain, the republic and doge 0! ^ enice,
SERENADE, a kind of concert given in the night
by a lover to his mistress, under her window, i hese
by a lover to -iff
sometimes only consist of instrumental music, but at
other times voices are added : the music and songs com¬
posed for these occasions are also called serenades.
SERENE, a title of honour given to several princes,
and to the principal magistrates-ol republics, ibe king
5
nd the Serci
children of the king of Spain, are caked most serene; |]
and when the pope or the sacred co.lege tvnte to the
emperor, to kings, or to the doge, they give them no
other title. In like manner, the emperor gives no other
title to any king, except to the king of I ranee. _ _
SERENUS Sammonicus, a celebrated physician,
in the reigns of the emperors Severus and Caracalla, in
and about the year 200. He wrote several treatises on
history and the works of nature *, but there is only one
of them extant, which is a very indifferent poem on the
Remedies of Diseases. He was murdered at a lestivai
by the order of Caracalla. He had a library that con¬
tained 62,000 volumes, which Quintus Serenus Sam¬
monicus his son gave to Gordian the Younger, to whom
he was preceptor. „ , „ ^ ...
SERES (Ptolemy) 5 a people of the iarther Asia ,
bounded on the west by Scythia extra Imaum *, on the
north and east, by Terra Incognita ; and on the south,
by India extra Gangem. According to these limits,
their country answers nearly to Cathay or North China.
Other authors vary greatly in placing them, though the
generality agree in placing them iar to the east. Mela
places them between the Indi and Scythae ; and perhaps
beyond the Indi, if wc distinguish the Sinae from them.
The ancients commend them for their cotton manuiac-
tnres, different from the produce of the bombyces or
silk-worms, called setes by the Greeks ; whence senca,
“ silk.”
SERGE, a woollen quilted stuff, manufactured on a
loom with four treddles, after the manner of rateens,
and other stuffs that have the whale. The goodness ot
sero-es is known by the quilting, as that ot cloths by
the spinning. Of serges there are various kinds, deno¬
minated either from the different qualities thereof, or
from the places where they are wrought. Ihe most
considerable is the London serge, now highly valued
abroad, particularly in France, where a manutacture is
carried on with considerable success, under the title ot
serge fa con de Londres.
The method of making the London serge we shall
now describe : For wool, the longest is chosen tor the
warp, and the shortest for the woof. Before either kind
is used, it is first scoured, by putting it in a copper ot
liquor, somewhat more than lukewarm, compose 0
three parts of fair water and one ot urine. Alter
having stayed long enough therein lor the liquor to
dissolve, and take off the grease, &c. it is stirred brisk¬
ly about with a wooden peel ; taken out of the liquor,
drained, and washed in a running water, dried in the
shade, beaten with sticks on a wooden rack to drive
out the coarser dust and filth, and then picked clean
with the hands. Thus far prepared, it is greased with
oil of olives, and the longest part, destined for the warp,
is combed with large combs, heated in a little turnace
for the purpose. To clear off' the oil again, the wool
is put in a liquor composed ol hot water, with soap
melted therein : whence being taken out, wrung, am
dried, it is spun on the wheel.
As to the shorter wool, intended for the woot, it
is only carded on the knee with small cards, and then
spun 011 the wheel, without being scoured ol its or.
It must be remarked, that the thread lor the waip is
always to he spun much finer, and better twisted than
that of the woof. The wool both for the waip anc
th*
Serge,
xgeuut
SEE [ i
tl)e woof being spun, and the tljread divided intoskains,
that of the woof is put on spools (unless it have been
J spun upon them) lit for the cavity or eye of the shuttle;
and that for the warp is wound on a kind of wooden
bobbins to lit it for warping. When warped, it is stiff¬
ened with a kind of size, whereof that made of the
shreds of parchment is held the best; and when dry is
put on the loom.
When mounted on the loom, the workman raising
and lowering the threads (which are passed through a
reed), by means of four treddles placed underneath the
loom, which he makes to act transversely, equally, and
alternately, one after another with his feet, in propor¬
tion as the threads are raised and lowered, throws the
shuttle across from one side to the other; and each time
that the shuttle is thrown, and the thread of the woof
is crossed between those of the warp, strikes it with the
frame to which the reed is fastened, through those teeth
the threads of the warp pass ; and this stroke he repeats
twice or thrice, or even more, till he judges the cross¬
ing of the serge sufficiently close : thus he proceeds till
the warp is all filled with woof.
The serge now taken off the loom is carried to the
fuller, who scours it in the trough of his mill with a
kind of fat earth, called fuller's earth, first purged of
all stones and filth. After three or four hours scouring,
the fuller’s earth is washed out in fair water, brought by
little and little into the trough, out of which it is taken
when all the earth is cleared ; then, with a kind of iron
pincers or plyers, they pull off all the knots, ends,
straws, &c. sticking out on the surface on either side ;
and then returning it into the fulling trough, where it
is worked with water somewhat more than lukewarm,
with soap dissolved therein for near two hours : it is
then washed out till such time as the water becomes
quite clear, and there be no signs of soap left; then it
is taken out of the trough, the knots, &c. again pulled
oft, and then put on the tenter to dry, taking care as
fast as it dries to stretch it out both in length and
breadth till it be brought to its just dimensions. When
well dried, it is taken off the tenter, and dyed, shorn,
and pressed.
SERGEANT, or Serjeant, at Law, or of the Coif,
is the highest degree taken at the common law, as that
of Doctor is of the civil law ; and as these are supposed
to be the most learned and experienced in the practice
of the courts, there is one court appointed for them to
plead in by themselves, which is the common pleas,
where the common law of England is most strictly ob¬
served: but they are not restricted from pleading in any
other court, where the judges, who cannot have that
honour till they have taken the degree of Serjeant at law,
call them brothers.
Sergeant at Arms, or Mace, an officer appointed
to attend the person of the king ; to arrest traitors, and
such persons of quality as offend; and to attend the lord
high steward, when sitting in judgment on a traitor.
Of these, by statute 13 Richard II. cap. 6. there are
not to he above 30 in the realm. There are now nine
at court at look per annum salary each ; they are call¬
ed the king's sergeant at arms, to distinguish them from
others : they are created with great ceremony ; the per¬
son kneeling before the king, his majesty lays the mace
on bis right shoulder, and says, Rise up, sergeant at arms,
71 ] SEE
and esquire for ever. They have, besides, a patent for
the office, which they hold for life.
1 hey have their attendance in the presence-cliamber,
where the band ofgentlemen-pensioners wait; and, re¬
ceiving the king at the door, they carry the maces be¬
fore him to the chapel door, whilst the band of pensioners
stand foremost, and make a lane for the king, as thev
also do when the king goes to the house of lords.
There are four other sergeants at arms, created in the
same manner; one, who attends the lord chancellor; a
second, the lord treasurer; a third, the speaker of the
house of commons ; and a fourth, the lord mayor of
London on solemn occasions.
They have a considerable share of the fees of honour,
and travelling charges allowed them when in waithm,
viz. five shillings per day when the court is within ton
miles of London, and ten shillings when twenty miles
from London. The places are in the lord chamberlain’s
gift*
. There are also sergeants of the mace of an inferior
kind, who attend the mayor or other head officer of a
corporation.
Common Sergeant, an officer in the city of London,
who attends the lord mayor and court of aldermen on
court days, and is in council with them on all occasions,
within and without the precincts or liberties of the citv.
He is to take care of orphans estates, either by taking-
account of them, or to sign their indentures, before their
passing the lord mayor and court of aldermen : and lie
was likewise to let and manage the orphan estates, ac¬
cording to his judgment to their best advantage. ’.See
Recorder.
Sergeant, in irar, is an uncommissioned officer in
a company of foot or troop of dragoons, armed with
an halbert, and appointed to see discipline observed, to
teach the soldiers the exercise of their arms, to order,
straiten, and form their ranks, files, See. He receives
the orders from the adjutant, which he communicates
to his officers. Each company generally has two ser¬
geants.
. SERGE ANTY (Scrjeantia), signifies, in law, a ser¬
vice that cannot be due by a tenant to any lord but the
king j and this is Cilhev grand sergeanty, or petit. The
first is a tenure by which the one holds his lands of the
king by such services as he ought to do in person to the
king at his coronation ; and may also concern matters
military, or services of honour in peace ; as to be the
king’s butler, carver, &c. Petit sergeanty is where a
man holds lands of the king to furnish him Yearly with
some small thing towards his wars; and in effect pay¬
able as rent. Though all tenures are turned into soccage
by the J2 Car. II. cap. 24- yet the honorary services of
grand sergeanty still remain, being therein excepted.
See KNiGiiT-Service.
SERIES, in general, denotes a continual succession
of things 111 the same order, and having the same rela¬
tion or connection with each other : in this sense we say,
a series of emperors, kings, bishops, &c.
In natural history, a series is used for an order or sub¬
division of some class of natural bodies ; comprehending
all such as are distinguished from the other bodies of
that class, by certain characters which they possess in
common, and which the rest of the bodies of that cast
have not.
^ 2 (1.) Series,
Scr'/rnrlt
B
Senes.
S E R [
(i ) Series, in Arithmetic or Algebra, a rank or
progression of quantities which succeed one another ac¬
cording to some determinate law. For example, tl
numbers
15, &c.
172 ] S E R
putting as before A, B, C, D, &c. for the terms of the
series, and m, n, p, q for given quantities, we shall have
another recurring series, if we suppose them so related
that
Series.
3> S’ 7> 9’ IT» I3>
constitute a series, the law of which is that each term
exceeds that before it by a given number, viz. 2. A-
gain, the numbers
3, 6, 12, 24, 48, 96’ l92’ &c*
constitute a series of a dilferent kind, each term being
the product of the term before it, and the given num-
)ef2) As the law according to which the terms of a
8eries are formed may be infinitely varied, there may be
innumerable kinds of series ; we shall enumerate a tew
of the most common.
1. Arithmetical Series. The general form of a series
of this kind is
aA-d, fl-f-iJ, fl+3 d’ &'c*
and its law is that the difference between any two ad-
iacent terms is the same quantity, viz. d. The first 0
the two preceding examples is a series of this nature.
2. Geometrical Series. Its general form is
a, a r, a r*, a r3, a iA, &c.
In this kind of series each term is the product of that
which precedes it and a constant number r, which is
called the common ratio of the terms. The secon o
the above examples is a particular case of a geometrica
O. Harmonic Series is that in which the first ot any
three of its consecutive terms is to the third, as the de¬
ference between the first and second to the difference
between the second and third : hence we readily find
that putting a and b for its two first terms, its general
form will be
, ab ab ab  ^
If we suppose a~ I and b—\, we get
I> "aj T> txt'*
as a particular example of a harmonic series.
4. Recurring Series. Let its terms be denoted by
A, B, C, D, E, F, &c.
Then, we shall form a recurring series, if m and n be¬
ing put for given quantities, we take
C=wA-f»B, E=mC-f-»D,
D=wB + «C, F=7«D + «E,
For example, let us suppose Am, B=2 #1=4 *a,
„=3 *; then C=io**, D=38a*, £=154 *4> F=
6!4 a;5, so that the first six terms of the series are
I, 2J7, IOiV*, 38**, I54*4, 614^.
We have here supposed each term to be formed from
the two which come immediately before it; but the
name recurring series is given to every one in which the
terms are formed in like manner from some assigned
number of the terms which precede that sought. Thus,
3
m A -\-n B ArP F + 7 —°»
m B -\'n F F—°’
m C -k 71L E -|- q I —o.
The two series of quantities sin. o, sin. 2 o, sin. 3 a.
See. and cos. a, cos. 2a, cos. 3 a, &c. are both recurring,
as is manifest from the law which connects the quanti¬
ties one with another. (See Algebra, §
(3.) As in general it is the sum of the terms ol a se¬
ries which is the object of investigation, it is usual to
connect them by the sign + or —, and to apply tire
name series to the expression thus formed. Accord¬
ingly
I + 3 + 5+7 + 9 + +
(where n denotes the number of terms) is called an
arithmetical series ) and in like manner
1
is a geometrical series. ^ #
(4.) A series may either consist of a definite number
of terms, or their number maybe supposed greater than
any that can be assigned, and in this case the series is
said to be infinite. The number of terms of a series
may be infinite, and yet their sum finite. This is true:
for example, of the series
f+i+i+A+i &c*
which is equivalent to unity, or I.
(5.) We have already treated of several branches of
thedoctrineof series inthe articles Algebra,Fluxions,
and Logarithms 5 and in particular we have given
four different methods for expanding a quantity into a
series, viz. _
1. By Division ot Evolution. (See Algebra, 5 qo,
and § 260.). /
2. By the Method of Indeterminate Coefficients. (Al¬
gebra, § 261.).
3. By the Rmoiziial Theorem. (Algebra, J 203“*’
§ 269.).
4. By Taylor's Theorem, (Fluxions, § 66—§ 720*
We shall here treat briefly of another branch of the
theory, namely, how to find the sum of any proposed
number of terms of certain series, or the sum of their
terms continued ad infinitum, when that sum is finite.
(6.) There is a great analogy between the terms of a
series and the ordinates of a curve which are supposed
to stand upon the axis at equal distances from one ano¬
ther, the first ordinate reckoned from the extremity of
the axes being analogous to the first term of the series,
the second ordinate to the second term, and so on.
From this analogy it follows immediately, that like as
the nature of a curve is indicated by an equation ex¬
pressing the value of an indefinite ordinate in terms of
its corresponding abscissa, so also the nature of a series
may be shown by an equation which shall express the
relation between any term; and the number that de¬
notes the place or order of that term in the series. In
v conformity
SEE [
conformity to this method, putting the symbols T(d,
T<»>, T(3), &c. to denote the terms of any series
whatever, we may express it generally thus.
T(r>, -f- T(2), -J- T(j) • • • 4- Tm
where the characters (i), (2), are meant to denote the
place or order of the terms to which they are joined,
(the first term being supposed to have the place 1, the
second term the place 2, and so on), and (i;) is put for
any indefinite number.
The natux-e of the arithmetical series
173 ]
will be defined by the equation
T(v) =a4-(^—1)<^
c4-fl 7*4-0 7’* 4~0 7,3-f-» &C.
will be expressed by the equation
T(t,j rr a rv
(y—1) a—(7;—2)6'
(8.) We shall now investigate the sum of any num¬
ber of terms of such series as have their general terms
expressed by any one of the following algebraic func¬
tions
r(t;4-i) v(y-{-i)(y-\-2) 4_I)(7;+2)Ct;+3)
I * 2
I -2-3
&c«
I *2-3
Problem I. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms
of the sei’ies of which the general term is the first func¬
tion.
By putting 1, 2, 3, &c. to n successively for v, it
appears that the series to be summed is
I+2+3+4 ’** +w*
 (v—I)1’
~ 2 2 1
ting in this formula 1, 2, 3, • • • to « successively for v,
Now, as v— we fiave, by put-
1 • 2
I=— 0,
^2-3 1*2
2 2
,-3*4 2-3
2 2 1
.-4’5 3*4
4~——r>
fi—l:
(n—i);x
S E R
(n—2)(n—1)
2 2
7?( Jl -4- I ) (71 1)/7
nzz——!—-—  —.
2 * 2
Let the sum of the quantities on each side of the sign
= be now taken; then, observing that each of the frac¬
tions on the right hand side, with the exception of
77(774-1) . ....
—— , occurs twice, once with the sign 4-, and
again with the sign —, by which it happens that their
aggregate is =10, it is evident that we have
. . . . 77(774-1)
14-24-34-4* •• 4-77=- - .
and, in like manner, the nature of the geometrical
series
Pros. II. It is proposed to sum n terms of the se¬
ries, having for its general term the second function
77(7; 4-1)
I ' 2
(7.) As the expression for the value of the in¬
definite term Tm becomes identical with all the
terms of the series in succession, by substituting the
numbers I, 2, 3, &c. one after another for v, that ex¬
pression is called the general term of the series. In the
series
t . ah , ab . ab
a+hJr~—T H rH T4-,
2a—b 3 a—2b 1 4a—36 *
the general term is evidently
This series, by substituting I, 2, 3, &c. successively
for v, is found to be
11^4.1^+114
l * 2^1 * 2~J * 2
77(774-1)
I . 2
We now, following the mode of proceeding employed
in last problem, put the expression under this
form,
77(7;+1) (77+2) (77—1)77(77+1)
1 * 2T3 *
1 * 2 • 3
to which it is evidently equivalent, and, substituting I,
2, 3, &c. successively for 77, find
1 • 2
2 * 3
1*2 I * 2 * 3
2 ‘ 3 _ 2 * 3 *4 1 ‘ 2*3
1*2*3 1 • 2 • 3*
3 * 4 * 5 2 ‘ 3 ‘ 4
1 • 2
3 ‘ 4.
1 • 2' 1*2*3 1 * 2 * 3'
4 ’ 5_4 ‘ 5 * 6 3 * 4 ’ 5
1*2 I*2*3 I * 2 * 3*
77(77+l) _77(«+l)(77 + 2) (77—1)?7(77 + l)
I * 2 _ I * 2 ‘ 3 I • 2*3 *
In this problem, as in the former, it appears that
each quantity on the right side of the equation, except
77(»4-i)(77 + 2) . - . ,
   t ^ > occurs twice, and with contrary signs ;
therefore, taking the aggregate of the terms on each
side, we have
^77(77+1)
2‘3 . 3 * 4,4 * 5
1*2 1*21*2 1*2 * I
_77 ( 77+l)(77 + 2)
~ i‘2 *3
(9.) It will be obvious, by a little attention to the
solutions of these two problems, that in each the terms of
the series tg be summed are the differences betwixt the
adjacent
Sene*.
S E R
[ 174 ]
S E R
Series, adjacent terras of another series, namely, that win
 V 'has for its general term the function next in order to
the general term of the series under consideration-, that
is, the terms of the series whose general term is r, aie
the differences betwixt those of the series having
O for its general terms and, again, the terms
1 ' 2 • „ for its general term the function,
of this last arc the differences of the terras ot ■ ^(j,+ • • -(n+p
having f(r’+I)(f+2) for i,8 gc„cral term. Now as
the sum of the differences of any series of quantities
whatever which begins with o must necessaii y )e ^ u'
last term of that series *, it follows, that the sum o
all the terms of each of the series we have considered
must be equal to (lie last term of the next following se¬
ries ; and this term is necessarily the expression formed
by substituting n for v in its general term, that is, the
sum of the series 1 + 2 + 3 * ‘ which has v for its
general term, is -^—-7^—~ ? an(^ the sum of the seiies
for its general term : lienee it will happen, as in the
two foregoing problems, that the sum of all the terms
of the former series will be equal to the last term of the
latter j which conclusion may be expressed in the form
of a theorem, as follows :
Theorem. jT/ic sum of n terms of a senes having
0
Seriei,
P
equal to
n(n-\- J) (»-{-2) ' * ‘ ‘
2
3 , 3
•••+ +
The next series which has
2 I • 2
1^ («+ 2)
S — —•
T • 2 " 3
for it
I ■ 2 ' 3
ge¬
neral term, as well as all that succeed, will be found to
have die very same property, as may be proved as 0 -
lows. Let p denote any term of the senes ot natural
numbers 1, 2, 3, &c. Then, because
jP + l i, + I,
if we multiply these equals by the product of all the fac-
1 • 2 • 3 • • • (i>+0
Or, setting aside the denominators of the terms, we
may express the theorem thus : The sum of n terms of
a series, having for its general term the expression
(f-}-2) ‘ ’ (v-\-p—1),
is equal to
7Z(7?-}-l) (fl-{-2) * ' *
p-\-l
We shall here give a few particular cases of the last
general formula.
II.
i + ^+S+V +«:
1 • 2+2 * 3+3 ’ 4+4 * 5 ' * ’ +
+ 2)
tors v,
^ -j-1 v-\-2
&c. to
v 4-/1— 1
2 3 '
+ l ) ( u-f-2) •
P
, we get
(v-\-p—0
1 ' 2' P
rtlr-f 1)0+2) • • ‘ {v+p)
\ I • 2 • 3 • • 0+1)
I (v—i)rO + 0 • • • Q+/1—11
L 1 • 2 • 3 • • • (p+1)
Now, if in this identical equation we substitute the
~ numbers 1, 2, 3, &c. to n successively for v, the re¬
sults obtained from its first member
pQ+i) 0+2) • - * (v+p—0
I • 2 • 3 • * • 1J
will be a series having this function for its general term,
and the terms of which will evidently he the difference
between the terms of another series having the first part
of the second member of the equation, viz.
rP+i)P+2) • • • Q+;i)
1 • 2 • 3 • • • Cp+i) ’
III. 1 • 2 • 3 + 2 • 3'4+3 ’ 4 * 5 * * * +<«+i)(«+ 2)
n(n + l) p + 2) p + 3)
~ 4
(10.) By means of the above general theorem we may
find the sum of any number of terms of a series com¬
posed of the powers of the terms of an arithmetical pro¬
gression, the general term of which will, in the simplest
case, be v^, being a given number. The manner of
doing this will appear from the following problems.
Prob. III. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms
of the series of squares I+4+9 + 1^ + 35+» &-c* or
l* + 2^+3,+4^+5^ + ll&;c.• • , • *
The general term of this senes being v*, we put it
under this form, up+x)—ti; hence we get by sub¬
stituting 1, 2, 3, &c. for v,
i*=i • 2—1,
22=2 * 3—2,
3*=3 * 4—3>
42=4 * 5—4»
n
«p + 1)—n.
Therefore adding, we find
iS + 2, + 32 + 4* +n*
■4 ‘ 5'
L + 2+3+4•*• +”)•
1 -t-2 -f 3 "T4 T"
__S1‘ 2+2* 3 + 3 *4+4 - 5 ••• +«(«+!)
~l-(i
* For example, let the quantities le o, a, h, c, d, then it is manifest that («*—o) + \h~
((/—c)z=d.
+ P-+) +
Series.
S E
•ie=\ But 1)v the general theorem (9.)
1 • 2-f-2 • 3-}-3'4 ' * * ~hn
and, j+ 2 + 3+4-••
therefore 114. 22+314.4* • • • 4. «2
_ n (»-4-i) («+2) ft (n + i)
3 2
 n ("2 ?z + i)
6 •
We might have arrived at the same conclusion by
considering that since v\ the general term of the series,
is equivalent to v (r+i)—w, the series must be the dif-
terence between two others, one having t>(,y4-0 und
the other v for its general term ; for the sake of perspi¬
cuity, however, we have put down the terms of all the
three series.
Pros. IV. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms
of the series
13 + 23 + 3S+43 +J3
The general term in this case is v* 5 now to transform
this function, so as to deduce the sum of the series from
the genera! theorem, we assume
v*=v(v+i) (t’+ 2) +At; 0 + 04-Br;,
where A and If denote quantities which are to have
such values as shall render the two sides of the equation
identical whatever be the value of v ; taking now the
product of the factors, we have
r3=^3+(A+3) ^+ (A + B + 2)
Therefore, by the theory of indeterminate coefficients,
(Algebra, § 261.)
s E R
Corollary. We have found (Prob. I.) that
1+2+3+4 ••+b=^±l|,
therefore, comparing this with the result just now ob¬
tained, it is evident that
C1+2 + 3 + 4 " ' +«),= l3 + 23 + 3 3 4, 43- • • 4_W3.
this is a very curious and elegant property of numbers.
(11.) It is manifest that by the mode of proceeding
employed in last problem we may investigate the sum of
n terms of the series
1”t+2m + 3”’+4M+, &c.
m being any whole positive number whatever : and in¬
deed in the very same way we may find the sum of any
number of terms of a series, whose general term is
0 +&i’ + ci;2+c/i;34-7 &c*
where a and b, &c. denote given numbers ; namelv, by
transforming it into the function of the form
A + Br+Ci; (t; + i) +Di; (t’+l) (y+2)+, &c.
where A, B, and C, &c. denote constant quantities.
Our limits, however, will not allow us to go into par¬
ticulars. r
(12.) The next class of series we shall consider, com- -
prebends such as may be formed by the successive sub¬
stitution of c, a+i, *4-2, &c. (a being put for any
given quantity whatever) in the series of functions
1 1 1
^+I)+(t; + i)(p+2)’^+1)(iq^)^+Jy &c- •
We shall begin with the first of these.
Prob. V. It is proposed to find the sum of n terms
of the series
R C 175 ]
__«0+l) («+2)
A+3=o, A+B4-2=o:
Hence we find A=—3, B=—A—2=1 5 thus it ap¬
pears that v being any number whatever,
C—V (t’4-l) (t’+ 2)—31; (y+l) 4-t;.
Now, let S denote the sum of n terms of the series
under consideration, which has i>3 for its general term,
and put P, Q, R for the like sums of the three series,
whose general terms are the functions v (t’ + i) (^+2),
"CM-1) and v respectively 5 then, it is evident that
r>—1—3Q4.R. By the theorem (9.)
P- ” C^+i) (n+2) (n + q)
n- ” (”+0 («+2)
3 ’
R—- n Ci7 + 1)
2 ’
therefore, S= n CM1) (M2) (MO
4
—^ (Ml) (M2)+^L±I-),
and by proper reduction, S, or
i*+2M33 + 43 * ’ *
4
“(« + 0+(«+x) (« + 2) + (a + 2)_(^4^)+’&C*
which is formed by substituting a, c+i, 04-2, &c.
successively for v in the general term ^ .
ti(i;4-i)*
Whatever be the value of v, we have
 1 _ 1 1
M+i)- v v-\-1 ’
therefore, proceeding as in the foregoing problems, we
1 _ 1 1
a (o-j-i) (i a +1’
 1 —__i_ 1
(a+i) (0:4-2) 1 a4-2’
I l I
(a+2) (M3)~«+2~M3’
 l   1 i_
(c+«—2) (« + u—1) a-j-n—2 a-f-n—i’ ’
 x   i_ 1
(“ + « 1) (« + «)“ G+« 1 tl-j-U
Here it is evident that the terms of the series to be
summed
Series.
S E R [ J76 ] S E R
summed are the differe.ces betuixt every two adjoining + + („+2)(o-+7) ' ‘ '
terms of this other senes. u^-r v t .
+
Scries,
£ , 1  
a+3
1 :+: 1
+
(fl+w)C0+w"t"7
^ L0Ca+I
E)}-
) (a-J-»)Ca+w +
(icjO Fr°m these tw0 Part,cular cases ^ eaSy t° SeC
how we may sum the series when the general term is
y ■!?(?; +00+20 • • • 0+^’
p being any whole number whatever: for since
P _ i,
SV/ LTfit’ffliffetce'betren'the two STrSer'en'ce5Utweet the ~ terms of the
extreme terms of the latter j that is iatte »
! I 1 
(^+7)0+^) * * ‘ + (a+n-00+«)
_ i x
a
If we suppose the series to be continued ad infinitum,
then, as « will be indefinitely great, and—indefi¬
nitely small, the sum will be simply or in other     
_ . . i’O+p) v ^,+^,
. words, the fraotion-is a limit to the sum of the sene . mnltiplying the denominators by all the fao-
„ , , f tors which are intermediate between v and v+p,
Pros VI. Let it be required to find the sum of rc
n’.i • „ we have
terms of this series.
I .   J-
7o+i)(«+2) ^ Ca+0(a+2X*+3)
  l   +, &c*
(a+2)(a+3)(o+4)
the general term in this case berng t,(t,+ l)(n+2)-
Recause ^ '=   l-r-, therefore, multiplying Nqw the ]atter 9ide of thIg equation in a general expres-
v(v-{-2) v v-\-2 ^ t|ie difference between any two adjacent terms
, we have of a series whose general term is
20 +I) ^ j. i \ i ^
“0+I)0'+7)~ ^0+0"“o+ 0O+2)y ’ fO+OO+2) ••• o+f—o
11 Ixr aiiRtslitntinff a a+l, o+2, &c. succes- therefore the difference between the first and last terms
and hence, by substituting , 0f this series must be the sum of the senes whose gene¬
ral term is the function on the other side of the equa-
<>0 + IXt; + 2) ' • * O+iO
l
^O+1)C<;+ 2) • • • C^+i^—
sively for v,
i
0(0 + 00+2)
I
- 4 x-
- ^(.0(0+1
(a+x)0+2)0+3)
  £  i.
(0+2) 0+3) J
1
(a+l) 0+l)0+ 2)
= Jt(a+OC“+^ —
}•
tion, viz.
0 +2)0+3) 0+4)
 l l
0+3) 0+4) J
= ’}
(a4-2)0 + 3)
00+00+2) • • • O+i5)’
Hence we have the following very general theorem.
Theorem. Let a denote any number whatever, and
let I, 2, 3, • • . p &? « series of numbers, each of which
exceeds that before it by unity ; the sum of n terms of a
series form cd by substituting the numbers a, a-f-i,a-h 2>
&c. to a+n—1 successively for v in the function
(a-{-n—i)0+w)0+w+0 is equal to
—(a+rc—1)0+«)O + OO+^+01 *
Hence it appears that the terras of the series to he sum- p
jned are the halves of the differences of the terms of the
series
u(i; + 1)O + 2) . . ‘O+p)
o(a + i)0 + 2) • • • O+i?—x)
p / \  
L o+”)0+w+I)0+”+2X*‘■
-|-(o+72+P"-"^ )
Corollary.
S E R
es. Corollary. The same series continued ad injini-
—turn is equal to
[ 177 ]
SEE
P «0+0 0 + 2)”-(a-|-p—1)‘
(14.) We shall now give a few examples of the ap~
plication of this theorem.
(*>+I)(t,+2)=A(i>_|_2)(t;+3)+B(t;+3)+C,
and by multiplying get
^+3 v+2=Au*+(5 A+B)r+(6A+3 B+C) i
therefore, that v may be indeterminate, we must make
A=i, 5 A+B=3, 6 A4.3 B+.C=2,
from which equations we get A— 1, 6=3 j A — 2,
Example 1. Enquired the sum of n terms of the series 2—^ ^—3 B—2» 80 that
+2)0+3)—2(^-|-3)4.2
2-3-4-5+3-4,5*6+4*5'6*7
+, &c.
^0+3) t,0+i)0+2)0+3)~
_ 1  2 
VO+1) v0+l)0+2)
The terms of this series are evidently produced by the
successive substitution of the numbers 2, q, 4, c, &c.
tor v m the tunction
+ 1  
  1   *>0+00+2)0+3)
*>0+00+2)0+3)’ Thus it appears that the proposed series is resolvable
therefore, comparing this expression with the general ^n.t? three others, the general terms of which all agree
formula, we have «=2, ^=3, and the sum required Wl*“ “ie theorem. Now the sum of the infinite series
C I i whose general term is —i—appears by the theorem
} l 2 • 3 • 4 (2+«)(3 + «)(4-j^) ^ ^ ;
Ex. 2. Required the sum of the series
+   > +, &c. serIes whose Seneral term *s 77Zrr7S7—i—v Is in hke
10 • 13 • i6~ *>0+I)0+2)
manner found to be —^- + -—___ j and lastly, the in
2
to be i, or 1, because am, and the sum of the infinite
—2
• -<C -L X ^ ^
18 V i* 2-oo’ therefore, collecting these into one,
the sum of the proposed series is i—-+lrr—, the
2 1 9 18
answer.
Ex. 4. Required the sum of the infinite series
1 2 3 . 4
2-3-4^3-4-5 + 4-5-6-l>6.7
+, &c.
—— + j 
1‘4* 7 4* 7•10 7 • 10•13
continued ad infinitum.
By a little attention it will appear that its terms are
produced by the substitution of the numbers if, Hnite series whose general term Is  
2t, occ. successively for v in the function *>(*>+0 (*>+2)(t'+3)
X x *2 I __ 1 
3*>(3*>+3)(3*> + 6)~ 27r(r; + i)(t;+2) 5
In this case then «=+, 79=2, therefore the sum is
2 274x14 24
(15*) When the function from which the series is
derived has not the very form required in the theorem,
it may be brought to that form by employing suitable
transformations, as in the two following examples.
Ex. 3. It is proposed to find the sum of the series
L5+ib+?6+^+’&c-
continued ad infnitum.
This series is evidently formed by the substitution of
e numbers 1, 2, 3, &c. successively for v in the func-
tl0n rift;4,3V expression, however, does not in ^1US ^ aPPears ^at the proposed series is reducible to
its nreseni fm-m 1 , two otliers> one having its terras produced by the sub-
us present torm agree wrth the genera! formuk, because „ . 1
e tactors v+ij ^4.2 are wanting j therefore to trans- stltutl0n 0* 2, 3, &c. for v in the function . —,
(u+O (T+TjfanVi? become,'” and den0mi'“,t<,r ^ a"<1 a like substitution in the fnnttion
(t;+i) C^+2) 1^1;+1) (^+ 2)* NoW» our theorem> the sum of
*>(*>+1) C^+2) (^ + 3) ’
we next assume its numerator
Vol. XIX. Part L
The terms of this series are evidently formed by the
substitution of the numbers 2, 3> 4> successively in the
function
*>C*>+1) (*>+2)‘
Now v—i=:r;+2—35 therefore,
v—1   1 3
*>(*> +1)C*> + 2) ti(t’ + l) ti(ti+l)(t?+2) ’
thus it appears that the proposed series is reducible to
the first of these is —, and that of the second is —-
2 2
z —
2* 3
Series.
S E H
[ i78 ]
Series. JL_— __ I therefore the sum of the proposed series is
—Y—' 2.3 4’
i i
From these examples it is sufficiently evident how the
theorem is to be applied in other cases; and tt appea
also that by means of it we can sum any series whatever
whose general term is of the form
A B  C +
^77+<)+<I'H0
&c.
or admits of being reduced to that form.
(16.) It deserves to be remarked that the series
i+i+i-4+i+, &c.
123 4 5
“h1
SEE
1
+
;* “ +
Serici.
1 12 4*2 * a'\~n 1
will be greater than the other series
“+0(I+7)+o(I+s)’+‘,(I+^
“(I+^)
Now this last being evidently a geometrical series*
1
of which the common ratio is _ ,1, its sum is
i+-
I+'
(‘+r’
which is of a very simple form, and in appearance of the
c„me nature as those we have summed, does not now- tjjerefore the sum of the series
ever admit of being treated in the same manner; and T ,
indeed if it be continued ad infinitum, its sum is mb-  j j . .   
nite, that is, it exceeds any number which can be as. a a+l a+2 a+3 “+« 1
signed. The truth of this assertion will be evident it ^ alwajrg be greater than tins expression j but it we-
bearing with any proplled^rCcan ahvays be found, suppose n so great that the quantity (I +i) is equal
the sum of which shall exceed ^’assigning to or exceeds a, which is evidently always possible, then
being the case, as - ;“g”n"c"e be S’eXe exprossion for the sun/of theVometrical se-
8a“Cffiere arl unl’tsTn any proposed nuuLr however ries will he equal to or will exceed I; therefore, the
great’, and therefore their sum, and much more tie number of terms of the series -f - -—h
sum of all the terms of the series from its beginning to a «+ I
the end of the last sets of terms, wil exceec , _ 1 l—  {-, &c. will always exceed I j now this
her. Now that this can always be done may be proved a+2-t-a+31-’ J
as follows : is tiie property of the series we proposed to demonstrate.
Lot the term of the series from which we are to ^ tllBn but
reckon be -, then if the thing be possible, and if n be
a
the requisite number of terms, we must have
When 0=^1+^) , then a2 = c (j+^j >
this quantity is greater than o-j-w--•! the denominator
of the last term of the series
a, 72-—i
'i.
7i‘ a 1 ~a 4~2~c 4" 3
Now because
°(i+s) =°+2+?
‘‘(I+^) =“+3+a+'?’
and in general,
‘■(1+dP=a+r+P-ini1 la+’ &c‘
therefore, being any whole number,
and consequently
hence it follows that tlie series
+
a"1"fl!_j_i'ra4-2^ <24-3 04-/2—1 *
the sum of which, we have proved, will upon that hy¬
pothesis exceed unity *, much more then will the sum
exceed unity if we suppose the series continued until
the denominator of its last term be equal to, or greater
than a*. '
Hence, beginning with the term it appears that
*+*-+7i=?^1’
TTB' +-5T
676=26*'
WTT + ^T • ’ * +
&C.
Although the sum of the series we have been consider¬
ing is infinite, yet it evidently increases very slowly ?
indeed it is a limit to all such as have a finite sum j for
s E R
every infinite series, the terms of which decrease faster
than the reciprocals of an arithmetical progression, is al¬
ways finite.
(17.) We have already explained what is meant by a
recurring scries, (2.) we shall now treat briefly, first, of
their origin, next of the way in which they may he
summed, and lastly, of the manner of determining the
general term of any particular series.
The series which is produced hy the developement of
a rational algebraic fraction has always the property
which constitutes the characteristic of’ the class called
Recurring, (2.) and on the other hand, any series hav¬
ing that property being proposed, an algebraic fraction
may be found by the expansion of which the series shall
be produced.
The fraction —ifor example, by dividing the
[ 179 3
S E R
or place ; and as whatever number of terms is contained
in the scale, the manner ot summing the series is the
same, we shall in what follows, for the sake of brevity,
suppose that it consists of three, in which case it may be
expressed thus,
/lT(n-1) ^T(n— J ) rT(n) Z= O,
where 7?, y, r denote certain given quantities.
The scale of relation affords the following series of
equations,
/> T( 1)-f-<yT (z)-f-rT (3)=O,
7?T(2)-f-yT(3)-f-rT(4)=:o,
j)Tt 3 )-\-qii(A) -f-rT( s )—o,
I X X
numerator by the denominator is converted into the infi¬
nite series
1+3-r+4** + 7*3+IIA'4+I8*s-f., &c.
which is of such a nature that if T, T', T", denote any
ther is expressed by the equation
T"=T*s.fT'*.
. If we employ algebraic division to convert the frac¬
tion into a series, the law of its terms will not appear
so readily as if we use the method of indeterminate co¬
efficients. By this method we assume the fraction
~A-j-BAr-|-CA;*-j-I).r3-f-EA^, -j- &c.
and hence, multiplying by the denominator, and bring¬
ing all the terms to one side, as explained in Algebra,
§ 201, we have
A-fBT -fCT -f-DT
—1—A j .r—B V a’—C &c. =0,
and hence,
A—r=0. C—B—A=0,
y>T('«—z)_j-^T(>i—i)-j_rT(n)=o.
Taking now the sum of these equations, we get
x T( r)-f T( 2,T( 3) • • • + T(n-2 0-)
+9'(T(2)-j-T(3)-f-T(4v -f T<»-*)) L =o.
+?'(T<3)4-T(4)-fT(s)**' +T(»)) J
Rut, putting a for the sum of n terms of the series, this
enuafmn muxr   i »
.1 rr. " V 7’ ’ ’ ucuuie any , * 0   ^ ui uit
three 01 its succeeding terms, their relation to one ano- equation may manifestly be expressed thus
ther is exnressed hv thp pnnai.’nr. J ^ l,JUS»
yi(5__Tw—T(»—,))
—Tw —T(»_,))')
+9,('y—T(i)—Tm) >-=o.
—T(i,—T(2)) J
Hence, after reduction, we find szzz
^(T(n-i)-}-T w + 9(TtT)-|-T(*)).f rfTfii + Tfz^
P ‘~+q + r
From which it appears that in this case the sum de¬
pends only on the two first and the two last terms of
the series.
* . ExamPle- It is proposed to find from this formula
the sum of n terms of the series
B—A—2=0,
D—C—B=o,
&c.
From these equations it appears that the law of the se¬
nes is such as we have assigned.
The equation expressing the relation which subsists
among ascertain number of succeeding terms of a recur¬
ring series, is called its scale of Relation. The same
name is also sometimes given to the equation expressing
the connection of the coefficients of the terms. Thus
the scale of relation of the foregoing series is either
I+2a.’X3-r’+4*3 + 5*4+, &c.
its scale of relation being
X11 '(«—*) 2#T(n—Ij-J-Tl-I) =0.
Here p x , 2s?, r—\, therefore, observing that
the last two terms of the series must be {n ifs;”-*
and nx"-r, we have, after substituting and reducing,
 t—(«-f-i).r”4-wa?wfI
1—2a?-J-A?*
T"=TA?-f-T'**,
where T, T', and T" denote any three succeeding terms
ot the series, or it is ,
R—F+Q,
where P Q and B denote their numeral coefficients.
fio.J Y\ e come next to shew how the sum of any pro-
fonnlt nTberuof te.rms of a recurring series may be
ouna. L,et the senes continued to n terms be
Ttu-fTizj-j-Tts) -}-T(n-2)-f-T(—i)+T(»),
^ere the characters T(„, Tf2), &c. denote the succes-
terms, and the numbers (1), (2), &c. their order
This formula will not apply in the case of x-=z\ be¬
cause then the numerator and denominator are each ~o*
but in such cases as this we may find the value of the
function which expresses the sum by what is delivered
at § 90, Fluxions.
(19.) The process by which tve have determined the
value of n terms ot the series T(.)-f T<2)-i_T(3)-L &c
will also apply to the finding the rational fraction’from
winch the series may be deduced, which is also the sum
ot the series continued ad infinitum. For in this case
the equation from which we have deduced the sum
being
7l(T(i)-|-T(i)-J-T(3)-|-, &c.)
+ 7(T(»)-f-l(3)-|-T(4)-f-, §j.c
+r(T(3)-fT(4)-fTf5)-L &c
Z 2
0?
0 f —O.
OJ
that
s E R [ l8s ]
Cai'ipC l-5 J
—V ’ ps +^s—Tt, 0 4-rO—T<. J—T( 2 0=°,
we have
(ff+ryTtn-f-rTu)
S~ P+‘2+r
For example, let it be required to find the fraction,
which being developed produces the series
+ &c.
the scale of relation of which is
«*T(n- 2) 2*T (n_l) -|-T(») + O.
Here p=x\ q=z—2X, r=l, Tt*)=i, T(*)=2*; there-
fore, substituting in tlie formula, we get
S E R
_Z_=P+P^«+P/a;3-{-, &c.
I—px
3-=Q+Q^ + Q^3+, &C.
I—qx
. a-\-bx   F , Q
therefore, since ^px^ i—qx'
Series.
it fol-
#» t t* j.* o>"^~bx
lows that the developement of the fraction
which proceeds according to the powers of is
(P+Q)Pi»+Q^) w+CP^+Q?1)*2
-J-(P/j34-Q^3) «*+, &c.
(i—«)'
And here it is evident that the general term is (P/1
+Q?"-1)x
Let us take as a particular example the fraction
-, which when expanded into a series, be-
i—x—2X
comes
l—2X-\-XX
for the fraction required, or for the sum of the series
continued ad infinitum. . r tl ,, __
(20'). We come now to the last branch of the theory
of recurring series which we proposed to consider, name¬
ly, how to find in any case the general term. and x—^ly so that \—2X ana r -f* ^
We shall begin with the most simple, and suppose the function that is, i—2** = (i + *)
fraction to be
A—7** ..    ^ - -- . - .
ries by division, is Q?-1) «n-1 becomes by substituting
a+apx+apxx'+aI)W+, Szc. _{--2n-1T x1-1 =-—p^xn-r,
13 3 J ^
where the sign -f is to be taken when « is an odd num
her •, but the sign — when « is even. _
Sometimes the values of> and q will come out ima-
1 _|-ox -f- 2x'1 -f 2*3+6 a;4 + 1 oa:*
-{-22Ac-f-42A:7-}-86A;*-j-, &c.
Here, from the equation 1—x—2a;*=zo, we get x— *
and X— I, so that 1—2X and 1+a? are divisors ot the
function I—x—2X*, that is, 1 a:- 2x C1
a which being expounded into a se- (1—2k) j hence ^—1, f=2, and since
which bei g p therefore P= 4, Q=i, and the general term (Pp +
here it is immediately manifest that the general term is
v«—1.
^ . „ . . , a+bx
Next let us suppose the fraction to be — gr2*     x - „ „ , ,
i l—*X ginary quantities ; these, however, will be found always
Let the two roots of the quadratic equation i—ctx—isx ^ aestroy one another when substituted in the general
_n iie * — I so that i—px—o, and 1—^a? term. , . . ... ,
—0 De p' q' Let us next suppose the fraction which produces a
—o •, therefore, I—xx—fix*~ (1—px~) (1 qx'), thus, recurr;ng series to be
we have
a-^-bx   a^-bx 
1 —etx—ftx*~~ (l—pxXl—qx)'
Let us assume this expression equal to
p , Q_
1—px' i—qx’
where P and Q denote quantities which are to be inde¬
pendent of x, then, reducing to a common denominator,
we have
a + bx P+Q—(qP+qQ)x
(J—IjX)(l—qx)~ (l—px)(l—~qx)
Hence, that * may remain indeterminate, we must
make
P-f-Q=o, qP+pQ=—b,
and from these equations we get
ap+b
— p—q ’ p—
Now, by the operation of division, we find
3.
aJf.hx^cx*
I—as a;—fix*—yA:5*
Let a: =-,# = —, # rr — be the three roots of the
p q r
cubic equation I—tcx—/3a:*—yx3=0, then the deno¬
minator of the fraction will be the product oi the three
factors
I—px, 1—qx, 1—rx.
We must now assume the fraction equal to the expres¬
sion
Q
R
I—pX * I—qx"^ 1—rx
in which P, Q, R denote quantities which are inde¬
pendent of x.
The three terms of this expression are next to be re¬
duced to a common denominator and collected into one,
and the coefficients of the powers of at in the numerator
of the result are to be put equal to the like powers of#
in the proposed fraction, we shall then have
P +.
S E R [ i
P+Q+R=«,
(^-f.r)P + (^+r)Q + (p4.?)R=—
5< r P-f-jJ r Q+/> g-R=t>,
and by these equations the values of P, Q, R, may be
found.
Let
Q
R
be now resolved into se-
l—px i—qx i—rx
ries by division; then, adding the like powers of x in
each, we have
(P+Q+R)+(Pp+Qy+Rr>+(Pp*+Q?»
-f-Rr3)** + , &.c.
for the series which is the developement of the fraction
ae “1“ ^ —f-c
l—x x—/3 a'3—y x* ’
and here the general term is evidently
(Py-i+Qg"—'-fR^-1)*"-1 3
and in the very same manner may the general term be
found in every case in which the denominator of the
fraction admits of being resolved into unequal factors.
(21.) Let us now suppose the fraction to have the
. a-\-bx ...
*0rm (i px}*' 116 “enorninator being the product of
two equal factors ; this fraction cannot be decomposed
into other fractions, the denominators of which are the
simple factors of its denominator. We may, however,
transform it into two, which shall have their numerators
constant quantities by proceeding as follows : Assume
the numerator a + 6.r=:P-f-Q (i—p.r), then, that x
may remain indeterminate, we must have P+Q=0,
—p Q=6, therefore
Q= , P=c-|—.
P P
The assumption of a-|-^a?=:P-|-Q (i—px') gives us
therefore
Si ] S E R
(22.) In general, whatever be the form of the frac¬
tion from which a recurring series is derived, to deter¬
mine the general term we must decompose the fraction
into others which may be as simple as possible 3 and pro¬
vided it be rational, and the highest power of x in the
numerator at least one degree less than the highest
power in the denominator, it may be always decomposed
into others having one or other of these two forms
P Q
a-\-b x
Q
(1—p*)* (1 px)*' I—px'
Now, putting the first term of the latter side of this
equation under the form P(i—px)—*, it is resolved
by the binomial theorem into the series
P(l+2pa?-|-3p* x1 -j-4/?3 &c.) 3
the other fraction ^   being expanded into a series
is
Q+Q/^+Q/’* **+> &c.
Therefore, the complete developement of - x . is
(1—;>*)*
P+Q+(2P+Q)Jp*+(3P+Q)Jp*^*+, &c.
and here the general term is manifestly
(rcP-fQ)^—!  * *■ ”
values,
1—-p x' (1—qx)n'
in which expressions P, Q, p, and g, denote quantities
independent of x. Each partial fraction gives a recur¬
ring series, the general term of which will be sufficient¬
ly obvious 3 and as the series belonging to the original
fraction, is the sum ol these senes, so also its general
term will be the sum of all their general terms.
We have now treated of some of the more general
methods of summing series which admit of being ex¬
plained by the common principles of algebra; but the
subject is of great extent, and to treat of it so as to give
a tolerable notion of its various branches, would require
more room than could with propriety be spared in such
a work as ours.
(23.) The fluxionary calculus affords a method, al¬
most the only general one we possess, of summing series.
The general principles upon which it is applied may
be stated briefly as follows. Since the fluent of any
fluxion containing one variable quantity may always be
expressed by a series, on the contrary every series may
be regarded as the expression of a fluent : when any
series then is proposed, we must endeavour to find the
fluxional expression of which that series is the fluent 3
and as we can always find the fluent of a fluxion, at
least by approximation, within given limits 3 we may
thence determine, if not the exact, at least the approxi¬
mate value of any infinite series. We shall now shew how
this principle may be applied in some particular cases.
Problem I. It is proposed to find the sum of n
terms of the series
2a?* + 3 a?3-f4a:4 * • • • -^nx*.
Let the sum be denoted by s. Then, multiplying all
the terms by — we have
x
—= x+lxx+Sx'x+^xPx • • • -J-rca;"-1#
Let the fluent of both sides be now taken, and the
result is
/S X
Now the series on the right-hand side of this equa¬
tion is a geometrical progression, the sum of which is >
x—a;”+,
„_i y x Xn*x
x"-1, or, substituting for P and Q their known to be ——, (Algebra, $ 106.). Therefore
SEE,
Scries, and, taking the fluxions,
s x_x—(« + i)xn.v nx^x
(i—xy
[ 182 ]
SEE.
. X
Series.
Hence rve find
c—(n -±.i')xn+I +nxn+*
— log. (1—
Tins result agrees with that formerly found (17.) of
this article.
Problem II. It is proposed to sum the infinite series
1 1 1 1 1
l—~ + 5 “7 + 9'
XI
+ , &c.
We may consider this series as a particular case of the
moi’e general series,
357
namely, that in which «—I. Putting, therefore, the
sum =s, and taking the fluxions, we have
s=«(i—^6+, &c.)
Now the series in the parenthesis is obviously the de-
velopement of the rational fraction , ? therefore,
‘ 1—x
and taking the fluents,
S—V—log. (1—x') -J~ c
: _IQg- (I—*)
X
To determine the constant quantity c, let us take
o, then, in this case all the terms of the series va¬
nish so that s=o, also log. (1—x)=:log. 1=0 } and
i log. (x—»)  1 / x* x%
since in general     —\—x 2 3
 } 1 —  — —, &c. when .v—o, tlten
—1 : therefore o = —1 +cj an^ C=I >
x
hence it appears that
s_log(l—*) _ , (I_^) + ,
x
(1—x) log. (I x)
+ !•
Example. Let .v=-f, then our formula gives
1 • 2 • 2^" 2 •3*2I"r3-4.23’1 4‘5
,-f-, &c.
s= -JL , and taking the fluent s — arc (tan. =«) _l—Nap. log. 2 3068528.
1 Problem IV. Let the series to be summed be
4-c, radius being unity. (Fluxions, § 60.). Now
when x—o, all the terms of the series vanish, so that in  &c.
this case 5=0 j and as when x=o, arc. (tan. =:A;)=ro j n « + i «+ 2
therefore c, the constant quantity added to complete the puttjng s for series, let all its terms be multiplied
fluent is o, and we have simply s—arc. (tan. —#), and ^n_1 go tjiat t|)e exp0nent of x in each may be iden-
when x~ I, then .9=4- a quadiant .7 539 2‘ tical with its denominator, the result is
Problem III. Required the sum of the infinite series 1 &c.
3 ‘ n-\-2
&c’ and hence taking the fluxions
Putting s for the sum, and taking the fluxions, we get i w"-1 +(«—1) sw »n_1 = (n—1) « xn~2+mx x”-1
+—+—+, &c.). -f (w+l>«n+(^+2)^«n+I+» &c‘
^ ^ 2 3 4 5 Let both sideg of thIg eqUation be now multiplied by
Now the series in the parenthesis is evidently equal to xm-n^ anci it becomes
_*-Nap. log. (I-*), (see Logarithms, page 76. ->=(„_,) ;*-» +,»» —
column I.) j therefore * * + («—1 )sxx - \ ^
+ (w + x).va;m+ (ot+2)w»’+t + ,&c.
f 5- X Nap. log. (I—*)• Putting now the single character^ for the fluxional ex-
v x x% pression which forms the first member of this equation,
To find the fluent, let us put v for the function ive get by taking the fluents of both sides,
I i0g. (i—x), then, taking its fluxion, we have
x °
v=- JT X log. (I-*)-
* • X
and — p X log. (I—«) + *Cl_:7p
therefore, substituting, tve get
• • x x
s—u-j :   
-*m-1 +*m-F*m+I ^-x^-y, &c.
pz=
m—_ , .
but the series in the parenthesis is the developemeni of
—E therefore
i—x
P-
n—i
m—i*
xn
I X
a;(i—*)
4
x
taking
E K
*es' taking now the fluxions, and substituting instead ofp the
’ expression it was put to represent, we get
sx™-1 —i)sxxm~2
[ 183 ]
S E R
m x .vr
X X
~(n—4  
' 1—•x ^ (i—a-)*’
and this, after reduction, becomes
(«—i)x , mx xx
4 4 ,
I—X ‘ (l A?)*
«9
~SX =
value of one or moi’e terms by means of others which
are given, and which may be either at equal or unequal l-
intervals from one another, the. places of the given terms
as well as of those sought being supposed known.
It is easy to see that this problem may be applied to
the construction of logarithmic tables ; for we may re¬
gard the logarithms of the natural numbers 1, 2, 3, 4,
&c. ad infinitum as the terms of a particular series, of
which the numbers themselves are then the indices.
Having given the logarithms of some numbers, we may
by interpolating deduce from them the logarithms of
others.
Again, in astronomy we may consider the numbers
which express the successive observed positions of a ce-
—. 1  ivi. v”-2 , mxxn~l t x xn \ Ipstial body as the terms of a series, their indices being
a?"-1 ^ i. v 1 X j_ x ‘ fi ’* the intervals of time between the observations, and some
assumed epoch, and the problem rve are considering will
enable us to determine the position at any instant dif¬
ferent from the times of actual observation, provided the
intervals between the observations be small, and the in¬
stant for which the position is sought not very remote
from those at which the observations rvere made.
(25.) With a view to illustrate the nature of the
problem to be resolved, let us consider some particular
case, as for example the arithmetical series
This fluxional equation being of the first degree, and
first order, its primitive equation may be found (from
the general formula given in Fluxions, § 182.) to be
1
(1—*)
and this again, by remarking th’a.tf'fi—r \y*w~ *—v"*-11
and that
f-
m xx
i—x n{\—a)
may be reduced to
xn f
 Z
n{\—at)*’
s—\.
m x . n—m xnx
[ i —x) n xn~ J 7x—XY
n(i—x) ' nxn-'J (1—x)5
The remaining fluent/i^—^ may be found by § 109.
Fluxions, and it must be so taken, that after being
multiplied by it shall vanish when x=o j for
then this hypothesis will make the whole function which
expresses the value of s vanish, except its first term 1
as it ought to do.
Example. Let us suppose n~2, then
r xix
and
(7, a-i[-2d, c-f-3 J, &c.
Let t and ^ be two given terms of the series, which
are at any distance from one another, and let n and n'
be their indices, or numbers which denote their places
in the series. Also let y be any term whatever, and x
its index. Then by the nature of an arithmetical series,
t=a+(n—i)d,
y—a-\- {x— 1) d.
Now, as there are here three equations, each involving
the quantities a and d, we may eliminate both these
quantities by the common rules (Algebra, Sect. VII.
and this being done, we get
(x—n') (y—t') j
and hence we find this expression,
2—to p x* x  (2—m)x
2x */(i—xy~ 2(1—x).
2 TO
X TV
y——■/+
J n—n! r
the fluent being here taken as directed. In this case
then, after collecting the terms, we get 5, or
to
14-- x-
2
m-j-i to 4-2 ,
 ~x +-~-x3+, &c.
(2-TO)
X
log. (1—x).
which is a general formula for interpolating any arith¬
metical series, and it is observable, that it is entirely in¬
dependent both of the first term and common difference.
Example. Ihe 7th term of an arithmetical series is
15, and the 12th term is 25: It is required to find the
10th term.
Here »=7, n'zzi2, x—\o 5
t=:lSi 25> V is sought.
Therefore by the formula,
15+g X 25=21, the answer.
(26.) The mode of investigation by which we have
found a formula for the interpolation of an arithmetical
shall he e , ; J jaw, or wmcn series will apply also to others, if the law accordino- fr»
of lie 1'-'an;t,”a”ner/a!he.0ri«!naIte™3 ^hich .he terms are formed ’be kiown . L oS
, or m other words, it is to find the however, the law of a series to he interpolated is either
not
. (24-) There is a branch of the doctrine of series which
is of considerable importance in pure mathematics as
well as in many physical inquiries, and in the science
ot astronomy ; it is called the Interpolation of series.
1° interpolate a series is to interpose among its terms
others which shall be subject to the same law, or which
Series.
Senes.
SEE. t l8+ ] ® ^ ® , . .. ,
. , , nmnt;t;»s. and this is in substance the solution onginal-
not known, or it is not taken into acc°"n£. a"d m J ;wn 0f lhe problem by Sir Isaac Newton, who pro-
' only consider the absolute magnU"^ ‘"jJ. ^osged it in the third book of his Princpm with a view
only consuiei me    . ,
and the numbers expressing their places in the sene .
To resolve the problem generally with these data, i
Plate usual to proceed as follows : Let a straight line, A ,
cccclxxviu. and a point A in it, be assumed as given Pos^»
and let there be taken the segments AD, AD , ajj ,
AD"' &c. proportional to the numbers denoting ie
places of the terms of a series reckoned from any term
assumed as a fixed origin, and at the points D, D ^ ’
let there be erected perpendiculars proportional to the
terms themselves. Let us now suppose a curve to pass
through C, C', C", C'", &c. then, if it be so chosen
that fts curvature may vary gradually in its progress
from point to point, without any very abrupt changes
of inflection, and moreover, if the terms (which we may
suppose to be either at equal or unequal distances) are
pretty near to one another, it is easy to conceive, tha
if 4P be taken equal to the number expressing the
place of a term between C"D", C"'D"' any two others,
the term itself will, if not exactly, at least be nearly
expressed by PQ, the ordinate to the curve.
As an infinite variety of curves may be found that
shall pass through the same given points ; in this respec
the problem is unlimited *, it is, however, convenient to
assume such as are simple and tractable. The parabolic
class possess these properties, and accordingly they are
commonly employed. . 0 m p'TV C"D"
Let us then express the ordinates LD, P D , -U ,
C'/'D"', &c. which are the given terms of the series by
t t' t'1 t,>l &c.
and the abscissa AD.’aD', AD”, AD"', or the mini-
hers denoting the order of the terms, by
n, n\ n", ri", &c.
Iv given oi me inuuidin .
posed it in the third book of his Prmapia with a view
to its application in astronomy. ,
A celebrated foreign mathematician (Lagrange) has
in the Cahiers de PEcole Normale, given a different
form to the expression for y. He has observed t lat
since, when x becomes «, f'.&<=• s"cc““l:e''’
then y becomes t, f, t", &c. It follows that the ea-
pression for y must have this form.
y—et. f+/3 «'+y <"4-^
where the quantities «, 0, y, &c. must be such func¬
tions of *, that if we put*=«, then and
y—o, &c, and if we put x~n', then «=o, /3_i,
v=0, &c. *, and again, if we make xzzn , then «_0,
5=0, y=i, &c. and so on. Hence it is easy to con¬
clude that the values of *, 0, y, &c. must have the
form
_ (*—-»') (-e—n"} (x—n'")
4 («—w') (n—n"') (n—n1"^)
(x—n) (.v—n") (x—ri")
(«'—«) («'—w") (ri—ri")
(a?—n) (x—n1) (x—w)
(«''—n) (»"—ri) (n"—ri")
, &c.
, &c.
, &c.
fa;—ft) (AT—(x—7l"') &c<
d~ (ft'"_») (ft"'—»') (ft"'—ft")’
&c.
and here the number of factors in the numerator and de¬
nominator must be each equal to the number of given
points in the curve. This formula would be found to
be identical with that which may be obtained by the
ft, ft', ft", ri", &cc. method indicated in last article, if we were to take the
v i , f.r PG a term to be ' interpolated, and * for actual product of the factors and arrange the whole ex-
V We Then considering a? and y as indefinite pression according to powers of x. It possesses however
t „r‘Late8 a parlboWurve ,Lt shal/pasu thcougl. L advantage over the other, v,x. that of admitting of
the points C, </, C" C'", &c. will have for its equa- the^ application of logarithms.^ r iL._  
tion
y=A+B x+C ri+T> .r3, &c.
the number of terms on the right-hand side ^eing sup¬
posed equal to that of the given points, and A, L, G,
&.c. being put to denote constant quantities. lo de¬
termine these we must consider that when .v=n, then
y=t, and that when x=ri, then y=P and so on, there¬
fore, substituting the successive corresponding values ot
x and y we get
t — A-4-B ft -f-C +D ft3 +» &c*
t' =A+B ri -J-C ft'* ft'3 -|-, &c»
t" - A+B ft" +C rin +D ft"3 +, &c.
t"'= A+Bft"'-f-Cft"'2 +Dft'"3+, &c.
&c.
this series of equations must he continued until their
number be the same as that of the coefficient, A, B, G,
D &c. If we now consider t, t', t", &c. nnan, n ,n ,
&c. as known, and A, B, C, &c. as unknown quanti¬
ties we may determine these last by eliminating them
one* after another from the above equations, as is taught
in Algebra, Sect. XVII. And the values ot A, Therefore y—
C &c. being thus determined and substituted in the ge¬
neral equation, we shall have a general expression for y
in terms of x the number of denoting its place and known
e application ui ^ i • r ^
We shall now shew the application of this formula.
Ex. I. Having given the logarithms of ioi, 102,
104, and 105, it is required to find the logarithm ot
In this case we may reckon the terms of the series
forward from the first given term, viz. log. 101, so that
we have
t = log. 101 = 2.0043214,
t' = log. 102=2.0086002,
y = log. 103= term sought,
t" = log. 104=2.0170333,
t"'= log. 105=2.0211893,
ft =0,
ft' =x,
X =2,
ft" =3,
ri" =4*
Substituting now in the general formula we get
IX—IX—2 _ T _2XO<—2_
«=
I X —3 x —4 6’
2X—1X—2 __2
3
IX—2X—3
3X2X—1
2XIX—1.
2lf 2t"
+ -r4
6 1 3 ‘ 3
=T(i'+i"WO+^")
=2.0128372 the answer.
4X3X1
6
Ex.
.1
erjes,
Kingapa-
s % n i: i
E.v. 2. Given a comet’s tl [stance from the sun on the
following days at 12 at night, to find its distance De¬
cember 20th.
December 12. distance 301, Dec. 24. distance 715,
21. 629, 26. 772.
Here we shall estimate the places of the terms from
the time of the first position, viz. December 12. There¬
fore
t = 301,
y is sought,
f — 620,
?'= 715,
t'"= 772,
n — 0,
•r = 8,
n' = 9,
tt" =12,
In this case the general formula gives us
as—1 y — - 5 — —
63
45
35
therefore
— * , 64*' 2t" [ 8^
3'~63+45 T+35*
= 5B6.3 the answer.
We shall conclude this article with a brief enumera¬
tion of the best works on the subject which we have
been treating of.
Ars Conjectandi, (Jac. Bernoulli.') Methodus Dif-
ferentialis, (Newton). Methodu s Increment or um, (Tay¬
lor). Method us Dijferentialis, sive Tractatus de Sum-
malione et Interpolutiom Serierum, (Stirling). Institu¬
tion's Calcul. lAijf. (Euler). Emerson's Method of In¬
crements. The differential method, (same author). Mis-
cellanea .dnaiytica, (De Moivre). T'he various writings
of Landen and Simpson. Thtorie des Fonctions Analy-
ticjueS) (Lagrange). Du Calcul des Derivation, (Arbo-
gart). Traitl des differences et des Series, (a sequel
to Lacroix’s work on the Calcul Differential, &c.).
Dr Hutton’s Mathematical and Philosophical Tracts.
An essay on the Theory of the various orders of Lo¬
garithmic Transcendents, with an Inquiry into their
applications to the Integral Calculus, and the Summa¬
tion of Series, by W. Spence, &c. &c.
SERI: vGAPATAM, the capital of Mysore, former¬
ly the dominions of Tippoo Sultan, is situated in an island
of the Cavery river, about 290 or 300 miles from Ma¬
dras, and in N. Lat. I2°32/ and E. Long. 96° 47',
about four miles in length, by one and a half in breadth,
across the middle, where it is likewise highest, whence
Jt gradually tails and narrows towards the extremities.
The west end of the island, on which there is a fort of
considerable strength, slopes more, especially towards
the north ; and the ground rising on the opposite side
of the river commands a distinct view of every part of
the lort. The fort and outworks occupy about a mile
of the west end of the island, and are distinguished by
magnificent buildings, and ancient Hindoo pagodas,
cou: ranted with the more lolly and splendid monuments
lately raised in honour of the Mahometan faith. The
gieat garden, called the Laul Bang, covers about as
much of the east end of the island as the fort and out-
wenk, do of the west; and the whole intermediate space,
except a small inclosure on the north bank near the fort,
Vol. XIX. Part I. f
85 ] SEE
was, before the last war. filled with houses, and formed
an extensive suburb, of which the greatest part was de¬
stroyed by Tippoo to makt room lor baiL lies to de¬
fend the island, when attacked by the combined forces
of Earl Cornwallis and the Mahratta duels in Februa¬
ry 1792. This suburb, or town of modern structure,
is about half a mile square, divided into regular cross
streets, all w ide, and shaded on each side by trees. Jt
is surrounded by a strong mud wall, contains many good
houses, and seems to have been preserved by the Sultan
for the accommodation of merchants, and for the con¬
venience of troops stationed on that part of the inland
for its defence. A little to the eastward of the town
is the entrance to the great garden, which was laid out
in regular shady walks of large cypress trees, and
abounding with fruit-trees, flowers, and vegetables of
every description. It possessed all the beauty and ele¬
gance of a country retirement, and was dignified by the
mausoleum of Hyder, and a superb new palace built by
his son. This noble garden Avas devoted to destruction j
and the trees which had shaded their proud master, and
contributed to his pleasures, were formed into the means
of protecting his enemies in subverting his empire. “ Be¬
fore that event, so glorious to the arms of England, this
insulated metropolis (says Major Dirom) must have
been the richest, most convenient, and beautiful spot
possessed in the present age by any native prince in In¬
dia j but when the allies left it, the Sultan’s fort and
city only remained in repair amidst all the Wrecks of his
former grandeur, the island presenting nothing but the
appearance of wretched barrenness. Tippoo is a man
of talents, enterprise, and great wealth ; hut, in the opi¬
nion of our author, the remaining years of his ill-fated
life will be unequal to renew the beauties of his ter¬
restrial paradise.” Tippoo lost his life in bravely de¬
fending his capital, which was taken by assault in 1799
by the British troops under General Baird. The popu¬
lation of this town in 1800 was estimated at 31,000.
See India, N° 183.
SERINGHAM, an island of Indostan, formed about-
six miles north west of Trinchinopoly by the river Ca¬
very, which divides itself into two branches: that to
the northward takes the name of Coleroon, but the
southern branch preserves its old name the Cavery.
Each of these rivers, after a course of about 90 miles,
empty themselves into the sea , the Coleroon at Devi-
cottah, and the Cavery near Tranquebar, at about 20
miles distance from one anetber. In this island, facing
Trinchinopoly, stood a famous pagoda surrounded by
seven square walls of stone, 25 feet high and four feet
thick. The space between the outward and second
Avails measured 310 feet, and so proportionably of the
rest. Each inclosure had four large gates, Avith a high
tower ; which were placed, one in the middle of each
side of the ineiasure, and opposite to the four cardinal
points. The outAvard Avail Avas about four miles in cir¬
cumference, and its gateway to the south was ornament¬
ed Avitb pillars, some of Avhich Avere single stones 33 feet
in length and five in diameter j Avhile those that formed
the roof Avere still larger; a. d in the inmost inclosure
were the chapels.—About half a mile to th east was
another large pagoda called Jumhikistna, which had
but one inclosure.
The pagoda of Seringham was held in great venera¬
tion, from a belief that it contained the identical image
A a of
Sevingapa-
taiii,
Sf'ringham.
S E R [
Serin ah am of tlie ?otl ’Wistnoa worshipped by Brama •, and pil-
| ‘ rrrims came here from all parts of Ind.a with offerings
Serpens. 0f money to procure absolution. A large pait o tie
'—^ ' revenue of the island was allotted for the maintenance
of the Bramins who inhabited the pagoda ; and these,
with their families, formerly amounted to no fewer than
40,000 persons, all maintained by the superstitious li¬
berality of the adjacent country. _
SERIOLA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
syivenesia, and in the natural system ranged under
tiU 40th order Composite*. See Botany Index.
SERIPHIU M, a genus of plants belonging to the
class syngenesia. See Botany Index.
SERIPHUS, in Ancient Geography, one ot the Cy¬
clades or islands in the vEgean sea, called Saxum ben-
phium by Tacitus, as if all a rock-, one of the usual
places of banishment among the Romans.. I he people,
Seriphii; who, together with the Siphnn, joined Greece
against Xerxes, were almost the only islanders who re¬
fused to give him earth and water in token of submis¬
sion, (Herodotus), Seriphia Ram, a proverbial saying
concerning a person who can neither sing nor say, frogs
in this island being said to be dumb, (Pliny).
SERMON, a discourse delivered in public, tor the
purpose of religious instruction and improvement.
Funeral Seiiuox. Bee Funeral Orations.
SERON OF ALMONDS, is the quantity ot two hun¬
dred weight $ of anise seed, it is from three to four hun¬
dred ; of Castile soap, from two hundred and a halt to
three hundred and three quarters.
SEROSITY, in Medicine, the watery part ot the
SERPENS, in Astronomy, a constellation in the
northern hemisphere, called more particularly Serpens
Ophhtchi. The stars in the constellation Serpens, in
Ptolemy’s catalogue, are 18 -, in Tycho’s, *3 i 111 lle_
velius’s, 22 and in the Britannic catalogue, 64.
Serpens Biceps, or Double-headed Snake ; a mon¬
ster of the serpent kind, of which some individuals are
described by naturalists. <
Serpentes, Serpents, in theLinnsean system ot zoo¬
logy, an order of animals belonging to the class of am¬
phibia. See Ophiology.
The serpent has been always considered the enemy
of man; audit has hitherto continued to terrify and
annoy him, notwithstanding all the arts which have
been practised to destroy it. Formidable in itselt, it
deters the invader from the pursuit -, and from its fi¬
gure, capable of finding shelter in a little space, it is
not easily discovered by those who would venture to
encounter it. Thus possessed at once of potent arms,
and inaccessible or secure retreats, it baffles all the
arts of man, though ever so earnestly bent upon its
destruction. For this reason, there is scarcely a country
in the world that does not still give birth to this poi¬
sonous brood, that seems formed to quell human pride,
and repress the boasts of security. Mankind have
driven the lion, the tiger, and the wolf, from their
vicinity; but the snake and the viper still defy their
P°Tlieir numbers, however, are thinned by human as¬
siduity -, and it is possible some ot the kinds are wholly
destroyed. In none of the countries of Europe are they
sufficiently numerous to be truly terrible. Ihe various
malignity that has been ascribed to European serpents
186 ] S E R
of old is now utterly unknown -, there are not above three
or four kinds that are dangerous, and their poison ope¬
rates in all in the same manner. The drowsy death,
the starting of the blood from every pore, the insatiable
and burning thirst, the melting down the solid mass of
the whole form into one heap of putrefaction, said to be
occasioned by the bites of African serpents, are horrors
with which we are entirely unacquainted, and aie per¬
haps only the creatures of fancy.
But though we have thus reduced these dangers, ha¬
ving been incapable of wholly removing them, in other
parts of the world they still rage with all their ancient
malignity. In the warm countries that lie within the
tropfes, as well as in the cold regions of the north,
where the inhabitants are few, the serpents propagate
in equal proportion. But of all countries those re¬
gions have them in the greatest abundance where the
fields are unpeopled and fertile, and where the climate
supplies warmth and humidity. All along the swampy
banks of the river Niger or Oroonoko where the sun
is hot, the forests thick, and the men but few, the ser¬
pents cling among the branches of the trees in infinite
numbers, and carry on an unceasing war against al
other animals in their vicinity. Travellers have assured
that they have often seen large snakes twining
Serpem.
US, tnat tuey uavo o . . ...
round the trunk of a tall tree, encompassing it like a
wreath, and thus rising and descending at pleasuie.
We are not, therefore, to reject as wholly fabulous tl
accounts left us by the ancients of the terrible devasta¬
tions committed by a single serpent. It is probable, m
early times, when the arts were little known, and man¬
kind were but thinly scattered over the earth, that ser¬
pents, continuing undisturbed possessors of the fores ,
grew to an amazing magnitude } and every other tribe
of animals fell before them. It then might have hap¬
pened, that serpents reigned the tyrants of a district
for centuries together. To animals of this kind, grown
by time and rapacity to 100 or 150 feet in length, the
lion, the tiger, and even the elephant itself, were but
feeble opponents. That horrible loetor, which even the
commonest and the most harmless snakes are still found
to diffuse, might, in these larger ones, become too
powerful for any living being to withstand j and while
they preyed without distinction, they might thus a so
have poisoned the atmosphere around them. In tins
manner, having for ages lived in the hidden and un¬
peopled forest, and finding, as their appetites were more
powerful, the quantity of their prey decreasing, it is
possible they might venture boldly from their retiea
into the more cultivated parts of the country, and carry
consternation among mankind, as they had before e-
solation among the lower ranks of nature. VV e have
many histories of antiquity, presenting us such a pic¬
ture, and exhibiting a whole nation sinking under the
ravages of a single serpent. At that time man had not
learned the art of uniting the efforts of many to e ec
one great purpose. Opposing multitudes omy a e
new victims to the general calamity, and increased mu¬
tual embarrassment and terror. The animal was there¬
fore to be singly opposed by him who had the greatest
strength, the best armour, and the most undaunted cou-
rao-e.& In such an encounter, hundreds must have a -
lentill one, more lucky than the rest, by a fortunate
blow, or by taking the monster in its torpid inter; a ,
and surcharged with spoil, might kill, and thus 11 »s
country
SEE r 187 ]
SEE
gipcns, country of tlie destroyer. Such was the original oc-
1 i|jent. cupation of heroes •, and those who first obtained that
 1 name, from their destroying the ravagers of the earth,
gained it much more deservedly than their successors,
who acquired their reputation only for their skill in de¬
stroying each other. But as we descend into more en¬
lightened antiquity, we find these animals less formi¬
dable, as being attacked in a more successful manner.
We are told, that while Regulus led his army along the
banks of the river Bagrada in Africa, an enormous ser¬
pent disputed his passage over. We are assured by Pliny,
that it was 120 feet long, and that it had destroyed many
of the army. At last, however, the battering engines
were brought out against it ; and these assailing it" at a
distance, it was soon destroyed. Its spoils were car¬
ried to Rome, and the general was decreed an ovation
for his success. There are, perhaps, few facts better
ascertained in history than this : an ovation was a re¬
markable honour j and was given only for some signal
exploit that did not deserve a triumph : no historian
would offer to invent that part of the story at least,
without being subject to the most shameful detection.
The skin was kept for several years after in the Capi¬
tol •, and Pliny says he saw it there. At present, in¬
deed, such ravages from serpents are scarcely seen in
any part of the world; not but that, in Africa and
America, some of them are powerful enough to brave
the assaults of men to this day.
—Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo
Ternbiles oaths, vultum villosaque setts
Fedora.— Virgil.
We have given a place to the preceding remarks,
not so much for their accuracy, as to show what were
formerly the sentiments of mankind concerning this
tribe of animals.
SERPENT, a musical instrument, serving as a bass
to the cornet, or small shawm, to sustain a chorus of
singers in a large edifice. It has its name serpent from
its figure, as consisting of several folds or wreaths,
which serve to reduce its length, which would otherwise
be six or seven feet.
It is usually covered with leather, and consists of
three parts, a mouth-piece, a neck, and a tail. It has
six holes, by meafas whereof it takes in the compass of
two octaves.
Mersennus, who has particularly described this in¬
strument, mentions some peculiar properties of it,
e. gr. that the sound of it is strong enough to drown
20 robust voices, being animated merely by the breath
of a boy, and yet the' sound of it may be attempered
to the softness of the sweetest voice. Another pecu¬
liarity of this instrument is, that great as the distance
between the third and fourth hole appears, yet whe¬
ther the third hole be open or shut, the difference is
but a tone.
Serpent, in Mythology, was a very common symbol
of the sun, and he is represented biting his tail, and
with his body formed into a circle, in order to indicate
the ordinary course of this luminary, and under this
form it was an emblem of time and eternity. The ser¬
pent wras also the symbol of medicine, and of the gods
which presided over it, as of Apollo and AEsculapius :
ami this animal rvas the object of very ancient and gene¬
ral worship, under various appellations and characters.
In most of the ancient rites we find some allusion to
the serpent, under the several titles of Ob, Ops, Py¬
thon, &c. 1 his idolatry is alluded to by Moses, (Lev.
xx. 27.). The woman at Endor who had a familiar spi¬
rit is called Oub, or Ob, and it is interpreted Pythonis-
sa. The place where she resided, says the learned Mr
Bryant, seems to have been named from the worship
there instituted ; for Endor is compounded of En-ador,
and signifies/o«s Pythonis, “ the fountain of light, the
oracle of the god Ador, which oracle was probably
founded by the Canaanites, and had never been totally
suppressed. Plis pillar was also called Abbadir or Ab-
adir, compounded of ab and adir, and meaning the
serpent deity Addir, the same as Adorns.
In the orgies of Bacchus, the persons who partook
of the ceremony used to carry serpents in their hands,
and with horrid screams call upon Eva ! Eva ! Eva !
being, according to the writer just mentioned, the same
as epha, or opha, which the Greeks rendered op his,
and by it denoted a serpent. These ceremonies and
this symbolic worship began among the Magi, who were
the sons of Chus; and by them they were propagated
in various parts. Wherever the Ammonians founded any
places of worship, and introduced their rites, there was
generally some story of a serpent. There was a legend
about a serpent at Colchis, at Thebes, and at Delphi ;
and likewise in other places. The Greeks called A-
pollo himself Python, which is the same as Opis,
Oupis, and Oub. • ’
In Egypt there was a serpent named Thermuthis,
which was looked upon as very sacred ; and the natives
are said to have made use of it as a royal tiara, with
which they ornamented the statues of Isis. The kings
of Egypt wore high bonnets, terminating in a round
ball, and surrounded with figures of asps ; and the
priests likewise had the representation of serpents upon
their bonnets.
Abadon, or Abaddon, mentioned in the Revelations
XX. 2. is supposed by Mr Bryant to have been the name
of the Ophite god, with whose worship the world had
been so long infected. This worship began among the
people of Chaldea, who built the city of Ophis upon
the Tigris, and were greatly addicted to divination, and
to the worship of the serpent. From Chaldea the wor¬
ship passed into Egypt, where the serpent deity was
called Canoph, Can-eph, and C’neph. It had also the
name of Ob or Oub, and was the same as the Basiliscus
01 loyal serpent, the same as the Ihermuthis, and made
use of by way of ornament to the statues of their gods.
The chief deity of Egypt is said to have been Vulcan,
who was styled Opas. He was the same as Osiris, the
Sun, and hence was often called Ob-el, or Pytho-sol ;
and there were pillars sacred to him, with curious hie-
roglyphical inscriptions bearing the same name ; whence
among the Greeks, who copied from the Egyptians,
every thing gradually tapering to a point was styled
obelos, or obeliseus.
As the worship of the serpent began among the sons
of Chus, Mr Bryant conjectures, that from thence they
were denominated Ethiopians and Aithiopians, from
Ath-ope, or Ath-opes, the god whom they worshipped,
and not from their complexion : the Ethiopes brought
these rites into Greece, and called the island where they
first established them, Ellopia, Solis Serpentis insula, the
same with Euboea, or Oubaia, i. e. “ the serpent island.”
A a 2 . The
Serpent.
S E 11 [ 1
The same learned writer discovers traces »f the serpent
worship among the Hyperboreans, at Rhodes n. 1
Ophiasa, in Phrygia, and upon the Hellespont, in »
island Cyprus, in Crete, among the Athenians, in
name of Cecrops, among the natives ot 1 ‘.n Bg°‘
,;a among the Lacedoemomans, in Italy, in byria, 5tc.
and In the8 names of many places, as well as ot the peo¬
ple where the Ophites settled. One of the most ea.ty
heresies introduced into the ChrisHan cdimch was that
of the Ophitte. Bryant’s Analysts of Ancient Mytbo-
hgsiit°mT Stmes.8* See Cosnu Ammonis, and Shake-
Stones. „ „
Sea-SERPENT. See Sea-Serpent. .
SERPENT ARIA, Snake-root; a sPec^3
Aristolochia. See Botany and Materia Medi-
' AS FRPENTARIUS, in Astronomy, a constellation
.f the northern hemisphere, called also Ophnichus, and
anciently iEsculapius. The stars in lll« c0"st|''“
Sernentarius, in Ptolemy’s catalogue, are 29, m Lycho »
15 • in Hevelius’s 40 ; in the Britannic catalogue they
arSERPENTINE, in general, denotes any thing that
resembles a serpent; hence the worm or pipe ot a still,
twisted in a spiral manner, is tevmesA ^serpentine wo, m.
SERPEXTINE-Stone, a species of mineral belongi g
to the magm ian genus. See. MINERALOGY Index.
Serpentine verses, are such as begin and end with
the same word. As,
Ambo jlorentes aiatibus, Arcades ambo.
Serpentine, in the Manege. A horse is said to
have a serpentine tongue, it it is always frisking
moving, and sometimes passing over the bit, !nsttfatl
keeping in the void space, called the liberty of the
t0 SE RPICULA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class moncecia. See Botany Index.
SERPIGO, in Surgery, a kind ot herpes, popularly
called a tetter or ringworm. See Surgery.
SERPULA, a genus belonging to the class of veimes,
and to the order of testacea. S« CoKCBOtOGT
SERRANOS, Joannes, or John de Series, a learn¬
ed French Protestant, was born about the middle of the
16th century. He acquired the Greek and Latin lan¬
guages at Lausanne, and devoted himself to the study of
fhe philosophy of Aristotle and Plato. On his return
to France he studied divinity. He began to distinguish
himself in 1572 by his writings but was obl>gerf 0 tor-
sake his country after the dreadful massacre of ^ Bar¬
tholomew. He became minister of N.smes in 1582, hut
was never regarded as a very zealous Calvinist. he ha
even been suspected, though without reason ot having
actually abjured the Protestant religion. He was one
of the four clergymen whom Henry IV. consulted about
the Romish religion, and who returned for answer,
Catholics might be saved. He wrote afterwards,a trea¬
tise in order to reconcile the two communions, entitled
De fide Catholica, sivedeprincipnsrehgioms Christiana:,
communi omnium Christianorum consensu, semper et uni¬
que raiis. This work was disliked by the Catholics and
received with such indignation by the Calvinists of Ge¬
neva, that many writers have affirmed that they po'^00'
ed the author. It is certain at least that he died at
Servan.
lioni.
88 ] s E R ,
Geneva in I593> nt the a£e of 5°- ^.C1,pa Se™
works are, 1. A Latin translation ot Plato, published
hv Henry Stephens, which owes much of its reputation
to the elegance of the Greek copy which accompanies _
it. 2. A Treatise on the Immortality of the Soul,
o De statu religionis et reipublicee in Fruncut. 4. l le-
moire de la yne guerre civile et demurs troubles de
France sous Charles IX. Sfc. 5- Inventaire general de
PUistoire de France, illustrS par la conference dt t Lgtise
et de P Empire, Sfc. 6. Recueilde chose memorable ave¬
nue en France sous Henri II. Franfois II. Chat les IX,
Henri III, These three historical treatises have been
justly accused of partiality and passion; faults winch it
is next to impossible for a contemporary writer to avoid
especially if he bore any part in the transactions which
he describes. His style is exceedingly incorrect and
inelegant ; his mistakes too and mistatements ot facts
are very numerous.
SERB VIED, in general, something indented or
notched in the manner of a saw ; a term much used in
the description of the leaves of plants. See Botany
J.)idcx*
SERRATULA, Saw-wort, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the syngenesia class, and in the natural system
ranged under the 49th order, Composite, bee Botany
Index. .
SERRATUS, in Anatomy, a name given to seve¬
ral muscles, from their resemblance to a saw. bee A-
NATOMY, Table of the Muscles.
SERRISHTEHDAR, in Bengal, keeper of records
or accounts. . „
bERTORlUS, Quintus, an eminent Roman ge-
neraf j (see Spain), under the history of which his ex¬
ploits are related . 1 1 f
SERTULABIA, a genus belonging to the class ot
vermes, and to the order of zoophyta. See Helmin¬
thology Index. n ^ ti.
SERVAL, Mountain Cat. See Felis, Mamma¬
lia Index.
SERVANDONI, John Nicholas, a celebrated ar¬
chitect, was born at Florence in 1695. He rendered
himself famous by his exquisite taste in architecture, and
by his genius for decorations, fetes, and building. He
was employed and rewarded by most of the princes in
Europe. He was honoured in Portugal with the order
of Christ: In France he was architect and painter to
the king, and member of the different academies esta¬
blished for the advancement of these arts. Fie received
the same titles from the kings of Britain, Spain, Polan ,
and from the duke of Wirtemberg. Notwithstanding
these advantages, his want ot economy was so great,
that he left nothing behind him. He died at Pans in
1766. Paris is indebted to him for many of its orna¬
ments. He made decorations for the theatres of London
and Dresden. The French king’s theatre, called la
salle des Machines, was under his management for some
j{e was permitted to exhibit some shows consist-
• ii a* _ . C?  — r mat'cs awtmnsh
time, tie was permmeu iu cAmuit   7 -
ing of simple decorations : Some of these were astomsh-
ingly sublime; his “ Descent of ^Eneas into Hell m
particular, and his “ Enchanted F orest,” are well known.
He built and embellished a theatre at Chamber tor
Mareschal Saxe; and furnished the plan and the mode
of the theatre royal at Dresden. Flis genius for fetes
was remarkable ; he had the management of a great
number in Paris, and even in London. He conducte #
S E K [ I
andoui, one at Lisbon given on account of a victory gained by
•V'in tbe duke of Cumberland. He was employed frequently
~v ' by the king of Portugal, to whom he presented several
elegant plans and models. The prince of Wales, too,
father to the present king, engaged him in his service ;
but the death of that prince prevented the execution of
the designs which had been projected. He presided at
tbe magnificent fete given at Vienna on account of the
marriage of the archduke Joseph and the Infanta of
Parma. But it would be endless to attempt an enume¬
ration of all his performances and exhibitions.
SERVANT, a term of relation, signifying a person
who owes and pays obedience for a certain time to an¬
other in quality of a master.
As to the several sorts of servants : It was observed,
under tbe article Liberty, that pure and proper slavery
does not, nay cannot, subsist in Britain: such we mean
whereby an absolute and unlimited power is given to
the master ov-r the life and fortune of the slave. And
indeed it is repugnant to reason, and the principles of
natural law, that such a state should subsist anywhere.
See Slavery.
The law of England therefore abhors, and will not
endure, the existence of slavery within this nation • so
that when an attempt was made to introduce it, by
statute i Edw. VI. c. 3. which ordained, that ail idle
vagabonds should be made slaves, and fed upon bread,
water, or small drink, and refuse-meat ; should wear a
ring of iron round their necks, arms, or legs ; and should
he compelled, hy beating, chaining, or otherwise, to
perform the work assigned them, were it ever so vile ;
the spirit of the nation could not brook this condition,
even in the most abandoned rogues; and therefore this
statute was repealed in two years afterwards. And
now it is laid down, that a >dave or negro, the instant
he lands in Britain, becomes a freeman 5 that is, the
law will protect him in the enjoyment of his person
and his property. Yet, with regard to any right
which the master may have lawfully acquired to the
perpetual service of John or Thomas, this will remain
exactly in the. same state as before : for this is no
more than the same state of subjection for life which
every apprentice submits to for the space of seven years,
or sometimes for a longer term. Hence, too, it follows,
that the infamous and unchristian practice of withhold¬
ing baptism from negro-servants, lest they should there¬
by gain their liberty, is totally without foundation, as
well as without excuse. Tbe law of England acts
upon general and extensive principles : it gives liberty,
rightly understood, that is protection, to a Jew, a
Turk, or a Heathen, as well as to those who profess
the true religion of Christ; and it will not dissolve a
civil obligation between master and servant, on account
of the alteration of faith in either of the parties ; but
the slave is entitled to the same protection in England
before as after baptism ; and, whatever service the Hea¬
then negro owed of right to bis American master, by
general, not by local law, the same (whatever it he) is
he bound to render when brought to England and made
a Christian.
I. The first sort of servants, therefore, acknowledged
by the laws of England, are menial servants; so called
jyom being intra mczniay or domestics. The contract
etween them and their masters arises upon the hiring.
the hiring be general, without any particular time
% ] S E R
limited, the law construes it tb be a hiring for a year ; Servant,
upon a principle of natural equity, that the servant shall ^
serve and the master maintain him, throughout all the
revolutions of the respective seasons ; as well when there
is work to he done, as when there is not: but the con¬
tract may be made for any larger or smaller term. All
single men between 12 years old and 60, and married
ones under 30 years of age, and all single women between
12 and 40, not having any visible livelihood, are com¬
pellable by two justices to go out to service in hus¬
bandry or certain specific trades, for the promotion of
honest industry ; and no master can put away his ser¬
vant, or servant leave his master, after being so retain¬
ed, either before or at the end of his term, without a
quarter’s warning; unless upon reasonable cause, to be
allowed by a justice of the peace : but they may part
by consent, or make a special bargain.
2. Another species of servants are called apprentices,
(from apprendre, to learn) ; and are usually hound for .
a teim of years, by deed indented or indentures, to
serve their masters, and he maintained and instructed
by them. This is usually done to persons of trade, in
order to learn their art and mystery; and sometimes
very large sums are given with them as a premium for
such their instruction ; but it may be done to husband¬
men, nay, to gentlemen and others. And children of
poor persons may be apprenticed out by the overseers,
with consent of two justices, till 24 years of age, to
such persons as are thought fitting; who are also com*
pellable to take them : and it is held, that gentlemen
of fortune, and clergymen, are equally liable with
others to such compulsion ; for which purposes our
statutes have mide the indentures obligatory, even
though such parish apprentice be a minor." Apprentices
to trades may be discharged on reasonable cause, either
at the request of themselves or masters, at the quarter-
sessions, or hy one justice, with appeal to the sessions ;
who may, by the equity of the statute, if they think it
reasonable, direct restitution of a rateable share of the
money given with the apprentice: and parish-appren¬
tices may be discharged in the same manner by two
justices. But if an apprentice, with whom less than 10
pounds hath been given, runs away from his master, he
is compellable to serve out his time of absence, or make
satisfaction for the same, at any time within seven years
after the expiration of his original contract. See Ap¬
prentice and Apprenticeship.
3. A third species of servants are laLourers, who are
only hired by the day of the week, and do not live intru
mccnia, as part of the family ; concerning whom the sta¬
tutes before cited have made many very good regulations;
i* Directing that all persons who have no visible effects
may be compelled to work; 2. Defining how long thev
must continue at work in summer and in winter : 3. Pu¬
nishing such as leave or desert their work : 4. Empower-
ing the justices at sessions, or the sheriff of the county,
to settle their wages: and, 5. Inflicting penalties on
such as either give or exact more wages than are so set¬
tled.
4. There is yet a fourth species of servants, if they may
be so called, being rather iu a superior, a ministerial, ca¬
pacity; such as stewards, factors, and bailiffs ; whom,
however, the law considers as servants pro tempore, with
regard to such of their acts as affect their masters or
employer’s property.
'Mi*
Servant
ii
Servetus.
SEE f 1
As to the manner in which this relation affects the
master, the servant himself, or third parties, see the ai~
tide Master and Servant. . c, , ,
1 For the condition of servants by the law of Scotland,
^SERVETISTS, a name given to the modern Anti-
trinitarians, from their being supposed to be the follow¬
ers of Michael Servetus-, who, m the year 1553, was
burnt at Geneva, together with his books.
SERVETUS, Michael, a learned Spanish physi¬
cian, was born at Villanueva, in Arragon, in 1 509. He
■was sent to the university of Toulouse to study the civil
law The Reformation, which had awakened the most
polished nations of Europe, directed the attention o
thinking men to the errors of the Romish church and
to the study of the Scriptures. Among the rest Ser¬
vetus applied to this study. From the love of novelty,
or the love of truth, he carried his inquiries far beyond
the other reformers, and not only renounced the false
opinions of the Roman Catholics, but went so far as to
question the doctrine of the Trinity. Accordingly, af¬
ter spending two or three years at loulouse, he deter¬
mined to go into Germany to propagate Ins new opi¬
nions, where he could do it with most safety. At La-
sil he had some conferences with Oecolampadms. He
went next to Strasburg to visit Bucer and Capito,
two eminent reformers of that town. From Strasburg
he went to Hugenau, where he printed a book, intitled
De Trinitatis Erroribus, in 1531. The ensuing year
he published two other treatises on the same subject: in
an advertisement to which, he informs the reader that
it was not his intention to retract any of Ins former sen¬
timents, but only to state them in a more distinct and
accurate manner. To these two publications he had the.
courao-e to put his name, not suspecting that in an age
when liberty of opinion was granted, the exercise of
that liberty would be attended with danger. After
publishing these books, he left Germany probably hnd-
in<r his doctrines not so cordially received as he expect¬
ed0 He went first to Basil, and thence to Lyons, where
he lived two or three years. He. then removed to Ba¬
ris where he studied medicine under Sylvius, lernelius,
and other professors, and obtained the degree of master
of arts and doctor of medicine. His love of controversy
involved him in a serious dispute with the physicians ol
Paris ; and he wrote an Apology, which was suppressed
by an edict of the Parliament: The misunderstanding
which this dispute produced with his colleagues, and the
chagrin which so unfavourable a termination occasioned,
made him leave Paris in disgust. He settled two or
three years in Lyons, and engaged with the h rellons,
eminent printers of that age, as a corrector to their
press. At Lyons he met with Pierre Palmier, the
archbishop of" Vienne, with whom he had been ac¬
quainted at Paris. That prelate, who was a great en-
courager of learned men, pressed him to accompany him
to Vienne, offering him at the same time an apartment
in his palace. Servetus accepted the offer, and might
have lived a tranquil and happy life at Vienne, if he
could have confined his attention to medicine and lite¬
rature. But the love of controversy, and an eagerness
to establish his opinions, always possessed him. At this
time Calvin was at the head of the reformed church at
Geneva. With Servetus he had been acquainted at Pa¬
ris, and had there opposed his opinions, lor 16 years
90 ] S E R
Calvin kept up a correspondence with him, endeavour¬
ing to reclaim him from his errors. Servetus had lead
the works of Calvin, but did not think they merited the
hi oh eulogies of the reformers, nor were they sufficient
^convince him of his errors. He continued, however,
to consult him 5 and for this purpose sent from Lyons to
Geneva three questions, which respected the divinity ol
Jesus Christ, regeneration, and the necessity of baptism.
To these Calvin returned a civil answer. Servetus treat¬
ed the answer with contempt, and Calvin replied with
warmth From reasoning he had recourse to abusive
language; and this produced a polemical hatred, the
most implacable disposition in the world. Calvin having
obtained some of Servetus’s papers, by means, it is said, -
not very honourable, sent them to Vienne a ong with
the private letters which he had received in the course
of their correspondence. The consequence was, that
Servetus was arrested 5 but having escaped from prison,
he resolved to retire to Naples, where he hoped to
practise medicine with the same reputation which he had
so long enjoyed at Vienne. He imprudently took his
route through Geneva, though he con d not but know
that Calvin was his mortal enemy. Calvin informed the
magistrates of his arrival 5 Servetus was apprehended,
and appointed to stand trial for heresy and blasphemy.
It was a law at Geneva, that every accuser should sur¬
render himself a prisoner, that if the charge should be
found false, the accuser should suffer the punishment m
which he meant to involve the accused. Calvin not choo¬
sing to go to prison himself, sent one of his domestics to
present the impeachment against Servetus. Hie articles
brought against him were collected from his writings
with great care j an employment wliich took up three
days. One of these articles was, “ that bervetus had
denied that Judaea was a beautiful, rich, and fertile
country and affirmed, on the authority of travellers,
that it was poor, barren, and disagreeable. He was
also charged with “ corrupting the Latin Bible, which
he was employed to correct at Lyons, by introducing
impertinent, trifling, whimsical, and impious notes of
his own through every page.” But the main article,
which ivas certainly fatal to him, ivas, t ia 111 le
person of Mr Calvin, minister of the word of God m
the church of Geneva, he had defamed the doctrine that
is preached, uttering all imaginable injurious, blasphe¬
mous words against it.” _ . , , r .
Calvin visited Servetus in prison, and had frequent
conferences with him j but finding that, m opposition
to all the arguments he could employ, the prisoner re¬
mained inflexible in his opinions, he left him to his fate.
Before sentence was passed, the magistrates of Geneva
consulted the ministers of Bale, of Bern, and Zurich;
and, as another account informs us, the magistrates 0
the Protestant Cantons of Switzerland. And to ena¬
ble them to form a judgment of the criminality of ber¬
vetus, they transmitted the writings of Calvin, with ns
answers. The general opinion was, that Servetus oug t
to be condemned to death for blasphemy. He was ac¬
cordingly sentenced to be burnt alive on the 27th 0
October 1553. As he continued alive in the midst ot
the flames more than two hours, it is said, finding ]S
torment thus protracted, he exclaimed, “Unhappy
wretch that I am ! Will the flames be insufficient to
terminate my misery ! What then ! Will the bun re
pieces of gold, and the rich collar which they took from
Served;
SEE, [ i
vetus me, not purchase wood enough to consume me more
|| quickly !” “ Though the sentence of death was passed
■vice. aga[n8t Servetus by the magistrates of Geneva, with the
^ approbation of a great number of the magistrates and
ministers of Switzerland, yet it is the opinion of most
historians that this dreadful sentence was imposed at the
instigation of Calvin. This act of severity for holding a
speculative opinion, however erroneous and absurd, has
left a stain on the character of this illustrious reformer,
which will attend the name of Calvin as long as history
shall preserve it from oblivion. The address and art
which he used in apprehending Servetus, his inhuma¬
nity to him during his trial, his dissimulation and ma¬
levolence after his condemnation, prove that he was as
much influenced by personal hatred as by a desire to
support the interest of religion, though probably, du¬
ring the trial, Calvin believed he was performing a very
pious action. This intolerant spirit of Calvin and the
magistrates of Geneva gave the Roman Catholics a fa¬
vourable opportunity to accuse the Protestants of incon¬
sistency in their principles, which they did not fail to
embrace. “ How could the magistrates (says the au¬
thor of the who acknowledged
no infallible interpretation of the Scriptures, condemn
Servetus to death because he explained them differently
from Calvin j since every man has the privilege to ex¬
pound the Scripture, according to his own judgment,
without having recourse to the church ? It is a great
injustice to condemn a man because he will not submit
to the judgment of an enthusiast, who may be wrong as
well as himself.”
Servetus was a man of great acuteness and learning,
and well versed in the arts and sciences. In his own
profession his genius exerted itself with success. In his
tract intitled Chn'stianismiRestitutio, published in 1553,
he remarks, that the whole mass of blood passes
through the lungs by the pulmonary artery and vein,
in opposition to the opinion which was then universally
entertained, that the blood passes through the partition
which divides the two ventricles. This was an impor¬
tant step towards the discovery of the circulation of the
blood.
His works consistof Controversial Writings concern¬
ing the Trinity 5 an edition of Pagninus’s Version of
the Bible, with a preface and notes, published under the
name of Michael Villanevanus ; an Apology to the Phy¬
sicians of Paris 5 and a book intitled Ratio Syruporum.
Mosheim has written in Latin a History of the Pleresy
and Misfortunes of Servetus, which was published at
Helmstadt, in ^.to, in 1728. From the curious details
which it gives it is extremely interesting.
SERVIA, a province of Turkey in Europe, bound¬
ed on the north by the rivers Danube and Save, which
separate it from Hungary ; on the east, by Bulgaria j
on the west, by Bosnia : and on the south, by Albania
and Macedonia. It is about 190 miles in length from
east to west; 95 in breadth from north to south ; and
is divided into four sangiacates. Two of these were
ceded to the Christians in 1718, who united them into
one. This continued till 1739, when the Turks were
victorious ; and then they were abandoned to the Turks
y the treaty of Belgrade. Belgrade is the capital
town. r
SERVICE, in Laio, is a duty which a tenant, on
account ol his fee, owes to his lord.
91 ] SEE
There are many divisions of services j as, 1. Into per- Service.
sonal, where something is to be done by the tenant in ’ v  
person, as homage and fealty. 2. Real, such as wards,
marriages, &c. 3. Accidental, including heriots, re¬
liefs, and the like. 4. Entire, where, on the alienation
of any part of the lands by a tenant, the services be¬
come multiplied. 5. Frank-service, which was per¬
formed by freemen, who were not obliged to perform
any base service, but only to find a man and horse to at¬
tend the lord into the army or to court. 6. Knight’s
service, by which lands were anciently held of the king,
on paying homage, service in war, &c.
As in every free and well regulated society there
must be a diversity of ranks, there must be a great
number of persons employed in service, both in agri¬
culture and domestic affairs. In this country, service is
a contract into which the servant voluntarily enters 5 and
the master’s authority extends no farther than to the
2>eifonnance of that species of labour for which the
agreement was made.
“ The treatment of servants (says that respectable Paky’s
moralist Mr Paley), as to diet, discipline, and accom- and
modation, the kind and quantity of work to be re-
quired of them, the intermission, liberty, and indulgence p /^/oso^'8
to be allowed them, must be determined in a great^mea- ?
sure by custom ; for where the contract involves so ma¬
ny particulars, the contracting parties express a few per¬
haps of the principal, and by mutual understanding
refer the rest to the known custom of the country in like
cases.
A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful com¬
mands of his master ; to minister, for instance, to his un¬
lawful pleasures j or to assist him in unlawful practices
in his profession ; as in smuggling or adulterating the
articles which he deals in. For the servant is bound by
nothing but his own promise j and the obligation of a
promise extends not to things unlawful.
“ For the same reason, the master’s authority does not
justify the servant in doing wrong j for the servant’s
own promise, upon which that authority isfounded, would
be none.
“ Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entire¬
ly in the profession or trade which they are intended to
learn. Instruction is their wages ; and to deprive them
of the opportunities of instruction, by taking up their
time with occupations foreign to their business, is to de¬
fraud them of their wages.
“ Che master is responsible for what a servant does
in the ordinary course of his employment j for it is done
under a general authority committed to him, which is
in justice equivalent to a specific direction. Thus, if
I pay money to a banker’s clerk, the banker is ac¬
countable : but not if I had paid it to his butler or his
footman, whose business it is not to receive money.
Upon the same principle, if I once send a servant to
take up goods upon credit, whatever goods he after-
waids takes up at the same shop, so long as he conti¬
nues in my service, are justly chargeable to my ac¬
count.
“ The law of this country goes great lengths in in¬
tending a kind of concurrence in the master, so as to
charge him with the consequences of his servants con¬
duct. If an innkeeper’s servant rob his guests, the
innkeeper must make restitution j if a farrier’s servant
lame your horse, the farrier must answer for the da¬
mage y
S E R
[ 192 ]
S E
mage •, and still farther, if your coachman or carter
drive over a passenger on the road, the passenger may
recover from yon a satisfaction for the hurt he suiters.
But these determinations stand, I think, rather upon
the authority of the law, than any principle of natural
There is a grievance which has long and justly been
complained of, the giving of good characters to bad
servants. This is perhaps owing to carelessness, to a tie*
sire of getting rid of a bad servant, or to mistaken com¬
passion. But such carelessness is inexcusable. When a
man gives his sanction to the character of a bad servant
be ought to reHect on the nature and consequences ot
What he is doing. He is giving his name to a falsehood *,
he is deceiving the honest man who confides m his vera¬
city t and he is deliberately giving a knave an opportu¬
nity of cheating an honest man. To endeavour to get
quit of a bad servant in this way, is surely not less cri¬
minal than concealing the faults and disadvantages of
an estate which is advertised for sale, and ascribing to it
advantages which it does not possess. In this case, we
know the sale would be reduced, and the advertiser dis¬
graced. Many masters give characters to servants out
of compassionbut it is to this mistaken compassion that
the disorderly behaviour of servants is perhaps princi¬
pally owing : for if the punishment of dishonesty be on¬
ly a change of place (which may be a reward instead
of a punishment), it ceases to be a servant’s interest to
be true to his trust. .
We have said above that a master’s authority over
bis servant extends no farther than the terms of con¬
tract *, by which we meant, that a master could give no
unreasonable orders to his servant, or such as was in¬
consistent with the terms of contract. But the relation
between a master and servant is certainly closer than
the mere terms of a contract: it is a moral as well as a
legal relation. A master of a family ought to superin¬
tend the morals of his servants, and to restrain them
from vices. This he may do by his example, by Im
influence, and authority. Indeed every man possessed
of authority is guilty of criminal negligence if he does
not exert his authority for promoting virtue in Ins inte¬
riors •, and no authority is so well adapted for this pur¬
pose as that of masters of families, because none operates
with an influence so immediate and constant. It is
wonderful how much good a nobleman or gentleman ot
fortune can do to his domestics by attending to their
morals •, and every master may be a blessing to indivi¬
duals and to society, by exerting prudently that influ¬
ence which his situation gives him over the conduct ot
his servant.
Choral Service, in church history, denotes that part
•«f religious worship which consists in chanting and sing¬
ing. The advocates for the high antiquity of singing,
^is a part of church-music, urge the authority ot St
Paul in its favour (Ephes. chap. v. ver. 19. ami Co-
los. chap. iii. ver. 16.) On the authority of which pas¬
sages it is asserted, that songs and hymns were, from the
establishment of the church, sung in the assemblies ot
the faithful •, and it appears from undoubted testimony,
that singing, which was practised as a sacred rite among
the Egyptians and Hebrews, at a very early period, and
'which likewise constituted a considerable part of the re¬
ligious ceremonies of the Greeks and Romans, made a
part of the religious worship of Christians, not only be-
5
fore churches were built, and their religion established SertUf,'
by law, but from the first profession of Christianity.' ^
However, the era from whence others have dated the
introduction of music into the service of the church, is
that period during which Leontius governed the church
of Antioch, i. e. between the year of Christ 347 and
256. See AnTIVHONY.
From Antioch the practice soon spread through the
other churches of the East •, and in a few ages alter its
first introduction into divine service, it not only re¬
ceived the sanction of public authority, hut those were
forbid to join in it who were ignorant of music. A
canon to this purpose was made by the council ol Lao-
dicea, which, was held about the year 372 J and Aona-
ras informs us, that these canonical singers were rec¬
koned a part of the clergy. Singing was introduced
into the western churches by St Ambrose about the
year 374, who was the institutor of the Ambrosian
chant established at Milan about the year 38b •, and
Eusebius (lib. ii. cap. 17.) tells us, that a regular choir,
and method of singing the service, were first established,
and hymns used, in the church at Antioch, during the
reign'of Constantine, and that St Ambrose, who had
long resided there, had his melodies thence. I his was
about 230 years afterwards amended by Pope Gregory
the Great,' who established the Gregorian chant j a
plain, unisonous kind of melody, which he thought
consistent with the gravity and dignity of the service to
which it was to be applied. This prevails in the Kc-
mnn church even at tins day: it is known in Italy by
the name of canto fermo; in France by that oi plain
chant; and in Germany and most other countries by
that of the cantus Cregorianus. Although no satislac-
torv account has been given of tbe specific dillerence
between the Ambrosian and Gregorian chants, yet ail
writers on this subject agree in saying, that ot Am¬
brose only used the four authentic modes, and that
the four plagal were afterwards added by ot Gre-
eory. Each of these had the same final, or key note,
as its relative authentic } from which there is no other
difference, than that the melodies in the four authen¬
tic or principal modes are generally confined within
the compass of the eight notes above the key-note,
and those in the four plagal or relative modes, with¬
in the compass of eight notes below the fifth ol the key.
See Mode.
Ecclesiastical wTiters seem unanimous in allowing
that Pope Gregory, who began his pontificate in 590,
collected the musical fragments of such ancient psalms
and hvmns as the first fathers ot the church had appro¬
ved and recommended to the first Christians j anc t iat
he selected, methodized, and arranged them in the ol¬
der which was long continued at Rome, and soon adop¬
ted by tbe chief part of the western church. Gregory
is also said to have banished from the chuich the canto
figvrato, as too light and dissolute; and it is added, tha
his own chant was called cantoJermo, from its gravity
and simplicity. _ .
It has been long a received opinion, that the eccle¬
siastical tones were taken from the. reformed modes 0
Ptolemy •, hut Dr Burney observes, that it is dimcii
to discover any connection between them, except m
their names 5 for their number, upon exam;nation, is
not the same : those of Ptolemy being j-even, the tc
clesiastical eight j and indeed the Greek names
S E R [ I
the ecclesiastical modes do not agree with those of Pto-
■> lemy in the single instance of key, hut with those of
higher antiquity. From the time of Gregory to that
of Guido, there was no other distinction of keys than
that of authentic and plagal *, nor were any semitones
used but those from E to F, B to C, and occasionally A
to B b.
With respect to the music of the primitive church, it
maybe observed, that though it consisted in the singing
of psalms and hymns, yet it was performed in many dif¬
ferent ways 5 sometimes the psalms were sung by one
person alone, whilst the rest attended in silence j some¬
times they were sung by the whole assembly 5 sometimes
alternately, the congregation being divided into sepa¬
rate choirs, and sometimes by one person, who repeated
the first part of the verse, the rest joining in the close of
it. Of the four different methods of singing now reci¬
ted, the second and third were properly distinguished by
the names of symphony and antiphony; and the latter
w'as sometimes called responsaria, in which women were
allowed to join. St Ignatius, who, according to So¬
crates (lib. \ i. cap. 8.), conversed with the apostles, is
generally supposed to have been the first who suggested
to the primitive Christians in the East the method of
singing hymns and psalms alternately, or in dialogues j
and the custom soon prevailed in every place where Chri¬
stianity was established ) though rI heodoret in his history
(lib. 11. cap. 24-) tells us, that thismanner of singing w’as
first practised at Antioch. It likewise appears, that al¬
most from the time when music was first introduced into
the service of the church, it was of twm kinds, and con¬
sisted in a gentle inflection of the voice, which they term¬
ed plain song, and a more elaborate and artificial kind
of music, adapted to the hymns and solemn offices con¬
tained in its ritual ; and this distinction has been main¬
tained even to the present day.
Although we find a very early distinction made be¬
tween the manner of singing the hymns and chanting
the psalms, it is, however, the opinion of the learned
Martini, that the music of the first five or six ages of
the church consisted chiefly in a plain and simple chant
of unisons and octaves, of which many fragments are
still remaining in the canto fermo of the Romish missals,
lor with respect to music in parts, as it does not ap¬
pear in these early ages, that either the Greeks or Ro¬
mans were in possession of harmony or counterpoint,
which has been generally ascribed to Guido, a monk of
Arezzo in Tuscany, about the year 1022, though others
have traced the origin of it to the eighth century, it is
in vain to seek it in the church. The choral music,
which had its rise in the church of Antioch, and from
thence spread through Greece, Italy, France, Spain, and
Germany, was brought into Britain by the singers who
accompanied Austin the monk, when he came over, in
the year 596, charged with a commission to convert the
inhabitants of this country to Christianity. Bede tells
us, that when Austin and the companions of his mis¬
sion had their first audience of King Ethelbert, in the
isle of riianet, they approached him in procession, sing¬
ing litanies 5 and that afterwards, when they entered the
city of Canterbury, they sung a litany, and at the end
of it Allelujah. But though this was the first time the
Anglo Saxons had heard the Gregorian chant, yet Bede
likewise tells us, that our British ancestors had been in¬
structed m the rites and ceremonies of the Galilean
Vol. XIX. Part I. f
93 ] SEE
church by St Germanus, and heard him sing Allelujah
many years before the arrival of St Austin. In 680,
John, prmcentor of St Peter’s in Rome, was sent over
by Pope A gat ho to instruct the monks of Weremouth
in the art of singing; and he was prevailed upon to open
schools for teaching music in other places in Northum¬
berland. Benedict Biscop, the preceptor of Bede, Adrian
the monk, and many others, contributed to disseminate
the knowledge of the Roman chant. At length the suc¬
cessors of St Gregory, and of Austin his missionary,
having established a school for ecclesiastical music at
Canterbury, the rest of the island was furnished with
masters from that seminary. The choral service was first
introduced in the cathedral church of Canterbury ; and
till the arrival of Theodore, and his settlement in that
see, the practice of it seems to have been confined to the
churches of Kent; but after that, it spread over the
whole kingdom ; and we meet with records of very
ample endowments for the support of this part of public
worship. This mode of religious worship prevailed in
all the European churches till the'time of the Reforma¬
tion : the first deviation from it is that which followed
Ine Reformation by Bother, who, being himself a lover
of music, formed a liturgy, which was a musical service,
contained in a work, entitled Psa/modia, h. e. Cantica
sacra Vetcris Ecdcsue select a, printed at Norimberg in
I553^ aml at M ittemberg in 1561. But Calvin, in his
establishment of a church at Geneva, reduced the whole
of divine service to prayer, preaching, and singing; the
lattei of which he restrained. He excluded the offices
of the antiphon, hymn, and motet, of the Romish ser¬
vice, with that artificial and elaborate music to which
they were sung ; and adopted only that plain metrical
psalmody, which is now in general use among the re¬
formed churches, and in the parochial churches of our
own country. I1 or this purpose he made use of Marot's
version of the X salms, and employed a musician to set
them to easy tunes only of one part. In 1553, he di¬
vided the Psalms into pauses or small portions, and ap¬
pointed them to be sung in churches. Soon after they
were bound up with the Geneva catechism ; from which
time the Catholics, who had been accustomed to sing
them, were forbid the use of them, under a severe pe¬
nalty. Soon after the Reformation commenced in Eng¬
land, complaints were made by many of the dignified
clergy and others, of the intricacy and difficulty of the
church-music of those times: in consequence of which
it was once proposed, that organs and curious singing
should be removed from our churches. Latimer, in his
diocese of Worcester, went still farther, and issued in¬
junctions to the prior and convent of St Mary, forbid¬
ding in their service all manner of singing. In the reign
of Edward VI. a edmmission was granted to eight bi¬
shops, eight divines, eight civilians, and eight common
lawers, to compile a body of such ecclesiastical laws as
should in future be observed throughout the realm. The
result of this compilation wras a work first published in
I57I I ox the martyrologist, and afterwards in 1640,
under the title of Reformatio Legam Ecclesiasticarum.
Ihese 32 commissioners, instead of reprobating church-
music, merely condemned figurative and operose mu¬
sic, or that kind of singing which abounded with
fugues, responsive passages, and a commixture of vari¬
ous and intricate proportions; which, whether extempo¬
rary or written, is by musicians termed descant. How-
B b ever,
Service.
cordinglv the statute 2 ami 3 Edw. VI. cap. r. though
it contains no formal obligation on the clergy, 01
others, to use or join in either vocal or instrumental mu¬
sic in the common prayer, does clearly recognise the
practice of singing and in less than two years after the
compiling of King Edward’s liturgy, a formula was com¬
posed which continues, with scarce any variation, to be
the rule for choral service even at tins day. Ihe author
of this work was John Marbecke, or Marbeike i and 1
■was printed by Richard Grafton, in 1550 under the title
of the Book of Common Prayer, noted. Queen Mary
laboured to re-establish the Romish choral service j but
the accession of Elizabeth was followed by the act ol uni¬
formity, in consequence of which, and of the queen s
injunctions, the Book of Common Braver, noted by Mar¬
becke, was considered as the general formula of choral
service. In 1360, another musical service, with some
additions and improvements, was printed by John Day,
and in 156 c, another collection of offices, with musical
notes. Many objections were urged by Cartwright and
other Puritans against the form and manner oi cathe¬
dral service, to which Hooker replied in his Ecclesiasti¬
cal Polity. In 1664, the statutes of Edward VI. and
Elizabeth, for uniformity in the Common Prayer, were
repealed j and the Directory for Public Worship, winch
allows only of the singing of psalms, established. Rut
upon the restoration of Charles II. choral service was
ao-ain revived, and has since uniformly continued, bee
on this subject Hawkin’s History of Music, vok 1.
p. 404. vol. ii. p. 264. vol. in. p. 58—468, &c. vol. iv.
];' stnrjcJ-Tree. See Sorbus, Botany Index.
SERVITES, a religious order in the church of Borne,
founded about the year 1233, by seven Florentine mer¬
chants, who, with the approbation of the bishop ot Flo¬
rence, renounced the world, and lived together in a re¬
ligious community on Mount Senar, two leagues from
that city.
SERVITOR, in the university of Oxford, a student
who attends on another for his maintenance and learn¬
ing. See Sizar.
SERVITUDE, the condition of a servant, or rather
s]ave.
Under the declension of the Roman empire, a new
kind of servitude was introduced, different from that of
the ancient Romans: it consisted in leaving the lands of
subjugated nations to the first owners, upon condition
of certain rents, and servile offices, to be paid in ac¬
knowledgement. Hence the names of servi censiti, a-
senptitii, and addictiglebce ; some whereof were taxable
at the reasonable discretion of the lord $ others at a cer¬
tain rate agreed on ; and others were mainmortable,
who, having no legitimate children, could not make a
will’to above the value of fivepence, the lord being heir
of all the rest; and others were prohibited marrying, or
going to live out of the lordship. Most of these services
existed lately in France j but they were long ago abo-^
fished in England. Such, however, was the original of
our tenures, &x. See Slave.
Servitude, in Scots Law. See Law, Part III.
Sect. ix.
„ piece -
tity of syllables, called Centimetrum.
SERUM, a thin, transparent, saltish liquor, which
makes a considerable part ot the mass ot blood. See
Anatomy and Chemistry Index.
SESAMOIDEA ossa, certain small bones some¬
what resembling the seeds of sesamum, whence their
name. They are placed at the under part of the bones
of the last joints of the fingers and toes.
SESAMUM, Oily Grain 5 a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class didynamia •, and in the natural sys¬
tem ranging under the 20th order, Luridee. See Bo¬
tany Index.
SESELI, Meadow Saxifrage; a genus of plants
belonging to the class pentandria; and in the natural
system ranging under the 45th order, Umbellatce. See
Botany Index.
SESOSTRIS, king of Egypt. See Egypt, p. 591.
SESQUI, a Latin particle, signifying a whole and a
half; which, joined with altera, ter%a, qnarta, &c. is
much used in the Italian music to express a kind of ra¬
tios, particularly several species of triples.
Sesqui-Alter ate, in Geometry and Arithmetic, is. a
ratio between two lines, two numbers, or the like, where
one of them contains the other once, with the addition
of a half.
Thus 6 and 9 are in a sesqui-alterate ratio; since 9
contains 6 once, and 31 which is halt ot 6, over; and
20 and 30 are in the same ; as 3b contains 20, and halt
20 or 10. _
Sesq.vi-Duplicate ratio, is when of two terms the
greater contains the less twice, and half the less re¬
mains; as 15 and 6 ; 50 an<^
Sesq ui-Tertional proportion, is when any number or
quantity contains another once and one third.
SESSILE, among botanists. See Botany.
SESSION, in general, denotes each sitting or assem¬
bly of a council, &.c.
Session of Parliament, is the season or space from
its meeting to its prorogation. See Parliament.
Kirk-SESSiON, the name of a petty ecclesiastical court
in Scotland. See KntK-Session.
Sessions for weights and measures. In London,
four justices from among the mayor, recorder, and al¬
dermen (of whom the mayor and recorder is to be one),
may hold a session to inquire into the offences ot selling
by false weights and measures, contrary to the statutes ;
and to receive indictments, punish offenders, &c. Char.
King Charles I.
Court of Session. See Law, Part III. Sect. ii.
Court of Quarter-SsssiONS, an English court that
must be held in every county once in every quarter of a
year; which by statute 2 Henry V. c. 4. is appointed
to be in the first week after Michaelmas-day, the first
week after the Epiphany, the first week alter the close of
Easter, and in the week after the translation of St 1 ho-
mas the martyr, or the 7th of July. It is held be tore
two or more justices of the peace, one ot which most be
of the quorum. The jurisdiction of this court, by 34
Edward HI. c. 1. extends to the trying and determining
all felonies and trespasses whatsoever : though they sel¬
dom.
S E
!;|;sion,
Siiercc,
c
dom, if ever, try any greater offence than small felonies
_ , yitlun the benefit ot clergy; their commission provid¬
ing, that if any case of difficulty arises, they shall not
proceed to judgment, but in the presence of one of the
justices of the courts of king’s-bench or common-pleas
or one of the judges of assize : and therefore murders’
and other capital felonies, are usually remitted for a
more solemn trial to the assizes. They cannot also try
any new-created offence, without express power given
them by the statute which creates it. But there are
many offences and particular matters which, by parti¬
cular statutes, belong properly to this jurisdiction, and
ought to be prosecuted in this court; as, the smaller
misdemeanours against the public or commonwealth, not
amounting to felony; and especially offences relatino- to
the game, highways, alehouses, bastard children, the
settlement and provision for the poor, vagrants, servants
wages, and Popish recusants. Some of these are pro¬
ceeded upon by indictment: others in a summary way,
by motion, and order thereupon; which order may for
the most part, unless guarded against by particular sta¬
tutes, be removed into the court of king’s-bench by
writ si certiorari facias, and be there either quashed
or confirmed. The records or rolls of the sessions are
committed to the custody of a special officer, denomi¬
nated custos rotuhrum, who is always a justice of the
quorum ; and among them of the quorum (saith Lam-
bard) a man for the most part especially picked out,
either for wisdom, countenance, or credit. The nomi¬
nation of the custos rotulorum (who is the principal of¬
ficer in the county, as the lord-lieutenant is chief in
military command) is by the king’s sign manual : and
to him the nomination of the clerk of the peace be¬
longs ; which office he is expressly forbidden to sell
for money.
In most corporation-towns there are quarter-sessions
kept before justices of their own, within their respective
limits; which have exactly the same authority as the
general quarter-sessions of the county, except in a very
tew instances ; one of the most considerable of which is
the matter of appeals from orders of removal of the poor,
which, though they be from the orders of corporation-
justices, must be to the sessions of the county, by sta¬
tute 8 and 9 William III. c. 30. In both corporations
amt counties at large, there is sometimes kept a special
or petty session, by a few justices, for dispatching smaller
business m the neighbourhood between the times of the
general sessions ; as for licensing alehouses, passing the
accounts of parish-officers, and the like.
SESTERCE, Sestertius, a silver coin, in use
among the ancient Romans, called also simply nummus,
and sometimes nummus sestertius. The sestertius was
m fourth part of the denarius, and originally contained
wo asses and a half. It was at first denoted by LLS ;
ie two L s signifying two librae, and the S half. But
c libr^rn, aiterwards converting the two L’s into an
ii, expressed the sestertius by HS. The word sester-
first introduced by way of abbreviation for ,e-
or I ’ ^^'^s two, a„d a half of a third,
third 't °n 'I la * a t^ird *’ *or *n expressing half a
bird, it was understood that there were two before.
calleTl? ;°rS tW° kinds of ses*rces ; the less
«ne 0X1??’ I" tbe.mTuHne gender’ and great
C’e^rV i T'’, m,tlie neUter: the first, that we
a y described; the latter containing a thousand
95 ] S E S
of the other. Others will have any such distinction of Sesterc-c.
great and little sesterces unknown to the Romans: ses- (——v 
tertius, say they, was an adjective, and signified, as
sestertius, or two asses and a half; and when used in
the plural, as in qmnquaginta sestertium, or sestertia
it was only by way of abbreviation, and there was al¬
ways understood cent era, mi!Ha, &c.
This matter has been accurately stated by Mr Raper,
in the following manner. The substantive to which
sestertius referred is either a,?, orpondus; and sestertius
as is two asses and a half ; sestertium pondus, two pon-
dera and a half, or two hundred and fifty denarii. When
thedenarius passed for ten asses, the sestertiusof twoasses
and a half was a quarter of it; and the Romans eonti-
nuen to keep their accounts in these sesterces long after
the denarius passed for sixteen asses; till, growing rich,
they found it more convenient to reckon by quarters of
the denarius, which they called nummi, and used the
words nitjnmus’AnA sestertius indifferently, as synonymous
terms, ami sometimes both together, as sestertius num-
mif3 > in which case the word sestertius, having lost its
original signification, was used as a substantive; for ses¬
tertius nummus was not two nummi and a half, but a ^
single nummus of four asses. They called any sum un¬
der two thousand sesterces so many sestertii in the mas¬
culine gender; two thousand sesterces they called duo or
Inna sestertia, in the neuter; so many quarters making-
live hundred denarii, which was twice the sestertium ;
and they said dena, vicena, &c. sestertia, till the sum
amounted to a thousand sestertia, which was a million of
sesterces. But, to avoid ambiguity, they did not use the
neuter sestertium in the singular number, when the whole
sum amounted to no more than a thousand sesterces, or
one sestertium. They called a million of sesterces deeds
nummum, or decks sestertium, for decies centena millia
numniorum, or sestertiorum (in the masculine gender)
omitting centena miltia for the sake of brevity. They
likewise called the same sum decies sestertium (in the
neuter gender) for decies centies sestertium, omitting
centies for the same reason ; or simply decies, omitting
centena millui sestertium, or centies sestertium; and with
the numeral adverbs decies, yicies, centies, millies, and
the like, eitlier centena millia or centies was always un¬
derstood. These were their most usual forms of ex¬
pression ; though for bina, dena, vicena sestertia, they
frequently said bina, dena, vicena millia nummum. If
the consular denarius contained 60 troy grains of fine
siher, it was worth something more than eight-pence
farthing and a half sterling; and the as, of 16 to the
denarius, a little more than a half-penny. To reduce
the ancient sesterces of two asses and a half, when the
denarius passed for 16, to pounds sterling, multiply the
given number by 5454, and cut ofl six figures on the
light hand for decimals, lo reduce nummi sestertii, or
quarters of the denarius, to pounds sterling; if the given
sum be consular money, multiply it by 8727, and cut
oft six figures on the right hand for decimals ; but for
imperial money diminish the said product by one-eighth
of itself. Phil. Trans, vol Ixi. part ii. art. 48. ^
ffo be qualified for a Roman knight, an estate of
400,000 sesterces was required ; and for a senator of
800,000.
Authors also mention a copper sesterce, worth about
one-third of a penny English.
Sesterce, ox sestertius, was also used by the ancients
B b 2
SET
[ !96 1
S E V
Se«erce for a tiling containing two wholes and an half of
i the.-, as m was taken for any whole or ■»“««'•
Sell'. SESTOS, a noted fortress of European Ti i ),
  > ' situated at the entrance of the Hellespont or Dan-da-
nelles, 24 miles south-west ot Gallipoli, ihis place is
famous for the loves of Hero and Leander, sung jy
the poet Musseus. . ,
SESUVIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
class icosandria. See Botany Index.
SET, or Sets, a term used by the farmers and gar¬
deners to express the young plants ol the white thorn
and other shrubs, with which they use to raise then
quick or quick-set hedges. The white thorn is the best
of all trees for this purpose •, and, under proper regula¬
tions, its sets seldom fail of answering the farmer & ut¬
most expectations. , r 1 * „
SET-off, in Law, is an act whereby the defendant ac¬
knowledges the justice of the plaintiff s ceman on le
one hand } but, on the other, sets up a demand of h s
own, to counterbalance that of the plaintiff, either in
the whole, or in part: as, if the plaintiff sues for 10 .
due on a note of hand, the defendant may set oft 9k
due to himself for merchandise sold to the pmmtitt,
and, in case he pleads such set-off, must pay the remain¬
ing balance into court. This answers very nearly to
the compensation stoppage of the civil law, and depends
upon the statutes 2 Geo. II. cap. 22. and 8 Geo. II.
SETACEOUS WORM, in 'Natural History, a name
given by Dr Lister to that long and slender water-
worm, which so much resembles a horse-hair, that it
has been supposed by the vulgar to be an animated hair
of that creature. These creatures, supposed to he living
hairs, are a peculiar sort of insects, which are bred and
nourished wilhin the bodies of other insects, as the worms
of the ichneumon flies are m the bodies of the cater
P1,Ald’rovand describes the creature, and tells us it was
unknown to the ancients > but called seta aquatica and
vermis setarius, by tbe moderns, either from its figure
resembling that of a hair, or from the supposition ot its
once having been the hair of some animal. Y\e gene¬
rally suppose it, in the imaginary state of the hair, to
have belonged to a horse 5 but the Germans say it was
once the hair of a calf, and call it by a name signify¬
ing vitulus aquations, or the “ water calf.’
Albertus, an author much reverenced by the common
people, has declared that this animal is generated ot
a hair ; and adds, that any hair thrown into standing
water, will, in a very little time, obtain life and motion.
Other authors have dissented from this opinion, and sup¬
posed them generated ot the fibrous roots ol water-
plants*, and others, of the parts of grasshoppers fallen
into the water. This last opinion is rejected by Al-
drovand as the most improbable of all. Standing and
foul waters are most plentifully stored with them *, but
they are sometimes found in the clearest and purest
springs, and sometimes out of the water, on the leaves
of trees and plants, as on the fruit-trees in our gardens,
and the elms in hedges. They are from three to live
inches long, of the thickness of a large hair *, and are
brown upon the hack, and white under the belly, and
the tail is white on every part. „
SETH, the third sou of Adam, the father ot Enos,
was born 3874 E. C. and lived 912 years.
SETHIANS, in church history, Christian heretics *, SetWam
so called because they paid divine ^orS.b,P t0 ^7, Severance
whom they looked upon to be Jesus Christ the son of k
God, hut who was made by a tlnrn divinity, and sn )-
stituted in the room of the two families of Abel and
Cain, which had been destroyed by the deluge. Ihese
heretics appeared in Egypt in the second century 5 and
as they were addicted to all sorts of debauchery, they
did not want followers 5 and continued in Egypt above
200 years. . , . r t>- j
SETIMO, a town of Italy, in the province ol B.ed-
rnont, situated on the river Po, eight miles north of
^ SETON, in Surgery, a few horse hairs, small threads,
or larcre packthread, drawn through the skin, chiefly the
neck, by means of a large needle or probe, with a view
to restore or preserve health.
Experience shews that setons are useful in catarrhs,
inflammations,and other disorders,and particularly those
of the eves *, to these may be added severe headach ,
with stupor, drowsiness, epilepsies, and even apoplexy
itself. See SURGERY.
SETTEE, in sea-language, a vessel very common 111
the Mediterranean with one deck and a very long and
sharp prow. They carry some two roasts, some three,
without top-masts. They have generally two masts,
equipped with triangular sails commonly called lateen
sails. The least of them are ot 60 tons burden. Ihey
serve to transport cannon and provisions for ships of war
and the like. These vessels are peculiar to the Medi¬
terranean sea, and are usually navigated by Italians,
Greeks, or Mahometans. .
SETTING, in Astronomy, the withdrawing ot a star
or planet, or its sinking below the horizon. Astrono¬
mers and poets make three different kinds of setting of
the stars, viz. the Cosmical, Acronycal, and Heli¬
acal. See these articles. . . ,
Setting, in the sea-language, lo set the land or
the sun by the compass, is to observe how the land bears
on any point of the compass, or on what point of the
compass the sun is. Also when two ships sail in sight
of one another, to mark on what point the chased bears,
is termed setting the chace by the compass.
Setting, among sportsmen, a term used to express
the manner of taking partridges by means of a dog pe¬
culiarly trained to that purpose. See bHOOTlNG.
Act of SETTLEMENT, in British history, a
name given to the statute 12 and 13 M ill. HI. cap. 2.
whereby the crown was limited to his present majesty s
illustrious house *, and some new provisions were added,
at the same fortunate era, for better securing our reli¬
gion, laws, and liberties : which the statute declares to
be the birthright of the people of England, according
to the ancient doctrine of the common l_aw.^ _
SEVEN Stars, a common denomination given to
the cluster of stars in the neck of the sign Taurus, the
bull ; properly called the Pleiades. They are so called
from their number seven, which appear to the na 'e
eye, though some eyes can discover only six of them,
but by the aid of telescopes there appears to be a grea
multitude of them. . , n , . +i.p
SEVENTH, in Music, an interval called by tne
Greeks heptachordon. See INTERVAL. .
SEVERANCE, in Law, the singling or severing two
or more that join or are joined in the same writ 01 f
Lumbe's
Fmish
Cn tteer.
S E V [I
tion. As if two join in a writ de Ubertate probanda,
and the one he afterwards nonsuited } here severance is
permitted, so as notwithstanding the nonsuit of the one,
the other may severally proceed.
There is also severance of the tenants in assize; when
one, two, or more disseisees appear upon the writ, and
not the other. And severance in debt, where two exe¬
cutors are named plaintiffs, and the one refuses to pro¬
secute. We also meet with severance of summons, se¬
verance in attaints, &c. An estate in joint tenancy may
be severed and destroyed by destroying any of its unities.
1. That of time, which respects only the original com¬
mencement of the joint estate, cannot indeed (being now
part) be affected by any subsequent transaction. But,
2. The joint-tenants estate may be destroyed without any
alienation, by merely disuniting their possession. 3. The
jointure may be destroyed, by destroying the unity of
title. And, 4. By destroying the unity of interest.
SEVERlA, a province of the Russian empire, with
the title of a duchy, bounded on the north by Smo-
lensko and Muscovy, on the east by Vorotinsbi and the
country of the Cossacks, on the south by the same,
and on the west by Zernegovia. It is a country over¬
run with woods, and on the south part is a forest of
great length. Novogrodec, or Novogorod, is the capi¬
tal town.
St SEYERLNA, a town of Italy, in the kingdom
of Naples, in the Lower Calabria, with an archbishop’s
see. It is very well fortified, and seated on a craggy
rock, on the river Neeto ; in E. Long. 17. 14. N. Lat.
39- x5-
SEVERFNO, a town of Italy, in the territory of
the church, and in the Marche of Ancona, with a bi¬
shop’s see. It has fine vineyards, and is seated between
two hills on the river Petenza, in E. Long. 13. 6.
N. Lat. 43. 16.
SEVREN, a river of England which rises near
Plimlimmon Hill in Montgomeryshire, and before it
enters Shropshire receives about 30 streams, and passes
down to Laud ring, where it receives the Morda, that
florvs from Oswestry. When it arrives at Monford, it
receives the river Mon, passing on to Shrewsbury, which
it almost surrounds, then to Bridgeworlh ; afterwards
it runs through the skirts of Staffordshire, enters Wor¬
cestershire, and passes by Worcester; then it runs to
Tewkesbury, where it joins the Avon, and from thence
to Gloucester, keeping a north-westerly course, till it
falls into the Bristol Channel. It begins to be naviga¬
ble for boats at Welchpool, in Montgomeryshire, and
takes in several other rivers in its course, besides those
already mentioned, and is the second in England. By
means of inland navigation, it has communication with
the rivers Mersey, Dee, Ribble, Ouse, Trent, Derwent,
Humber, Thames, Avon, &c.; which navigation, includ¬
ing its windings, extends above 500 miles in the counties
of Lincoln, Nottingham, York, Lancaster, Westmore¬
land, Chester, Stafford, Warwick, Leicester, Oxford,
Worcester, &c. A canal from Stroud-Water, a branch
of the Severn, to join the Thames, was projected and
executed for the purpose of conveying a tunnel 16 feet
high and 16 feet wide, under Sapperton Hill and Hay-
ley-Wood (very high ground), for two miles and a
quarter in length, through a very hard rock, which was
lined and arched with brick. This stupendous under¬
taking was completed, and boats passed through it the
97 1
S E V
2ist of May 1789. By this opening, a communication is
made between the river Severn at Framiload and the
Thames near Lechlade, and is continued over the
Thames near Inglesham, into deep w'ater in the Thames
below St John-Bridge, and so to Oxford, &c. and Lon¬
don, for conveyance of coals, goods, &c.
SEVERNDROOG, a sea-port town and fortress of
Hindostan, which was taken by the English in 1756.
It is 68 miles south from Bombay, and in N. Lat. 1 7.
55. E. Long. 72. 50.
SEVERUS, Cornelius, an ancient Latin poet of
the Augustan age ; whose JEtna, together with a frag¬
ment Ii)e morte Ciccronis, were published, with notes
and a prose interpretation, by Le Clerc, 12mo, Amster¬
dam, 1703. They wrere before inserted among the Ca-
talecta Virgilii published by Scaliger ; whose notes, with
others, Le Clerc has received among his own.
Severus, Septimius, a Roman emperor, who has been
so much admired for his military talents, that some have
called him the most warlike of the Roman emperors.
As a monarch he was cruel, and it has been observed
that he never did an act of humanity or forgave a fault.
In his diet he was temperate, and he always showed
himself an open enemy to pomp and splendour. He loved
the appellation of a man of letters, and he even com¬
posed an history of his own reign, which some have
praised for its correctness and veracity. However cruel
Severus may appear in his punishments and in his re¬
venge, many have endeavoured to exculpate him, and
observed that there was need of severity in an empire
wdiere the morals were so corrupted, and where no less
than 3000 persons were accused of adultery during the
space of 17 years. Of him, as of Augustus, some were
disposed to say, that it would have been better for the
world if he had never been born, or had never died.
See Rome, N° 372.
Severus's Wall, in British topography, the fourth
and last barrier erected by the Romans against the in¬
cursions of the North Britons. See the articles A-
drian, and Antoninus's Wall.
We learn from several hints in the Roman historians,
that the country between the walls of Hadrian and An¬
toninus continued to be a scene of perpetual war and sub¬
ject of contention between the Romans and Britons,
from the beginning of the reign of Com mod us to the ar¬
rival of the emperor Septimius Severus in Britain, A. D.
206. This last emperor having subdued the Moeatm,
and repulsed the Caledonians, determined to erect a
stronger and more impenetrable barrier than any of the
former, against their future incursions.
Though neither Dio nor Herodian make any men¬
tion of a wall built by Severus in Britain for the pro¬
tection of the Reman province, yet we have abundant
evidence from other writers of equal authority, that he
really built such a wall. “ He fortified Britain (says
Spartian) with a wall drawn cross the island from sea
to sea ; which is the greatest glory of his reign. After
the wall was finished, he retired to the next station
(York), not only a conqueror, but the founder of an
eternal peace.” To the same purpose, Aurelius Victor
and Orosius, to say nothing of Eutropius and Cassiodo-
rus: “ Having repelled the enemy in Britain, he for¬
tified the country, which was suited to that purpose,
with a wall drawn cross the island from sea to sea.”—
“ Severus drew a great ditch, and built a strong wall,
fortified
S E V
[ 198 1
S E V
Sevcrus. fortified with several turrets, from sea to sea, to protect
—^ 1 that pavt of the island which he had recovered trom
the yet unconquered nations.” As the residence ot the
emperor Severus in Britain was not quite lour years, it
is probable that the two last of them were employed in
building this wall; according to which account, it was
begun A. D. 2op> and iinished A. 1). 211«
This wall of Severus was built nearly on the same
track with Hadrian’s rampart, at the distance only ol a
few paces north. The length of this wall, from Cou-
house near the mouth of the river Tyne on the east,
to Bouiness on the Solway frith on the west, has been
found, from two actual mensurations, to be a little^ more
than 68 English miles, and a little less than 74 ^voman
miles. To the north of the wall was a broad and deep
ditch, the original dimensions of which cannot now lie
ascertained, only it seems to have been larger than that
of Hadrian. The wall itself, which stood on the south
brink of the ditch, was built of freestone, and where
the foundation was not good, it is built on piles ot
oak-, the interstices between the two faces of this wall
is filled with broad thin stones, placed not perpendicu¬
larly, but obliquely on their edges ; the running mortar
or cement was then poured upon them, which, by its
great strength and tenacity, bound the whole together,
and made it firm as a rock. But though these mate¬
rials are sufficiently known, it is not easy to guess where
they were procured, tor many parts of the wall are at
a great distance trom any quarry ot freestone } and,
though stone of another kind was within reach, jet^ it
does^not appear to have been anywhere used. The
height of this wall was 12 feet besides the parapet, and
its breadth 8 feet, according to Bede, vyho lived only
at a small distance from the east end of it, and in whose
time it was in many places almost quite entire. Such
was the wall erected by the command and under the di¬
rection of the emperor Severus in the north of England ;
and, considering the length, breadth, height, and soli¬
dity, it was certainly a work ot great magnificence and
prodigious labour. But the wall itsel! was but a pait,
and not the most extraordinary part, of this work. Ihe
great number and different kinds of fortresses whidi
were built along the line of it for its defence, and the
military ways with which it was attended, are still more
worthy of our admiration, and come now to be de¬
scribed#
The fortresses which were erected along the line of
Severus’s wall for its defence, were of three different
.kinds, and three different degrees of strength ; and
were called by three different Latin words, which may
be translated stations, castles, and tiLrrets. Of each of
these in their order.
The stationes, stations, were so called from their sta¬
bility and the stated residence of garrisons. They were
also called castra, which hath been converted into chestres,
a name which many of them still bear. These were by
far the largest, strongest, and most magnificent of the
fortresses which were built upon the wall, and were de¬
signed for the head-quarters of the cohorts of troops
.which were placed there in garrison, and from whence
detachments were sent into the adjoining castles and tur¬
rets. These stations, as appears from the vestiges of
them which are still visible, were not all exactly ol the
same figure nor of the same dimensions ; some of them
jaeing exactly squares, and others oblong, and some of
them a little larger than others. These variations were
no doubt occasioned by the difference of situation and ^
other circumstances, ihe stations were fortified wuh
deep ditches and strong walls, the wall itself coinciding
with and forming the north wall of each station. At'ith-
in the stations were lodgings for the officers and soldiers
in garrison; the smallest of them being sufficient to con¬
tain a cohort, or 600 men. Without the walls cf each
station was a town, inhabited by labourers, artificers,
and others, both Homans and Britons, who chose to
dwell under the protection of these fortresses. The num¬
ber of the stations upon the wall was exactly r 8 ; and
if they had been placed at equal distances, the interval
between every two ot them would have been tour miles
and a few paces: but the intervention ol rivers, marshes,
and mountains ; the conveniency of situations lor
strength, prospect and water ; and many other circum¬
stances to us unknown, determined ihem to place these
stations at unequal distances. The situation which was
always chosen by the Homans, both here and everywhere
else in Britain where they could obtain it, was the gen¬
tle declivity of a hill, near a river, and lacing the me¬
ridian sun. Such was the situation ot the far greatest
part of the stations on this wall. In general, we may
observe, that the stations stood thickest near the two
ends and in the middle, probably because the danger ot
invasion was greatest in these places. But the reader
will form a clearer idea of the number of these stations,
their*Latin and English names, their situation ami dis¬
tance from one another, by inspecting the following
table, than we can give him with equal brevity in any
other way. Tffie first column contains the number ot
the station, reckoning from east to west ; the second
contains its Latin, and the third its English name ; and
the three last its distance from the next station to the
west of it, in miles, furlongs, and chains.
Se
N°
Latin Name.
Segedunum
Hons ^Elii
Condercum
Vindobala
Hunnum
Cilurnum
Procolitia
Borcovicus
Vindolana
Hlsica
Magna
Amboglana
Petriana
Aballaba
Congavata
Axelodunum
Gabrosentum
Tunnocelum
English Name. M.
Cousin’s-house
Newcastle
Benwell hill
Hutchester
Halton-chesters
Walwick-chesters
Carrawbrugh
Housesteeds
Little-chesters
Great-chesters
Carrvoran
Burdoswald
Cambeck
Watchcross
Stanwix
Brugh
Brumbrugh
Boulness
Length of the wall
F. C.
3 3
The castclla, or castles, were the second kind of for¬
tifications which were built along the line of this wall
for its defence. These castles were neither so large nor
strong
S E V
ft'Pni’.
[
strong as the stations, but much more numerous, beino-
no fewer than 8x. I ne shape and dimensions of the
castles, as appears from the foundations of many of
them which are still visible, were exact squares of 66
feet every way. They were fortified on every side with
thick and lofty walls, but without any ditch, except on
the north side ; on which the wall itself, raised much
above its usual height, with the ditch attending it, form¬
ed the fortification. The castles were situated in the
intervals between the stations, at the distance of about
seven furlongs from each other ; though particular cir¬
cumstances sometimes occasioned a little variation. In
these castles, guards were constantly kept by a compe¬
tent number of men detached from the nearest stations.
The or turrets, were the third and last kind
of fortifications on the wall. These were still much
smaller than the castles, and formed only a square of
about 12 feet, standing out of the wall on its south side.
Being so small, they are more entirely ruined than the
stations and castles, which makes it difficult to discover
their exact number. They stood in the intervals be¬
tween the castles ; and from the faint vestiges of a few
of them, it is conjectured that there were four of them
between every two castles, at the distance of about 300
yards from one another. According to this conjecture
the number of the turrets amounted to 324. They
were designed for watch-towers and places for senti¬
nels, who, being within hearing of one another, could
convey an alarm or piece of intelligence to all parts of
the wall in a very little time.
Such were the stations, castles, and turrets, on the
wall of Severus ; and a very considerable body of troops
was constantly quartered in them for its defence.
The usual complement allowed for this service was as
101 lows:
1. f welve cohorts of foot, consisting of 600 men
each’ - - - 7200
2. One cohort of mariners in the station at Boul-
ness, . . _ _ goo
3. One detachment of Moors, probably equal to
a co|lort» . - - - - 600
4. ! our alae or wings of horse, consisting, at the
lowest computation, of 400 each, - 1600
10,000
For the conveniency of marching these troops from
one part of the wall to another, with the greater ease
and expedition, on any service, it was attended with two
military ways, paved with square stones, in the most so¬
lid and beautiful manner. One of these ways was small¬
er, and the other larger. The smaller military way run
close along the south side of the wall, from turret to
urret, and castle to castle, for the use of the soldiers in
re levmg their guards and sentinels, and such services.
-Uie larger way did not keep so near the wall, nor
ouch at the turrets or castles, but pursued the most di-
rect course from one station to another, and was design-
troopT t le couven!ency °f marc!ling larger bodies of
It is to be regretted, that we cannot gratify the read-
f s curiosity, by informing him by what particular bo-
*eS 01 Koman troops the several parts of this great work
ere executed j as we were enabled to do with reoard
99 ] S E V
to the wall of Antonins Pius from inscriptions. For
though ,t is probable that there were stones with in¬
scriptions of the same kind, mentioning the several
bodies of troops, and the quantity of work performed by
each of them, originally inserted in the face of this
wall, yet none of them are now to be found. There have
indeed been discovered, in or near the ruins of this wall
a great number of smail square atones, with very short*
and generally imperfect, inscriptions upon them: men¬
tioning particular legions, cohorts, and centuries : but
without directly asserting that they had built any part
of the wall, or naming any number of paces. Of these
inscriptions, the reader may see no fewer than twenty-
nine among the Northumberland and Cumberland in¬
scriptions in Mr Horsley’s Britannia Eomana. As the
stones on which these inscriptions are cut are of the same
shape and size with the other facing-stones of this wall
it is almost certain that they have been originally placed
of.lt* Jt \s C(iual]y certain, from the unifor¬
mity of these inscriptions, that they were all intended to
intimate some one thing, and nothing so probable as
that the adjacent wall was built by the troops mention-
ed n them. This was, perhaps, so well understood,
that it was not thought necessary to be expressed: and
le distance of these inscriptions from one another show¬
ed the quantity of work performed. If this was really
the case we know in general, that this great work was
executed by the second and sixth legions, these being
the only legions mentioned in these inscriptions. Now
1 this prodigious wall, with all its appendages of ditches’
stations, castles, turrets, and military ways, was execu¬
ted m the space of two years by two legions only, which
when most complete, made no more than 12,000 men’
how greatly must we admire the skill, the industry’
and excellent discipline of the Homan soldiers, who were
not only the valiant guardians of the empire in times of
•war, but its most active and useful members in times of
peace r
. 11118 wIaI11 of Severus, and its fortresses, proved an
impenetrable barrier to the Roman territories for near
200 years. But about the beginning of the 5th cen-
!n7\l lErar bei"g assaulted on all sides,
and the bulk of their forces withdrawn from Britain,
the ivlaeatae and Caledonians, now called Scots and Piets
became more daring j and some of them breaking through
the wall and others sailing round the ends of it, they
carried their ravages into the very heart of Provincial
.nntain. These invaders were indeed several times re-
pulscd after this by the Roman legions sent to the relief
of the Britons. The last of these legions, under the
command of Gallio of Ravenna, having, with the assist¬
ance of the Britons, thoroughly repaired the breaches of
.Severus 3 wall and its fortresses, and exhorted the Bri
tons to make a brave defence, took their final farewell
of Britain. It soon appeared, that the strongest walls
and ramparts are no security to an undisciplined and
dastardly rabble, as the unhappy Britons then were.
I he Scots and 1 icts met with little resistance in break¬
ing through the wall, while the towns and castles were
tamely abandoned to their destructive rage. In m ' y
places they levelled it with the ground, that ft mmiit
prove no obstruction to their future inroads.—From this
time no attempts were ever made to repair this noble
work. Its beauty and grandeur procured it no respect
10 tue “ar^ antl tasteless ages which succeeded. It* be¬
came
Severus.
S E
S E V
Severus,
Sevigne.
came the common quarry —  
years, out of which all the towns anti villages around
—v were built j and is now so entirely ruined, that tne pe¬
netrating eyes of the most poring and patient antiqua¬
rian can hardly trace its vanishing foundations.
SEVIGNE/, Marie de Rabutin, Marquise de,
a French lady, was born in 1626. When only a year
old she lost her father-, who was killed in the descent ot
the English on the isle of Rbe, where he commanded a
company ot volunteers. In 1^44 s^e manied tlm mar
qais of Sevigne, who was slain in a duel by the cue wi¬
lier d’Albret, in 1651. She had by him a son and a
daughter, to the education of whom she afterwards re¬
ligiously devoted herself. Her daughter was married
in 1660 to the count of Grignan, who conducted her
to Provence. Madame de Sevigne consoled herself by
writing frequent letters to her daughter. She fell at
last the victim to her maternal tenderness. In one or
her visits to Grignan, she fatigued herself so much du¬
ring the sickness of her daughter, that she was seized
with a fever, which carried her off on the 14th ot aa-
nuarv 1696. We have two portraits of Madame de
Sevion6 ; the one by the compte de Russi, the other by
Madame de la Fayette. The first exhibits her defects 5
the second her excellencies. Bussi describes her as a
lively gay coquette, a lover of flattery, fond of titles, ho¬
nour, and distinction: M. de la Fayette, as a woman
of ivit and good sense, as possessed of a nob.e soul, form¬
ed for dispensing benefits, incapable of debasing herself
by avarice, and blessed with a generous, obliging, and
faithful heart. Both these portraits are in some mea¬
sure iust. That she was vain-glorious, appears evident
from her own letters, which, on the other hand, ex¬
hibit undoubted proofs of her virtue and goodness ot
This illustrious lady Avas acquainted with all the AVits
of her age. It is said that she decided the famous dis¬
pute between Perrault and Boileau concerning the pre¬
ference of the ancients to the moderns, thus, “ 1 he an¬
cients are the finest, and we are the prettiest. bhe
left behind her a most valuable collection ol letters, tue
best edition of which is that of 1775, in _8 vois i 2mo.
Sieck de <« Xhese letters (says Voltaire) are filled with anecdotes,
LauisXIF. wr;tten with freedom, and in a natural and animated
t0m' U style • are an excellent criticism on studied letters ot
wit and still more on those fictitious letters which aim
at the epistolary style, by a recital of false sentiments
and feigned adventures to an imaginary correspondent.
It were to be wished that a proper selection had been
made of these letters. It is difficult to read eight vo¬
lumes of letters, which though inimitably written, pre¬
sent frequent repetitions, and are often filled with trifles.
What makes them in general perhaps so interesting is,
that they are in part historical. They may be looked
on as a relation of the manners, the ton, the genius, the
fashions, the etiquette, which reigned in the court ot
Louis XIV They contain many curious anecdotes no¬
where else to be found: But these excellencies Avould
he still more striking, were they sometimes stripped of
that multitude of domestic affairs and minute men ents
which ought naturally to have died with the mother and
the daughter. A volume entitled Sevigniana was pub-
V [ 2CO j
for more than a thousand anecdotes, and moral apophthegms, scattered tinoughout Stvi^
these letters. #
large and populous city of Spain,
SEVILLE, a ___D-
stands on the banks of the Guadalquiver, irf the.midst
of a rich, and to the eye a boundless plain 5 in W.
Long. 50 5', N. Lat. 37° 20'. This city is supposed
to have been founded by the Phoenicians, who gave it
the name of Hispalis. When it fell under the power
of the Romans, it Avas called Jnha i and at last, alter a
variety of coiruptions, Avas called bebillci or Sevilla ;
both of Avhich names are retained by the Spaniards. The
Romans embellished it with many magnificent edifices 5
of which scarce any vestige now remains. The Gothic
kings for some time made it their residence . but in
proress of time they removed their court to loledoj
and Seville Avas taken by storm soon after the victory
obtained at Xeres over the Gothic king Rodrigo.—
In 1027, Seville became an independent monarchy;
but Avas conquered 70 years afterwards by Yusef Al-
moravides, an African prince. At last it Avas taken
by Ferdinand III. after a year’s siege ; and 300,000
Moors Avere then obliged to leave the place. Eot-
Avithstanding this prodigious emigration, Seville conti¬
nued to be a great and populous city, and soon after it
Avas enlarged and adorned with many magnificent builil-
ings, the chief of Avhich is the cathedral. ScA'ille aui-
ved at its utmost pitch of grandeur a little after the dis¬
covery of America, the reason of ivhich Avas, that all the
valuable productions of the West Indies were carried
thither. Its court was then the most splendid in Eu¬
rope ; but in the course of a ferv years all this grandeur
disappeared, owing to the impediments in navigating the
Guadalquiver. The superior excellence ol the poit oi
Cadiz induced government to order the galeons to be
stationed there in time to come.
Seville is of a circular form, and is surrounded by a
wall about five miles and a half in circumference, con¬
taining 176 towers. The ditch in many places is filled
up. The streets of Seville are crooked and dirty, and
most of them so narrow that two carriages can scarcely
pass one another abreast.
Seville is divided into 30 parishes, and according to
Laborde, contains 96,000 inhabitants. It has 84 con¬
vents, with 24 hospitals.
Of the public edifices of this city the cathedral is tht 7WJ11
most magnificent. Its dimensions are 420 feet inlengti,^ ..
263 in breadth within the walls, and 126 feet in height.
It has nine doors, 80 altars, at which 500 masses are
daily celebrated, and 80 windows of painted glass, each
of which cost 1000 ducats. At one angle stands a
toAver of Moorish Avorkmanship, 350 feet high. Of*1'!6
top of it is the giralda, or large brazen image, avIhc t
with its palm branch, weighs near one ton and a halt,
yet turns as a weather cock Avith the slightest variation
of the wind. The Avhole Avork is brick and mortar.
The passage to the top is an inclined plane, Avhich win s
about in the inside in the manner of a spiral staircase,
so easy of ascent that a horse might trot from the ot
tom to the top ; at the same time it is so Avide that two
horsemen may ride abreast. What appears very unac
countable, the solid masonry'In the upper half is just as
thick again as that in the lower, though on.the ontsi e
?? rfpl'l in Is noThfrirtTn a S^TmiZ Iky hIhe^e dimensions
collection^oTtlie fine Vtiments, literary and historical opinion of Mr Swinburne, this cathedral is mleno^
2
S E V
Boijo-
am ■ Tra
vehtrol. ii
*X, ii.
J-iIlc. York minster. Its treasures are inestimable; one altar
with all its ornaments is solid silver*, of the same metal
are the images of St Isidore and StLeander, which are
as large as life ; and a tabernacle for the host more
than four yards high, adorned with 48 columns. B(*.
fore the choir of the cathedral is the tomb of the cele¬
brated Christopher Columbus, the discoverer of Ame¬
rica. His monument consists of one stone only, on
which these words are inscribed, A Castella y Arragon
otro mundo dio Colon ; that is, “ To Castile and Arra-
gon Columbus gave another world an inscription
simple and expressive, the justness of which will be ac¬
knowledged by those who have read the adventures of
this illustrious but unfortunate man. The cathedral was
begun by Don Sancho the Brave, about the close of the
13th century, and finished by John II. about an hundred
years after. To the cathedral belongs a library of
20,000 volumes, collected by Hernando the son of Co¬
lumbus ; but, to the disgrace of the Spaniards, it has
scarcely received any addition since the death of the
founder. The organ in this cathedral is a very inge¬
nious piece of mechanism *. “ I was much pleased (says
Mr Townsend in his interesting travels) with the con¬
struction of a new organ, containing 5300 pipes, with
110 stops, which latter, as the builder told me, is 30
more than are in the famous one of Haerlem 5 yet, so
ample are the bellows, that when stretched they supply
the full organ 15 minutes. The mode of filling them
with air is singular j for, instead of working with his
hand, a man walks backwards and forwards along an
inclined plane of about 15 feet in length, which is ba¬
lanced in the middle on its axis ; under each end is a
pair of bellows, of about six feet by three and a half.
These communicate with five other pairs united by a
bar , and the latter are so contrived, that when they are
in danger of being overstrained, a valve is lifted up, and
gives them relief. Passing 10 times along the inclined
plane fills all these vessels ”
The Canos de Carmone, or great aqueduct of Se¬
ville, is reckoned by the historians of this city one of
the most wonderful works of antiquity. Mr Swinburne
however, remarks, that it is ugly, crooked, the arches
unequal, and the architecture neglected. The conduit
is so leaky, that a rivulet is formed by the waste water.
Nevertheless,- it still conveys to the city an ample sup¬
ply of water, sufficient to turn several mills, and to give
almost every house in town the benefit of it.
Many of the convents are remarkable for the beauty
of their architecture j but in Seville the eye covets only
pictures, of which there is a wonderful profusion. Among
these are the works of the famous painter Murillo, with
many others universally admired,
The convent of the Franciscans contains 15 cloisters,
with apartments for 200 monks, though, when Mr
t jMvnsend visited them, they amounted only to 140.
i he annual expenditure of these, who are all fed on
chanty, is about 4000!. sterling. “ In the principal
cloister (says the same intelligent traveller), which is
entirely inclosed by a multitude of little chapels, are re¬
presented, in 14 pictures, each called a station, all the
sufferings of the Redeemer. These are so arranged as
to mark given distances by walking round the cloister
Irom the first to the second, and so in order to the rest.
Uver them is mentioned the number of steps taken by
our Lord between the several incidents of his passion in
' OL. XIX. Part I. -j-
E 201 ]
S E V
Swim':
burtu.
Trot
p. a8
'l'ewniitd
' Travc,i
(1 T<il. ii.:
»• p* iw
n
r il'
i
ll
his way to Calvary ; and these precisely are the paces
measured for the penitents in their progress from one
station to another. Over one is the following inscrip¬
tion : ‘ This station consists of 1087 steps. Here the
blessed Redeemer fell a second time under the weight of
his cross, and here is to be gained the indulgence of
seven years and forty quarantines. Mental prayer, the
Paternoster, and the Ave Maria.’ This may serve as
an example for the rest.”
The principal manufacture of Seville is snuff. Mr
Townsend, who paid particular attention to it, informs
us, that the building in which it is carried on is elegant
and simple in its form, and is about 600 feet by 480,
and not less than 60 feet in height, with four regular
fronts, inclosing 28 quadrangles. It cost 37,000,000 of
reals, or about 370,000!. At present (1787), no more
than 1700 workmen are employed, and too horses or
mulesj but formerly 3000 men were engaged, and near
400 horses. rlhis falling off is attributed by Mr Swin¬
burne to a practice which the directors followed, of
adulterating the tobacco with the red earth of Alma-
zarron. When Mr Townsend visited this manufacture^
they had changed their system. From the year 1780,
he informs us, the annual sale of tobacco from Brazil
has been 1,500,000 pounds, purchased from the Portu¬
guese at three reals a pound ; and of snuff from the pro¬
duce of their own colonies 1,600,000 pounds, beside
cigars to a very considerable amount. They have
lying by them more than 5,000,000 pounds of snufi'un¬
sold j but as it will not sutler by age, they are not un¬
easy at this accumulation. Besides the peculiar kind of
snufi with which Spain was accustomed to supply the
market, they have lately introduced the manufacture of
lappee. In this branch alone are employed 220persons,
old and young, with 16 mules.
“ AH the workmen (continues Mr Townsend) deposit
their cloaks at the door ; and when they go out are so
strictly examined, that they have little chance of being-
able to conceal tobacco ; yet they sometimes venture to
bide it about their persons. An officer and a guard is
always attending to take delinquents into custody ; and
that they may prevent resistance, no workman is per¬
mitted to enter with a knife. Were it not for this pre¬
caution, the consequence of a detection might be fatal.
Hie whole business is conducted by a director, with a
salaiy of 40,000 reals a-year, and 54 superior officers,
assisted by as many subordinate to them. For grinding
their snuff, they have 40 mills, each consisting of a stone
roller, moved by a large horse or mule, with the traces
fastened to a beam of eight feet in length, in the angle
of 45 degrees, consequently losing precisely half his
force.”
Before Mr Townsend left Seville, according tt> his
usual pi actice, which was truly laudable, he enquired
into the prices of labour and provisions. As a piece of
curious and useful information, and as an example to
other travellers, we present them to our readers. They
are as follows :
Day-labourers 4^. reals, about L.o
Carpenters from 7 to 11  
J oiners, if good work¬
men, 24   or o
Weavers, if fjood workmen, 1 c reals,
about
C e
0 io£
4 9
3 °
Bread,
SEW
Bread, for 31b. of 16 o/.. 16 oo.u--
tos, or
 sometimes 28 quartos, or
Beef, 30 quartos for 32 oz. per lb, about
Mutton 38 do. do.
Kid, 24 do.
Pork from 36 to 42 quartos, do.
SEW
Sewer.
4t
4*
5t^
o
or o
to o
5t^
r5 9
5tt
very
3id.
The price of wheat has at different periods been
remarkable. In 1652, it sold at the rate of 15^
the bushel 5 and in 1657, it fell so low as ls- 4>d* Vet
bushel, reckoning the fanegaat 109I lb. and the bushel
^ SEVRES, Deux, a department in the west of
France, forming part of the ancient Poitou. The soil
is generally good, producing grain, legumes, fruits, and
wine •> and yielding excellent pasturage. There are ex¬
tensive forests, mines of iron and antimony, and quar¬
ries of building stone. The manufactures consist of
woollens, hosiery, and leather. The extent of this
department is 604,474 hectares, and the population
in 1817 was 254,105. Niort is the chief town.
SEVUM MINER ALE, mineral tallow, a substance
somewhat resembling tallow, found on the sea coasts of
Finland in the year 1736. It burns with a blue flame,
and smell of grease, leaving a black viscid matter which
cannot easily be consumed. It is extremely light •, be-
ino- only of the specific gravity of 0.770 5 whereas tal¬
low is not less than 0.969. It is partly soluble in high¬
ly rectified spirit of wine; but entirely so in expressed
oils when boiling. It is met with in some of the rocky
parts of Persia, but there it appears to be mixed with
petroleum. Dr Herman of Strasburg mentions a spring
in the neighbourhood of that city which contains a sub¬
stance of this sort diffused through it, separating, and
capable of being collected on ebullition.
SEWAURY. a Hindoo word used m Bengal, and
signifying the train of attendants that accompany a na¬
bob or great man. , ,
SEWER, in the Household, an officer who arranged
on the table the dishes of a king or nobleman.
Sewer is also a passage or gutter made to carry wa¬
ter into the sea or a river, whereby to preserve the land,
&c. from inundations and other annoyances.
Court of Commissioners of Sewers in England, a tem¬
porary tribunal,, erected by virtue of a commission un¬
der the great seal •, which formerly used to be granted
pro re nata at the pleasure^ of the crown, but now at
the discretion and nomination of the lord chancellor,
lord treasurer, and chief justices, pursuant to the statute
2? Hen. VIII. c. 5. Their jurisdiction is to overlook
the repairs of sea-banks and sea-walls, and the cleansing
of rivers, public streams, ditches, and other conduits,
whereby any waters are carried off *, and is confined to
such county or particular district as the commission shall
expressly name. The commissioners are a court of re¬
cord, and may fine and imprison for contempts j and in
the execution of their duty may proceed by jury, or up¬
on their own view, and may take order lor the removal
of any annoyances, or the safeguard and conservation of
the sewers within their commission, either according to
the laws and customs of Romney-marsh, or otherwise
at their own discretion. Tliey ma7 a^° asses? sticli
202 ]
rates or scots upon the owners of lands within theii
district as they shall judge necessary ; and it any per- ^
son refuses to pay them, the commissioners may levy
the same by distress of bis goods and chattels ; or they
may, by statute 23 Hen. VIII. c. 5. sell ins freehold
lands (and by the 7 Ann. c. 10. his copyhold also), m
order to pay such scots or assessments. But their con¬
duct is under the controul of the court ol KtngVbench,
which will prevent or punish any illegal or tyrannical
proceedings. And yet in the reign ol King James 1.
(8th Novi 1616), the privy-council took upon them to
order, that no action or complaint should he prosecu¬
ted against the commissioners unless before that board >
and committed several to prison who had brought such
actions at common law, till they should release the
same and one of the reasons for discharging bir Ed¬
ward Coke from his office oi lord chief-justice, was
for countenancing those legal proceedings. Ihe pie-
tence for these arbitrary measures was no other than
the tyrant’s plea of the necessity of unlimited powers
in works of evident utility to the public, “ the supreme
reason above all reasons, which is the salvation of the
king's lands and people.” But now it is clearly hekfi
that this (as well as all other inferior jurisdiction) is
subject to the discretionary coercion of Ins majesty s
court of King’s-bench.
Common Sewers, in Rome, were executed at a
expence. It was proposed that they should be of history.
cient dimensions to admit a waggon loaded with hay.
"When these common sewers came to be obstructed, or
out of repair, under the republic, the censors contract¬
ed to pay a thousand talents, or about 193,000k for
clearing and repairing them. They were again in dis¬
repair at the accession of Augustus Ceesar, and the re¬
instating them is mentioned among the great works of
A <r rip pa. He is said to have turned the course of
seven rivers into these subterraneous passages, to have
made them navigable, and to have actually Pas^a m
barges under the streets and buildings^of Rome. Ihese
works are still supposed to remain } but as they exceed
the power and resources of the present city to keep them
in repair, they are quite concealed, except at one or two
places. They were in the midst of the Roman great¬
ness, and still are, reckoned among the wonders of the
world ; and yet they are said to have been works of the
elder Tarquin, a prince whose territory did not extend,
in any direction, above 16 miles •, and, on this supposi¬
tion, they must have been made to accommodate a city
that was calculated chiefly for the reception of cattle,
herdsmen, and banditti. Rude nationssometimes execute
works of great magnificence, as fortresses and temples,
for the purposes of war and superstition > but seldom
palaces, and still more seldom works of mere convenience
and cleanliness, in which for the most part they are long
defective. It is not unreasonable, therefore, to question
the authority of tradition in respect to this singular mo¬
nument of antiquity, which so greatly exceeds what the
best accommodated city of modern Europe could un¬
dertake for its own conveniency. And as those works
are still entire, and may continue so for thousands 0
years, it may be suspected that they were even prior to
the settlement of Romulus, and may have been the re¬
mains of a more ancient city, on the ruins of which the
followers of Romulus settled, as the Arabs now hut or
encamp
SEX
encamp on tlie ruins of Palmyra and Balbeck. Livy
owns, that the common sewers were not accommodated
to the plan of Rome, as it was laid out in his time ; they
were carried in directions across the streets, and passed
under buildings of the greatest antiquity. This derange-
ment indeed he imputes to the hasty rebuilding of the
city after its destruction by the Gauls 5 but haste, it is
probable, would have determined the people to build on
their old foundations, or at least not to change them so
much as to cross the direction of former streets.
SEX, the property by which any animal is male or
female.
Lavater has drawn the following characteristic di¬
stinctions between the male and female of the human
species.
1 he primary matter of which women are constitu¬
ted appears to be more flexible, irritable, and elastic,
than that of man. They are formed to maternal mild¬
ness and aflection j all their organs are tender, yielding,
easily wounded, sensible, and receptible. Among a
thousand females there is scarcely one without the^ge-
neric feminine signs ; the flexible, the circular, and the
irritable.
“ They are the counterpart of man, taken out of
man, to be subject to man; to comfort him like angels,
and to lighten his cares. . ‘ She shall be saved in child¬
bearing, if they continue in faith, and charity, and holi¬
ness, with sobriety’ (r Tim. ii. 15.). This tenderness,
tins sensibility, this light texture of their fibres and or¬
gans, this volatility of feeling, render them so easy to
conduct and to tempt ; so ready of submission to the
enterprise and power of the man ; but more powerful
through the aid of their charms than man with all his
strength. The man was not first tempted, but the wo¬
man, afterward the man by the woman. And, not on¬
ly easy to be tempted, she is capable of being formed
to the purest, noblest, most seraphic virtue ; to every
thing which can deserve praise or affection. Highly
sensible of purity, beauty, and symmetry, she does not
always, take time to reflect on internal life, internal
death, internal corruption. ‘ The woman saw that the
tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the
eves, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, and
she took of the fruit thereof.’ (Gen. iii. 6 ).
“ The female thinks not profoundly; profound thought
is the power of the man. Woman feel more. Sensibi¬
lity is the power of woman. They often rule more ef-
iectually, more sovereignly, than man. They rule with
tender looks, tears, and sighs : but not with passion and
t neats ; for if, 01 when, they so rule, they are no longer
women but abortions. They are capable of the sweetest
sensibility, the most profound emotion, the utmost humi¬
lity, and the excess of enthusiasm. ]n their countenance
are the signs of sanctity and inviolability, which every
reeling man honours, and the effects of which are often
miraculous. Therefore, by the irritability of their nerves,
ieir incapacity for deep inquiry and firm decision, they
may easily from their extreme sensibility become the
most irreclaimable, the most rapturous enthusiasts. Their
ove, strong and rooted as it is, is very changeable ; their
hatred almost incurable, and only to be effaced by con¬
tinued and artful flattery. Men are most profound ;
women are more sublime.
“ Mrr whole; worn™ remark in-
ImduaUy, and lake more deliglit selecting the mi-
[ 203 1
SEX
nutke which form the whole. Man hears the bursting
thunder, views the destructive bolt with serene aspect, '~-
and stands erect amidst the fearful majesty of the stream¬
ing clouds. Woman trembles at the lightning, and the
voice of distant thunder ; and shrieks into herself, or
sinks into the arms of man. Sian receives a ray of light
single, woman delights to view it through a prism in all
its dazzling colours. She contemplates the rainbow as
the promise of peace ; be extends bis inquiring eye over
the whole horizon. Woman laughs, man smiles ; wo¬
man weeps, man remains silent. Woman is in anguish
when man weeps, and in despair when man is in anguish;
yet has she often more faith than man. Man without
religion., is a diseased creature, who would persuade him¬
self he is well, and needs not a physician ; but woman
without religion, is raging and monstrous. A woman
with a beard is not so disgusting as a woman who acts
the freethinker;. her sex is formed to piety and religion ;
to them Christ first appeared; but he was obliged to
Prevent them from too ardently, and too hastily em¬
bracing him : ‘ Touch me not.’ They are prompt to
receive and seize novelty, and become its enthusiasts.
Hie whole world is forgotten in the emotion caused by
the presence and proximity of him they love. They
sink into the most incurable melancholy, as they also
rise to the most enraptured heights.
“ Male sensation is more imagination, female more
heart. When communicative, they are more communi¬
cative than man ; when secret, more secret. In gene¬
ral they are more patient, long-suffering, credulous,, be-
nevolent, and modest. Woman is not a foundation on
which to build. She is the gold, silver, precious stones,
wood, hay, stubble (1 Cor. iii. 12.) ; the materials for
building on the male foundation. She is the leaven or
more expressively the oil to the vinegar of man : the’ se-
con cl part of the hook of man.
“ Man singly is but half man ; at least but half hu¬
man ; a king without a kingdom. Woman, who feels
properly what she is, whether still or in motion, rests
upon the man; nor is man what he may and ought to
be, but in conjunction with woman ; therefore, ‘ it is
not good that man should be alone, but that he should
leave tather and mother, and cleave to his wife, and
they two shall be one flesh.”
1 hey differ also in their exterior form and appear¬
ance. 11
“Man is the most firm; woman the most flexible.
Man is the straightest ; woman the most bending. Man
stands stedfast ; woman gently retreats. Man surveys
ami observes ; woman glances and feels.' Man is se
nous ; woman is gay. Man is the tallest and broadest •
woman the smallest and weakest. Man is roimh and
hard ;. woman smooth and soft. Man is brown; wo¬
man is fair. Man is wrinkly ; woman is not. The
hair of man is more strong and short; of woman more
long and pliant. The eyebrows of man are compressed ;
of woman less frowning. Man has most convex lines •
woman most concave. Man has most straight lines-
woman most curved. The countenance of man taken
in profile is more seldom perpendicular than that of the
woman. Man is most angular; woman most round.”
In determining the comparative merit of the two EiW
sexes, it is no derogation from female excellency that borne's
differs in kind from that which distinguishes the male -LcWtT**
part of our species: and if, in general, it should be
C c 2 found
Sex.
SEX
found (wliat upon an impartial inquiry will
tainly be found) that women till up their appointed
circle of action with greater regularity than men, the
claim of preference cannot justly be decided in our ta-
vour. In the prudential and economical parts ot me,
it is undeniable that they rise far above us: and it true
fortitude of mind is best discovered by a cheer ul resig¬
nation to the measures of Providence, we shall not imd
reason, perhaps, to claim that most singular ot the hu¬
man virtues as our peculiar privilege. 1 here are num¬
bers of the other sex who, from the natural delicacy ot
Deis 01 me uuici otA   - , r-
their constitution, pass through one continued scene ot
suffering from their cradles to their graves, with a hrm-
jiess of resolution that would deserve so many statues to
be erected to their memories, if heroism were not esteem¬
ed more by the splendour than the merit ol actions.
But whatever real difference there may be between
the moral or intellectual powers of the male and fe¬
male mind, Nature does not seem to have marked the
distinction so strongly as our vanity is wi ling10 ima¬
gine ; and after all, perhaps, education will be found to
constitute the principal superiority. It must be acknow¬
ledged, at least, that in this article we have every ad-
van ta ere over the softer sex that art and industry can
possibly secure to us. The most animating examples
of Greece and Rome are set before us, as early as we
are capable ot any observation ; and the nob est compo
sitions of the ancients are given into our hands almost
ns soon as we have strength to hold them ; while the
employments of the other sex, at the same period ot
[ 2°4 1 SEX
most cer- to render women learned j yet surely it is necessary they
should be raised above ignorance. Such a general tinc¬
ture of the most useful sciences as may serve to tree the
mind from vulgar prejudices, and give it a relish tor the
rational exercise of its powers, might very justly enter
into a plan of female erudition. That sex might be
tauo-ht to turn the course of their reflections into a pro-
per and advantageous channel, without any danger ot
rendering them too elevated for the feminine duties ot
life. In a word, they ought to be considered as design¬
ed by Providence for use as well as show, and trained
Sex
Sextius
up, not only as women, but as rational creatures.
Sex of Bees. See Bee.
Sex of Plants. See Botany Index.
SEXAGENARY, something relating to the num¬
ber sixty : thus sexagenary or sexagesimal arithmetic is
a method of computation proceeding by sixties j such is
that used in the division of a degree into sixty minutes,
of the minute into sixty seconds, of the second into sixty
thirds, &c. Also sexagenary tables are tables ot pro¬
portional parts, showing the product of tvyo sexagenaries
that are to be multiplied, or the quotient of the two
that are to be divided. , „ , , „ T ,
SEXAGESIMA, the second Sunday betore .Lent,
or the next to Shrove-Sunday j so called as being about
the 6oth day before Easter.
SEXAGESIMALS, or Sexagesimal Fractions,
fractions whose denominators proceed in a sexagecuple
ratio; that is, a prime, or the first minute =^5- j ^ se*
cond=-T^5J a third = Anciently, there
were no other than sexagesimals used in astronomy; and
... . • i •    ma 1
tMIUJlUy IIICULO a     7 . . 1 ^  
life, are generally the reverse 'P “j JJ'"’'’still' refaioed?n "many cases, though decimal
open and enlarge their minds, or Jllration ari,y|imetic begins to grow in use now in astronomical
calculations. In these fractions, which some call astro¬
nomical fractions, the denominator being always 60, or
.i c • and the numera-
rational notions'. The truth of it is, female education
is so much worse than none, as it is better to €avt-
13 SO UlUCH vvuiat; — ,1
mind to its natural and uninstructed suggestions, th n
to lead it into false pursuits, and contract its views, y
turning them upon the lowest and most tn mg 0 >jec s.
We seem, indeed, by the manner in which we sufler the
youth of that sex to be trained, to consider women
agreeably to the opinion of certain Mahometan doc¬
tors, and treat them as if we believed they had no
f ouls) why else are they
Bred only, and completed to the taste
Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance.
To dress, and troul the tongue, and roll the eye.
Milton.
This strange neglect of cultivating the female mind
tan hardly be allowed as good policy, when it is con¬
sidered how much the interest of society is concerned in
the rectitude of their understandings. 1 hat season oi
55*g5r=Kt«
not one of the secret springs which regulates the most
important movements of private or public transactions.
What Cato observes of his countrymen is in one respect
true of every nation under the sun : “ The Romans
(said he) govern the world, but it is the women that
govern the Romans,” , .
If it he true then (as true beyond all peradventure it
tcisz/i/i mi. JI k/v 1 ~ 7   - # i ll
a multiple thereof, is usually omitted, and the numera¬
tor only written down : thus 40, 59', 32', 50', 16 ,
is to be read, 4 degrees, 59 minutes, 32 seconds, 5®
thirds, 16 fourths, &c. . .
SEXTANS, Sextant, a sixth part of certain things.
The Romans having divided their as into 12 ounces or
uncia, the sixth part of that, or two ounces, was the
sextans. Sextans was also a measure which contained
two ounces of liquor, or two cyathi. #
Sextans, in Astronomy, a constellation ot the
southern hemisphere, made by Hevelius out of unform¬
ed stars. In Hevelius’s catalogue it contains 11, hut
in the Britannic catalogue 41 stars. .
SEXTANT, in Mathematics, denotes the sixth part
of a circle, or an arch comprehending 60 degrees.
The word sextant is more particularly used tor an
astronomical instrument made like a quadrant,
ing that its limb only comprehends 60 degrees, ine
use and application of the sextant is the same with that
of the quadrant. See Quadrant j and Navigation,
p. 699, &c. _
SEXTILE, Sextilis, the position or aspect ot twe
planets when at 60 degrees distance, or at the distance
of two signs from one another. It is marked thus ( )•
See Aspect.
SEXTIUS, Quintus, a Pythagorean philosopher,
• ‘T i» tk. time of Augustus. ’ He seemed formed
;s) that ^ 1, ! F„. to rise i„ the republic ; but he shrunk from cml to-
^rtlndencv by the assistance of a well-directed edu- nours, and declined accepting the rank of senator w _
Sion. Far are we from recommending any attempts it was offered him by Julius Caesar, that he might ha^
$ EX [ 205 ] S F O
S time to apply to philosophy. It appears that he wished SEXUALIST7E, among botanical writers, those SexuaiisUe
to establish a school at Kome, and that his tenets, though who have established .the classes of plants upon the dif- |j
chiefly drawn from the doctrines of Pythagoras, in some ferences of the sexes and parts of fructification in plants, Sforza.
particulars resembled those of the Stoics. according to the modern method ; as Linnaeus, &c. * "
He soon found himself involved in many difficulties. SEZAWUL, a Hindoo word, used in Bengal to
His laws were tinctured with great severity ; and in an express an officer employed at a monthly salary to col-
early period of this establishment, he found his mind so lect the revenue.
harassed, and the harshness of the doctrines which he SFOIIZA, James, was the founder of the illustri-
wished to establish so repulsive t@ his feelings, that he ous house of Sforza, which acted so conspicuous a part
had nearly worked himself up to such an height of des- in Italy during the 15th and 16th centuries, which
peration as to resolve on putting a period to his ex- gave six dukes to Milan, and contracted alliances with
istence.
Of the school of Sextius were Fabianus, Sotion, Fla-
vianus, Crassitius, and Celsus. Of his works only a
few fragments remain j and whether any of them form¬
ed a part of the work which Seneca admired so much,
cannot now be determined. Some of his maxims are
valuable. He recommended an examination of the ac¬
tions of the day to his scholars when they retired to
rest; he taught, that the road to heaven {ad astro) was
by frugality, temperance, and fortitude. He used to
recommend holding a looking-glass before persons disor¬
dered with passion. He enjoined his scholars to ab¬
stain from animal food.
SEXTON, a church-officer, thus called by corrup¬
tion of the Latin, sacrtsta, or Saxon segerstone, which de¬
notes the same. His office is to take care of the vessels,
vestments, &c. belonging to the church j and to attend
the minister, church-warden, &c. at church. He is
usually chosen by the parson only. Sextons, as well as
parish-clerks, are regarded by the common law as per¬
sons who have freehold in their offices j and, therefore,
though they may be punished, yet they cannot be de¬
prived by ecclesiastical censures.
The office of sexton in the pope’s chapel, is appro¬
priated to the order of the hermits of St Augustine.
He is generally a bishop, though sometimes the pope
only gives a bishopric, in partibus, to. him on whom :he
confers the post. He takes the title of Prefect of the
Pope's Sacristy, and has the keeping the vessels of gold
and silver, the relics, &c. When the pope says mass,
the sexton always tastes the bread and wine first. If it
be in private he says mass, his holiness, of two wafers,
gives him one to eat j and, if in public, the cardinal,
who assists the pope in quality of deacon, of three wa¬
fers, gives him one to eat. When the pope is desperately
sick, he administers to him the sacrament of extreme
unction, &c. and enters the conclave in quality of first
conclavist.
The office of a sexton in Sweden is sometimes singu¬
lar. During M. Outhier’s stay at Stockholm in 1736
he visited the church of St Clara, and during divine
service he observed a sexton going about with a long
rod, waking those persons who had fallen asleep.
SEXTUPLE, in Music, denotes a mixed sort of tri¬
ple, which is beaten in double time.
SEX'IUS Empiricus, a famous Pyrrhonian philo¬
sopher, lived in the second century, under the reign of
Antoninus the Debonair. He was a physician of the
sect of the Empirics, and is said to have been one of the
preceptors of Antoninus the Philosopher. There are
still extant his Pyrrhonian Institutions, and a large work
against the mathematicians, &c. The best edition of
Sextus Empiricus is that of Fabricius in Greek and
Latin, printed at Leipsic in 1718, folio.
almost every sovereign in Europe. James Sforza was
born on the 28th of May 1369, at Catignola, a small
town in Italy, lying between Imola and Faenza. His
father was a day labourer, or, according to Commines,
a shoemaker. A company of soldiers happening one day
to pass through Catignola, he was seized with the desire
of accompanying them to the wars. “ I will go (said
he to himself), and dart my hatchet against that tree,
and if it stick fast in the wood, I will immediately
become a soldier.” The hatchet accordingly stuck fast,
and our adventurer enlisted ; and because, says the Abbe
de Clioisi, he had thrown the axe with all his force, he
assumed the name of Sforza j for his true name was
Giacomuzzo, or James Attendulo. He rose rapidly
in the army, and soon became commander of 7000 men.
He defended the cause of Jane II. queen of Naples for
many years, and was made constable of her kingdom.
He was created Count of Catignola by Pope John
XXII. by way of paying a debt of 14,000 ducats which
the church ol Rome owed him. His exploits became
every day more illustrious : He obliged Alphonso king
of An agon to raise the siege of Naples j and reduced
several places that had revolted in Abruzzo and Le
Labour 3 but while in pursuit of his enemies, he was
unfortunately drowned in the river Aterno, on the 3d
January 1424, at the age of 54 years. His heroic qua¬
lities, and the continual wars in which he was engaged,
did not prevent him from forming an attachment to the
fair sex. In his youth he fell in love with a woman called
Lucia Trezana, whom he married after she had bom
him several eiiildren. He married afterwards Antoi¬
nette Salembini, who brought him several excellent
estates } she bore him Bosio Sforza, compte of Santa-Flor,
a warrior and governor of Orvietta for Pope Martin V.
His third wife was Catharine Alopo, sister of Rodol-
pho, grand chamberlain to the sovereign of Naples. His
last wife, for he was four times married, was Mary
Marzana, daughter to the duke of Se-sa. She bore him
Charles Sforza, who was general of the order of Au-
gnstines, and archbishop of Milan.
Sforza, Francis, the son of James Sforza by
Lucia Trezana, was born in 1401, and trained up by
his father to the profession of arms. At the age of
23 he defeated tne troops cf Braccio, who disputed
with him the passage oi the Aterno. In this action
his father was drowned, and Francis, though illegiti¬
mate, succeeded him. Ht fought successfully against
the Spaniards, and contributed a great deai both towards
raising the siege of Naples, and to the victory which
was gained over the troops of Braccio near Aquila in
1425, where that general was killed. After the death
of Queen Jane, in 1435, he espoused the interests of
the duke of Anjou, to whom she had left her crown,
and by his courage and abilities ably supported that un¬
fortunate
Sfovza
Sliadow.
S H A [206
fortunate prince. He made himself master of several
places in Ancona, from which he was driven by 1 ope
Eusrenius IV. who defeated and excommunicated him j
but he soon re-established his affairs by a victory. His 1 e-
putation was now so great, that the pope, the Venetians,
and the Florentines, chose him for their general against
the duke of Milan. Sforza had already conducted V e-
netian armies against that prince, though he had espou¬
sed his daughter. The duke dying in 1447, the inha¬
bitants of Milan invited Sforza, his son-in-law, to lead
them against that duke. But, after some exertions in
their favour, he turned his arms against themselves, laid
siege to Milan, and obliged them to receive him as
duke, notwithstanding the rights of Charles duke of Or¬
leans, the son of Valentine of Milan. In 1464, Louis
XI. who hated Orleans, gave up to Sforza the rights
which the crown of France had over Genoa, and even
put into his hands Savona, a town belonging to that re¬
public. The duke of Milan soon after made himself
master of Genoa. He died in 1466, with the reputa¬
tion of a man who w'as willing to sell his blood to the
best purchaser, and who was not too scrupulous an ob¬
server of his word. His second wife was Blanche
Marie, natural daughter of Philip Marie duke of Mi¬
lan She bore him Galeas Marie, and Ludovic Marie,
dukes of Milan, Philip Marie count of Pavia, Sforza
Marie duke of Bari, Ascagne Marie bishop of Pavia
and Cremona, and a cardinal. He was taken prisoner
by the troops of Louis XII. and confined for some time
in the tower of Bourses. He was a cunning man, and
deceived Cardinal d’Amboise when that prelate aspired
at the papacy. His daughters were Hyppolita, married
to Alphonso'of Arragon, afterwards king of N«Ples >
and Elizabeth, married to William marquis of Mont-
ferrat. He had besides several natural children..
SHACK, in ancient customs, a liberty of winter-
pasturage. In the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, the
lord of the manor has shack, i. e. a liberty of feeding
his sheep at pleasure in his tenants lands during the six
winter months. In Norfolk, shack also extends to the
common for hogs, in all men’s grounds, from the. end ot
harvest till seed-time. Whence to go a-shack, is to
feed at large.
SHACKLES, aboard a ship, are those oblong iron
rings, bioger at one end than at the othei, with which
the ports’are shut fast, by thrusting the wooden bar of
the port through them. rI here is also a sort ol shackles
to lift the hatches up with, of a like figure, but smaller.
They are fastened at the corners of the hatches.
SHAD, a species of Ci.upea. See Ichthyology
Index.
SHADDOCK, a species of Citrus, the fruit of
which is of a very large size, and of a very grateful
taste. In the West Indies it is eaten after dinner to
give a zest to the wine.
" SHADOW, in Optics, a privation or diminution of
light, by the interposition of an opaque body 5 or it is
a plane where the light is either altogether obstructed,
or greatly weakened, by the interposition of some
opaque body between it and the luminary.
Shadow, in Painting, an imitation ot a real shadow,
effected by gradually heightening and darkening the
colours of such figures as by their dispositions cannot re¬
ceive any direct rays from the luminary that is supposed
’to enlighten the piece. u
]
S H A
SHADOW, in Perspective. The appearance of an opaque
body, and a luminous one, whose rays diverge (c. gr. a
candle, lamp, &c.), being given •, to find the just ap¬
pearance of the shadow, according to the laws of per¬
spective. The method is this : From the luminous bo-
Shadow,
Shadow,
dy, which is here considered as a point, let fall a pei'
pendicular to the perspective plane, or table-, i. e. find
the appearance of a point upon which a perpendicular,
drawn from the middle of the luminary, falls on the per¬
spective plane ; and from the several angles, or raised
points of the body, let fall perpendiculars to the plane.
These points, whereon the perpendiculars fall, connect
by right lines, with the point upon which the perpen¬
dicular let fall from the luminary falls; and continue
the lines to the side opposite to the luminary. Lastly,
through the raised points drawn lines through the centre
of the luminary, intersecting the former j the points of
intersection are the terms or bounds of the shadow.
SHADOWS, Coloured, a curious phenomenon in
optics, which was observed by Professor Scherffer of Vi¬
enna, and afterwards by Count Bmnford, who made the
discovery while prosecuting his experiments on light..
“ Desirous,” says the count, “ of comparing the in¬
tensity of the light of a clear blue sky by day with that
of a common wax candle, I darkened my room, and
letting the day-light from the north, coming through a
hole near the top of the window shutter, fall at an an¬
gle of about 70° upon a sheet of very fine white paper, I
placed a burning wax candle in such a position that its
rays fell upon the same paper, and, as near as 1 could
guess, in the line of reflection of the rays ol day-light
from without; when, interposing a cylinder ot wood,
about half an inch in diameter, before the centre of the
paper, and at the distance of about two inches from its
surface, I was much surprised to find that the two sha¬
dows projected by the cylinder upon the paper, in¬
stead of being merely shades without colour, as I ex¬
pected 5 the one of them, that which, corresponding
with the beam of day-light, was illuminated by the can¬
dle, was yellow ; while the other, corresponding to the
light of the candle, and consequently illuminated by the
light of the heavens, was of the most beautiful blue that
it is possible to imagine. This appearance, which was
not only unexpected, but was really in itself m the
highest degree striking and beautiful, I found upon re¬
peated trials, and after varying the experiment in every
wav I could think of, to be so perfectly permanent,
that it is absolutely impossible to produce two shadows
at the same time from the same body, the one answer¬
ing to a beam of day-light, and the other to the light
of a candle or lamp, without those shadows being co¬
loured, the one yellow-, and the other blue.
“ If the candle he brought nearer to the paper, the
blue shadow will become of a deeper hue, and the yel¬
low shadow will gradually grow fainter hut if it be
removed farther off, the yellow shade will become ol a
deeper colour, and the blue shade will become fainter-,
and the candle remaining stationary in the same place,
the same varieties in the strength ot the tints of the co¬
loured shadows may he produced merely by opening the
window-shutter a little more or less, and rendering the
illumination of the paper, by the light from without,
stronger or weaker. By either ot these means, the co¬
loured shadows may be made to pass through all the gia
dations of shade, from the deepest to the lightest, an
vice
\r
S H A
vice versa; ami it is not a little amusing to see shadows
thus glowing with all the brilliancy of the purest and
most intense prismatic colours, then passing suddenly
through all the varieties ot shade, preserving in all the
most perfect purity of tint, growing stronger and faint¬
er, and vanishing and returning, at command*.”
The count is dearly of opinion, that the causes of the
colours of these shadows arise from the different qualities
of the light by which they are illuminated ; but he does
not think it so evident how they are produced. Perhaps
it may he said, however, that all the phenomena of co¬
loured shadows which the count enumerates may be ac¬
counted for by the theory of Professor Scherffer.
SKADWEL, Thomas, descended of an ancient
family in Stalfardshire, was born in 1640, and educated
at Caius college, Cambridge. Pie then was placed iu
the Middle Temple to study the laws; where having
spent some time, he travelled abroad. Upon his return
home, he became acquainted with the most celebrated
persons of wit in that age. He applied himself chiefly
to dramatic writing, in which he had great success and
upon the revolution, was made poet laureat and histo¬
riographer to King William and Queen Mary, in the
room of Mr Drydtn. These employments he enjoyed till
his death, which happened in 1692. Besides his drama¬
tic writings, he composed several other pieces of poetry :
the chief of which are his congratulatory poem on the
prince of Orange’s coming to England ; another on
Queen Mary j his translation of Juvenal’s 10th satire,
&c. Mr Dryden treats him with great contempt, in
his satire called 21ac F/ecno. The best judges of that
age, however, gave their testimony in favour of his co¬
medies ; which have in them fine strokes of humour 5
the characters are often original, strongly marked, and
well sustained. An edition of his works, with some
account of his life and writings prefixed, was published
in 1720, in 4 vols 8vo.
SHAFRAS, or Suffras, Gregory Savarof, an
Armenian merchant, remarkable only as the person who
sold the large and celebrated diamond which is now set
in the imperial sceptre of Russia. Shah Nadir, an Indian
prince, had two principal diamonds in his throne, one of
them denominated the Si/71 oj the Sea, and the other the
J/oott of the Mountain. When that prince was assassinat¬
ed, many precious ornaments belonging to the crown
were pillaged, and privately disposed of by the soldiers
who shared the plunder. See Diamond, under Mi¬
neralogy, where the account given of this diamond is
somewhat different.
Shafras, who was called Millionshik at Astracan, then
had his residence at Bassora, with two of his brothers.
A chief of the Avganians one day applied to him, and
proposed to sell the diamond already mentioned for a
very moderate sum (probably the Moon of the Moun-
bun), together with a very large emerald, a ruby of
considerable size, and other precious stones of less value.
Shafras was astonished at the offer j and giving out that
he had not a sufficient sum to purchase them, he re¬
quested time to consult with his brothers on the sub-
ject. Ihe vender did not again make his appearance,
probably from suspicious motives. ShafFras, with the ap¬
probation of Ins brothers, went directly in search of the
stranger with the jewels, but by that time he had left
assora. Shafras, however, accidentally met him at
■Bagdad, and paid him 50,000 piastres (8958I. 6s. 8d.)
4
[ 207 ]
S H A
for all his jewels. Shafras and his brothers being well
aware that the most profound secrecy was absolutely
necessary, resolved to remain at Bassora.
At the expiration of 12 years, Shafras set off with
the largest of the jewels, directing his route through
Sham and Constantinople, and afterwards through Hun¬
gary and Silesia to the city of Amsterdam by land,
■where he publicly offered them for sale.
It is reported that the British government was among
the bidders. The Russian court sent for the large dia¬
mond, with an offer to reimburse all reasonable expen-
ces, if the price could not be agreed on. When the dia¬
mond arrived, Count Panin, the Russian minister, made
the following offer to Shafras. Besides the patent of
hereditary nobility, which the vender demanded, he
was to receive an annual pension of 6000 rubles during
life, 500,000 rubles in cash (112,500!. Sterling), one-
fifth of which was to be payable on demand, and the
remainder by instalments in the course of ten years. He
also claimed the order of nobility for bis brothers, per¬
sisting so obstinately in his demands, that the diamond
was returned.
Shafras was now very much perplexed. lie had in¬
volved himself in expences, was forced to pay interest
for considerable sums of borrowed money, and he saw no
prospect of selling the jewel to advantage. The nego-
eiation was recommenced with Russia by Count Gre¬
gory Grigorievitsli Oiiof, afterwards created a prince
of the empire; and the diamond was purchased for
450.000 rubles (105,250!.) ready money, together
with a grant of Russian nobility. We are informed that
120,000 rubles (27,000!.), fell to the share of the ne-
gociators for commission, interest and similar expences.
Shafras settled at Astracan ; and his riches, which by
inheritance devolved to his daughters, have been in a
great measure dissipated by the extravagance of his
sons-in-law.
SHAFT of a Column, in Building, is the body
thereof between the base and capital ; so called from
its straightness. See Architecture.
Shaft, in mining, is the pit or hollow entrance into
the mine. In the tin-mines, after this is sunk about a
fathom, they leave a little, long, square place, which is
called a shamble.
Shafts are sunk some ten, some tiventy fathoms deep
into the earth, more or less. Of these shafts, there is
the landing or working shaft, where they bring up the
work or ore to the surface ; but if it be worked by a
horse engine or whim, it is called a whim shaft; and
where the water is drawn out of the mine, it is indif¬
ferently named an engine-shaft, or the rod-shaft. See
Mine.
Shaft. See Trochilus, Ornithology Index,
SHAF TESBURY, a town of Dorsetshire in Eng¬
land, in W. Long. 2. 20. N. Lat. 51. o. It stands on
a high hill, and is built in the form of a bow. It en¬
joys a serene wholesome air, and has a fine prospect. It
is a good thoroughfare, is governed by a mayor, and
sends two members to parliament. This town is sup¬
posed to have been built in the 8th century, and to have
been enlarged by King Alfred; and had 12 churches, be¬
sides a Benedictine monastery in the time of the Saxons,
but has now only three. St Edward the martyr was
buried here. It had three mints before the Conquest,
and, in the reign of Henry VIII. was the see of a suf¬
fragan
Shafras
i!
Shaftes¬
bury.
q jj a [ 208 ] S H A
jt ft <,nTM;™beth them, which teach beyond the edges of the board, be- Sliagrtu
Shaftesbury fragan bishop. It was incorporated by Queen ^ ^ fa3t, and the hair with the epidermis is then v-
(| and Charles II. and is governed by a mayor, ’ « d ff ith a blunt iron scraper called urak. The
Shagreen. twelve aldermen, bailiffs, and a common-council. It scrapeu on w . .  
' ^ ’ contained 2635 inhabitants in 1811. Water is so scarce,
that it used to be supplied from Motcomb , but it
was obtained more commodiously in 1710, by mea
of engines, which raised the water above 300 teet
perpendicular, and conveyed it to a large cistern 1
the middle of the town, from the distance of tw
miles. Yet even this is laid aside, and they have
dug several pits, in which they preserve the rain¬
water •, and the poor get their living to this day by
fetching it in pails or °on horses. It gives the title of
earl to the noble family of Cooper.
Shaftesbury, Earl of. See Cooper.
SHAG. See Pelicanus, Ornithology Index.
SHAGREEN, or Chagreen, in Commerce, a kind
of grained leather prepared of the skin of a species
of Squalls, and much used in covering cases, books,
The best is that brought from Constantinople, of a
brownish colour ; the white is the worst. _ It is ex¬
tremely hard *, yet, when steeped in water, it becomes
very soft and pliable ; whence it is of great use among
case-makers. It takes any colour that is given it, re ,
green, yellow, or black. It is frequently counterfeit¬
ed by morocco, formed like shagreen • but tins ast is
distinguished by its peeling off, which the hist does
n°The following is the method of preparing shagreen,
as it is described by Professor Pallas.
“ All kinds of horses or asses skins, which have been
dressed in such a manner as to appear grained, are, y
the Tartars, called sawyer, by the Persians sqgre, and
by the Turks sagri, from which the Europeans have
Jade shagreen, m chagreen. Th, Tartars
Astracan, with a few of the Armenians of that city,
are the only people in the Russian empire acquainted
With the art of making shagreen. Those who follow
this occupation not only gain considerable profit by t
sale of their production to the Tartars of Cuban, Astra-
Lan and Casan, who ornament with it their lurkey
leather boots, slippers, and other articles made of lea¬
ther, but they derive considerable advantage irom Hie
great sale of horses hides, which have undergone no
other process than that of being scraped clean, and ot
which several thousands are annually exported, at the
rate of from 75 to 85 roubles per hundred, to I ersia,
where there is a scarcity of such hides, and trom which
the greater part of the’shagreen manufactured in that
Country is prepared. The hind part only of the hide,
however, which is cut out in the form of a crescent,
about a Russian ell and a half in length across the loins,
and a short ell in breadth along the back, can properly
be employed for shagreen. The remaining part, as is
proved by experience, is improper for that purpose, and
is therefore rejected. . . . . ...
« The preparation of the skins, after being cut into
the above form, is as follows They are deposited in
a tub filled with pure water, and suffered to remain
there or several days, till they are thorough y soaked,
and the hair has dropped off. They arc t.ien ta. cn
from the tub, one by one, extended on boards placed
4n an oblique direction against a wall, the coiners 0
5
scraped on wim a uiuuc nvt*
skins thus cleaned are again put in pure water to soak.
When all the skins have undergone this part of the pro¬
cess, they are taken from the water a second time,
spread out one after the other as before, and the flesh
side is scraped with the same kind of instrument. I hey
are carefully cleaned ulso on the hair side, so that no¬
thing remains but the pure fibrous tissue, which serves
for making parchment, consisting of coats ol white me¬
dullary fibres, and which has a resemblance to a swine s
bladder softened in water.
“ After this preparation, the workmen take a cer¬
tain kind of frames called p'dlzi, made of a straight and
a semicircular piece of wood, having nearly the same
form as the skins. On these the skins are extended m
as smooth and even a manner as possible by means ot
cords j and during the operation of extending them,
they are several times besprinkled with water, that no
part of them may be dry, and occasion an unequal ten¬
sion. After they have been all extended on the frames,
they are again moistened, and carried into the house,
where the frames are deposited close to each other on
the floor with the flesh side of the skin next the ground.
The upper side is then thickly bestrewed with the
black exceedingly smooth and hard seeds of a kind ot
goose foot (chenopodium alburn), which the Tartars call
alabuta, and which grows in abundance, to about the
height of a man, near the gardens and farms on the
south side of the Volga*, and that they may make a
stvomr impression on the skins, a piece ot felt is spread
over them, and the seeds are trod down with the teet,
by which means they are deeply imprinted into the
soft skins. The frames, without shaking the seeds, are
then carried out into the open air, and placed m a re-
dining position against a wall to dry, the side covered
with the seeds being next the wall, in order that it may
be sheltered from the sun. In this state the skins must
be left several days to dry in the sun, until no appear¬
ance of moisture is observed in them, when they are ht
to be taken from the frames. When the impressed seeds
are beat off from the hair side, it appears lull of inden¬
tations or inequalities, and has acquired that impressioa
which is to produce the grain of the shagreen, after the
skins having been subjected to the last smoothing or
scraping, and have been dipped in a ley, which will b«
mentioned hereafter, before they receive the dye. _
“ The operation of smoothing is performed on an in¬
clined bench or board, which is furnished with an iron
hook, and is covered with thick felt of slieep s wool,
on which the dry skin may gently rest, ihe skin is
suspended in the middle of the bench or board to its
iron hook, by means of one of the holes made in the
edge of the skin for extending it in its frame as bt ore
mentioned and a cord, having at its extremity a stone
or a weight, is attached to each end, of ^ ”
keep it in its position while under the bands ot the
Workman. It is then subjected to the operation ot
smoothing and scraping bv means ot two di tie rent in
struments. The first used for this purpose, cal ed by
the Tartars tokar, is a piece ot sharp iron bent like a
hook, with which the surface of the shagreen is pretty
closely scraped to remove all the projecting inequalities.
S II A
Sigreei). This operation, on account of the corneous hardness of
^ the dry skin, is attended with some difficulty 5 and
great caution is at the same time required that too
much of the impression of the alabuta seed be not de¬
stroyed, which might be the case if the iron were kept
too sharp. As the iron, however, is pretty blunt, which
occasions inequalitieson the shagreen, this inconvenience
must afterwards be remedied by means of a sharp scra¬
ping iron or urak, by which the surface acquires a per¬
fect uniformity, and only faint impressions of the alubuta
seed then remain, and such as the workman wishes. Af¬
ter all these operations, the shagreen is again put into
water, partly to make it pliable, and partly to raise the
grain. As the seeds occasion indentations on the sur¬
face of the skin, the intermediate spaces, by the opera¬
tions of smoothing and scraping, lose some part of their
projecting substance j but the points which have been
depressed, and which have lost none of their substance,
now swell up above the scraped parts, and thus form the
grain of the shagreen. To produce this effect, the skins
are left to soak in water for 24 hours ; after which they
are immersed several times in a strong warm ley, ob¬
tained, by boiling, from a strong alkaline earth named
schora, which is found in great abundance in the neigh¬
bourhood of Astracan. When the skins have been ta¬
ken from this ley, they are piled up, while warm, on
each other, and sutfered to remain in that state several
hours } by which means they swell, and become soft.
They are then left 24 hours in a moderately strong-
pickle of common salt, which renders them exceeding¬
ly white and beautiful, and fit for receiving any colour.
The colour most usual for these skins is a sea-green j
but old experienced workmen can dye them blue, red,
or black, and even make white shagreen.
“ For the green colour nothing is necessary but fil¬
ings of copper and sal ammoniac. Sal ammoniac is dis¬
solved in water till the water is completely saturated;
•and the shagreen skins, still moist, after being taken
from the pickle, are washed over with the solution on
the ungrained flesh side, and when well moistened a
thick layer of copper filings is strewed over them : the
skins are then folded double, so that the side covered
with the filings is innermost. Each skin is then rolled
up in a piece of felt •, the rolls are all ranged together
in proper order, and they are pressed down in an uni¬
form manner by some heavy bodies placed over them,
under which they remain 24 hours. During that pe-
tiod, the solution of sal ammoniac dissolves a quantity
t)f the cupreous particles sufficient to penetrate the
skin, and to give it a sea-green colour. If the first ap¬
plication be not sufficient, the process is repeated in the
same manner j after which the skins are spread out and
dried.
“ For the blue dye, indigo is used. About two
pounds of it, reduced to a fine powder, are put into a
kettle ; cold water is poured over it, and the mixture
is stirred round till the colour begins to be dissolved,
i ive pounds of pounded alakar, which is a kind of
barilla or crude soda, prepared by the Armenians and
Calmucs, is then dissolved in it, with two pounds of
nme and a pound of pure honey, and the whole is kept
several days in the sun, and during that time frequent¬
ly stirred round. The skins intended to be dyed blue
must be moistened only in the nitrous ley schora, but
01,. XIX. Part I. 4.
[ 209 ]
S H A
the salt brine. When still moist, they are folded up Sham-een.
and sewed together at the edge, the flesh side being in¬
nermost, and the shagreened hair side outwards ; after
which they are dipped three times in the remains of an
exhausted kettle of the same dye, the superfluous dye
being each time expressed j and after this process they
are dipped in the fresh dye prepared as above, which
must not be expressed. The skins are then hung up in
the shade to try ; after which they are cleaned and pared
at the edges.
“ For black shagreen, gall nuts and vitriol are em¬
ployed in.the following manner :—The skins, moist from
the pickle, are thickly bestrewed with finely pulverized
gall nuts. They are then folded together, and laid over
each other for 24 hours. A new ley, of bitter saline
earth, or schora, is in the mean time piepared, and pour¬
ed hot into small troughs. In this ley each skin is se¬
veral times dipped 5 after which they are again bestrew¬
ed with pounded gall nuts, and placed in heaps for a-
certain period, that the galls may thoroughly penetrate
them, and they are dried and beat, to free them from
the dust of the galls. When tins is done, they are
rubbed over, on the shagreen side, with melted sheep’s
tallow, and exposed a little in the sun, that they may
imbibe the grease. The shagreen makers are accustom¬
ed also to roll up each skin separately, and to press or
squeeze it with their hands against some hard substance,
in order to promote the absorption of the tallow. The
superfluous particles are removed by means of a blunt
wooden scraper (urac); and when this process is
finished, and the skins have lain some time, a sufficient
quantity of vitriol of iron is dissolved in water, with
which the shagreen is moistened on both sides, and by
this operation it acquires a beautiful black dye. It is
then dressed at the edges, and in other places where
there are any blemishes.
“ lo obtain white shagreen, the skins must first he
moistened on the shagreen side with a strong solution
of alum. When the skin has imbibed this liquor, it is
daubed over on both sides with a paste made of flour,
which is suffered to dry. The paste is then washed off
with alum water, and the skin is placed in the sun till
it is completely dry. As soon as it is dry, it is gently
besmeared with pure melted sheep’s tallow, which it is
suffered to imbibe in the sun 5 and to promote the ef¬
fect, it is pressed and worked with the hands. The
skins are then fastened in succession to the before-men¬
tioned bench, where warm water is poured over them
and the superfluous fat is scraped off with a blunt wood¬
en instrument. In the last operation the warm water
is of great service. In this manner shagreen perfectly
white is obtained, and nothing remains but to pare the
edges and dress it.
“ But this white shagreen is not intended so much
for remaining in that state, as for receiving a dark red
dye ; because, by the above previous process, the co¬
lour becomes much more perfect. The skins destined
for a red colour must not be immersed first in ley of
bitter salt earth {schora), and then in pickle, but after
they have been whitened, must be left to soak in the
pickle for 24 hours. The dye is prepared from cochi¬
neal, which the Tartars call kirmitz. About a pound
of the dried herb tschagann, which grows in great abun¬
dance in the neighbourhood of Astracan, and is a kind
D d of
S H A [ 210 ]
Shs-reen of soda plant or kali (salsola er/coides) (a), is boiled a
jj full hour in a kettle containing about four common
Shake- pailfuls of 'water ; by which means the water acquires a
speare. * een;sh colour. The herb is then taken out, and about
half a pound of pounded cochineal is put into the kettle,
and the liquor is left to boil a full hour, care being ta¬
ken to stir it that it may not run over. About 15 or
20 drams of a substance which the dyers call Inter (or-
chilla) is added, and when the liquor has been boiled
for some time longer, the kettle is removed from the
fire. The skins taken from the pickle are then placed
over each other in troughs, and the dye-liquor is pour¬
ed over them four different times, and rubbed into them
with the hands, that the colour may be equally imbibed
and diffused. The liquor each time is expressed j after
which they are fit for being dried. Skins prepared in
this manner are sold at a much dearer rate than any of
the other kinds.”
SHAIK properly signifies an old man. In the east
it is used to denote a lord or chief, a man of eminence
and property. See Schiechs.
SHAKE, in singing. See Trill.
SHAKESPEAKE, or Shakspeare, William, the
prince of dramatic writers, was born at Stratford upon
Avon in Warwickshire, on the 23d of April 1564.
From the register of that town, it appears tha.t a
plague broke out there on the 30th of June following,
winch raged with great violence ; but fortunately it
did not reach the house in which this infant prodigy
lay His father, John Shakespeare, enjoyed a small
patrimonial estate, and was a considerable dealer in
wool 1 his mother was the daughter and heir of Kobert
Arden of Wellingcote. Our illustrious poet being de-
skmed for the business of his father, received no better
education than the instructions which the free-schoof
of Stratford could afford. After applying some time
to the study of Latin, he was palled home to assist his
father, who seems by some accident to have been redu¬
ced in bis circumstances. Before arriving at the age
of 19, he married the daughter of Mr Hathaway, a
substantial yeoman in the neighbourhood of Stratford.
This lady was eight years older than her husband.
Having the misfortune to fall into bad company, he
was seduced into some profligate actions, which drew
on him a criminal prosecution, and at length forced
him to take refuge in the capital. In concert with
his associates, he broke into a park belonging to Sir
Thomas Lucy of Charlecote, and carried off some of
his deer. Every admirer of Shakespeare will regret
that such a blemish should have stained his character \
but, perhaps, if any thing can extenuate his guilt, we
might ascribe it to the opinions of the age, which, per¬
haps, as was formerly the case in Scotland, might not
distinguish the killing of deer by any mark of disgrace,
or any charge of criminality. One thing at least is
certain, that Shakespeare himself thought that the pro¬
secution which Sir Thomas raised against him was car¬
ried on with too great severity ; an opinion which he
S H A
could not have entertained had this action been at that shake-
time viewed in the same criminal light as it is at present, speare,
Shakespeare testified his resentment against Sir 'I homas, *T**-
by writing a satirical ballad, which exasperated him so
much, that the process was carried on with redoubled
violence ; and the young poet, in order to avoid the
punishment of the law, was obliged to make his escape.
This ballad would be considered as a curious relick, on
account of its being the first production of Shakespeare ;
it would also be interesting to peruse a poem which could
irritate the baronet to so high a degree. Tradition has
preserved the first stanza :
A parliamente member, a justice of peace,
At home a poor scare-crow, at London an asse.
If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it.
Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it:
He thinks himself greate,
Yet an asse in his state,
We allowe by his ears, but with asses to mate.
If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it,
Sing lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.
If the rest of the ballad was of a piece with this stan¬
za, it might assist us to form some opinion of the irrita¬
bility of the baronet, but will enable us to form no idea
of the opening genius of Shakespeare.
Thus expelled from his native village, he repaired to
London, where he was glad to accept a subordinate of¬
fice in the theatre. It has been said that he was first
engaged, while the play was acting, in holding the horses
of those who rode to the theatre ; but this story rests
on a slender foundation. As his name is found print¬
ed among those of the other players before seme old
plays, it is probable that he was some time employed
as an actor \ but we are not informed what characters
he played } we are only told, that the part which lie
acted best was that of the Ghost in Hamlet; and that
he appeared in the character of Adam in As you like
it. If the names of the actors prefixed to Ben Jonson’s
play of Every Man in his Humour were arranged in
the same order as the persons represented, which is very
probable, Shakespeare played the part of Old Knowell.
We have reason therefore to suppose, as far as we can
argue from these few facts, that he generally represent¬
ed old men. See Malone’s Chronology, in his edition
of Shakespeare.
But though he was not qualified to shine as an ac¬
tor, he was now in the situation which could most ef¬
fectually rouse those latent sparks of genius which af¬
terwards burst forth with so resplendent a flame. Be¬
ing well acquainted with the mechanical business of the
theatre and the taste of the times 5 possessed of a know¬
ledge of the characters of men resembling intuition, an
imagination that ranged at large through nature, se¬
lecting the grand, the sublime, and the beautiful •, a ju¬
dicious caution, that disposed him to prefer those plots
which had already been found to please 5 an uncommon
fluency
(A) The beautiful red Turkey artemisia annul*
berdecPeTvea by tL Ippealee L pla„t ac^s a,W U b. bee,, deied.. Besides, ,h, a-
temisia is found only in the middle of Siberia, and never on the west side ot .he Irtisch.
s H A [2
ake- fluency and force of expression 5 he was qualified at once
are. to eclipse all who had gone before him.
v—-' Notwithstanding the unrivalled genius of Shake¬
speare, most of his plots were the invention of others j
which, however, he certainly much improved, if he did
not entirely new-model. We are assured, that prior to
the theatrical compositions of Shakespeare, dramatic
pieces were written on the following subjects, viz. King
John, King Richard II. and III. King Henry IV.
and V. King Henry VIII. King Lear, Antony and
Cleopatra, Measure for Measure, the Merchant of
Venice, the Taming of a Shrew, and the Comedy of
Errors.
Among his patrons, the earl of Southampton is par¬
ticularly honoured by him, in the dedication of two
poems, Venus and Adonis, and Lucrece; in the latter
especially, he expressed himself in such terms as gives
countenance to what is related of that patron’s di¬
stinguished generosity to him. In the beginning of
King James I.’s reign (if not sooner) he was one of
the principal managers of the playhouse, and conti¬
nued in it several years afterwards } till, having ac¬
quired such a fortune as satisfied his moderate wishes
and views in life, he quitted the stage, and all other
business, and passed the remainder of bis time in an ho¬
nourable ease, at his native town of Stratford, where he
lived in a handsome house of his own purchasing, to
which he gave the name of iSfew Place; and he bad
the good fortune to save it from the flames in the dread¬
ful fire that consumed the greatest part of the town in
1614.
In the beginning of the year 1616, he made his
will, wherein he testified his respect to his quondam
partners in the theatre : he appointed his youngest
daughter, jointly with her husband, his executors, and
bequeathed to them the best part of his estate, which
they came into the possession of not long after. He
died on the 23d of April following, being the 53d year
of his age ; and was interred among his ancestors on
the north side of the chancel, in the great church of
Stratford, where there is a handsome monument erected
for him, inscribed with the following elegiac distich in
Latin:
J’ttdiiio Pyliiim*, gcnio Sacratem, arte Maronemi
Terra tegit, Populus mczret, Olympus habct.
In the year 1740, another very noble one was raised to
his memory, at the public expence, in Westminster ab¬
bey ; an ample contribution for this purpose being made
upon exhibiting bis tragedy of Julius Caesar, at the
theatre-royal in Drury-Lane, April 28th 1738.
Nor must we omit mentioning another testimony of
the veneration paid to his manes by the public in gene¬
ral, which is, that a mulberry tree planted upon his
estate by the hands of this revered bard, was cut down
not many years ago ; and the wood being converted to
several domestic uses, wras all eagerly bought at a high
price, and each single piece treasured up by its purchaser
as a precious memorial of the planter.
The character of Shakespeare as a dramatic writer
has been often drawn, but perhaps never with more ac¬
curacy than by the pen of Hr Johnson : “ Shakespeare
(says he) is above all writers, at least above all modern
'writers, the poet of nature ; the poet that holds up to
nis readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life.
II ] S H A
His characters are not modified by the customs of par¬
ticular places, unpractised by the rest of the world j by
the peculiarities of studies or professions, which can
operate but upon small numbers 5 or by the accidents
of transient fashions or temporary opinions: they are the
genuine progeny of common humanity, such as the
world will always supply, and observation will always
find. His persons act and speak by the influence of
those general passions and principles by which all minds
are agitated, and the whole system of life is continued
in motion. In the writings of other poets, a character
is too often an individual j in those of Shakespeare, it is
commonly a species.
“ It is from this wide extension of design that so
much instruction is derived. It is this which fills the
plays of Shakespeare rvith practical axioms and domes¬
tic wisdom. It was said of Euripides, that every verse
was a precept} and it may he said of Shakespeare, that
from his works may be collected a system of civil and
economical prudence. Yet his real power is not shown
in the splendour of particular passages, but by the pro¬
gress of his fable, and the tenor of his dialogue } and he
that tries to recommend him by select quotations, will
succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, when he of¬
fered his house to sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a
specimen.
“ Upon every other stage the universal agent is love,
by whose power all good and evil is distributed, and
every action quickened or retarded. But love is only
one of many passions } and as it has no great influence
upon the sum of life, it has little operation in the dra¬
mas of a poet, who caught his ideas from the living
world, and exhibited only what he saw before him. He
knew that any other passion, as it was regular or exor¬
bitant, was a cause of happiness or calamity.
“ Characters thus ample and general were not easily
discriminated and preserved; yet perhaps no poet ever
kept his personages more distinct from each other.
“ Other dramatists can only gain attention by hyper¬
bolical or aggravated characters, by fabulous and unex¬
ampled excellence or depravity, as the writers of bar¬
barous romances invigorated the reader by a giant and
a dwarf} and he that should form his expectations of
human affairs from the play, or from the tale, would
he equally deceived. Shakespeare has no heroes, his
scenes are occupied only by men, who act and speak as
the reader thinks that he should himself have spoken
or acted on the same occasion : Even where the agency
is supernatural, the dialogue is level with life. Other
writers disguise the most natural passions and most fre¬
quent incidents } so that he who contemplates them in
the book will not know them in the world : Shake¬
speare approximates the remote, and familiarizes the
wonderful} the event which he represents will not hap¬
pen, but if it were possible, its effects would probably
be such as he has assigned; and it may be said, that he
has not only shown human nature as it acts in real exi¬
gencies, but as it would be found in trials to which it
cannot he exposed.
“ This therefore is the praise of Shakespeare, that
his drama is the mirror of life ; that he who has mazed
his imagination, in following the phantoms which other
writers raise up before him, may here be cured of his
delirious ecstasies, by reading human sentiments in ho-
man language : by scenes from which a hermit may esti-
I) d 3 mate
Sliali c-
peare.
S H A f. 2I:
mate the transactions of the world, ana a confessor pre
diet the progress of the passions. , ,
’ The learning of Shakespeare has frequently been a
suhiect of inquiry. That he possessed much classical
knowledge does not appear, yet he was certainlv ac
nnainted with the Latin poets, particularly with 1e-
M^Malone has endegeneraLbren^ucce^s-
investigation, in which he has n g
ful:
]
23. Othello
24. The Tempest
35. Twelfth Night
S H A
16 IT Shake-.
1612 speare.
1614 ' v~-
1.
2.
3-
4*
5-
6.
7-
8.
9-
20.
11.
12.
33-
24.
15-
26.
I7-
28.
29.
20.
21.
22.
23-
24.
25-
26.
27.
28.
29.
3°-
31,
32
First Part of King Henry ^ L
Second Part of King Henry VI.
Third Part of King Henry Vi.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Comedy of Lrrors
Taming of the Shrew
Love’s Labour Lost
Two Gentlemen of Verona
Romeo and Juliet
Hamlet
King John
King Richard XL
King Richard HI. -
First Part of King Henry IV.
Second Part of King Henry IV.
The Merchant of Venice -
All’s Well that Ends Well
King Henry V. "
Much Ado about Nothing
As you like it
VIerry Wives of V\ indsor
King Henry VIII.
Troilus and Cressida
Measure for Measure
The Winter’s Tale
King Lear
Cymbelline
Macbeth
Julius Caesar
Antony and Cleopatra
Timon of Athens
, Coriolanus
I589
I591
1591
1592
1593
1594
1594
1595
1595
1596
1596
1597
I597
1597
1598
1598
*598
1599
1600
1600
1601
2601
1602
1603
1604
2605
1605
1606
1607
2608
1609
2610
The first three of these, Mr Malone thinks, there is
very strong reason to believe are not the or,gma pro¬
ductions of Shakespeare ; but that he probably altered
them, and added some new scenes.
In the first folio edition in 1623, these plajs were en
titled “ Mr William Shakespeare’s Comedies Histones,
and Tragedies.” They have been published by various
editors. h The first folio edition by Isaac Jaggard an
Edward Blount ; the second, tol;o 1632, by ™0£a.
Cotes for Robert Allot; the third, 1664, ‘»r C-,
the fourth 168 C, for H. Herringman, E. Rrewstei,
and R. Bentley. Rowe published an 8vo edition m
j 700 in 7 vols, and a i2mo edition in 1714, 9 vo1^
for which he rccei.ed 361; , 1 °l,e I>U';' “ 28 n
edition in 1725, in 6 vols, »nd a l2mo 1
10 vols; for which he was paid 217k 12- lhe0^‘"
nave a new edition in 8vo in 1733, ™ .7 ^ an.other
fnT2mo in 1740, in 8 vols-, and received for Ins la-
hour 6521. .0, S^sHanmerpmbh^an tnh-
edition came’ou't"in .747, ™
BonSVa t’hirfC^ed in 1785’; and Malone's
crown 8 vo edition in 1789, >n I0'0 s:. . ■ ... .r
The most authentic of the old editions ;s that of
,62, “At last (says Dr Johnson) an edition was
undertaken by K-e ; no^ becau. a
very'httle on''correction or explanation, but thatjor
ESSSSSSSsS
se.1 , f tvi<; made many emendations, 11
Printer’s errors, yet he has n successors have
they were not made betoie, , • 1 -c .UpY
int7and^elVcongratulationf on the happiness of disco-
Ve Tim nation had been for many ^ars
with Mr Rowe’s performance, when ^ P ,
them acquainted with the true state of
text, showed that it was extremely |
reason to hope that there were means of ref S
Mr Pope’s edition, however, he
own expectations-, and he was so much c » ^
he was found to have left any thing for o hers to ^
that he passed the latter part of his life in a
hostility with verbal criticism. Aialone. for
The only task, in the opinion of Mr Ma'o^
which Pope was eminently and indisputab y 4 ^
S H - A [ 213 ] S H A
was to mark the faults and beauties of liis author.— not being the authentic productions of Shakespeare. To Shake-
When he undertook the office of a commentator, every the whole he has added an appendix, and a copious qlos- speare
anomaly of language, and every expression that was cur- sary.—Of this work a 1 ess ex pcnsi ve eel i tion has been pub- , i«
rently in use, were considered as errors or corruptions, lished in 7 vols i2mo, in which the general introductory 7,il,{li:ang>
and the text was altered or amended, as it was called, at observations prefixed to thedifi’erent plays are preserved,
pleasure. Pope is openly charged with being one of the and the numerous notes abridged,
great corrupters of Shakespeare’s text. This judicious commentator has certainly done more
Pope rvas succeeded by Theobald, who collated the for the elucidation and correction of Shakespeare than all
ancient copies, and rectified many errors. He was, who came betore him, and has followed with indefati-
however, a man of narrow comprehension and of little gable patience the only road which a commentator of
learning, and what is worse, in his reports of copies and Shakespeare ought to observe.
editions, he is not to be trusted without examination* Within 50 years after our poet’s death, Dryden says
Prom the liberties taken by Pope, the edition ofTheo- that he was become “ a little obsolete-,” and in the be-
bald was justly preferred, because he professed to adhere
to the ancient copies more strictly, and illustrated a few
passages by extracts from tire writers of our poet’s
age. Still, however, he was a considerable innovator;
and while a few arbitrary changes made by Pope were
detected, innumerable sophistications were silently a-
dopted.
Sir Thomas Hanmer, who comes next, was a man of
critical abilities, and of extensive learning. His correc¬
tions are commonly just, but sometimes capricious. He
is censurable, too, for receiving without examination al¬
most all the innovations of Pope.
The original and predominant error of Warburton’s
commentary is acquiescence in his first thoughts; that
precipitation which is produced by consciousness of
quick discernment; and that confidence which presumes
to do, by surveying the surface, what labour only can
perform by penetrating to the bottom. His notes ex¬
hibit sometimes perverse interpretations, and sometimes
improbable conjectures; he at one time gives the author
more profundity of meaning than the sentence admits,
and at another discovers absurdities where the sense is
plain to every other reader. But his emendations are
likewise often happy and just; and his interpretation of
obscure passages learned and sagacious.
It has indeed been said by his defenders, that his great
object was to display his own learning; and certainly in
spite of the clamour raised against him for substituting his
own chimerical conceits instead of the genuine text of
Shakespeare, his work increased his reputation. But as
it is of little value as a commentary on Shakespeare,
since Warburton is now' gone, his work will probably
soon sink into oblivion.
In 1765 Dr Johnson’s edition, which had long been
impatiently expected, was given to the public. His vi¬
gorous and comprehensive understanding threw more
light on this author than all his predecessors had done.
Hie character which he gave of each play is generally
just. Hss refutation of the false glosses of Theobald and
Warburton, and his numerous explications of involved
and difficult passages, entitle him to the gratitude of
every admirer ot Shakespeare.
-The last editor is Mr Malone, who was eight years
employed in preparing his edition. By collating the
most authentic copies, he has been careful to purify the
text. He has been so industrious, in order to discover
the meaning of the author, that he has ransacked many
volumes, and trusts that, besides his additional illustra¬
tions, not a single valuable explication of any obscure
passage in these plays has ever appeared, which he has
not inserted in his edition. He rejects Titus Andro-
nicuo, as well as the three plays formerly mentioned, as
ginning of the 18th century Lord Shaftesbury complains
of his rude unpolished style, and his antiquated phrase
and wit. These complaints were owing to the great re¬
volution which the English language has undergone, and
to the want of an enlightened commentator. These
complaints are now removed, for an enlightened com¬
mentator has been found in Mr Malone.
M e have only farther to add, that in the year 1790
a copious index to the remarkable passages and words
in the plays of Shakespeare was published by the Re¬
verend Mr Ayscough ; a gentleman to whom the lite¬
rary world is much indebted for several very valuable
keys of knowledge. In fine, the admirers of Shake¬
speare are now, by the labours of several eminent men,
furnished with every help that can enable them to under¬
stand the sense and to taste the beauties of this illustri¬
ous poet. See Drama, Supplement.
SHAKI.ES. See Shackles.
SHALE, in Mineralogy, a kind of Schistus, of
a black colour and slaty structure, or a clay hardened
into a stony consistence, and so much impregnated with
bitumen that it becomes somewhat like a coal. The
acid emitted from shale, during its calcination, uniting
itself to the argillaceous earth of the shale, forms alum.
About 120 tons of calcined shale will make one ton
of alum. I he shale, after being calcined, is steeped
in water, by which means the alum, which is formed
during the calcination of the shale, is dissolved : this
dissolved alum undergoes various operations before it
is formed into the alum of the shops. Watson’s Che¬
mical Essays, vol. ii. p. 315. See Alum, Chemistry
Index.
J his kind of slate forms large strata in Derbyshire ;
and that which lies near the surface of the earth is of a
softer and more shivery texture than that which lies
deeper. It is also found in large strata, generally above
the coal, in most coal counties of this kingom. .
SHALLOP, Shalloop, or Sloop, is a small light
vessel, with only a small main-mast and fore-mast, and
lug-sails, to haul up, and let down on occasion.—Shal¬
lops are commonly good sailers, and are therefore often
used as tenders upon men of war.
SHALLOT, or Eschalot. See Allium, Bota¬
ny and Gardening Index.
SHAMANS are wizards or conjurers, in high re¬
pute among several idolatrous nations inhabiting dif¬
ferent parts ol Kussia. By their enchantments they
pretend to cure diseases, to divert misfortunes, and to
foretel futurity. They are great observers of dreams,
by the interpretation of which they judge of their good
or bad fortune. They pretend likewise to chiromancy,
and to foretel a man’s good or ill success by the lines of
his
s H A [ 214 1
Ins hand. By these and such like means they have a
very great ascendancy over the understandings, anti a
great lnfluence on the conduct, of those people.
SHAMBLES, among miners, a sort ot niches or
landing places, left at such distances in the adits ot e
mines, that the shovel-men may conveniently throw up
the ore from shamble to shamble, till it comes to the top
of the mine. . • , p 1
SHAMOIS, Chamois, or Shammy, a kind ot lea¬
ther, either dressed in oil or tanned, much esteemed tor
its softness, pliancy, &c. It is prepared from the skin
of the chamois, or shamois, a kind ot rupicapra, «r ™Id
goat, called also isard, inhabiting the mountains of I)au-
phiny, Savoy, Piedmont, and the Pyrenees Besides
the softness and warmth ot the leather, it has the facul¬
ty of bearing soap without damage; which renders it
very useful on many accounts. _ .
In France, &c. some wear the skin raw, without any
preparation. Shammy leather is used for the purifying ot
mercury, which is done by passing it through the pores ot
this skin, which are very close. The true chamois lea¬
ther is counterfeited with common goat, kid, and even
with sheep skins, the practice of which makes a particu¬
lar profession, called by the French cliammsure. I he
last though the least esteemed, is yet so popular, and
such vast quantities of it are prepared, especially about
Orleans, Marseilles, and Tbolouse, that it may be pro¬
per to give the method of preparation.
Manner of shamoidng, or of preparing sheep, goat,
or kid skins in oil, in imitation oj shammy.—skins,
bein" washed, drained, and smeared over with quick¬
lime on the fleshy side, are folded in two lengthwise,
the wool outwards, and laid in heaps, and so leit to fer¬
ment eight days, or, if they had been left to dry after
flaying, then fifteen days.
Then they are washed out, drained, and half dried ,
laid on a wooden leg, or horse, the wool stripped oft with
a round staff for that purpose, and laid in a weak pit,
the lime whereof had been used before, and has lost the
greatest part of its force. , .
After 24 hours they are taken out, and left to drain
24 more •, they are then put in another stronger pit.
This done, they are taken out, drained, and put in
again, by turns; which begins to dispose them to take
oil; and this practice they continue for six weeks in
summer, or three months in winter : at the end where¬
of they are washed out, laid on the wooden leg, and the
surface of the skin on the wool side peeled off, to render
them the softer ; then made into parcels, steeped a night
in the river, in winter more, stretched six or seven over
one another on the wooden leg, and the knife passed
strongly on the fleshy side, to take off any thing super¬
fluous, and render the skin smooth. Then they are
steeped as before, in the river, and the same operation
is repeated on the wool side j they are then thrown into
a tub of water, with bran in it, which is brewed among
the skins till the greatest part sticks to them, and then
separated into distinct tubs, till they swell, and rise ot
themselves above the water. By this means the re¬
mains of the lime are cleared out; they are then wrung
out, hung up to dry on ropes, and sent to the mill, with
the quantity of oil necessary to scour them : the best oil
is that of stock-fish. Here they are first thrown in
bundles into the river for 12 hours, then laid in the
mill-trough, and fulled without oil till they be well soft-
3
S H A
ened ; then oiled with the hand, one by one, and thus sham®
formed into parcels of four skins each 5 which are mill- fl
ed and dried on chords a second time •, then a third 5 and ^hannci
then oiled again, and dried. This process is repeated
as often as necessity requires ; when done, if there be
any moisture remaining, they are dried in a stove, and
made up into parcels wrapped up in wool ; after some
time they are opened to the air, but wrapped up again
as before, till such time as the oil seems to have lost all
its force, which it ordinarily does in 24 hours. The
skins are then returned from the mill to the chamoiser
to be scoured j which is done by putting them in a lixi¬
vium of wood ashes, working and beating them in it with
poles, and leaving them to steep till the ley hath had
its effect j then they are wrung out, steeped in another
lixivium, wrung again 5 and thus is repeated till all the
grease and oil be purged out. When this is done, they
are half dried, and passed over a sharp-edged iron instru¬
ment, placed perpendicular in a block, which opens,
softens, and makes them gentle. Lastly, they are tho¬
roughly dried, and passed over the same instrument
again j which finishes the preparation, and leaves them
in the form of shammy.
Kid and goat skins are shamoised in the same manner
as those of sheep, excepting that the hair is taken off
without the use of any lime ; and that when brought
from the mill they undergo a particular preparation
called ramalling, the most delicate and difficult oi all the
others. It consists in this, that, as soon as brought from
the mill they are steeped in a fit lixivium, taken out,
stretched on a round wooden leg, and the hair is scraped
off with the knife ; this makes them smooth, and in
working to cast a kind of fine knap. The difficulty is
in scraping them evenly.
SHANK, or SilANK-Painter, in a ship, is a short
chain fastened under the foremast shrouds, by a bolt, to
the ship’s sides, having at the other end a rope fastened
to it. On this shank-painter the whole weight ol the
aft part of the anchor rests, when it lies by the ship’s side.
The rope by which it is hauled up, is made last about a
timber-head.
Shank, in the manege, that part of a horse’s fore-leg
which lies between the knee and the fetlock.
SHANKER, or Chancre, in Medicine, a malignant
ulcer, usually occasioned by some venereal disorder. See
Medicine, N° 350.
SHANNON, the largest river in Ireland, and one
of the finest in the British dominions, not only on
account of its rolling 200 miles, but also ol its great
depth in most places, and the gentleness of its current,
by which it might be made exceedingly serviceable to
the improvement of the country, the communication ol
its inhabitants, and consequently the promoting ol inland
trade, through the greatest part ol its long course.
But the peculiar prerogative ol the Shannon is its situ¬
ation, running from north to south, and separating the
province of Connaught from Leinster and Munster, and
of consequence dividing the greatest part of Ireland in¬
to what lies on the east and that on the west of the ri¬
ver ', watering in its passage the valuable county 0
Leitrim, the plentiful shire of Roscommon, the fruitlul
county of Galway, and the pleasant county of Clare j
the small but fine shire of Longford, the King’s coun¬
ty, and fertile county of Meath in Leinster, the popu¬
lous county of Tipperary, the spacious shire of Lune-
S H A [ 215 ] S H A
oil rick, and the rough but pleasant county of Kerry in
Munster; visiting 10 counties in its passage, and having
i on its banks the following remarkable places, viz. Lei-
' trim, Jamestown, Lanesborough, Athlone, Clonfert,
Killaloe, and Limerick ; at 20 leagues below the latter
it spreads gradually several miles in extent, so that some
have considered its expansion as a lake. It at last joins
its waters to the sea, being navigable all that way for
the largest vessels.
SHANSCRLT, the language of the Bramins of Hin-
dostan. See Philology, sect. v.
SHARE of a Plough, that part which cuts the
ground ; the extremity forwards being covered with a
sharp-pointed iron, called the point of the share, and
the end of the wood behind the tail of the share.
SHARK. See Squalus, Ichthyology Index.
SHARON, a name common to three cantons of Pa¬
lestine. The first lay between Mount Tabor and the sea
of Tiberias; the second between the city of Caesarea of
Palestine, and Joppa; and the third lay beyond Jordan.
To give an idea of perfect beauty, Isaiah said, the glory
of Lebanon and the beauty of Carmel must be joined to
the abundance of Sharon. (Isaiah xxxiii. 9. xxxi. 2.).
The plains of Sharon are of vast extent ; and, when
surveyed by the Abbe Mariti a few years ago, they were
sown with cucumbers ; and he informs us, that such a
number is annually produced, as not only to supply the
whole neighbourhood, but also all the coasts of Cyprus
and the city of Damietta. In the middle of the plain,
between Arsus and Lydda, rises a small mountain, upon
the ridge of which there is a small village called Sha¬
ron, from the name of the ancient city whose king was
conquered by Joshua.
SHARP, James, archbishop of St Andrew’s, was
born of a good family in Banffshire in 1618. He
devoted himself very early to the church, and was
educated for that purpose in the university of Aber-
; deen. When the solemn league and covenant was
framed in 1638, the learned men in that seminary, and
I young Sharp in particular, declared themselves decid¬
edly against it. To avoid the insults and indignities to
which he was subjected in consequence of this conduct,
he retired to England, where he contracted an acquain¬
tance with some of the most celebrated divines in that
country.
At the commencement of the civil wars he returned
to Scotland. During his journey thither, he acciden¬
tally met with Lord Oxenford, who was so charmed
with his conversation, that he invited him to his house.
While he resided with that nobleman, he became known
to the earl of Rothes, who procured him a professorship
at St Andrew’s. By the interest of the earl of Craw¬
ford he was soon after appointed minister of Crail ;
where he conducted himself, it is said, in an exemplary
manner.
Sharp had always inclined to the cause of royalty,
and had for some time kept up a correspondence with
his exiled prince. After the death of the Protector lie
began to declare himself more openly, and seems to have
enjoyed a great share of the confidence of Monk, who
was at that time planning the restoration of Charles II.
When that general marched to London, the preshyte-
rians sent Sharp to attend him, in order to support
their interests. At the request of General Monk and
the chief presbyterians in Scotland, Mr Sharp was
sent over to the king at Breda to procure from him, if Sharp,
possible, the establishment of presbyterianism. On his v—
return, he assured his friends that “ he had found the
king very affectionate to Scotland, and resolved not to
wrong the settled government of the church : but be
apprehended they were mistaken who went about to
establish the presbyterian government.”
Charles was soon after restored without any terms.
All the laws passed in Scotland since the year 1633 were
repealed; the king and his ministers resolved at all ha¬
zards to restore prelacy. Mr Sharp, who had been
commissioned by the Scotch presbyterians to manage
their interests with the king, was prevailed upon to aban¬
don the party; and as a reward for his compliance, he
was made archbishop of St Andrew’s. This conduct
rendered him very odious in Scotland ; he was accused
of treachery and perfidy, and reproached by his old
friends as a traitor and renegado. The absurd and wan¬
ton cruelties which were afterwards committed, and
which were imputed in a great measure to the archbi¬
shop, rendered him still more detested. Nor is it pro¬
bable that these accusations were without foundation :
the very circumstance of his having been formerly of
the presbyterian party would induce him, after forsa¬
king them, to treat them with severity. Besides, it is
certain, that when after the rout at Pentland-hills he re- •
ceived an order from the king to stop the executions, he
kept it for some time before he produced it to council.
There was one Mitchell a preacher, and a desperate
fanatic, who had formed the design of taking vengeance
for these cruelties by assassinating the archbishop. He
fired a pistol at him as he was sitting in his coach ; but
the bishop of Orkney, lifting up his hand at the moment,
intercepted the ball. Though this happened in the
midst of Edinburgh, the primate was so much detested,
that nobody stopped the assassin ; who, having walked
leisurely home, and thrown off his disguise, returned,
and mixed unsuspected with the crowd. Some years
after, the archbishop observing a man eyeing him with
keenness, suspected that he was the assassin, and ordered
him to be brought before him. It was Mitchell. Two
loaded pistols were found in his pocket. The primate
offered him a pardon if he would confess the crime ;
the man complied; but Sharp, regardless of his promise,
conducted him to the council. The council also gave
him a solemn promise of pardon if he would confess his
guilt, and discover his accomplices. They were much
disappointed to hear that only one man was privy to his
purpose, who was since dead. Mitchell was then brought
before a court of justice, and ordered to make a third
confession, which he refused. He was imprisoned for
several years, and then tried. His own confession was
urged against him. It was in vain for him to plead the
illegality of that evidence, and to appeal to the promise
of pardon previously given. The council took an oath
that they had given no such promise; and Mitchell was
condemned. Lauderdale, who at that time governed
Scotland, would have pardoned him, but the primate in¬
sisted on his execution; observing, that if assassins were
permitted to go unpunished, his life must he continually
in danger. Mitchell was accordingly executed.
Sharp had a servant, one Carmichael, who by his
cruelty had rendered himself particularly odious to the
zealots. Nine men formed the resolution of waylaying
him in Magus-moor, about three miles from St An¬
drew’s-
S H A [21
<Ws. While they were waiting for this man, the
primate himself appeared with very feW
This they looked upon as a declaration of ^aven m
their favour j and calling out, “ the Lord has deliver¬
ed him into our hands,” they ran up to the carnage,
they fired at him without effect-, a circumstance
Tvhich was afterwards imputed to magic. Ihey then
dispatched him with their swords, regardless of t
tears and entreaties of his daughter, who accompanied
Tlni fell Archbishop Sharp, whose n'em<Jr>'
at present detested by the common people ot Scotland.
His abilities were certainly good, and in the eaiiy par
of his life he appears with honour and digm y. Lut
Z* 3";e. How far he contribute.! to the
measures adopted against the presbyterians is not cer¬
tain They were equally cruel and impolitic-, nor
did ’their effects cease with the measures themselves
The unheard-of cruelties exercised by the ministers o
Charles U. against the adherents of the covenant, raised
such a flame of enthusiasm and bigotry as is not yet en-
ti,SHAR“Srlot. archbishop of York, was descend-
€d from the Sharps of Little Norton, a family of Bed¬
ford Dale in Yorkshire -, and was son of an eminent
tradesman of Bradford, where he was born in 1644.
He was educated at Cambridge, and in 1667 entered
into orders. That same year he became domestic chap¬
lain to Sir Heneage Finch, then attorney-general. Li
3672 he was collated to the archdeaconry 0 Berkshire.
1,1167 5 he was installed a prebendary in the cathedral
church of Norwich 5 and the year following was insti¬
tuted into the rectory of St Bartholomew near the
O val Exchange, London. In 1681 he was, by the
interest of his patron Sir Heneage Finch, then lord high
chancellor of England, made dean of Norwich •, but m
1686 was suspended for taking occasion, in some of his
sermons, to vindicate the doctrine of the church of Eng¬
land in opposition to Popery. In 1688 he was sworn
chaplain to King James II. being then probably restored
after his suspension, for it is certain that he was chap¬
lain to King Charles II. and attended as a court chap¬
lain at the coronation of King James II. In 1689 he
was declared dean of Canterbury, but never could be
persuaded to fill up any of the vacancies made by the
deprived bishops. Upon the death of Dr Lamplugh, he
S promoted to the see of York. In 1702 he preach¬
ed the sermon at the coronation of Queen Anne , and
the same year was sworn of the privy-council, and mai e
lord almoner to her majesty. He died at Bath in ^3;
and was interred in the cathedral of York, where a mo¬
nument is erected to his memory.—His sermons, which
6 ] S H A
were collected after his death, and published in 7 vols
8vo, are justly admired.
Sharp, Abraham, an eminent English mathemati¬
cian and astronomer, was born at Little Horton, near
Bradford, in the year 1651. He was put apprentice
to a merchant at Manchester 5 but so strongly was he
inclined to the study of mathematics, that he soon found
his situation both irksome and disagreeable. By t ie
mutual consent, therefore, of his master and himself, he
quitted the business of a merchant. He then removed
to Liverpool, where he wholly devoted himself to ma¬
thematical studies, and where, lor a subsistence, he
taught writing and accounts. . ,
Boon after this, a merchant from London, in uhee
house the celebrated Mr Flamsteed then lodged, enga¬
ged Mr Sharp to be his book-keeper. With this emi¬
nent astronomer he soon contracted an intimate friend¬
ship, and by his recommendation he obtained a more pi 0-
fitable employment in the dock-yard 0. Chatham, wheie
he continued till his friend and patron cahed him to
his assistance. Mr Sharp was chiefly employed m
the construction of the mural arch, which he finished in
the course of 14 months so entirely to the satisfaction
of Mr Flamsteed, that he spoke ot him in terms of the
highest praise. In the opinion of Mr Smeaton this
was the first p-ood instrument ot the kind, and Mr Shaip
the first artist who cut delicate divisions on astronomi¬
cal instruments. When this instrument was constructed
Mr Sharp was hut 25, and Mr Flamsteed 30 years of
afTe Mr Sharp assisted his friend m making a cata¬
logue of nearly 3000 fixed stars, with their longitudes
and magnitudes, their right ascensions and polar i n¬
stances, with the variations of the same while they
change their longitude by one degree.
But from the fatigue of constantly observmg ti e
stars by night, in a cold thin air added to a weakly
constitution, his health was much impaired , for the
recovery of which he requested leave to retire to
house at Horton, where, as soon as he felt himself re¬
covering, he began to fit up an observatory of his own,
and the telescopes he made use of were ad of his own
construction, and the lenses ground and adjured wit
about this time that he assisted Mr llamsteed
in calculating most of the tables in the second volume of
his Eistoria Ccelestis, as appears by their letters, to
seen in the hands of Mr Sharp’s friends at Horton-
The mathematician, says Dr Hutton, meets with some¬
thing extraordinary in Sharp’s elaborate treatise of Geo-
metry Improved; by a large and accurate tabie of s g-
ments of circles, its construction and various uses in the
solution of several difficult problems, with compendious
tables for finding a true proportional part and Urn
use in these or any other tables ettempUbed m makutg
(A) Such is the account given by ali our historians titbit" ^
the liands of fanatics, whom he persecuted, ,s “.‘ n' and is' i . itself certainly not incredible. The pnmate, it
rallies descended front hint, winch may be menttoned and « had, in the ^
“'“t ,Le ^ ^ins,isate<1 tlie del“
to murder their ancestor.
S H A [2
logarithms, or their natural numbers, to 60 places of fi¬
gures $ there being a table of them for all primes to
i IOO, true to 61 figures. His concise treatise of Polye-
dra, or solid bodies of many bases, both of the regular
ones and others; to which are added, 12 new ones,
with various methods of forming them, and their exact
dimensions in surds or species, and in numbers ; illustra¬
ted with a variety of copperplates, neatly engraved by
his own hands. Indeed, few of the mathematical in¬
strument makers could exceed him in exactly gra¬
duating or neatly engraving mathematical or astrono¬
mical instruments. He possessed a remarkably clear
head for contriving, and an extraordinary hand for
executing any thing, not only in mechanics, but
likewise in drawing, writing, and making the most
beautiful figures in all his calculations and construc¬
tions.
The quadrature of the circle was undertaken by him
for his own amusement, in the year 1699, deduced from
two different series, by which the truth of it was proved
to 72 places of figures, as may be seen in Sherwin’s Ta¬
bles of Logarithms. In the same book may likewise
be seen his ingenious improvements on the making of
logarithms, and the constructing of the natural sines,
tangents, and secants.
Mr Sharp kept up a correspondence with most of the
eminent mathematicians and astronomers of his time
as Flamsteed, Newton, Halley, Wallis, Hodgson, &c!
the answers to whose letters are all written on the backs
or empty spaces, of the letters he received, in a short
hand of his own invention, Being one of the most
accurate and indefatigable computers who ever existed ;
he was many years the common resource for Flamsteed,
Sir Jonas Moor, Halley, and others, in all sorts of trou¬
blesome and delicate calculations.
Mr Sharp was never married, and spent his time as a
hermit. He was of a middle stature, very thin, of a
weakly constitution ; but remarkably feeble during the
last 3 or 4 years belore his death, which happened on
the 18th of July 1742, in the 91st year of his age.
He was very irregular as to his meals, and uncommon¬
ly sparing in his diet, which he frequently took in the
following manner. A little square hole, resembling a
window, formed a communication between the room
where he usually studied, and another where a servant
could enter ; and before tins hole he had contrived a
sliding board. It often happened, that the breakfast,
dinner, and supper, have remained untouched, when the
servant was gone to remove what was left,—so deeply
was he engaged in calculations.
Sharp, in Music. See Interval.
SHASTAH, the same as Shaster.
SHASTER, Shastah, or Bedang, the name of a
sjcred book, in high estimation among the idolaters of
llmdostan, containing all the dogmas of the religion of
tne brannns, and all the ceremonies of their worship; and
serving as a commentary on the Vedam.
file term Shaster denotes “ science” or “ system;”
ajid is applied to other works of astronomy and'philoso-
pby, which have no relation to the religion of the Indians.
None but the bramins and rajahs of India are allowed
read the \edam ; the priests of the Banians, called
MaiW, may read the Shaster ; and the people, in ge-
vvhicb ai’e al!°Wed t0 read 0,lly t!le Paran ot Pouran,
Mich is a commentary on the Shaster.
VOL. XIX. Part I. +
17 ] S H A
The Shaster is divided into three parts : the first con¬
taining the moral law of the Indians; the second, the
rites and ceremonies of their religion; and the third,
the distribution of the people into tribes or classes, with
the duties pertaining to each class.
The principal precepts of morality, contained in the
first part of the Shaster, are the following : that no ani¬
mal be killed, because the Indians attribute souls to
brute animals as well as to mankind ; that they neither
hear nor speak evil, nor drink wine, nor eat flesh, nor
touch any thing that is unclean ; that they observe the
feasts, prayers, and washings, which their law prescribes;
that they tell no lies, nor be guilty of deceit in trade ;
that they neither oppress nor offer violence to one an¬
other; that they celebrate the solemn feasts and fasts,
and appropriate certain hours of ordinary sleep to cul¬
tivate a disposition for prayer; and that they do not
steal or defraud one another.
The ceremonies, contained in the second part of the
Shaster, are such as these: that they wash often in the
rivers, hereby obtaining the pardon of their sins ; that
they mark their forehead with red, in token of their re¬
lation to the Deity ; that they present offerings and
prayers under certain trees, set apart for this purpose ;
that they pray in the temples, make oblations to their
pagodas or idols, sing hymns, and make processions,
&c.; that they make pilgrimages to distant rivers, and
especially to the Ganges, there to wash themselves and
make offerings ; that they make vows to particular
saints, according to their respective departments ; that
they render homage to the Deity at the first sight of
the sun; that they pay their respect to the sun and
moon, which are the two eyes of the Deity ; and that
they treat with particular veneration those animals that
are deemed more pure than others; as the cow, buffalo,
&c.; because the souls of men have transmigrated into
these animals.
. thii'd part of the Shaster records the distribu¬
tion of the people into four classes : the first being that
°f the^bramins or priests, appointed to instruct the peo¬
ple ; the second, that of the kutteris or nobles, who are
the magistrates ; the third, that of the shudderis or
merchants ; and the fourth, that of the mechanics.
Lach person is required to remain in the class in which
he was born, and to pursue the occupation assigned to
him by the Shaster. According to the bramlns, the
boaster was imparted by God himself to Brahma, and
by him to the bramins ; who communicated the contents
01 it to the people.
Modern writers have given us very different accoun's
ot the antiquity and importance of the Shaster. Mr
Holwell, who had made considerable progress in the
translation of this book, apprehends, that the mytkolo-
gy as well as the cosmogony of the Egyptians, Greeks*;
and Homans, was borrowed from the doctrines of the
bramins, contained in it, even to the copying of their
exteriors of worship, and the distribution of their idols
though grossly mutilated and adulterated. With respect
to the Vedam and Shaster, or scriptures of the Gen-
toos, this writer informs us, that Vedam, in the Mala¬
bar language, signifies the same as Shaster in the Shan-
6cnt; and that tiie first book is followed by the Gen-
toos of the Malabar and Coromandel coasts, and also of
the island of Ceylon. The Shaster is followed by the
Gentoos of the provinces of Bengal, and by all the
e Gentoos
Slias ter-
P
Shaster.
S H A [21
Gentoos of the rest of India, commonly called -Ma*
> Proper, along the course of the rivers Ganges and Jum¬
na to the Indus. Both these books (he says) contain
the institutes of their respective religion and worship,
as well as the history of their ancient rajahs ami princes,
often couched under allegory and fable. 1 heir anti¬
quity is contended for by the partisans of eaci j m ie
thinks, that the similitude of their names, idols and
' great part of their worship, leaves little room to doubt,
nay plainly evinces, that both these scriptures were ori¬
ginally one. He adds, if we compare the great purity
and chaste manners of the Shaster with the grea ab¬
surdities and imparities of the Vedam, we need not
hesitate to pronounce the latter a corruption of the
former. * . . , „ , . , „
With regard to the high original of these scriptures,
the account of the bramins is as follows. Brahma
(that is, “ Mighty Spirit”), about 4866 years ago,
assumed the form of man and the government of Indo-
stan. He translated the divine law (designed for the
restoration of mankind, who had offended in a pre-ex¬
istent state, and who are now in their last scene of pro¬
bation, to the dignity from which they were degraded)
out of the language of angels into the well known Shan-
scrit language, and called his translation the Chartah
Bhade Shastah of Birmah, or the Six Scriptures of Di¬
vine Words of the Mighty Spirit. He appointed he
bramins, deriving their name from him, to preach the
word of God 5 and the doctrines of the Shaster were ac¬
cordingly preached in their original purity 1000 years.
About this time there was published a paraphrase on
the Chartah Bhade 5 and about 500 years afterwards a
second exposition, called the Aughtorrah Bhade Shasta,
or Eighteen Books of Divine Words, written in a cha¬
racter compounded of the common Indostan and the
Shanscrit. This innovation produced^a schism among
the Gentoos •, on which occasion, it is said, those of
Coromandel and Malabar formed a scripture of their
own, which they pretended to be founded on the Chartah
Bhade of Bramah, and called it the Vtdam oj Bir¬
mah, or Divine Words of the Mighty Spirit, ihe ori¬
ginal Chartah Bhade was thrown aside, and at lengtli
wholly unknown, except to a few families •, who can
still read and expound it in the Shanscrit character.
With the establishment of the Aughtorrah Bhade, and
Vedam, which, according to the Gentoo account, is
0066 years ago, their polytheism commenced-, and the
principles of religion became so obscure, and their ce¬
remonies so numerous, that every head of a family was
obliged to keep a bramin as a guide both in faith and
practice. Mr Holwell is of opinion, that the Chartah
Bhade, or Original Scriptures, are not copied from any
other system of theology, promulgated to or obtruded
upon mankind. The Gentoos do not attribute them to
Zoroaster aud Mr Holwell supposes that both Zoroas¬
ter and Pythagoras visited Indostan, not to instruct, but
to be instructed. ^
From the account of Mr Dow, we learn, that the
books which contain the religion and philosophy of the
Hindoos are distinguished by the name of Bedas ; that
they are four in number, and like the sacred writings
of other nations, said to be penned by the Divinity.
Beda, he says, in the Shanscrit language, literally sig¬
nifies science; and these books treat not only of religion
and moral duties, but of every branch of philosophic
%
Sliastei.
8 ] s H A
knowledge. The bramins maintain, that the Bedas
are the divine laws which Brimha, at the creation of - >
the world, delivered for the instruction of mankind 5
but they affirm, that their meaning was perverted in
the first age by the ignorance and wickedness of some
princes, whom they represent as evil spirits, who then
haunted the earth. f , -0 i
The first credible account we have of the Bedas is,
that about the commencement of the Cal Jug, of which
era the year 1768 was the 4886th year, they were
written, or rather collected, by a great philosopher and
reputed prophet, called Be'dss Muni, or Be'dss the In¬
spired. .
The Hindoos (says Mr Dow) are divided into two
great religious sects : the followers of the doctrine of
Bedang, which is the original Shaster or commentary
upon the Bedas ; and those who adhere to the principles
of the Neadirsen. The original Shaster is called Be-
dang, and is a commentary upon the Bedas. This book,
he says, is erroneously called in Europe the / edam. It
is ascribed to Beass Muni, and is said to have been re¬
vised some years after by one Sernder Swann,. since
which it has been reckoned sacred, and not subject to
any farther alterations.
Almost all the Hindoos of the Decan, and those of
the Malabar and Coromandel coasts, are of this sect.
The followers of the Bedang Shaster do not allow that
any physical evil exists 5 they maintain that God created
all things perfectly good ; but that man, being a free
agent, may be guilty of moral evil, which may be inju¬
rious to himself, but can be of no detriment to the ge¬
neral system of nature. God, they say, being perfect y
benevolent, never punished the wicked otherwise than
by the pain and affliction which are the natural conse¬
quences* of evil actions ; and hell, therefore is no other
than a consciousness of evil.
The Neadirsen Shaster is said to have been written
by a philosopher called Goutam, near four thousand
years ago. The bramins, from Mr Dow’s account of
their sacred books, appear to believe invaiiably in t e
unity, eternity, omniscience, and omnipotence of God ,
and the polytheism of which they have been accused is
no more than a symbolical worship of the divine attri¬
butes, which they divide into three classes. Under the
name of Brimha, they worship the wisdom and creative
power of God ; under the appellation of Bishen, his
providential and preserving quality; and under that 0
Shibah, that attribute which tends to destroy. _
As few of our readers may have an opportunity ot
perusing the Shaster, we shall, by way of specimen, sub-
oin a passage from it, which, though it contains some
metaphysical mysteries concerning the creation, yet dis¬
covers views of God so enlightened that they would not
disgrace more refined nations. Ihe passage w 11c we
shall quote is the first chapter of the Shaster, wbic 1 is
a dialogue between. Brimha the Wisdom of the Divini¬
ty, and Narud or Reason, who is represented as the son
of Brimha. Narud desires to be instructed by his la¬
ther ; and for that purpose puts the following questions
“ Narud. O father ! thou first of God, thou art said
to have created the world, and thy son Narud, astomsi
ed at what he beholds, is desirous to be instructed how
all these things were made. . .
“ Brimha. Be not deceived, my son , do nott
S H A [
Siller, that I was tlie creator of the world, independent of the
Divine Mover, who is the great original essence and
creator of all things. Look, therefore, only upon me
as the instrument of the great will, and a part of his
being, whom he called forth to execute his eternal de¬
signs.
“ Narud. What shall we think of God ?
“ Bnmha. Being immaterial, he is above all con¬
ception 5 being invisible, he can have no form ; but,
from what we behold in his works, we may conclude
that he is eternal, omnipotent, knowing all things, and
present everywhere.
“ Narud. How did God create the world ?
Brim/ia. Affection dwelt with God from all eter¬
nity. It was of three different kinds ; the creative, the
preserving, and the destructive. This first is represent¬
ed by Brimha, the second by Bishen, and the third by
Sbibah. T ou, O Narud! are taught to worship all
the three in various shapes and likenesses, as the Crea¬
tor, the Preserver, and the Destroyer. The affection
of God then produced power, and power, at a proper
conjunction of time and fate, embraced goodness, and
produced matter. The three qualities then acting up¬
on matter, produced the universe in the following man¬
ner: From the opposite actions of the creative and de¬
structive quality in matter, self-motion first arose.
Self-motion was of three kinds ; the first inclining to
plasticity, the second to discord, and the third to rest.
The discordant actions then produced the Akash (a
kind of celestial element), which invisible element pos¬
sessed the quality of conveying sound ; it produced air,
a palpable element j fire, a visible element j water, a
fluid element; and earth, a solid element.
The Akash dispersed itself abroad. Air formed
the atmosphere 5 fire, collecting itself, blazed forth in
the host of heaven; water rose to the surface of the
earth, being forced from beneath by the gravity of the
latter element. Thus broke forth the world from the
%eil of daikness, in which it was formerly comprehend¬
ed by God. Order rose over the universe. The seven
heavens were formed, and the seven worlds were fixed
m their places j there to remain till the great dissolu¬
tion, when all things shall be absorbed into God.
“ God seeing the earth in full bloom, and that vege¬
tation was strong from its seeds, called forth for the first
time intellect, which he endued with various organs and
shapes, to form a diversity of animals upon the earth.
He endued the animals with five senses ; feeling, see¬
ing, smelling, tasting, and hearing 5 but to man he gave
rettection, to raise him above the beasts of the field.
“ T!l.e creatures were created male and female, that
they might propagate their species upon the earth.
Fvery herb bore the seed of its kind, that the world
might be clothed with verdure, and all animals provid
ed with food. r
tellecf?™^* ll°St tll0U mean’ ° fatlier ! bf In-
“ Brimha. It is a portion of the great soul of the
universe breathed into all creatures, to animate them
lor a certain time.
“ Narud. What becomes of it after death ?
a b°dies’ or returns» like
aro4P’ int° that Unbounded ocean which it first
219 ] s H A
Bar ltd. Snail not then the souls of good men re¬
ceive rewards ? nor the souls of the bad meet with pu¬
nishment ?
^ Brimha. The souls of men are distinguished from
those of other animals j for the first are endued with
reason, and with a consciousness of right and wrong.
If therefore man shall adhere to the first, as far as his
powers shall extend, his soul, when disengaged from the
body by death, shall be absorbed into the divine es¬
sence, and shall never more reanimate flesh : but tbe
souls of those who do evil are not, at death, disengaged
from all the elements. They are immediately clothed
with a body of fire, air, and akash, in which'they are
for a time punished in hell. After the season of their
grief is over, they reanimate other bodies ; but till they
shall arrive at a state ol purity they can never be ab¬
sorbed into God.
“ Narud. What is the nature of that absorbed state
which the souls of good men enjoy after death P
“ Brimha. It is a participation of the divine nature,
where all passions are utterly unknown, and where con¬
sciousness is lost in bliss.
Narud., Thou sayest, O father, that unless the soul
is perfectly pure it cannot be absorbed into God : now',
as the actions ol the generality of men are partly good
•and partly bad, whither are their spirits sent imme¬
diately after death ?
“ Brimha. They must atone for their crimes in hell,
where they must remain for a space proportioned to the
degree of their iniquities; then they rise to heaven to
be rewarded for a time for their virtues j and from
thence they will return to the world to reanimate other
bodies.
“ Narud. What is time P
“Brimha. Time existed from all eternity with God:
but it can only be estimated since motion wTas produ¬
ced, and only be conceived by the mind, from its own
constant progress.
Narud. How long shall this world remain ?
“ Brimha. Until the four jugs shall have revolved.
Then Budder (the same with Shibah, the destroying
quality of God), with the ten spirits of dissolution,
shall roll a comet under the moon, that shall involve all
things in fire, and reduce the world into ashes. God
shall then exist alone, for matter will be totally annihi¬
lated.” J
Those who desire more information on this subject
may consult Dow’s History of Indostan, and Holwell’s
Interesting Historical Events.
SHAW, Dr Thomas, known to the learned world
by his travels to Barbary and the Levant, was born at
Kendal in Westmoreland about the year 1692. He
was appointed chaplain to the English consul at Algiers,
m which station he continued for several years ; and
from thence took proper opportunities of travelling into
different parts. He returned in 1733 ; was elected fel¬
low of the Royal Society j and published the account of
his travels at Oxford, folio, 1738. In 1740 he was
nominated principal of St Edmond-hall, which he raised
from a ruinous state by his munificence 5 and was regius
professor of Greek at Oxford until his death, which
happened in 1751. Dr Clayton, bishop of Clogher,
having attacked these Travels in his Description of the
East, Dr Shaw published a supplement by way of vin-
^ e 2 dication*
SHE
[ 220 ]
SHE
shaw dication, which is incorporated into the second edition
|| of his Travels, prepared by himself, and published in
Sheathing. 4t0i 1757. . , .
  v   SHA.WIA, a genus of plants, belonging to the class
svno-enesia, and order polygamia segregata, of which the
characters are the following *, the calyx is imbricate
with live or six leaves, the three interior of which are
larger ; the corolla is five-cleft} there is one oblong
seed. One species only has been discovered, which is
a native of New Zealand. _ 11 "j
SHAWLS, are woollen handkerchiefs, an ell wine,
and near two long. The wool is so fine and silky,
that the whole handkerchief may be contained in the
two hands closed. It is the produce of a 1 ibet sheep J
hut some say that no wool is employed but that ot
lambs torn from the belly of their mother before the
time of birth. The most beautiful shawls come from
Cashmire : their price is from 150 livres (about six gui¬
neas) to 1200 livres or (50I. sterling).
In the Transactions of the Society for Encouraging
Arts, Manufactures, &c. for the year 1792, we are in¬
formed that a shawl counterpane, four yards square,
manufactured by Mr P. J. Knights of Norwich, was
presented to the society 5 and that upon examination,
it appeared to be of greater breadth than any goods 0
equal fineness and texture that had ever before been pre¬
sented to the society, or to their knowledge woven in
this country. The shawls of Mr Knight’s manufacture,
it is said, can scarcely be distinguished from Indian
shawls, though they can be afforded at one-twentieth
part of the price. When the shawl is 16 quarters square,
Mr Knights savs it may be retailed at 20I. 5 if it con¬
sisted of 12 quarters, and embroidered as the former, it
will cost i5l.-, if plain, with a fringe only, a shawl of
16 quarters square may be sold at 81. 8s.; if 12 quar¬
ters and fringed, at 61. 6s.
Mr Knight maintains, that his counterpane ot tour
yards square is equal in beauty, and superior in strength,
to the Indian counterpanes, which are sold at 200. gui¬
neas. The principal consumption of this cloth is in
train-dresses for ladies 5 as likewise for long scarfs, m
imitation of the real Indian scarfs, which are sold from
60I. to Sol. j whereas scarfs of this fabric are sold foi
as many shillings, and the ladies square shawls in pro¬
portion. . .
SHEADING, a riding, tythmg, or division, m the
isle of Man j the whole island being divided into six
sheadings j in every one of which is a coroner or chief
constable, appointed by the delivery of a rod at the an¬
nual convention.
SHEARBILL, the Rhynchops Nigra of Linmeus,
the Black Skimmer of Pennant and Latham, and Cut¬
water of Catesby. See Ornithology Index.
SHEATHING, in the sea-language, is the casing
■* that part of a ship which is to be under water with fir-
board of an inch thick •, first laying hair and tar mixed
together under the boards, and then nailing them on,
in order to prevent worms from eating the ship s bot¬
tom.—Ships of war are now generally sheathed with
copper: but copper sheathing is liable to be corroded
by the action of salt water, and something is stil want¬
ing to effect this purpose. It is very probable that tar
might answer very well.
In the Cornish mines, copper or brass pumps are otten
placed in the deepest parts, and are consequently expo-
3
sed to the vitriolic or other mineral waters with winch shcatlaj
sea to me vunuu^ ui   ~ , , .
some of these mines abound, and which are known to
have a much stronger effect on copper than sea water. Shcbb^
These pumps are generally about six feet long, and are
screwed together, and made tight by the interposition
of a ring of lead, and the joinings are afterwards tarred.
One of these pumps was so much corroded as to render
it unfit for use but the spots of tar, which by accident
had dropped on it, preserved the parts they covered
from the action of the water. These projected m some
places more than a quarter of an inch j and the joints
were so far defended by the thin coat of tar, that it
was as perfect as when it came from the hands ot the
manufacturer. If tar thus effectually defends copper
from these acrid waters, can there remain a doubt of ite
preserving it from the much milder waters of the sea .
SHE ATS, in a ship, are ropes bent to the clews of
the sails, serving in the lower sails to haul aft the clews
of the sail j but in topsails they serve to haul home
the clew of the sail close to the yard-arm.
SHEAVE, in Mechanics, a solid cylindrical wheel,
fixed in a channel, and moveable about an axis, as be¬
ing used to raise or increase the mechanical powers ap¬
plied to remove any body. . ,
SHEBBEARE, John, a political writer, was born
at Bideford in Devonshire, in the year 1709. He re¬
ceived the rudiments of his education at the free gram¬
mar school of Exeter. It has been often observed, that
the future life of a man may be gathered from his pue¬
rile character ; and accordingly Shebbeare, while a boy
at school, gave the strongest indications 0 his future
eminence in misanthropy and learning, by the extraor¬
dinary tenaciousness of his memory and the readiness ot
his wit, as well as the malignity ol his disposition J be-
ing universally regarded as a young man of surprising
genius, while at the same time he was despised for his
malicious temper. . .
About the age of 16, Shebbeare was bound appren¬
tice to an eminent surgeon in his native town under
whom he acquired a considerable share of medical k
ledge. His talent for lampoon appeared at this early
period, and he could not forbear from exercising it on his
master 5 but the chief marks for the arrows of Ins wU
were the gentlemen of the corporation, some 0 whorn
laughed at such trifles, while such as were mrtable oft
commenced prosecutions against him but without sue
cess. He was frequently summoned to appear at t
sessions, for daring to speak and write isiespe J
the magistrates 5 but the laugh was always on the side
of Shebbeare. , . 1f ,1 _
■When his time was out, he set up for himself,
discovering a taste for chemistry; soon after whicbfcs
married an amiable young woman with no fortune,
of respectable connections. Failing m business at B d
ford, he went to Bristol in 1736 entering into partne^
ship with a chemist, and never afterwards visited bisn
live town. _ ♦.
The attention of the public was, in the year 1739>
tracted by an epitaph to the memory of Thomas Coster
Esq. M. P. for Bristol, in which he contrived to ms
emotions of pity, grief, and indignation. In l 0
ing year he published a pamphlet on the Bristo >
after which we know little or nothing respecting hm l
a number of years. He was at Fans in .
he obtained, it is said, the degree of doctor 111 med ^
SHE
[
Shdfcearer a however, which many are disposed to question.
i — > About this time he began to emerge from obscurity,
and draw the attention of the public, by pamphlets
written with such virulence and celerity as it would be
difficult to equal in the most intemperate times. In
1754 he commenced his career with a work denomina¬
ted the Marriage Act, a political novel, in which he
treated the legislature with such freedom that he was
apprehended, but soon after set at liberty.
The most celebrated performances, however, were a
series of letters to the People of England, written in a
vigorous and energetic style, well calculated to make
an impression on common readers •, and they were of
course read with avidity, and diligently circulated.
They galled the ministry, who at first were too eager to
punish the author. When the third letter was publish¬
ed, warrants were issued by Lord Holdernesse in March
1756, to take up both the publisher and the author;
a prosecution which appears to have been dropt. On the
3 2th of January 1758, the same nobleman signed a ge¬
neral warrant for apprehending the author, printer, and
publishers of a wicked, audacious, and treasonable libel,
entitled, “ A sixth letter to the people of England, on
die progress of national ruin, in which is shewn that
the present grandeur of France and calamities of this
nation are owing to the influence of Hanover on the
councils of Englandand them having found, to
seize and apprehend, together with their books and
papers.
Government having received information that a se¬
venth letter was in the press, all the copies were seized
and suppressed by virtue of another warrant, dated Ja¬
nuary 23. In Easter term an information was filed
against him by the attorney-general, and on the 17th
of June the information was tried, when Shebbeare was
found guilty ; and on the 28th of November he received
sentence, by which he was fined 5I. ordered to stand in
die pillory December 5. at Charing Cross, to be con¬
fined three years, and to give security for his good be¬
haviour for seven years, himself in 500I. and two others
in 250I. each. During his confinement, he declared he
never received as presents more than 20 guineas from
all the world.
He was detained in prison during the whole time of
the sentence, and with some degree of rigour; for when
his life was in danger from a bad state of health, and
he applied to the court of King’s-bench for permission
to be carried into the rules a few hours in a day ; though
Lord Mansfield acceded to the petition, the prayer of
it was denied and defeated by Judge Foster. At the
termination of the time of his sentence, a new reign
commenced ; and shortly afterwards, during Mr Gren¬
ville’s administration, a pension of 200I. a-year was
granted him by the crown, through the influence of Sir
John Philips ; and he ever after became devoted to the
service of government. He was of course abused in al¬
most every periodical work, which he seems in general
to have had the good sense to neglect. Dr Smollet in¬
troduced him, in no very respectful light, under the name
of Ferret, in Sir Launcelot Greaves ; and Mr Hogarth
made him one of the group in the third election
print.
During the latter part of his life he seems to have
written but little. He strenuously supported the mini¬
stry during the American war, having published, in
221 ] S H E
1775, an answer to the printed speech of Edmund SLebbeare,
Burke, Esq. spoken in the house of commons, April Sheep.
\9- I77L wherein he investigates his knowledge of po- 1—'
hty, legislature, human kind, history, commerce, and
finance ; his arguments are examined ; the conduct of
administration is boldly defended, and his talents as an
orator clearly exposed to view. An essay on the ori-
gin, progress, and establishment of National Society ;
in which the principles of government, the definition'of
physical, moral, civil, and religious liberty contained in
Dr Price’s observations, &c. are examined and contro¬
verted ; together with a justification of the legislature
in reducing America to obedience by force.
His publications of a satirical, political, and medical
nature, amount to 34, besides a novel, called Filial
Piety, in which hypocrisy and blustering courage are
very properly chastised. He died on the 1st of August
1788, leaving behind him the character of a benevolent
man among those who were best acquainted with him ;
a character which, from the manner he speaks of his
connections, he probably deserved.
SHEEP, in Zioo/ogy. See Ovis and Wool. j
. Amongst the various animals with which Divine Pro- Sheep
yidence has stored the world for the use of man, none serve a
is to be found more innocent, more useful, or more va_W0I}derftil
luable than the sheep. The sheep supplies us with foodTariety °f
and clothing, and finds ample employment for our poor *>Ur^°SeS
at all times and seasons of the year, whereby a variety
of manufactures of woollen cloth is carried on without
interruption to domestic comfort and loss to friendly
society or injury to health, as is the case with many-
other occupations. Every lock of wool that grows on
its back becomes the means of support to staplers,
dyers, pickers, scourers, scriblers, carders, combers’
spinners, spoolers, warpers, queelers, weavers, fullers’
tuckers, burlers, shearmen, pressers, clothiers, and
packers, who, one after another, tumble and toss, and
twist, and bake and boil, this raw material, till they
have each extracted a livelihood out of it; and then
comes the merchant, who, in his turn, ships it (in its
highest state of improvement) to all quarters of the
globe, from whence he brings back every kind of riches
to his country, in return for this valuable commodity
which the sheep affords.
Besides this, tne useful animal, after being deprived
of his coat, produces another against the next year ;
and when we are hungry, and kill him for food, lie’
gives us his skin to employ the fell-mongers, and parch¬
ment makers, who supply us with a durable material for
securing our estates, rights, and possessions ; and if our
enemies take the field against us, supplies us with a
powerful instrument for rousing our courage to repel
their attacks. When the parchment-maker has taken
as much of the skin as he can use, the glue-maker comes
alter and picks up every morsel that is left, and there¬
with supplies a material for the carpenter and cabinet-
maker, which they cannot do without, and which is
essentially necessary before we can have elegant furni¬
ture in our houses ; tables, chairs, looking-glasses, and
a hundred other articles of convenience : and when the
winter nights come on, while we are deprived of the
cheering light of the sun, the sheep supplies us with an
artificial mode oi light, whereby we preserve every plea¬
sure of domestic society, and with whose assistance we
can continue our work, or write or read, and improve
our
SHE [ 222 ]
Sheep, cm- minds, or enjoy the social mirth ot our tallies. An-
 other part of the slaughtered animal supplies us with an
inoredient necessary for making good common soap, a
useful store for producing cleanliness in every iaimly,
rich or poor. • Neither need the horns be thrown away ;
for they are converted by the button-makers and turners
into a cheap kind of buttons, tips for bows, and many
useful ornaments. From the very trotters an oil is ex¬
tracted useful for many purposes, and they akord good
food when baked in an oven. . .
Even the bones are useful also •, for by a late inven¬
tion of Dr Higgins, they are found, when reduced to
ashes, to be an useful and essential ingredient in the
composition of the finest artificial stone in ornamental
work for chimney-pieces, cornices ot rooms, houses,
&c. which renders the composition more durable byet-
fectually preventing its cracking (a). ^
If it is objected to the meek inoffensive creature, that
he is expensive while living, in eating up our grass,
&c it may be answered, that it is quite the contrary }
for he can feed where every other animal has been be¬
fore him and grazed all they could find ; and that if he
takes a little grass on our downs or m our fields, he
amply repays us for every blade of grass in the richness
of the manure which he leaves behind him. He pro¬
tects the hands from the cold wintry blast, by provid¬
ing them with the softest leather gloves. Every gen¬
tleman’s library is also indebted to him for the neat
binding of his books, for the sheath ot Ins sword, and
for cases for his instruments, in short, not to be tedi¬
ous in mentioning the various uses of leather, there is
hardly any furniture or utensil of life but the sheep
contributes to render either more useful, convenient, or
ornamental. . , • r
As the sheep is so valuable an animal, every piece of
information concerning the proper method of managing
it must be of importance. It will not therefore be use¬
less or unentertaining to give some account o the man¬
ner of managing sheep in Spam, a country famous for
producing the best wool in the world.
Account of In Spain there are two kinds of sheep : the coarse-
tlie Spanish WOolled sheep, which always remain in their native
sheep country, and are housed every night in winter j and the
fine-woolled sheep, which are always in the open air,
and travel every summer from the cool mountains ot the
northern parts of Spain, to feed in winter on the south¬
ern warm plains of Andalusia, Mancha, and Estrema-
S H E
dura. Of these latter, it appears from accurate com- sh;
putations, that there are about five millions (b) ; and^
that the wool and flesh of a flock ot .10,000 sheep pm-
duced yearly about 24 reals a head, about the value
of 12 English sixpences, one of which belongs to the
owner, three to the king, and the other eight are allow¬
ed for the expences of pasture, tythes, shepherds, dogs, ■
salt, shearing, &c. Ten thousand sheep form a flock,
which is divided into ten tribes, under the management
of one person, who has absolute dominion over fifty shep¬
herds and fifty dogs. i 3
M. Bourgoanne, a French gentleman, who resided of Sep,
many years in Spain, and directed his inquiries chiefly. ;
to the civil government, trade, and manufactures, of
that country, gives the following account of the wan¬
dering sheep of Segovia. “ It is (says he) in the neigh-
touring mountains that a part ol the wandering.sheep
feed during the fine season. They leave them in the^,
month of October, pass over those which separate the
two Castiles, cross New Castile, and disperse themselves
in the plains of Estramadura and Andalusia. For some
years past those of the two Castiles, which are within
reach of the Sierra-Morena, go thither to pass the win¬
ter ; which, in that part of Spain, is more mild ; the
length of their day’s journey is in proportion to the
^pasture they meet with. They travel in flocks from
1000 to 1200 in number, under the conduct of two
shepherds ; one of whom is called the Mayoral, the
other the Zagal. When arrived at the place of their
destination, they are distributed in the pastures previ¬
ously assigned them. They return in the month of
April ; and whether it be habit or natural instinct that
draws them towards the climate, which at this season
becomes most proper for them, the inquietude which
they manifest might, in case of need, serve as an a -
nianac to their conducters.”
Mr Arthur Young, in that patriotic work which he
conducted with great industry and judgment, the An¬
nals of Agriculture, gives us a very accurate and inte¬
resting account of the Pyrenean or Catalonian sheep. 4
“ On the northern ridge, bearing to the west, are the Of te
pastures of the Spanish flocks. This ridge is not, hovv-j^
ever the whole j there are two other mountains, quite^
in a different situation, and the sheep travel from one tovol,*
another as the pasturage is short or plentiful. 1 exa-p.ij;
mined the soil of these mounthin pastures, and found it
in general stony } what in the west of England wou^
ned on by Mr ™sf> ^ cl,aP^ , A cauldr„„ to extract their oil, marrow, and fat; 3. A re-
her the eight millions of Tor the proprietors of stationary
contrary to the true interests 0 p , f those°of the members of the Mesta. According to Arriqneba'.
S0pS SSu S- of fine-wo^lled sheep, ten millions of coarse-woo.led, and five hundred thousand bull,
oxen, and cows.
t
SHE [ 223 ] S H E
be called a stone brash, with some mixture of loam, and
in a few places a little peaty. The plants are many of
them untouched by the sheep : many ferns, narcissus,
violets, &c. but burnet (poterium sanguisorba) and the
narrow-leaved plantain {plantago laneeolata) were eaten,
as may be supposed, close. 1 looked for trefoils, but
found scarcely any: it was very apparent that soil and
peculiarity of herbage bad little to do in rendering these
heights proper for sheep. In the northern parts of Eu¬
rope, the tops of mountains half the height of these
(for we were above snow in July) are bogs ; all are so
which I have seen in our islands, or at least the pro¬
portion of dry land is very trifling to that which is ex¬
tremely wet: Here they are in general very dry. Now
a great range of dry land, let the plants be what they
may, will in every country suit sheep. The flock is
brought every night to one spot, which is situated at
the end of the valley on the river I have mentioned, and
near the port or passage of Picada: it is a level spot shel¬
tered from all winds. The soil is eight or nine inches
deep of old dung, not at all inclosed : from the freedom
from wood all around, it seems to be chosen partly for
safety against wolves and bears. Near it is a very large
stone, or rather rock, fallen from the mountain. This
the shepherds have taken for a shelter, and have built a
hut against it 5 their beds are sheep skins, and their
door so small that they crawl in. I saw no place for
fire; but they have it, since they dress here the flesh of
their sheep, and in the night sometimes keep off the
bears, by whirling fire-brands : four of them belonging
to the flock mentioned above lie here. I viewed their
flock very carefully, and by means of our guide and in¬
terpreter, made some inquiries of the shepherds, which
they ansAvered readily and very civilly. A Spaniard
at Venasque, a city in the Pyrenees, gives 600 livres
French (the livre is io^d. English) a-year for the pas¬
turage of this flock of 2000 sheep. In the Avinter he
sends them into the lower parts of Catalonia, a journey
of 12 or 13 days, and Avhen the siioav is melted in the
spring, they are conducted back again. They are the
Avhole year kept in motion, and moving from spot to
spot, Avbich is oAving to the great range they every where
have of pasture. They are always in the open air, ne¬
ver housed or under cover, and never taste of any food
but what they can find on the hills.
“ Four shepherds, and from four to six large Spanish
dogs, have the care of this flock: the latter are in France
called of the Pijrenees breed; they are black and Avhite,
of the size of a large Avolf, a large head and neck, arm¬
ed Avith collars stuck with iron spikes. No wolf can stand
against them ; but bears are more potent adversaries :
if a bear can reach a tree, he is safe; he rises on his hind
legs, Avith his back to the tree, and sets the dogs at de¬
fiance. In the night the shepherds rely entirely on
their dogs; but on hearing them bark are ready with
fire-arms, as the dogs rarely bark if a bear is not at
hand. I Avas surprised to find that they are fed only
with bread and milk. The head shepherd is paid 120
hvres a year Avages and bread; the others 80 livres and
bread. But they are allowed to keep goats, of which
they have many which they milk every day. Their food
is milk and bread, except the flesh of such sheep or
lambs as accidents give them. The head shepherd
keeps on the mountain top, or an elevated spot, from
whence he can the better see around Avhile the flock
traverses the declivities. In doing this the sheep are ex- sheep,
posed to great danger in places that are stony ; for by '—v——'
Avalking among the rocks, and especially the goats,
they move the stones, which, rolling doAvn the hills!
acquire an accelerated force enough to knock a man
down, and sheep are often killed by them ; yet we suav
hoAV alert they Avere to avoid such stones, and cautious¬
ly on their guard against them. I. examined the sheep
attentively. They are in general polled, but some have
horns ; which in the rams turn backwards behind the
ears and project half a circle forward ; the cavcs horns
turn also behind the ears, but do not project; the legs
Avhite or reddish ; speckled faces, some A\diite, some
reddish; they would Aveigh fat, I reckon, on an average,
from 15 lb. to 18 lb. a quarter. Some tails short, some
left long. A feAV black sheep among them : some Avith
a very little tuft of avooI on their foreheads. On the
whole they resemble those on the South Downs ; their
legs are as short as those of that breed ; a point which
merits observation, as they travel so much and so well.
Their shape is very good ; round ribs and flat straight
backs; andAvould Avith us be reckoned handsome sheep;
all in good order and flesh. In order to be still better
acquainted with them, I desired one of the shepherds to
catch a ram for me to feel, and examine the wool, which
I found very thick and good, of the carding sort, as may
be supposed. I took a specimen of it, and also of a
hoggit, or lamb of last year. In regard to the mellow
softness under the skin, Avhicb, in Mr BakeAvell’s opi¬
nion, is a strong indication of a good breed, Avith a dis¬
position to fatten, he had it in a much superior degree
to many of our English breeds, to the full as much so
as the South Downs, which are for that point the best
short-AVOolled sheep Avhich I know in England. The
fleece Avas on his back, and weighed, as I guessed, about
8 lb. English ; but the average, they say, of the flock
is from four to five, as I calculated by reducing the Ca¬
talonian pound of 12 oz. to ours of 16, and is all sold
to the French at 30s. the lb. French. This ram had
the avooI of the back jiart of his neck tied close, and the
upper tuft tied a second knot by Avay of ornament; nor
do they ever shear this part of the fleece for that reason:
Ave saAv several in the flock Avith this species of decora¬
tion. They said that this ram would sell in Catalonia
for 20 livres. A circumstance which cannot be too
much commended, and deserves universal imitation, is
the extreme docility they accustom them to. When 1
desired the shepherd to catch one of his rams, I supposed
he Avould do it Avith his crook, or probably not be able
to do it at all; but he walked into the flock, and singl¬
ing out a ram and a goat, bid them IoIIoav him, which
they did immediately ; and he talked to them while
they Avere obeying him, holding out his hand as if to
giv’e them something. By this method he brought me
the ram, which I caught, and held Avithout difficulty.” ^
The best sort of sheep for fine avooI are those bred What
in Herefordshire, Devonshire, and Worcestershire; but sheep pro-
they are small, and black-faced, and bear but a small |
quantity. WarAvick, Leicestershire, Buckingham, and
Northamptonshire, breed a large-boned sheep, of the
best shape and deepest wool Ave have. The marshes
of Lincolnshire breed a very large kind of sheep, but
their wool is not good, unless the breed be mended by
bringing in sheep of other counties among them, Avhich
is a scheme of late very profitably followed there. In
SHE
[ 224 ]
SHE
Sheep.
tills county, it is no uncommon thing to give fifty gm-
—v   neas for a ram, ami a guinea for the admission ol an
ewe to one of these valuable males, or twenty guineas
for the use of it for a certain number of ewes during
o«e season. Suffolk also breeds a very valuable kind ot
sheen. The northern counties in general breed sheep
with long but hairy wool: however, the wool which is
taken from the neck and shoulders ol the Yorkshire
sheep is used for mixing with Spanish wool in some ot
their finest cloths. . 1 ,
Wales produces a small hardy kind of sheep, winch has
the best tasted flesh, but the worst wool ot all. ^ ever-
theless it is of more extensive use than the finest bego-
vian fleeces; for the benefit of the flannel manufacture
is universally known. The sheep of Ireland vary like
those of Great Britain 5 those of the south and east be¬
ing large and their flesh rank : those ol the north and
the mountainous parts small and their flesh sweet. I he
fleeces in the same manner differ in degrees ol value.
Scotland breeds a small kind, and their fleeces are coarse.
But the new Leicestershire breed is the most lashion-
able, and of course the most profitable breed in the
island. Joseph Altom of Clifton, who raised himseli
from a plough-boy, was the first who distinguished him¬
self in the midland counties of England for a superior
breed of sheep. How he improved this breed is not
known ; but it was customary for eminent farmers in his
time to go to Clifton in summer to choose and purchase
ram-lambs, for which they paid two or three guineas.
This man was succeeded by Mr Bakewell •, and xt may
reasonably be supposed that the breed, by means ot Al-
tom’s stock, had passed the first stage of improvement
before Mr Bakewell’s time. Still, however, it must be
acknowledged, that the Leicestershire breed of sheep
owes its present high state of improvement to the ability
r, and care of Mr Bakewell. .
Account of “ The manner in which Mr Bakewell raised his sheep
Mr Bake- to the degree of celebrity in which they deservedly
wdl’f stand, is, notwithstanding the recentness of the ini-
'XL/r, provement, and its being done in the day of thousands
SS Lw living, a thing in dispute; even among men h.gh
Counties, jn the profession, and living in the very ^ district m
voJ- *• which the improvement has been carried on .
£• 38«- « gome are of opinion that he affected it by a cross
Howk is with the Wiltshire breed 5 an improbable idea, as their
supposed he form altogether contradicts it: others, that the Kyeland
w„e use(l f0r this purpose ; and with some show
of probability. If any cross whatever was used the Eye-
land breed, whether we view the form, the size, the
wool, the flesh, or the fatting quality, is the most pro¬
bable instrument of improvement. _
“ These ideas, however, are registered merely as
matters of opinion. It is more than probable that
Mr Bakewell alone is in possession ot the several mi-
nutise of improvement j and the public can only hope
that at a proper time the facts may be communicated
for the direction of future improvers. _
“ Whenever this shall take place, it will most pro¬
bably come out that no cross with any alien breed what¬
ever has been used ; but that the improvement has been
improved
it.
I J ^
effected by selecting individuals from kindred breeds^ SWp
from the several breeds or varieties of long-woolled —v-
sheep, with which Mr Bakewell was surrounded on al¬
most every side, and by breeding, wanclm (c), with
this selection: solicitously seizing the superior acci¬
dental varieties produced’, associating these varieties*,
and still continuing to select, with judgment, the su-
PTiY"f;,Vremains to give a description of the superiorly
class of individuals of this breed, especially ewes and
wedders, in full condition, hut not immoderately lat.dm
The rams will require to be distinguished afterwards.
“ The head is long, small, and hornless, with ears
somewhat long, and standing backward, and with the
nose shooting forward. The neck thin and clean to¬
ward the head * but taking a conical form j standing
low, and enlarging every way at the base; the fore end
altogether short. The bosom broad, with the shoulders,
ribs, and chine extraordinary full. The loin broad and
the back level. The haunches comparatively lull to¬
wards the hips, but light downward : being altogether
small in proportion to the fore-parts. The legs, at pre¬
sent, of a moderate length j with the bone extreme^
fine. The bone throughout remarkably light. 1 he
carcase, when fully fat, takes a remarkable foi m ; much
wider than it is deep, and almost as broad as it is long.
Full on the shoulder, widest on the ribs, narrowing with
a regular curve towards the tail; approaching the form
of the turtle nearer perhaps than any other animal. 1 be
pelt is thin, and the tail small. The wool is shorter
than long wools in general, but much longer than the
middle wools j the ordinary length of staple five to seven
inches, varying much in fineness and weight. 9
This breed surpasses every other in beauty ot form,^
they are full and weighty in the fore quarters j and are ]t
remarkable for smallness of bone. Mr Marshall, who
has been of so much benefit to agriculture and his coun¬
try by his publications, informs us, in his Rural Economy
of the Midland Counties, that he has seen a rib oi a
sheep of this breed contrasted with one of a JNorto lv
sheep; the disparity was striking ’, the latter nearly
twice the size j while the meat which covered the ter¬
mer was three times the thickness 5 consequently the
proportion of meat to bone was in the one incompara¬
bly greater than in the other. Therefore, m this point
of view, the improved breed has a decided preference,
for surely while mankind continue to eat flesh and throw
away hone, the former must be, to the consumer at least,
the more valuable. . , „ , , .i •
The criterions of good and bad flesh while the ani¬
mal is alive differ in different species, and are not pro¬
perly settled in the same species. One superior breeder
is of opinion, that if the flesh is not loose, it is of course
good holding, that the flesh of sheep is never teuud
in a state of hardness, like that of ill-fleshed cattle,
while others make a fourfold distinction of the flesh 01
sheep’, as looseness, mellowness,firmness, hardness: con¬
sidering the first and the last equally exceptionable, ana
the second and third equally desirable } a happy nux,tu
of the two being deemed the point of perfection.
(c) Inandin is a term used in the midland counties of England to express breeding from the same .ami y
Ftt/.s.
Ship.
l TK CCCCLXXXll.
E Mitchdl Sculps
PLATE CCCCLZXXffl.
2
iw
I
SHE
eep.
fttidkld
Couiu,s,
vol. i.
lo :
flow th
«nis ar t
cared.
The flesh of sheep, when slaughtered, Is well known
to lie of various qualities. Some is composed of laro-e
coarse grains interspersed with wide empty pores like a
sponge : others, of large grains, with wide pores filled
Y'ltn iat. ’ otjiers» °f fine close grains, with smaller ports
filled with fat j and a fourth, of close grains, without
any intermixture of fatness.
Ihe flesh of sheep, when dressed, is equally well
known to possess a variety of qualities; some mutton is
coarse, dry, and insipid ; a dry sponge, affording little
or no gravy of any colour. Another sort is somewhat
firmer, imparting a light-coloured gravy only. A third
plump, short and palatable ; affording a mixture of white
and red gravy. A fourth likewise plump and well-fla¬
voured, but discharging red gravy, and this in various
quantities.
It is likewise observable, that some mutton, when
dressed, appears covered with a thick, tough, parch¬
ment- ike integument j others with a membrane compa¬
ratively fine and flexible. But these, and some of the
other quaht.es of mutton, may not be wholly owing to
breed, but ,n part to the age and the state of fatness at
the time of slaughter. Examined in this light, whe¬
ther we consider the degree of fatness, or their natural
propensity to a state of fatness, even at an early age,
the improved breed of Leicestershire sheep appears with
many superior advantages.
The degree of fatness to which the individuals of this
breed are capable of being raised, will perhaps appear
incredible to those who have not had an opportunity of
being convinced by their own observation. “ I have
seen wedders (says Mr Marshall) of only two shear (two
or three years old) so loaded with fat as to be scarcely
able to make a run; and whose fat lay so much with¬
out the bone, it seemed ready to be shaken from the ribs
on the smallest agitation.
“ It is common for the sheep of this breed to have
such a projection of fat upon the ribs, immediately be-
nnd the shoulder that it may be easily gathered tip i„
the hand, as the flank of a fat bullock. Hence it has
gained, in technical language, the name of the fore-
•f , . a.F01»t whlch a m°dern breeder never fails to
touch m judging of the quality of this breed of sheep.
VYhat is, perhaps, still more extraordinary, it is not
are for the rams at least, of this breed, to ./‘cracked
ie »ack , thai is, to be cloven along the top of the
ramn’ "t?* "'T™ M *')ee? SeneralV are upon the
best blood 118 mark ^ COnSldere<i as an evidence of the
whiZfra0rd:nry’ 1‘,0WeVer’ as are tIiese appearances
king afieratn|lnU 3 the facts are sti!! niore stri-
tuarviJ* ai’e Slaukd>tered. At Litchfield, in Fe-
Mr pnnl85’ Ir™ “i 0™ fVdrter of mutton, fatted by
ribsfour • V ’ T1 wi,ich measured upon the
ever L \C1 T° • ^ V- n,USt be ackn«wledged, how-
mucW0oV rS erSl]U'e breed do ™ produce so
bectme ^ ^ the seas«« now
tl.on of, earing them.may U8eful t0 mention the
thirtvr,orPn,nrPal rm'breeders save aunually twenty,
c 225 j
$ H E
which, at an early age, little dependence can be placed.
Ibeir treatment from tlie time they are weaned, in July
or August, until the time of shearing, the first week in
June, consists in giving them every indulgence of keep,
in order to push them forward for the show ; it being
the common practice to let such as are fit to be let the
first season, while they are yet yearlings proyinciallr
‘ sharhogs.’
I heir first pasture, after weaning, is pretty gene¬
rally, I believe, clover that has been mown early, and
has got a second time into head ; the heads of 'clover
being considered as a most forcing food of sheep. After
this goes off, turnips, cabbages, colevvort, with hay, and
(report says) with corn. But the use of this the
breeders severally deny, though collectively they may be
liable to the charge. J
“ Be this as it may, something considerable depends
on the art of making vp, not lambs only, but rams of all
ages. Fat, like charity, covers a multitude of faults :
and besides, is the best evidence of their fatting quality
which their owners can produce (/.c. their natural pro¬
pensity to a state of fatness), while in the fatness of the
sharhogs is seen their degree of inclination to fat at an
early age.
. “ Fattirig quality being the one thing needful in gra¬
zing stock, and being found, in some considerable de-
gree at least, to be hereditary, the fattest rams are of
course the best; though other attachments, well or ill
placed, as to form or fashionable points, will perhaps
have equal or greater weight in the minds of some men
even in this enlightened age. Such shearlings as will
not make up sufficiently as to form and fatness, are ei¬
ther kept on to another year to give them a fair chance
or are castrated, or butchered while sharhogs.”
From the first letting, about 40 years ago, to the
^ifur I^°’ tbe Pnces gradually rising from fifteen
shillings to a guinea, and from one to ten. In 1780
Mr Bake well let several at ten guineas each ; and, what
is rather inexplicable, Mr Parkinson of Quarndon let
one the same year for twenty-live guineas; a price which
then astonished the whole country.
From that time to 1786 Mr Bakewell’s stock rose
rapidly from ten to a hundred guineas ; and that year
he let two-tlurds of one ram (reserving one-third of the
usua number of ewes to himself) to two principal
breeders, for a hundred guineas each, the entire services
of the ram being rated at three hundred guineas ! Mr
Bakewell making that year, by letting twenty rams cn-
Jy, more than a thousand pounds !
Since that time the prices have been still rising. Four
hundred guineas have been repeatedly given. Mr Bake
well this year ( x 789) makes, says Mr Marshall, twelve
hundred guineas by three rams (brothers, we believe) •
two thousand of seven ; and, of his whole letting, full
three thousand guineas !
Beside this extraordinary sum made by Mr Bakewell
there are six or seven other breeders who make from
nve hundred to a thousand guineas each. The whole
amount of moneys produced that year in the midland
counties, by letting rams of the modern breed for one
season only, is estimated, by those who are adequate to
the subject, at the almost incredible sum often thousand
pounds.
Bams previous to the season are reduced from the
cumbrous fat state in which they are shown. The usual
time
Sheep.
r 1
What sums
Mr Hake-
well re¬
ceived for-
letting
ihenn
Sheep-
12
The treat-
meat of
the rams
and choice
of the
ewes.
13
Instruc¬
tions for
purchasing
sheep.
SHE [226
time of sending them out Is the m'lMe of September.
They are conveyed in carriages of two wheels with
springs, or hung in slings, 20 or 30 miles a-day some-
times to the distance of 200 or 300 miles, ihey are
not turned loose among the ewes, but kept apart m a
small inclosure, where a couple of ewes only are admit¬
ted at once. When the season is over every care is
taken to make the rams look as fat and handsome as
1,0 Inthe choice of ewes the breeder is led by the same
eriterions as in the choice of rams. Breed is the first
object of consideration. Lxcellency, in any species or
variety of live-stock, cannot be attained with any degre
of certainty, let the male be ever so excellent, unless
the females employed likewise inherit a large proportion
of the genuine blood, be the species or variety what it
may. Hence no prudent man ventures to give the
higher prices for the Dishley rams, unless his ewes are
deeply tinctured with the Dishley blood. Next to breed .
is flesh, fat, form, and wool. , . •
After the lambs are weaned, the ewes are kept
common feeding places, without any alteration of pas-
lure, previous to their taking the ram. In ™ter tb y
are kept on grass, hay, turnips, and cabbages. As tl
heads of the modern breed are much hirer than most
others, the ewes lamb with less difficulty.
The female lambs, on being weaned, are put to good
keep, but have not such high indulgence shown them as
the males, the prevailing practice being to keep thei
from the ram the first autumn. . . n
At weaning time, or previously to the admission,
the ram, the ewes are culled, to make room fo
thaves or shearlings, whose superior blood and fashion
intitle them to a place in the breeding flock, in tire
work of culling, the ram-breeder and the mere grazier
go by somewhat different guides The grazier s guide
is principally age, seldom giving his ewes the ram after
they are four shear. The ram-breeder, on the con¬
tra^, goes chiefly by merit j an ewe that has brought
him a good ram or two is continued in the flock so
long as the will breed. There are instances of ewes ha¬
ving been prolific to the tenth or twelfth year 5 but in
general the ewes of this breed go off at six or seven
In the practice of some of the principal ram-breeders,
the culling ewes are never suffered to go out of their
hands until after they are slaughtered, the breeders not
only fatting them, but having them butchered, on their
premises. There are others, however, who sell them *,
and sometimes at extraordinary prices. Three, four, and
even so high as ten guineas each, have been given tor
these outcasts. , , , .
There are in the flocks of several breeders ewes that
would fetch at auction twenty guineas each. Mr liake-
well is in possession of ewes which, if they were now put
up to be sold to the best bidder, would, it is estimated,
fetch no less than fifty each, and perhaps through the
present spirit of contention, much higher prices.
The following instructions for purchasing sheep, we
hope, will be acceptable to our country readers.—L he
farmer should always buy his sheep from a worse and
than his own, and they should be big boned and have
a long greasy wool, curling close and well. Ihe.e she p
always breed the finest wool, and are also the most ap¬
proved of by the butcher for sale in the market. 1 or
4
the choice of sheep to breed, the ram must be young, JSheep,
and his skin of the same colour with Ins wool, toi the' ^
lambs will he of the same colour ivith his skin. De
should have a large long,body J a broad forehead round
and well-rising j large eyes-, and straight and shoit
nostrils. The polled sheep, that is, those which have no
horns, are found to be the best breeders. The ewe
should have a broad back a large bending neck 5 small,
but short, clean, and nimble legs j and a thick, deep
wool covering her all over. f
To know whether they be sound or not, the fanner
should examine the wool that none of it be wanting, and
see that the gums be red, the teeth white and even
and the brisket-skin red, the wool 6™, the bie.tl
sweet, and the feet not hot. I wo years old is the best
time for beginning to breed ; and their first lambs should
not be kepi too long, to weaken them by suoklmg, but
be sold as soon as conveniently may he. 11. t
breed advantageously till they are seven years old. ih«
• farmers have a method of knowing the age of a sheep,
as a horse’s is known, by the month. V-hen a sheep
is one shear, as the, express it, ,t has two broad teeth
before ; when it is two shear, it will have lour , wl -
three! six; and when four, eight. Alter this them
“The ddtlbr„na„d makes a very great different
in the sheep. The fat pastures breed straight tall sheep,
and the barren hills and downs breed square short one ,
woods and mountains breed tall and slender sheep , bu
the best of all are those bred upon new-pl^ghed land
and dry grounds. On the contrary, all wet and moist
lands arif bad for sheep, especially such as are subject
to be overflowed, and to have sand and dirt left on them.
The salt marshes are, however, an exception o us ge¬
neral rule, for their saltness makes amends lor. their
moisture ; salt, by reason of its drying quality, being ol
^'fs ^tlmtimeof^ufting the rams to the ewes, theWhi
farmer must consider at what time of the spring his grass oughj^
will be fit to maintain them and their lambs, an e
ther he has turnips to do it till the grass comes j lor ewe!<
very often both the ewes and lambs are destroyed by
the want of food-, or if this does not lap^n. ff the
lambs are only stinted in their growth by it, it is an
accident that they never recover. The ewe goes 2
weeks with lamb/ and according to this it is easy ta
calculate the proper time. The best time lor them to
yean, is in April, unless the owner has very farwar
grass or turnips, or the sheep are field sheep. Where
* have not inclosures to keep them m, then it may be
uroner they should yean in January, that the lambs may
re sting by Mav-day, and be able to follow the dam
over the^fallows and water-furrows but then the U
that come so early must have a great deal ol caie take
of them, and so indeed should all other lambs at their
first falling, else while they are weak the crows and m g
pies will pick their eyes out. . rvP
1 When the sheep are turned into fields of wheat or y
to feed, it must not be too rank at first, for if it »e,
generally throws them into scounngs. Bwes tiiat a
big should be kept but bare, for it is very dangerous to
them to be fat at the time of their bringing lorth their
young. They may be well fed, indeed, like cows,
fortnight beforehand, to put them in heart. IV 01 i
Husbandry, p. 243. The
S H E
Keep.
Therst
waj :'
feec : "
The ti'
coad
SHE [2
The feeding sheep with turnips is one great advantage
'to the farmers. When they are made to eat turnips
they soon fatten, but there is some difficulty in bringing
this about. The old ones always refuse them at first,
and will sometimes fast three or four days, till almost
famished ; but the young lambs fall to at once. The
common way, in some places, of turning a flock of
sheep at large into a field of turnips, is very disadvan¬
tageous, for they will thus destroy as many in a fortnight
as would keep them a Avhole winter. There are three
other ways of feeding them on this food, all of which
have their several advantages.
The first way is to divide the land by hurdles, and
allow the sheep to come upon such a portion only at a
time as they can eat in one day, and so advance the
shecivith hurdles farther into the ground daily till all be eaten,
urttb. Jijig js infinitely better than the former random method j
but they never eat them clean even this way, but leave
the bottoms and outsides scooped in the ground : the
people pull up these indeed with iron crooks, and lay
them before the sheep again, but they are commonly so
fouled with the creature’s dung and urine, and with the
dirt from their feet, that they do not care for them j
they eat but little of them, and what they do eat does
not nourish them like the fresh roots.
The second way is by inclosing the sheep in hurdles,
as in tne former 5 but in this they pull up all the turnips
which they suppose the sheep can eat in one day, and
daily remove the hurdles over the ground whence they
have pulled up the turnips : by this means there is no
waste, and less expence, for a person may in two hours
pull up all those turnips j the remaining shells of which
would have employed three or four labourers a day to
get up with their crooks out of the ground trodden
hard by the feet of the sheep; and the worse is, that as
in the method of pulling up first, the turnips are eaten
up clean, in this way, by the hook, they are wasted,
the sheep do not eat any great part of them, and when
the ground comes to be tilled afterwards for a crop of
corn, the fragments of the turnips are seen in such
quantities on the surface, that half the crop at least
seems to have been wasted.
Tdie third manner is to pull up the turnips, and re¬
move them in a cart or waggon to some other place,
spreading them on a fresh place every day 5 by this me¬
thod the sheep will eat them up clean, both root and
leaves. The great advantage of this method is, when
there isa piece of land not far off which wants dung more
than that where the turnips grow, which perhaps is also
too wet for the sheep in winter, and then the turnips
will, by the too great moisture and dirt of the soil,
sometimes spoil the sheep, and give them the rot. Yet
such ground will often bring forth more and larger
turnips than dry land, and when they are carried off
and eaten by the sheep on ploughed land, in dry weather!
and on green sward in wet weather, the sheep will suc¬
ceed much better ; and the moist soil where the turnips
grew not being trodden by the sheep, will be much fit¬
ter for a crop of corn than if they had been fed with
turnips on it. The expence of hurdles, and the trouble
of moving them, are saved in this case, which will coun¬
terbalance at least the expence of pulling the turnips
and carrying them to the places where they are to be
eaten. 1 hey must always be carried off for oxen.
I he diseases to which sheep are subject are these
Sheep.
The t rd,
whict 1
the be.
18:
Diseaseof
sheep.
27 ] SHE
iot, red-water, foot-rot and hoving, scab, dunt, rickets,
fly-struck, flux, and bursting. Of each of these we shall
give the best description in our power, with the most
approved remedies. Ig
I he rot, which is a very pernicious disease, has ofThe 10t'
late engaged the attention of scientific farmers. But
neither its nature nor its cause has yet been fully as¬
certained. Some valuable and judicious observations
liave, however, been made upon it, which ought to be
cii culated, as they may, perhaps, in many cases, fur¬
nish an antidote for this malignant distemper, or be
the means of leading others to some more efficacious
remedy. Some have supposed the rot owing to the quick
growth of grass or herbs that grow in wet places.
Without premising, that all bounteous Providence has
given to every animal its peculiar taste, by which it
distinguishes the food proper for its preservation and
support, ii not vitiated by fortuitous circumstances, it
seems very difficult todiscover on philosophical principles
why the quick growth of grass should render it noxious,
or why any herb should at one season produce fatal effects’
by the admission of pure, water only into its component
parts, which at other times is perfectly innocent, al¬
though brought to its utmost strength and maturity by
the genial influence of the sun. Besides, the constant
piactice of most farmers in the kingdom, who with the
greatest security feed their meadows in the spring, when
the grass shoots quick and is full of juices, militates
directly against this opinion.
Mr Arthur Young ascribes this disease to moisture.
Jn confirmation of this opinion, which has been general-
y adopted, we are informed, in the Bath Society pa¬
pers , by a correspondent, that there was a paddock ad- * Vol. I.
joining to his park which had for several years caused art- x^v*-
t ic lot in most of the sheep which were put into it.
In 1769 he drained it, and from that time his sheep
were free from this malady. But there are fficts which
render it doubtful that moisture is the sole cause. We
are told the dry limed land in Derbyshire will produce
the rot as well as water meadows and stagnant marshes ;
and that in some wet grounds sheep sustain no iifiury
lor many weeks. J J
Without attempting to enumerate other hypothesesIts cause,
which the ingenious have formed on this subject, we
shall pursue a different method in order to discover the
cause. On dissecting sheep that die of this disorder, a
great number of insects called flukes (see Fasciola)
are found in the liver. That these flukes are the cause
ot the rot, therefore, is evident 5 but to explain how
they come into the liver is not so easy. It is probable
t lat they are swallowed by the sheep along with their
ood while in the egg state. The eggs deposited in
the tender germ are conveyed with the food into the
stomach and intestines of the animals, whence they are
received into the lacteal vessels, carried off in the chyle
and pass into the blood ; nor do they meet, with any!
obstruction until they arrive at the capillary vessels of
the liver. Here, as the blood filtrates through the ex¬
treme branches, answering to those of the vena porta
in the human.body, the secerning vessels are too minute
to admit the impregnated ova, which, adhering to the
membrane, produce those animalculae that fe°ed upon
the liver and destroy the sheep. They much resemble
the flat fish called plaice, are sometimes as large as a sil¬
ver two-pence, and are found both in the liver and in
Ff2 the
Sheep.
h?v1 most
approved
cures.
SHE t 2
the pipe (answering to that of the vena cuu.i) which
conveys the blood from the liver to the heart.
The common and most obvious objection to Eia
opinion is, that this insect is never found but 10 the li¬
ver, or in some parts of the viscera, ot sheep that are
diseased move or less-, and that they must therefore be
bred there. But this objection will lose its force, when
we consider that many insects undergo several changes
and exist under forms extremely different Horn eac i
other. Some of them may therefore appear and be
well known under one shape, and not known to be the
same under a second or third. 1 he fluke may be the
last state of some aquatic animal which we at present
very well know under one or other of its previous
fTf this he admitted, it is easy to conceive that sheep
may, on wet ground especially, take multitudes ot
these ova or eggs in with their food -, and that the sto
much and viscera of the sheep being a proper nidus or
them, they of course hatch, and appearing in their fluke
©r last state, feed on the liver of the animal, and occa¬
sion this disorder.
It is a singular fact, “ that no ewe ever has the rot
while she has a lamb by her side.” The reason of tins
may be, that the impregnated ovum passes into the
milk, and never arrives at the liver. I He rot is fatal to
sheep, hares, and rabbits, and sometimes to calves ; but
never infests animals of a larger size.
Miller says that parsley is a good remedy tor the rot
in sheep. Perhaps a strong decoction of this plant, or
the oil extracted from its seeds, might he of service.
Salt is also a useful remedy. It seems to be an ac¬
knowledged fact, that salt marshes never produce the
rot. Salt is indeed pernicious to most insects. Com¬
mon salt and water expel worms from the human body;
and sea-weed, if laid in a garden, will drive away in¬
sects; but if the salt is separated by steeping it in the
purest spring-water for a few days, it abounds with ani-
maiculee of various species.
Lisle, in his book of husbandry, informs us or a iar-
mcr who cured his whole flock of the rot by giving
each sheep a handful of Spanish salt for five or six morn-
injrs successively. The hint was probably taken Irom
the Spaniards, who frequently give their sheep salt to
keep them healthy. On some farms perhaps the ut¬
most caution cannot always prevent this disorder. Jn
wet and warm seasons the prudent farmer will remove
his sheep from the lands liable to rot. rIhose who
have it not in their power to do this may give each
sheep a spoonful of common salt, with the same quan¬
tity of flour, in a quarter of a pint of water, once or
twice a-wtek. At the commencement of the rot the
same remedy given four or five mornings successively
will in all probability effect a cure. The addition of
the flour and water, it is supposed, not only abates the
pungency of the salt, but disposes it to mix with the
chyle in a more gentle and efficacious manner.
A farmer of a considerable lordship in Bohemia vi¬
siting the hot-wells of Carlsbad, related how he preser-
23 J SHE
ved his flocks of sheep from the mortal distemper which s!;tCfi
raged in the wet year 1760, of which so many perished.5—^
His preservative was very simple ami very cheap : “He
fed them every night, when turned’under a shed, cover,
or stables, with hashed fodder straw; and, by eating it
greedily, they all escaped.” u j
“Red writer is a disorder most prevalent on wetRet[Ha.
grounds. I have heard (says Mr Arthur Young) that ter.
it has sometimes been cured by tapping, as for a drop¬
sy. This operation is done on one side of the belly to-
yvards the flank, just below the wool. ,,
“ The foot-rot and having, which is very common on Foot-rut.
low fenny grounds, is cured by keeping the pait clean,
and lying at rest in a dry pasture.” _ . . c
The scab is a cutaneous disease owing to an impuri-Scab,
tv of the blood, and is most prevalent m wet lands or
in rainy seasons. It is cured by tobacco-water, brim¬
stone, and alum, boiled together, and then rubbed over
the sheep. If only partial, tar and grease may he suf¬
ficient. But the simplest and most efficacious .remedy for
this disease was communicated to the Society for the
Encouragement of Arts, &c. by Sir Joseph Banks. 15
“ Take one pound of quicksilver, halt a pound ofRemedyj.
Venice turpentine, half a pint ot oil ot turpentine, and^^
four pounds of hogs lard (c). Let them be.rubbeti 1:1 aj^
mortar till the quicksilver is thoroughly incorporated Banks,
with the other ingredients; for the proper mode of do-
ino- which, it may be proper to take the advice, or even
tne assistance, of some apothecary or other person used
to make such mixtures. . _ .
“ The method of using the ointment is this ; Legin¬
ning at the head of the sheep, and proceeding from be¬
tween the ears along the back to the end of the tail,
the wool is to be divided in a furrow till the skin can
‘be touched ; and as the furrow is made, the huger
slightly dipped in the ointment is to be drawn along the
bottom of it, where it will leave a blue stain on the
skin and adjoining wool: from this furrow similar ones
must be drawn down the shoulders and thighs to the
legs, as far as they are woolly; and if the animal is
much infected, two more should be drawn along each
side parallel to that on the back, and one down each
side between the fore and bind legs. _ _
“ Immediately after being dressed, it is usual to turn
the sheep among other stock, without any fear of the
infection being communicated , and there is scarce y an
instance of a sheep suffering any injury from the appli¬
cation. In a few days the blotches dry up, the itch¬
ing ceases, and the animal is completely cured: 1 >s
generally, however, thought proper not to delay the
operation beyond Michaelmas.
« The hippobosca ovum, called in Lincolnshire
fagg, an animal well known to all shepherds, which lives
among the wool, and is hurtful to the thriving of sheep,
both by the pain its bite occasions and the blooc J
sucks, is destroyed by this application, and the woo
not at all injured. Our wool-buyers purchase the "eeC?
on which the stain of the ointment is visible, rather 1
preference to others, from an opinion that the use 0
(C) By some unaccountable mistake the last ingredient, the four pounds of hogs lard, U "^The'lS
published in the. Transactions of the Society ; a circumstance that might be productive oi bad ettecu.
which contained the receipt has since been cancelled, and a new one printed.
SHE [2
it having preserved the animal tram being vexed either
j/ - ■■ with the scab or faggs, the wool is less liable to the de¬
fects of joints or knots •, a fault observed to proceed
from every sudden stop in the thriving of the animal,
either from want of food or from disease.
“ This mode of curing was brought into that part
of Lincolnshire where my property is situated about 12
years ago, by Mr Stephenson of Mareham, and is now
so generally received, that the scab, which used to be
the terror of the farmers, and which frequently deter¬
red the more careful of them from taking the advan¬
tage of pasturing their sheep in the fertile and exten¬
sive commons with which that district abounds, is no
longer regarded with any apprehension : by far the most
of them have their flock anointed in autumn, when
they return from the common, whether they show any
symptoms of scab or not j and having done so, conclude
them safe for some time from either giving or receiving
infection, '['here are people who employ themselves
in the business, and contract to anoint our large sheep
at live shillings a score, insuring for that price the suc¬
cess of the operation j that is, agreeing, in case many
of the sheep break out afresh, to repeat the operation
gratis even some months afterwards.”
: nt- The (hint is a distemper caused by a bladder of wa-
(ter gathering in the head. No cure for this has yet
been discovered.
The rickets is a hereditary disease for which no anti¬
dote is known. The first symptom is a kind of light¬
headedness, which makes the affected sheep appear
wilder than usual when the shepherd or any person ap¬
proaches him. He bounces up suddenly from his lair,
and runs to a distance, as though he were pursued by
dogs. In the second stage the principal symptom is
the sheep’s rubbing himself against trees, &c. with such
fury as to pull off his wool and tear away his flesh.
“ The distressed animal has now a violent itching in his
skin, the effect of a highly inflamed blood j but it does
not appear that there is ever any cutaneous eruption or
salutary critical discharge. In short, from all circum¬
stances, the fever appears now to be at its height.”—
The last stage of this disease “ seems only to he the pro¬
gress of dissolution, after an unfavourable crisis. The
poor animal, as condemned by Nature, appears stupid,
walks irregularly (whence probably the name rickets'),
generally lies, and eats little : these symptoms increase
in degree till death, which follows a general consump¬
tion, as appears upon dissection of the carcase j the
juices and even solids having suffered a general dissolu¬
tion.
In order to discover the seat and nature of this dis¬
ease, sheep that die of it ought to he dissected. This
is said to have been done by one gentleman, Mr Beal ;
ami he found in the brain, or membranes adjoining, a
maggot about a quarter of an inch long, and of a
brownish colour. A few experiments might easily de-
2 termine this fact.
slick. fly-struck is cured by clipping the wool oil’ as
iar as infected, and rubbing the parts dry with lime or
wood-ashes 5 curriers oil will heal the wounds, ami pre¬
vent their being struck any more ; or they may be cu¬
red with care, without clipping, with oil of turpentine,
which will kill all the vermin where it goes $ but the
21 former is the surest way.
• T[\<tjlux is another disease to which sheep are sub*
29 ] S H E
ject. The best remedy is said to be, to house the sheep Sheep,
immediately when this distemper appears, to keep them J
very warm, and feed them on diy hay, giving them fre¬
quent glysters of warm milk and water. The cause of
that distemper is either their feeding on wet lands, or
on grass that is become mossy by the lands having
been fed many years without being ploughed. When
the farmer perceives his sheep-walks to become mossy,
or to produce had grass, he should either plough or ma¬
nure with hot lime, making kilns either very near or
in the sheep-walks, because the hotter the lime is put
on, the sweeter the grass comes up, and that early in
the year. _ _
Bursting, or it is called in some places the blast, at-And borst-
tacks sheep when driven into fresh grass or young clo-ing.
ver. They overeat themselves, foam at the month,
swell exceedingly, breath very quick and short, then
jump up, and instantly fall down dead. In. this case,
the only chance of saving their life is by stabbing them
in the maw with an instrument made for the purpose.
The instrument is a hollow tube, with a painted wTea-
pon passing through it. A hole is made with the
pointed weapon •, which is immediately withdrawn and
the whole is kept open by inserting the tube till the wind
is discharged. 31
Sheep are infested with worms in their nose called Account of'
oestrus ovis, and produced from the egg of a large two- L‘lc nosc_
winged fly. The frontal sinuses above the nose in sheep
and other animals are the places where these worms livefest, sheep,
and attain their full growth. These sinuses are always
full of a soft white matter, which furnishes these worms
with a proper nourishment, and are sufficiently large
for their habitation ; and when they have here acquired
their destined growth, in which they are fit to undergo
their changes for the fly-state, they leave their old habi¬
tation, and, falling to the earth, bury themselves there ;
and when these are hatched into flies, the female, when
she has been impregnated by the male, knows that the
nose of a sheep or other animal is the only place for her
to deposit her eggs, in order to their coming to maturi¬
ty. Mr Vallisnieri, to whom the world owes so many
discoveries in the insect class, is the first who has given
any true account of the origin of these worms. But
though their true history had been till that time un¬
known, the creatures themselves were very early disco- '
vered, and many ages since were esteemed great medi¬
cines in epilepsies.
The fly produced from this worm has all the. time of
its life a very lazy disposition, and does not like to
make any use either of its legs or wings. Its head and
corselet together are about as long as its body, which
is composed of five rings, streaked on the back ; a pale
yellow and brown are there disposed in irregular spots j
the belly is of the same colours, but they are there more
regularly disposed, for the brown here makes three lines,
one in the middle, and one on each side, and all the
intermediate spaces are yellow. The wings are nearly of
the same length with the body, and are a little inclined
in their position, so as to lie upon the body : the)' do
not, however, cover it •, but a naked space is left be¬
tween them. The ailerons or petty wings which are
found under each of the wings are of a whitish colour,
and perfectly cover the balancers, so that they are not
to be seen without lifting up these.
The fly will live two months a fterit is first produ¬
ced, .
SHE
[ 230 ]
SHE
Sheep
l!
Sheers.
32.
Composi¬
tion for
marking
sheep.
ced, but will take no nourishment of any kind j and pos¬
sibly it may be of the same nature with the butterllies,
which never take any food during the whole time _ot
' their living in that state. Reaumur, Hist. Ins. vol. iv.
p. ,552, &c. > # .
To find a proper composition for marking sheep is
a matter of great importance, as great quantities of wool
are every year rendered useless by the pitch and tar
with which they are usually marked. The requisite
qualities for such a composition are, that it be cheap,
that the colour he strong and lasting, so as to bear the
changes of weather, and not to injure the wool. i>r
Lewis recommends for this purpose melted tallow, with
so much charcoal in fine powder stirred into it as is sut-
ficient to make it of a full black colour, and of a thick
consistence. This mixture being applied warm with a
marking iron, on pieces of flannel, quickly fixed or har¬
dened, bore moderate rubbing, resisted the sun and rain,
and yet could be washed out freely with soap, or ley,
or stale urine. In order to render R still more durable,
and prevent its being rubbed oil; with the tallow may
be melted an eighth, sixth, or fourth, of its weight ot
tar, which will readily wash out along with it trom the
wool. Lewis’s Com. Phil, rechn. p.
Sheep-Stcaling. See Theft. . .
SHEERING, in the sea-language. When a ship is
not steered steadily, they say she sheers, or goes sheer¬
ing *, or when, at anchor, she goes in and out by means
of the current of the tide, they also say she sheers. _
SHEERNESS, a fort in Kent, seated on the point
where the river Medway falls into the Thames. It was
built by King Charles II. after the insult of the Dutch,
who burnt the men of war at Chatham. 1 he buildings
belonging to it, in which the officers lodge, make a
pretty little neat town ; and there is also a yard and a
dock, a chapel and a chaplain. Mr Lyons, who sailed
with the honourable Captain Phipps in his voyage to¬
wards the Pole, fixed the longitude of Sheerness to
o. 48' E. its latitude 510 25'. >
SHEERS, a name given to an engine used to hoist
or displace the lower masts of a ship. Ihe sheers em¬
ployed for this purpose in the royal navy are composed
of several long masts, whose heels rest upon the side ot
the hulk, and having their heads declining outward
from the perpendicular, so as to hang over the vessel
whose masts are to be fixed or displaced. The tackles,
which extend from the head of the mast to the sheer-
heads, are intended to pull in the latter toward the mast¬
head, particularly when they are charged with the
weight of a mast after it is raised out of any ship,
which is performed by strong tackles depending from
the sheer-heads. The effort of these tackles is produced
bv two capsterns, fixed on the deck for this purpose.
" In merchant ships this machine is composed of two
masts or props, erected in the same vessel wherein the
mast is to be planted, or from whence it is to be remo¬
ved. The lower ends of these props rest on the oppo-
site sides of the deck, and their upper parts are fastened
across, so as that a tackle which hangs from the in¬
tersection may be almost perpendicularly above the
station of the mast to which the mechanical powers are
applied. These sheers are secured by stays which ex¬
tend forward and aft to the opposite extremities of the
vessel.
Sheen
Sheers, aboard a ship, an engine used to hoist or
displace the lower masts of a ship. J
SHEET-eead. See Plumbery.
Sheet, in sea-language, a rope fastened to one or
both the lower corners of a sail, to extend and xetain it
in a particular station. When a ship sails with a lateral
wind, the lower corner of the main and fore sail are fas¬
tened by a tack and a sheet j the former being to wind¬
ward, and the latter to leeward j the tack, however, is
entirely diffused with a stern wind, whereas the sail is
never spread without the assistance of one or both of the
sheets. The stay-sails and studding-sails have only one
tack and one sheet each : the stay-sail tacks are always
fastened forward, and the sheet drawn aft; but the stud¬
ding-sail tack draws the under clue of the sail to the ex¬
tremity of the boom, whereas the sheet is employed to
extend the inmost. i
SHEFFIELD, a town in the west riding of York¬
shire, about 162 miles from London, is a large, thri¬
ving town on the borders of Derbyshire, with a popu-
lation of 3 5,840 souls in 1811. It has a fine stone budge
over the Don, and another over the Sheaf, and a church
built in the reign of Henry I. It had a castle built in
the reign of Henry III. in which, or else in the manor-
house of the Park, Mary queen of Scots was prisoner
16 or 17 years ; but after the death of Charles I. it was
with several others, by order of parliament demolished.
In 1673 an hospital was erected here, and endowed with
200I. a-year. There is a charity school for 30 boys,
and another for 30 girls. This town has been noted se¬
veral hundred years for cutlers and smiths manufactures,
which were encouraged and advanced by the neighbour¬
ing mines of iron, particularly for files, and knives or
whittles; for the last of which especially it has been a
staple for above 300 years ; and it is reputed to excel
Birmingham in these wares, as much as it is surpassed
by it in locks, hinges, nails, and polished steel. Ihe first
mills in England for turning grindstones were also set up
here. The houses look black from the continual smoke
of the forges. Here are 600 master cutlers, incorporated
by the style of the Cutlers of Hallatnshire (of which this
is reckoned the chief town), who employ no less than
40,000 persons in the iron manufactures; and each ot
the masters gives a particular stamp to his wares. Ibere
is a large market on Tuesday for many commodities,
but especially for corn, which is bought up here for the
whole west riding, Derbyshire, and Nottinghamshire.
It has fairs on Tuesday after Trinity-Sunday, and No¬
vember 28. In the new market-place, erected by the
duke of Norfolk, the shambles are built upon a most
excellent plan, and strongly inclosed. There are several
other new good buildings, such as a large and elegant
octagon chapel belonging to the hospital 01 a ms
houses; likewise a good assembly-room and theatre, vve
must not omit the large steam-engine, lately finished,
for the purpose of polishing and grinding the various
sorts of hardware. The parish being very large, as well
as populous, Mary I. incorporated I 2 of the chief in¬
habitants, and their successors for ever, by the style 0
the Twelve Capital Burgesses of Sheffield, emp0wer 1 ng
them to elect and ordain three priests to assist the vic<m,
who were to be paid out ot ceitain lands and rents w nc
she gave out of the crown ; and since-this settlement two
more chapels have been built in two hamlets ot
SHE [ 231 ] SHE
Slfckld. risli, which are served by two of the assistants, while the
third, in his turn, helps the vicar in his parish-church.
James I. founded a free grammar-school here, and ap¬
pointed 13 school burgesses to manage the revenue, and
appoint the master and usher. A new chapel was built
lately by the contributions of the people of the town
and of the neighbouring nobility and gentry. Water
is conveyed by pipes into Sheffield, whose inhabitants
pay but a moderate rent for it. In the neighbourhood
there are some mines of alum. The remains of the Ro¬
man fortification between this town and Rotheram,
which is six miles lower down the river, are still visible 5
and here also is the famous trench of five miles long,
by some called Devil's or Dane's Bank, and by others
Kemp Bank and Temple's Bank. West Long. 1. 29.
N. Lat. 13. 20.
Sheffield, John, duke of Buckinghamshire, an emi-
ment writer of the 17th and 18th century, of great per¬
sonal bravery, and an able minister of state, was born
about 1650. He lost his father at nine years of age ;
and his mother marrying Lord Ossulston, the care of his
education was left entirely to a governor, who did not
greatly improve him in his studies. Finding that he was
deficient in many parts of literature, he resolved to de¬
vote a certain number of hours every day to his studies j
and thereby improved himself to the degree of learning
he afterwards attained. Though possessed of a good
estate, he did not abandon himself to pleasure and indo¬
lence, but entered a volunteer in the second Hutch war j
and accordingly was in that famous naval engagement
where the duke ot York commanded as admiral : on
which occassion his lordship behaved so gallantly, that
he was appointed commander of the Royal Catharine.
He afterward made a campaign in the French service
under M. de Turenne. As Tangier was in danger of
being taken by the Moors, he offered to head the
forces which were sent to defend it; and accordingly
was appointed to command them. He was then earl
of Mulgrave, and one of the lords of the bed-chamber
to King Charles II. The Moors retired on the ap¬
proach of his majesty’s forces ; and the result of the ex¬
pedition was the blowing up of Tangier. He continu¬
ed in several great posts during the short reign of King
James II. till that unfortunate prince was dethroned.
Lord Mulgrave, though he paid his respects to King
William before he was advanced to the throne, yet
did not accept of any post in the government till some
years after. In the sixth year of William and Mary
he was created marquis of Normanby in the county of
Lincoln. He was one of the most active and zealous
opposers of the bill which took away Sir John Fen¬
wick’s life 5 and exerted the utmost vigour in carrying
through the Treason Bill, and the bill for Triennial Par¬
liaments. He enjoyed some considerable posts under
King William, and enjoyed much of his favour and
confidence. In 1702 he was sworn lord privy-seal 5 and
in the same year was appointed one of the commissioners
to treat of an union between England and Scotland. In
*7°3 he was created duke of Normanby, and soon after
dukeot Buckinghamshire. In 1711 he was made steward
m her majesty’s household, and president of the council.
During Queen Anne’s reign he was but once out of
employment •, and then he voluntarily resigned, being
attached to what were called the Tonjprinciples. Tier
majesty offered to make him lord chancellor j but he de- Sheffield
dined the office. Fie was instrumental in the change of ||
the ministry in 1710. A circumstance that reflects the Sheik,
highest honour on him is, the vigour with which he act-
ed in favour of the unhappy Catalans, who afterward
were so inhumanly sacrificed. He was survived by only
one legitimate son (who died at Rome in 1735) ; but
left several natural children. He died in 1721. He was
admired by the poets of his age ; by Hryden, Prior,
and Garth. His Essay on Poetry Avas applauded by
Addison, and his Rehearsal is still read with pleasure.
His writings ivere splendidly printed in 1723, in two
volumes 4toj and have since been reprinted in 1729,
in two volumes 8vo. The first contains his poems on
various subjects; the second, his prose works ; which
consist ol historical memoirs, speeches in parliament,
characters, dialogues, critical observations, essays, and
letters. It may be proper to observe, that the edition
ol 1729 is castrated j some particulars relating to the
revolution in that of 1723 having given offence.
SHEFFIELDIA, a genus of plants' belonging to
the class of pentandria, and to the order of monogynia.
Fhe corolla is bell-shaped 5 the filaments are ten ; of
which every second is barren. The capsule consists of
one cell, which has four valves. There is only one spe¬
cies, the repens, a native of New Zealand.
SHEIBON, a district in Africa, lying on the south¬
east of the kingdom of Har-Fur, where much gold is
found both in dust and in small pieces. The idolatrous
natives and savages collect the dust in quills of the
ostrich and vulture, and in that condition dispose of it
to the merchants. On discovering a large piece of gold,
they kill a sheep on it before it is removed. Their
marriage is a simple agreement to cohabit. The slaves
brought in great numbers from this quarter, are partly
prisoners of Avar among themselves, and partly seduced
by treachery, and sold. In times of scarcity, it is said,,
a lather has been known to sell his children.
There are some Mahometans at Sheibon, Avho Avear
clothing, and live among the idolaters j but it is not
said Avhether they are Arabs or not.
SHEIK, in the oriental customs, the person who has
the care of the mosques in Egypt j his duty is the same
as that of the imams at Constantinople. There are
more or feAver of these to every mosque, according to its
size or revenue. One of these is head over the rest,
and ansAvers to a parish-priest Avith us y and has under
him, in large mosques, the readers, and people Avho
cry out.to go to prayers j but in small mosques the sheik
is obliged to do all this himself. In such it is their bu¬
siness to open the mosque, to cry to prayers, and to be¬
gin their short devotions at the head of the congrega¬
tion, Avho stand rank and file in great order, and make
all their motions together. Every Friday the sheik
makes an harangue to his congregation.
SiiEiK-Bellet, the name of an officer in the Oriental
nations. In Egypt the sheik-bellet is the head of a
city, and is appointed by the pacha. The business of
this officer is to take care that no innovations be made
which may be prejudicial to the Porte, and that they
send no orders which may hurt the liberties of tha
people. But all his authority depends on his credit and
interest, not his office: for the government of Egypt is
of such a kind, that often the people of the least poAver
SHE t 23
by their p^ts have the greatest influence: and a eaia of
the ianizaries or Arabs, and somet.mes one of then
meanest officers, an oda-basha, finds means, .)) ns par s
and abilities, to govern all things.
S1IE1LDS. See Shiej ds. .
SHEKEL, the name of a weight and com current
among the ancient Jews. Dr Avbnthnot makes the
weight of the shekel equal to 9 pennyweights 2^ grams
Troy weight-, and the value equal to 2s $-ed. Sterling.
The golden shekel was worth il. 16s. 6d.
SHELDRAKE. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
SHELF, among miners, the same with what Hey
otherwise call fast ground ov fast country ; he mg that
part of the internal structure of the earth which th y
.find lying even and in an orderly manner, and evidently
retaining its primitive form and situation.
SHELL, in Natural History, a hard, and, as it were,
Stony covering, with which certain animals are defend-
ed, am! thence called Ml fish. For the ctaaiBc.t.on
and history, see CoNCHOLOGY. _
Shells, W Gunnery, are hollow iron balL to tl row
out of mortars, or howitzers, with a fuse-hole of about
an inch diameter, to load them with powder and to
receive the fuse. The bottom, or part opposite to the
fuse, is made thicker than the rest, that the fuse may
fall uppermost. But in small elevations this does not
always happen, nor indeed is it necessary for, let the
shell fall as it will, the fuse sets fire to the powder with¬
in, which bursts the shell, and causes great devastation.
The shells had much better he of an equal thickness,
for then they burst into more pieces. . ..
Message 'Shells, are nothing more than howilz-
shdVrS, in the inside of which a letter or other papers aie
put: the fuse hole is stopped up with wood or cork, and
the shells are fired out of a royal or howitz either in o
a garrison or camp. It is supposed, that the peison to
whom the letter is sent knows the time, and according¬
ly appoints a guard to look out for its arrival.
SHELL-Fish. These' animals are in general ovipa¬
rous very few instances having been found of such as
are viviparous. Among the oviparous kinds, anato¬
mists have found that some species are ol different sexes,
in the different individuals of the samespecies: but others
are hermaphrodites, every one being in itse.i noth male
and female, in both cases their increase is very nume¬
rous, and scarce inferior to tl.at of plants, or of the
most fruitful of the insect class. The eggs are very
small and are hung together in a sort of clusters by
means of a glutinous humour, which is always placed
about them, and is of the nature of the jelly of ivog's
spawn. By means of this, they are not only kept to-
gether in the parcel, hut the whole cluster is fastened
to the rocks, shells, or other solid substances j and thus
they are preserved from being driven on shore by the
waves, and left where they cannot succeed.
Shell-Gold. See Gold.
SHELTIE, a small hut strong kind of horse, so
called from Shetland, or Zetland, where they are pro¬
duced. .
SHELVES, in sea-language, a general name given
to any dangerous shallows, sand hanks, or rocks, lymg
immediately under the surface of the water, so as to in¬
tercept any ship in her passage, and endanger her de¬
struction.
. SHE NAN. See Dy< ing of Lea them.
5
2 ] SHE
SHENSTONE, William, an admired EnglishSknstoie
poet, the eldest son of a plain country gentleman, who1 ^
farmed his own estate in Shropshire, was born in No- .
vemher 1714. He learned to read of an old dame,
whom his poem of the “ School mistress has deliver¬
ed to posterity j and soon received such dehg.it hom
books, that he was always calling for new entertain,
ment, and expected that, when any of the family went
to market, a new book should he brought him, which,
when it came, was in fondness carried to bed, and laid
by him. It is said, that when his request had been ne¬
glected, his mother wrapped up a p.ece of wood of the
same form, and pacified him for the night. As he
grew older, he went for a while to the grammar-school
in Hales-Owen, and was placed afterwards with Mr
Crumpton, an eminent schoolmaster at Solihul, where
he distinguished himself by the quickness of his progress.
When he was young (June 1724,) he was deprived of his
father; and soon after (August 1726) of his grandfa¬
ther; and was, with his brother, who died afterwards
unmarried, left to the care of his grandmother, who
managed the estate. From school he was sent, m 1732,
to Pembroke college in Oxford, a society which for halt
a century has been eminent for English poetry and ele-
gant literature. Here it appears that he found delight
and advantage-, for he continued his name there ten
years, though he took no degree. After the first four
years he put on the civilian’s gown, but without show-
ing any intention to engage m the profession. About
the time when he went to Oxford, the death of lus
grandmother devolved his affairs to the care of the
reverend Air Dolman, of Brome, m Staffordshire,
whose attention he always mentioned with gratitude.
—At Oxford he applied to English poetry; ami
in 17 37, published a small Miscellany, vrithout Ins
name. He the* for a time wandered about, to ac¬
quaint himself with life, and was sometimes at Lon¬
don, sometimes at Bath, or any place of public resort,
but be .M not forget hU poetry. .H*
1740 his “ Judgment of Hercules,” addressed to Mr
Lyttleton, whose interest he Supported with great warmth
at an election ; this was two years afterwards followed
by the “ School-mistress.” Mr Dolman, to whose care
he was indebted for his ease and leisure, died ™ *745,
and the care of his fortune now fell upon himseli. lie
tried to escape it a while, and lived at his house with his
tenants, who were distantly related ; but, finding 1
imperfect possession inconvenient, he took the who
estate into his own bands, an event which rather im¬
proved its beauty than increased its produce. Now be¬
gan his delight in rural pleasures, and his passion of ru¬
ral elegance ; but in time his expenses occasioned cla¬
mours "that overpowered the lamb’s bleat and the in-
net’s song, and his groves were haunted by beings very
different from fauns or fairies. He spent his estate in
adorning it, and his death was probably hastened by im
anxieties. He was a lamp that spent its oil m blazing.
It is said, that if he had lived a little longer, he would
have been assisted by a pension ; such bounty could no
have been more properly bestowed, but that it vvas evt_
asked is not certain ; it is too certain that it netei "
enjoyed.—He died at the Leasowes, of a putrid fever,
about five on Friday morning, l ebruary 11. 1763 > a”
was buried by the side of his brother, in the churcii-ya
of Hales-Owen. jD
SHE [ 233 ] SHE
Ski-tone In Ills private opinions, our author adhered to no
particular sect, and hated all religious disputes. Ten-
,Slll|"!iin' derness, in every sense of the word, was his peculiar
characteristic; and his friends, domestics, and poor
neighbours, daily experienced the effects of his benevo¬
lence. This virtue he carried to an excess that seemed
to border upon weakness ; yet if any of his friends
treated him ungenerously, he was not easily reconciled.
On such occasions, however, he used to say, “ I never
will be a revengeful enemy; but I cannot, it is not in
my nature, to be half a friend.” He was no economist;
for the generosity of his temper prevented his paying a
proper regard to the use of money : he exceeded there¬
fore the bounds of his paternal fortune. But, if we
consider the perfect paradise into which he had con¬
verted his estate, the hospitality with which he lived,
his charities to the indigent, and all out of an estate that
did not exceed 300I. a-year, one should rather wonder
that he left any thing behind him, than blame his want
of economy: he yet left more than sufficient to pay all
his debts, and by his will appropriated his whole estate
to that purpose. Though he had a high opinion of
many of the fair sex, he forbore to marry. A passion
he entertained in his youth was with difficulty surmount¬
ed. _ The lady was the subject of that admirable pasto¬
ral, in four parts, which has been so universally read
and admired, and which, one would have thought,
must have softened the proudest and most obdurate
heart. His works have been published by Mr Dodsley,
m 3 vols 8vo. The first volume contains his poetical
works, which are particularly distinguished by an ami¬
able elegance and beautiful simplicity; the second vo-
lume contains his prose works; the third his letters, &c.
.Z?%. JJicL
SHEPPEY, an island at the mouth of the rivei
Medway, about 20 miles in circumference. It is sepa¬
rated from the main land by a namnv channel; and
has a fertile soil, which feeds great flocks of sheep,
ihe borough-town of Queenborough is seated thereon ;
besides which it has several villages.
SHERARDIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
etrandna class, and in the natural method ranking un-
QTrrri7t^-°r^ei’ ®ee Botany Index.
ERBRT, or Sherbit, a compound drink, first
brought into England from Turkey and Persia, consist¬
ing of water, lemon-juice, and sugar, in which are dis¬
solved perfumed cakes made of excellent Damascus
Iru‘t, containing an infusion of some drops of rose
water. Another kind of it is made of violets, honey
juice of raisins, &c. 7
^HOMAS» I)- the intimate friend
Dean Swift, is said by Shield, in Cibber’s “ Lives of
cnnntf r t0 ha? been born about i684. in the
nty of Cavan, where, according to the same autho-
my. Ins parents lived in no very elevated state. They
vlni SCnbrd being unab!e t0 afford their son the ad-
tn .ageS °i a. lbfrai education ; but he, being observed
- give eariy indications of genius, attracted the notice
DnW- ^ t° his family, who sent him to the college of
remain ’/^ Cont”but^1 tow:ir(|s his support while he
set „n d f16; .He afterwards entered into orders, and
^ry Lhd in,Dublin? ”hich long maintained a
bestowed d 66 °f re,putatlon’ as wel1 t°r the attention
jheiency in H ^ S ^ Scholars as fo1' their pro-
V^L. xix^PaiTl b° grCat WaS the estimation in
which this seminary was held, that it is asserted to
have produced in some years the sum of 1000I. It
does not appear that he had any considerable prefer¬
ment; but his intimacy with Swift, in 1725, procured
for him a living in the south of Ireland worth about
150I. a-year, which he went to take possession of,
and, by an act of inadvertence, destroyed all his future
expectations of rising in the church ; for being at Corke
on the 1st of August, the anniversary of King George’s
birth-day, he preached a sermon which had for its
text, “ Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.”
On this being known, he was struck out of the list
of chaplains to the lord lieutenant, and forbidden the
castle.
Ibis living Dr Sheridan afterwards changed for that
°f Dunboyne, which, by the knavery of the farmers,
and power of the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, fell
so low as 80I. per annum. He gave it up for the free
school of Cavan, where he might have lived well in so
cheap a country on 80I. a-year salary, besides his scho¬
lars ; but the air being, as he said, too moist and un¬
wholesome, and being disgusted with some persons who
lived there, he sold the school for about 400I.; and ha¬
ving soon spent the money, he fell into bad health, and
died Sept. 10. 1738, in his 55th year.
u ^ord Co/ke has given the following character of him:
“ Sheridan was a school-master, and in many in¬
stances perfectly well adapted for that station. He was
deeply versed in the Greek and Roman languages, and
in their customs and antiquities. He had that" kind of
good nature which absence of mind, indolence of bo¬
dy, and carelessness of fortune, produce ; and although
not over strict in his own conduct, yet he took care of
the morality of his scholars, whom he sent to the univer¬
sity remarkably well founded in all kinds of classical
learning, and not ill instructed in the social duties of
ife. He was slovenly, indigent, and cheerful. He
knew books much better than men; and he knew the
value of money least of all. In this situation, and with
thin disposition, Swift fastened upon him as upon a prey
witn which he intended to regale himself whenever his
appetite should prompt him.” His Lordship then
mentions the event of the unlucky sermon, and adds,
I his ill- starred, good-natured, improvident man, re¬
turned to Dublin, unhinged from all favour at court
and even banished from the castle. But still he remain¬
ed a punster, a quibbler, a fiddler, and a wit. Not a
day passed without a rebus, an anagram, or a madrigal.
His pen and his fiddlestick ware in continual motion ;
nnd yet to little or no purpose, if we may give credit
to the following verses, which shall serve as the conclu¬
sion ot his poetical character :
“ With music and poetry equally bless’d,
“ X hard thus Apollo most humbly address’d;
Great author of poetry, music, and light,
Instructed by thee, I both fiddle and write;
u let unheeded I scrape, or I scribble all day,
« rrV tunes are neglected, my verse flung away.
u J hy substitute here, Vice-Apollo, disdains
vouch ft”- my numbers, or list to my strains.
-thy manual sign he refuses to put
“ To the airs I produce from the pen or the gut •
“ ^e..th„ou then Pr<>pitious, great Phoebus, and grant
Relief, or reward, to my merit or want.
G S * “ TboJ
Sherid.m,
Sheridan,
Sheriff.
q H E [ 234 3 SHE
D ■ri j rmintips the sherifFs were hereditaiT j as we appreliend sheriff.
“ The’ the Dean and Delany transcenden. y s n , . were jn Scotland till the statute 20 Geo. II. c. 43 *,v—r->
“ O ! brighten one solo or sonnet min ’ and stiU continue in the county of Westmoreland to tins
“ Make one work immortal, us all i request . tl)e c; of London having also the inheritance ot
“ Apollo look’d pleas’d, and resolving ^ jes , the shrievalty of Middlesex vested in their body by diar-
“ Replied—Honest friend, 1 ve consider d your . , ^ The r^ason of these popular elections is assigned
“ Nor dislike your unmeaning ami innocent lace. • ^ statute, c. 13. “ that the commons might
“ lom petition, I, rre’ceipt: choose such as vvoold ».t b. a burden to ‘hem ” AjJ
herein appears plainly a strong trace of the democrati
cal part of our constitution 5 in which form of goveni-
ment it is an indispensable requisite, that the people
should choose their own magistrates. Ibis election
was in all probability not absolutely vested in the com-
i i • J 1 on'nvnliatinn- EOT 111 IDC
1 s
“ Your petition I grant, tne uuuu « ^ .
u Your works shall continue, and here s the receip .
“ On rondeaus hereafter your fiddle-strings spend,
“ Write verses in circles, they never shall end.
“ One of the volumes of Swift’s m|«cellanies coasts ^ ^ au    , .
almost entirely of letters between b*m . ^ which mons, but required the royal approbation
He published a prose tr^nslatl0" °a; tooether with Gothic constitution, the judges of their
1 1 j. j nf former editors, togeuiei wit .... n. .  elipnff^
Blackst.
Comment
-vol. i.
P 339*
be^dded the best notes of fovntec editors, together svith
many judicious ones of his ot»n. This work was prmt-
ed at London, i739> }n l2m0' Sheridan
Sheridan, Mrs Frances wife of Ihomas Sher, 1
M A was born in Ireland about the year 1724, but
descended from a good English family which had remo-
ved thither. Her maiden name was Chamberlaine, and
she was grand-daughter of Sir Oliver Chamberlaine.
The first literary performance by which she distingms 1
ed herself was a little pamphlet at the time of a violent
party-dispute relative to the theatre, in which Mrpbe
ridan had newly embarked his fortune. So well-timed
a work exciting the attention of Mr Sheridan, he y
an accident discovered his fair patroness, to whom he
was soon afterwards married. She was a person «f ti e
most amiable character in every relation of hie, with the
most engaging manners. After lingering some years
iu a very weak state of health, she died « B'o.s, .0 the
south of France, in the year 1767. Her &ycH y
Biddulph” may he ranked with the first P^odaC^ also
that class in ours or in any other language,
wrote a little romance in one volume called Nourjahad,
in which there is a great deal of imagination productive
of an admirable moral. And she was the au^ores^of
two comedies, “ The Discovery and I he Dupe.
SHERIFF, an officer, in each county in England,
• nominated by the king, invested with a judicial and
ministerial power, and who takes place of every noble¬
man in the county during the time ot his office-
Ti e sheriff is an offieer of very great antiquity in
this kingdom, his name being derived from two Saxon
words Signifying the reeve, bailiff, or officer of the
shire. He J called in Latin vice-comes, as being the
deputy of the earl or comes, to whom the custoi y 0
the shire is said to have been committed aUhe fi.st <h-
vision of this kingdom into counties. But the earls, in
process of time, V reason of their high employments
ind attendance on the king’s person, not being able to
transact the business of the county, were delivered of
/ \ i reserving to themselves the honour, hut
that duificn5 '' t~> q at i. »->riw thp she-
the labour was laid on the sheriff. So that now tl e sue
^''si'ic’r'iff's'wc’rc'fornitvly chosen by the inhabitants of
2
Gothic constitution, the judges of their county courts
(which office is executed by the sheriff) were elec ed
by the people, but confirmed by the king •, and the
form of their election was thus managed : the people,
or incolce territorii, chose twelve electors, and they no¬
minated three persons, ex qnibus rex unum conjirmabat.
But, with us in England, these popular elections, grow¬
ing tumultuous, were put an end to by the statute 9
Edw. II. St. 2. which enacted, that the sheriffs should
from thenceforth he assigned by the chancellor, trea-
surer, and the judgesas being persons m whom tl*
same trust might with c„nfidenc^be.*p.sed Byn £
tutes 14 Edw. HI- c. 7. 23 xien. va. vc
Hen. VIII. c. 20. the chancellor, treasurer, president
of the king’s council, chief justices, and chief baron,
are to make this election 5 and that on the morrow of
All Souls, in the exchequer. And the king s letters
patent, appointing the new sheriffs, used commonly to
bear date the sixth day of November. The statute of
Cambridge, 12 Ric. II. c. 2. ordains, that the chan¬
cellor, treasurer, keeper of the privy seal, steward
king’s house, the king’s chamberlain, clerk of the rolls,
Justices of the one bench and the other, barons of
t i”r;:, and all 0.hM Chat shall be caM to o,
dain name, or make justices of the peace, shcrit ,
other Officers of the king, shall be sworn to act ind.ffe-
rently, and to name no man that sueth to oe put in of¬
fice, Vit such only as they shall judge to l.)e the ^
•md most sufficient. And the custom now is (and has
been at least ever since the time of Forte9C^vl10 Jat
rhief iustice and chancellor to Henry the bixtlij, tua
all [he judges, together with the other great officers,
meet iAhe5exchequer chamber on ^ ^
Souls yearly, (which da, » now a ered to the morrow
nf St Martin by the last act for abbrevia ing
mas tecmo, "led’tbeu and there propose three persons £
trodnetion, there is reason to Imbove, ™ founde^ ^
on some statute, though not now o ® ,, ,;(pe .entfrom
printed laws; first,because rt ,s matenally d.fte.cnt
he direction of all the statutes ^ "^dd^ve oo»o-
it is hard to conceive that the
ton?need by their concuiience^ or tl onty of
have inserted m his book, unie ,y lntf, ;s eXpreS6ly
some statute •, and also, because a s , . ‘1 C0L
referred to in the record, which Sir Ldwa ^
SHE
Slriff. tells us he transcribed from the council book of 3d
-I - 1 March, 34 Hen. VI. and which is in substance as fol¬
lows. The king had of his own authority appointed
a man sheriff of Lincolnshire, which office he refused
to take upon him ; whereupon the opinions of the judges
were taken, what should be done in this behalf. And
the two chief justices, Sir John Fortescue and Sir John
Prisot, delivered the unanimous opinion of them all;
“ that the king did an error when he made a person
sheriff that was not chosen and presented to him accord¬
ing to the statute j that the person refusing was liable
to no fine for disobedience, as if he had been one of
die three persons chosen according to the tenor of the
statute that they would advise the king to have re¬
course to the three persons that were chosen according
to the statute, or that some other thrifty man be in-
treated to occupy the office for this year} and that, the
next year, to eschew such inconveniences, the order of
the statute in this behalf made be observed.” But not¬
withstanding this unanimous resolution of all the judges
of England, thus entered in the council-book, and the
statute 34 and 35 Hen. VIII. c. 26. § 6r. which ex¬
pressly recognizes this to be the law of the land, some
of our writers have affirmed, that the king, by his pre¬
rogative, may name whom he pleases to be sheriff, whe¬
ther chosen by the judges or not. This is grounded on
a very particular case in the fifth year of Queen Eliza¬
beth, when, by reason of the plague, there was no Mi¬
chaelmas term kept at Westminster; so that the judges
could not meet there m crastino animarum to nominate
the sheriffs : whereupon the queen named them herself,
without such previous assembly, appointing for the most
part one of two remaining in the last year’s list. And
this case, thus circumstanced, is the only authority in
our books for the making these extraordinary sheriffs.
It is true, the reporter adds, that it was held that the
quteen by her prerogative might make a sheriff without
the election of the judges, non obstante aliquo statute in
contrariam; but the doctrine of non obstante which sets
the prerogative above the laws, was effectually demo¬
lished by the bill of rights at the revolution, and abdi¬
cated Westminster-hall when King James abdicated
the kingdom. However, it must be acknowledged, that
the practice of occasionally naming what are called
JMcket-sheriffs, by the sole authority of the crown, hath
uniformly continued to the reign of his present majesty ;
m which, it is believed, few (if any) instances have oc-
l curred.
. Sheriffs, by virtue of several old statutes, are to con¬
tinue in their office no longer than one year ; and yet it
hath been said that a sheriff may be appointed durante
bene placito, or during the king’s pleasure ; and so is
the form of the royal writ. Therefore, till a new she-
^ he named, his office cannot be determined, unless
by his own death, or the demise of the king ; in which
ast case it was usual for the successor to send a new
writ to the old sheriff; but now, by statute 1 Anne st.
i\C{ i1'1 °fficers appointed by the preceding king may
iohi their offices for six months after the king’s demise,
Unless sooner displaced by the successor. We may
arther observe, that by statute 1 Ric. II. c. 11. no
man that has served the office of sheriff for one year can
after0111^1^*1 t0 ^ SamC aga5n t!u'ee years
shall find it is of the utmost importance to have
SHE
the sheriff appointed according to law, when We consi¬
der his power and duty. These are either as a judge,
as the keeper of the king’s peace, as a ministerial of¬
ficer of the superior courts of justice, or as the king’s
bailiff.
In his judicial capacity he is to hear and determine
all causes of 40 shillings value and under, in his coun¬
ty court: and he has also a judicial power in divers
other civil cases. He is likewise to decide the elections
of knights of the shire (subject to the controul of the
House of Commons), of coroners, and of verderors ; to
judge of the qualification of voters, and to return such
as he shall determine to be duly elected.
As the keepers of the king’s peace, both by com¬
mon law and special commission, he is the first man
in the county, and superior in rank to any nobleman
therein, during his office. He may apprehend, ami
commit to prison, all persons who break the peace, or
attempt to break it; and may bind any one in a re¬
cognizance to keep the king’s peace. He may, and is
bound, ex officio, to pursue and take all traitors, mur¬
derers, felons, and other misdoers, and commit them to
gaol for safe custody. He is also to defend his coun¬
ty against any of the king’s enemies when they come
into the land ; and for this purpose, as well as for
keeping the peace and pursuing felons, he may com¬
mand all the people of his county to attend him; which
is called the posse cotnitatus, or power of the county ;
which summons, every person, above 15 years old, and
under the degree of a peer, is bound to attend upon
warning, under pain of fine and imprisonment. But
though the sherill is thus the principal conservator of
the peace in his county, yet, by the express directions
of the great charter, he, together with the constable,
coroner, and certain other officers of the king, are for¬
bidden to hold any pleas of the crown, or, in other
words, to try any criminal offence. For it would be
highly unbecoming, that the executioners of justice
should be also the judges ; should imjiose, as well as le¬
vy, fines and amercements; should one day condemn a
man to death, and personally execute him the next.
Neither may he act as an ordinary justice of the peace
during the time ot his office ; for this would be equally
inconsistent, he being in many respects the servant of
the justices.
In his ministerial capacity, the sheriff is bound to ex¬
ecute all process issuing from the king’s courts of jus¬
tice. In the commencement of civil causes, he is to
serve the writ, to arrest, and to tak§ bail; when the
cause comes to trial, he must summon and return the
jury ; when it is determined, he must see the judgment
of the court carried into execution. In criminal mat¬
ters, he also arrests and imprisons, he returns the jury,
he has the custody of the delinquent, and he executes
the sentence of the court, though it extend to death
itself.
As the king’s bailiff, it is his business to preserve the
rights ol the king within his bailiwick ; for so his coun¬
ty is frequently called in the writs: a word introduced
by the princes of the Norman line ; in imitation of the
French, whose territory is divided into bailiwicks, as
that of England into counties. He must seiz.e to the
king’s use all lands devolved to the crown by attainder
or escheat; must levy all fines and forfeitures; must seize
and keep all waifs, wrecks, estrays, and the like, unless
G g 2 they
[ 235 ]
Jii
SHE [
sloriff they ho granted to some subject; and must also collect
Sherlock- ,l,e king’s rents within his bailiwick, .1 commanded by
'“■■■"v 11 - process from tHe exclie^uer# •/v i i ^
P To execute these various offices, the shenff has under
him many inferior officers j an under-sheriff, ba hs
and goalers, who must neither buy, sell, nor farm
offices, on forfeiture ot 500I. , t;es 0f
The under-sheriff usually performs all the duties ot
the office *, a very few only excepted, where the pei
sonal presence of the high shenB But "°
under sheriff shall abide m Ins office above one year
and if he does, by statute 2J Hen. VI. c. a. helm
feits 2001. a very large penalty in those early days. And
no under sheriff or sheriff’s officer shall Fact™ at-
torney during the time he continues in such office . ior
this would he a great inlet to partiality am °PPres l '
But these salutary regulations are sHmefuffy evaded,by
practising in the names of other attorneys, and putt g
[n sham deputies by way of nominal under-sheriffi. y
reason of which, says Dalton the nuder sheriffs a d
bailiffs do grow so cunning in their several places, that
Umy are able to deceive, and it may we 1 be feared ha
many of them do deceive, both the king, the big
sheriff, and the county. ... , -
Sheriff, in Scotland. See Law, Lart in. se . 3.
SHERLOCK, William, a learned English divine
in the 17th century, was born in 1641, and educate
at Eton school, where he distinguished himself by the
vigour of his genius and his application to studJ-
he was removed to Cambridge, wheie he
{irees. In 1669 he became rector of the parish of
George, Botolph-lane, in London j aud in 1681 was col¬
lated^ the prebend of Pancras, in the cathedral of Sf
Paul’s. He was likewise chosen master of the 1 emple,
and had the rectory of Therfield in Hertfordshire. Af¬
ter the Revolution he was suspended from his prefermen ,
for refusing the oaths to King William and Queen Ma¬
ry 5 but at last he took them, and publicly justified what
We had done. In 1691 he was installed dean of ot
Paul’s. His Vindication of the Doctrine of the Trinity
■engaged him in a warm controversy with Dr South and
others. Bishop Burnet tells us, he was a clear, a po-
Jite, and a strong writer but apt to assume too much
to himself, and to treat his adversaries with contempt.
He died in 1707. His works are very numerous j a-
mong these are, 1. A Discourse concerning the Know¬
ledge of Jesus Christ, against Dr Owen. 2. Several
-pieces against the Papists, the Socmians, and Dissenters,
o. A practical Treatise on Death, which is much ad¬
mired. 4. A practical Discourse on Providence. 5. A
practical Discourse on the Future Judgment; and many
Sherlock, Dr Thomas, bishop of London, was
the son of the preceding Dr William Sherlock, an
was born in 1678. He was educated in Catharine hall,
Cambridge, where he took his degrees, and of which
he became master: he was made master of the Temple
very young, on the resignation of his father j and it is
remarkable, that this mastership was held by father and
son successively for more than 70 years. He was at
the head of the opposition against Dr Hoadley bishop
of Bangor •, during which contest he published a great
number of nieces. He attacked the famous Collins s
56 ]
SHE
number of pieces.~ He attacked the famous Collins’s
Grounds and Reasons of the Christian Religion,
a course of six sermons, preached at the Temple church, SlicrWt ^
which he intitled “ The Use and Intent of Prophecy m -
the several Ages of the World.” In 1728, Dr SherlockV- j
was promoted to the bishopric of Bangor ; and was
translated to Salisbury in 1734. In 1747 he refused
the archbishopric of Canterbury, on account of Ins ill
state of health ; but recovering m a good degree, ac¬
cepted the see of London the following year. On oc¬
casion of the earthquakes in 1750, he published an ex¬
cellent Pastoral Letter to the clergy and inhabitants
of London and Westminster : of which it is said there
were printed in 4to, 5000; in 8™’ ?°’000’,and.?
12mo, about 30,000 ; beside pirated editions, of which
not less than 50,000 were supposed to have been sold.
Under the weak state of body in which he lay for seveial
years, he revised and published 4 vols of Sermons in 8vo,
which are particularly admired for their ingenuity ami
elegance. He died in 1762, and by report worth
1 co oool. “ His learning,” says Dr Kicholls, was
very extensive : God had given him a great and an un¬
derstanding mind, a quick comprehension, and a solid
iudgment. These advantages of nature he improved by
much industry and application. His skill m the civil
and canon law was very considerable; to which he had
added such a knowledge of the common law of England
as few clergymen attain to. This it was that gave him
that influence in all causes where the church was con¬
cerned ; as knowing precisely what it had to claim from
its constitutions and canons, and what from the com¬
mon law of the land.” Dr Nicholls then mentions his
constant and exemplary piety, his warm and fervent zeal
in preaching the duties and maintaining the doctrines of
Christianity, and his large and diffusive munificence and
charity ; particularly by his having given large sums of
money7 to the corporation of clergymen s sons, to several
of tlm hospitals, and to the society for propagating the
gospel in foreign parts : also his bequeathing to Cat! a-
rine-hall in Cambridge, the place of his education, Ins
valuable library of books, and his. d«nat,10nStof°t1het1;!
founding a librarian’s place and a scholarship, to the a
mount of several thousand pounds.
SHERRIFFE of Mecca, the title of the descen¬
dants of Mahomet by Hassan Ibn Ah. These are 1
vided into several branches, of which the famil7 ^
Bunemi, consisting at least of three hundred individual
eniov the sole right to the throne of Mecca. The A
Bunemi are, a|ain, subdivided into tvvo »ubordmaU
branches, Darii Sajid, and Dam Barkad , ot whon
sometimes the one, sometimes the other, have Sive” *
vereigns to Mecca and Medina, when these were sepa
"NotTni; is tlie Turkish sultan indifferent about the
order of succession in this family, but be seems even *
foment tbe dissensions which arise among them,
vours the strongest, merely that he may ^Aen them
all. As the order of succession is not determ X
fixed, and the sherriffes may all aspire alike to the ^
vereign power, tins uncertainty of right, a X
intrigues of the Turkish officers, occasions frequentj
volutions. The grand sberriffe is seldom able to m
tain himself on the throne ; and it still seffiomer app^
that his reign is not disturbed by the revolt 0 ^
est relations. There have been instances 0 P .
succeeding his uncle, an uncle succeeding his < p
in
SHE C 237 ] SHE
jflS iffr. and sometimes of a person, from a remote branch, com-
ing in the room of the reigning prince of the ancient
house.
When Niebuhr was in Arabia, in 1763, the reigning
Sherriffe Mesad had sitten fourteen years on the throne,
and, during all that period, had been continually at war
with the neighbouring Arabs, and with his own nearest
relations sometimes. A few years before, the pacha of
Syria had deposed him, and raised his younger brother
to the sovereign dignity in his stead. But after the
departure of the caravan, Jafar, the new sherriffe, not
being able to maintain himself on the throne, was obli¬
ged to resign the sovereignty again to Mesad. Achmet,
the second brother of the sherriffe, who was much belo¬
ved by the Arabs, threatened to attack Mecca while
Niebuhr was at Jidda. Our traveller was soon after in¬
formed of the termination of the quarrel, and of Ach-
met’s return to Mecca, where he continued to live
peaceably in a private character.
These examples show that the Mussulmans observe
not the law which forbids them to bear arms against
their holy places. An Egyptian bey even presumed,
a few years since, to plant some small cannons within
the compass of the Ivaaba, upon a small tower, from
which he fired over that sacred mansion, upon the palace
of Sherriffe Mesad, with whom he was at variance.
The dominions of the sherriffe comprehend the cities
of Mecca, Medina, Jambo, Taaif, Sadie, Ghunfude,Ha-
li, and thirteen others less considerable, all situated in
Hodjas. Near Taaif is the lofty mountain of Gazvan,
which according to Arabian authors, is covered with
snow in the midst of summer. As these dominions are
neither opulent nor extensive, the revenue of their so*
vereign cannot be considerable.
_ He finds a rich resource, however, in the imposts le¬
vied on pilgrims, and in the gratuities offered him by
Mussulman monarchs. Every pilgrim pays a tax of from
ten to an hundred crowns, in proportion to his ability.
The Great Mogul remits annually sixty thousand rou-
pees to the sherriffe, by an assignment upon the govern¬
ment of Surat. Indeed, since the English made them¬
selves masters of this city, and the territory belonging
*0 it, the nabob of Surat has no longer been able to
pay the sum. The sherriffe once demanded it of the
English, as the possessors of Surat j and, till they should
satisfy him, forbade their captains to leave the port of
Jidda. But the English disregarding this prohibition,
the sherriffe complained to the Ottoman Porte, and they
communicated his complaints to the English ambassa¬
dor. He at the same time opened a negociation with
the nominal nabob, who resides in Surat. But all these
steps proved fruitless : and the sovereign of Mecca
seems not likely to be ever more benefited by the con¬
tribution from India.
The power of the sherriffe extends not to spiritual
matters ; these are entirely managed by the heads of the Slierrlfife
clergy, of different sects, who are resident at Mecca. Shetland,
liigid Mussulmans, such as the Turks, are not very fa- -
vourable in their sentiments of the sherriffes, but suspect
their orthodoxy, and look upon them as secretly attach^
ed to the tolerant sect of the Zeidi.
SHETLAND, the name of certain islands belong¬
ing to Scotland, and lying to the northward of Orkney.
There are many convincing proofs that these islands
were very early inhabited by the Piets, or rather by
those nations who were the original possessors of the
Orkneys; and at the time ol the total destruction of
these nations, it any credit he due to tradition, their
woods were entirely ruined (a). It is highly probable
that the people in Shetland, as well as in the Orkneys,
flourished under their own princes dependent upon the
crown of Norway ; yet this seems to have been rather
through what they acquired by fishing and commerce^
than by the cultivation of their lands. It may also hef
reasonably presumed, that they grew thinner of inhabi¬
tants after they were annexed to the crown of Scot¬
land 5 and it is likely that they revived again, chiefly
by the very great and extensive improvements which
the Dutch made in the herring fishery upon their coasts,
and the tiade that the crews of their bosses, then v#ry
numerous, carried on with the inhabitants, necessarily
resulting from their want of provisions and other conve¬
niences.
There are many reasons which may be assigned why
these islands, though part of our dominions, have not
hitherto been better known to us# *1 hey were com*
monly placed two decrees too far to the north in all the
old maps, in order to make them agree with Ptolemy’s
description of Thule, which he asserted to be in the la¬
titude of 63 degrees; which we find urged by Camden
as a reason why Thule must be one of the Shetland isles,
to which Speed also agrees, though from their being
thus wrong placed he could not find room for them in
Ins maps. Another, and that no light cause, was the
many false, fabulous, and impertinent relations publish¬
ed concerning them (b), as if they were countries in¬
hospitable and uninhabitable > and lastly, the indolence,
or rather indifference of the natives, who, contentin'!"
themselves with those necessaries and conveniences pro¬
cured by their intercourse with other nations, and con¬
ceiving themselves neglected by the mother country,
have seldom troubled her with their applications.
There are few countries that have gone by more
names than these islands 5 they were called in Icelandic
Hialtlandia, from Malt, the “.hilt of a sword 3” this’
might he possibly corrupted into Hetland, Hitland, or
Hethland, though some tell us this signifies a “ high
land.” They have been likewise, and are still in some
maps called Zetland and Zealand, in reference, as has
been supposed, to their situation. By the Danes, and
by
referred to th?^1011 ^ ^ ^ ^tlle Scots vvhen ti,ey destroyed the Piets 3 but is more probably
Vi 1 *Norwt“£,ans rooting out the original possessors of Shetland. 1 y
as to he ■nLrePtf.eSenfteld the CUmate aS intensdy cold; the soil as imposed of crags and quagmire so barren
kneaded andTak M ^ ’ to fTP'y which the people, after drying fish bones, powdered them then
a f°r 11,6 ai£er were said to he all the fuel they had. Yet in so dreary
tented, J’ * C1 miseiablc circumstances, they were acknowledged to be very long-lived, cheerful, and con-
Shetland-
SHE [2
bv tbe natives, they are styled Yealtaland: and not¬
withstanding the oddness of the orthography j tins dif¬
fers very little, if at all, from their manner of pronoun¬
cing Zetland, out of which pronunciation grew the mo¬
dern names of Shetland and Shetland.
The islands of Shetland, as we commonly call them,
are well situated for trade. The nearest continent to
them is Norway, the port of Bergen lying 44 leagues
east, whereas they lie 46 leagues north-north-east from
Endianness * east-north-east from Sanda, one ot the
Orkneys, about 16 or 18 leagues ; six or seven eagues
north-east from Fair Isle*, 58 leagues east from the b er-
roe isles; and at nearly the same distance north-east irom
Lewis. The southern promontory of the Mainland,
called Samburwh Head, lies in 59 degrees and 59 mi¬
nutes of north latitude ; and the northern extremity ot
Unst, the most remote of them all, in the latitude ot
61 degrees 15 minutes. The meridian of London passes
through this last island, which lies about 2 degrees 30
minutes west from Paris, and about 5 degrees 15 minutes
east from the meridian of Cape Lizard. According 0
Gifford’s Historical Description of Zetland, the inhabit¬
ed islands are 33, of which the principal is styled Main-
land, and extends in length from north to south about
60 miles, and is in some places 20 broad, though m
others not more than two. ... .
It is impossible to speak with precision ; but accord¬
ing to the best computation which we have been able to
form, the Shetland isles contain near three times as much
land as the Orkneys : and they are considered as not in¬
ferior to the provinces of Utrecht, Zealand, and all the
rest of the Dutch islands taken together 5 but of climate
and soil they have not much to boast. The longest day
in the island of Unst is 19 hours 15 minutes, and ot
consequence the shortest day 4 hours and 45 minutes.
The spring is very late, the summer Very short; the au¬
tumn also is of no long duration, dark, foggy, ant
rainy ; the winter sets in about November, and lasts till
April, and sometimes till May. T-hey have frequent y
in that season storms of thunder, much rain, but little
frost or snow. High winds are indeed very frequent and
very troublesome, yet they seldom produce any terrible
effects. The aurora borealis is as common here as in any
of the northern countries. In the winter season the sea
swells and rages in such a manner, that for five or six
months their ports are inaccessible, and ot course the
people during that space have no correspondence with
the rest of the world. „ , r
The soil in the interior part of the Mainland, tor the
most part, is mountainous, moorish, and boggy, yet not
to such a degree as to render the country utterly impas¬
sable ; for many of the roads here, and in some of the
northern isles, are as good as any other natural road,-.,
and the people travel them frequently on all occasions.
Near the coast there are sometimes^ for miles together
flat pleasant spots, very fertile both in pasture and corn.
The mountains produce large crops of very nutritive
•rrass in the summer; and they cut considerable quanti¬
ties of hav, with which they feed their cattle in the
winter, they might with a little attention bring more
of their country into cultivation : but the people are so
much addicted to their fishery, and feel so little necessity
of having recourse to this method for subsistence, that
they are content, how strange soever that may seem to
38 ] -SHE
us, to let four parts in five of their land remain in a state
of nature. < _ v——y-x
They want not considerable quantities of marl in dif¬
ferent islands, though they use but little; hitherto there
has been no chalk found; limestone ana freestone there
are in the southern parts of the Mainland in great quan¬
tities, and also in the neighbouring islands, particularly
Fetlar ; and considerable quantities of slate, very good
in its kind. No mines have been hitherto wrought
to any great extent ; but there are in many places ap¬
pearances of metallic ores, as those of copper and iron ;
and it is said, pieces of silver ore have been found. In
some of the smaller isles there are strong appearances of
iron ; but, through the want of proper experiments be¬
ing made, there is, in tins respect at least, hitherto, no¬
thing certain. Their meadows are inclosed with dikes,
and produce very good grass. The little corn they grow
is chiefly barley, with some oats ; though even in the
northern extremity of Unst the little land which they
have is remarkable for its fertility. Hie hills abound
with medicinal herbs ; and their kitchen-gardens thrive
as well, and produce as good greens and roots, as any
in Britain. Of late years, and since this has been at¬
tended to, some gentlemen have had even greater suc¬
cess than they expected in the cultivating of tulips,
roses, and many other flowers. They have no trees,
and hardly any shrubs except juniper, yet they have a
tradition that their country was formerly overgrown
with woods; and it seems to be a confirmation of this,
that the roots of timber-trees have been, and are still,
dug up at a great depth; and that in some, and those
too inaccessible, places, the mountain-ash is still found
growing wild. That this defect, viz. the want of wood
at present, does not arise entirely from the soil or cli¬
mate, appears from several late experiments; some gen¬
tlemen having raised ash, maple, horse-chesnuts, &c. m
their gardens. Though the inhabitants are without ei¬
ther wood or coals, they are very well supplied with
fuel, having great plenty of heath and peat. The black
cattle in this country are in general of a larger sort than
in Orkney, which is owing to their having more exten¬
sive pastures ; a clear proof that still farther improve¬
ments might be made in respect to size. Their horses
are small, but strong, stout and well-shaped, live very
hardy, and to a great age. They have likewise a bre
of small swine, the flesh of which, when fat, is esteem¬
ed very delicious. They have no goats, hares, or foxes,
and in general no wild or venomous creatures of any
kind, except rats in some few islands. They have no
moorfowl, which is the more remarkable, as there are
everywhere immense quantities of heath ; but there are
many sorts of wild and water-fowl, particularly the dun-
ter-goose, clack-goose, solan-goose, swans, ducks, tea ,
whaps, foists, lyres, kittiwakes, maws, plovers, cormo¬
rants, &c. There is likewise the ember-goose, which
is said to hatch her egg under her wing. Eagles and
hawks, as also ravens, crows, mews, &c. abound
here.
All these islands are well watered ; for there are eve
rywhere excellent springs, some of them minera an
medicinal. They have, indeed, no rivers ; but many
pleasant rills or rivulets, of different sizes ; in some 0
the largest they have admirable trouts, some ot w vc
are of 1 Uand even of 20 pounds weight, d hey
J likewise
SHE
|and. likewise many fresh-water lakes, well stored with trout
*•—' and eels, and in most of them there are also large and
line flounders ; in some very excellent cod. These fresh¬
water lakes, if the country was better peopled, and the
common people more at their ease, are certainly capable
of great improvements. The sea-coasts of the Main¬
land of Shetland, in a straight line, are 55 leagues ;
and therefore there cannot be a country conceived more
proper for establishing an extensive fishery. What the
inhabitants have been hitherto able to do, their natural
ad vantages considered, does not deserve that name, not¬
withstanding they export large quantities of cod, tusk,
ling, and skate, insomuch that the bounty allowed by
acts of parliament amounts from 140CI. to 2000]. an¬
nually. Haddocks, whitings, turbot, and a variety of
other fish, and in many of the inlets excellent oysters,
lobsters, muscles, cockles, and other shell-fish are abun¬
dant, as well as multitudes of otters and seals : amber¬
gris, and other spoils of the ocean, are sometimes found
upon the coasts.
The inhabitants are a stout, well-made, comely peo¬
ple ; the lower sort of a swarthy complexion. The gen¬
try are allowed, by all who have conversed with them,
to be most of them polite, shrewd, sensible, lively, ac¬
tive, and intelligent persons ; and these, to the number
of 100 families, have very handsome, strong, well-built
houses, neatly furnished ; their tables well served ; po¬
lished in their manners, and exceedingly hospitable and
civil to strangers. Those of an inferior rank are a hardy,
robust, and laborious people, who, generally speaking,
get their bread by fishing in all weathers in their yawls,
which are little bigger than Gravesend wherries 5 live
hardily, and in the summer season mostly on fish ; their
drink, which, in reference to the British dominions, is
peculiar to the country, is called bland, and is a sort of
butter-milk, long kept, and very sour. Many live to
great ages, though not so long as in former times. In
respect, however, to the bulk of the inhabitants, from
the poorness of living, from the nature of it, and from
the drinking great quantities of corn-spirits of the very
worst sort, multitudes are afflicted with an inveterate
scurvy ; from which those in better circumstances are
entirely free, and enjoy as good health as in any other
country in Europe. As they have no great turn to
agriculture, and are persuaded that their country is not
tit.for it, they do not (though probably they might)
raise corn enough to support them for more than two-
^ thirds of the year. But..they are much more successful
in their pasture-grounds, which are kept well inclosed,
in good order, and, together with their commons, sup-
ply them plentifully with beef and mutton. They pay
their rents generally in butter at Lammas, and in mo¬
ney at Martinmas. As to manufactures, they make a
strong coarse cloth fflr their own use, as also linen.
. ley m:*ke likewise of their own wool very fine stock¬
ings. I hey export, besides the different kinds of fish
already mentioned, some herrings, a considerable quan¬
tity ot butter and train-oil, otter and seal skins, and no
inconsiderable quantity of the fine stockings iust men-
/0nei( * trade is to Leith, London, Ham-
urgb pain, and to the Straits. They import tim¬
ers, deals and some of their best oats, from Norway :
corn and f   i.1., rv i , V . J.’
f 239 1
SHE
household furniture, and other necessaries, from London.
The duties to the superior are generally let in farm j and
are paid by the people in butter, oil, and money. The
remains of the old Norwegian constitution are still visi¬
ble in the division of their lands ; and they have some
udalmen or freeholders amongst them. But the Scots
laws, customs, manners, dress, and language prevail ;
and they have a sheriff, and other magistrates for the ad¬
ministration of justice, as well as a customhouse, with a
proper number of officers. In reference to their ecclesi¬
astical concerns, they have a presbytery, 12 ministers,
and an itinerant for Foula, Fair Island, and the Skerries.
Each of these ministers has a stipend of between 40 and
50 pounds, besides a house and a glebe free from taxes.
Thenumber of souls in these islands maybe about 20,000.
SHEM-bread, the loaves of bread which the priest
of the week put every Sabbath-day upon the golden-
table in the sanctuary, before the Lord, in the temple
of the Jews. They were twelve in number, and were
offered to God in the name of the twelve tribes of Israel.
They were shaped like a brick, were ten palms long and
five broad, weighing about eight pounds each. They
were unleavened, and made of "fine flour by the Levites.
The priests set them on the table in two rows, six in a
row, and put frankincense upon them to preserve them
from moulding. I hey were changed every Sabbath,
and the old ones belonged to the priest upon duty. Of
this bread none hut the priests might eat, except in casts
of necessity. It was called the btxad of faces, because
the table of the shew bread, being almost over-against
the ark of the covenant, the loaves might be said to he
set before the face of God. The original table was car¬
ried away to Babylon, hut a new one was made for the
second temple. It was of wood overlaid with gold.
Ibis, with the candlestick and some other spoils, was
carried by Titus to Rome.
SHIANT or Schant Islands, a cluster of small un¬
inhabited islands, lying six miles from the S. E. coast of
Lewis in Scotland, in W. Long. 6. 20. N. Lat. 57. 53.
SHIELD, an ancient weapon of defence, in form of
a light buckler, borne on the arm to fend off lances,
darts, &c. I he form of the shield is represented by
the escutcheon in coats of arms. The shield was
that part of the ancient armour on which the jiersons
of distinction in the field of battle always had their
arms painted 5 and most of the words used at this
time to express the space that holds the arms of fa¬
milies are derived from the Latin word scutum. The
French escu and escussion, and the English word escut¬
cheon, or scutcheon, are evidently from this origin j
and the Italian scudo signifies both the shield of arms
and that used in war. The Latin name clypeus, for
the same thing, seems also to be derived from the Greek
word yXvQuv, to engrave; and it had this name from
the several figures engraved on it, as marks of distinc¬
tion of the person who wore it.
The shield in war, among the Greeks and Ro¬
mans, was not only useful in defence, hut it was
also a badge of honour to the wearer 5 and he who
returned from battle without it was always treated
with infamy afterwards. People have at all times
thought this honourable piece of the armour the proper-
corn and flour frmn Hi TV Tr honourable piece ot tiie armour the proper-
lain : "lie. T ^ and from North Bri. est place to engrave, or figure on the signs of digbty
cloths and better sort of linei/Tom r°ra. JIamburg!l 5 of the possessor of it j and hence, when arms came to
en from Leith ; grocery, be painted for families m aftertimes, the heralds al¬
ways
iStiield.
■SMI [ 24°
ways cliose to represent them upon the figure of a shield,
1 but with several exterior additions and ornaments 5 as
the helmet, supporters, and the rest.
The form of the shield has not only been found dil-
ferent in various nations, but even the people of the
same nation, at different times, have varied its form ex¬
tremely 5 and among several people there have been
shields of several forms and sizes in use, at the same pe¬
riod of time, and suited to different occasions. Ihe
jiiost ancient and universal form of shields, earlier
ages, seems to have been the triangular. This we see
instances of in all the monuments and gems of antiquity:
our own most early monuments show it to have been the
most antique shape also with us, and the heralds have
found it the most convenient for their purposes, when
they had any odd number of figures to represent j as it
three, then two in the broad bottom part, and one in the
narrow upper end, , it held them, very weU •, or it hve,
they stood as conveniently, as. three below, and two
above. The other form of a shield, now universally
used, is square, rounded and pointed at the bottom: this
is taken from the figure of the Samnitic sine d used by
the Romans, and since copied very generally by the
English, French, and Germans.
The Spaniards and Portuguese have the like general
form of shields, but they are round at the bottom with¬
out the point-, and the Germans, beside the bamnite
shield, have two others pretty much in use : these are,
1. The bulging shield, distinguished by its swelling or
bulging out at the flanks * and, 2. The indented shield,
or shield chancree, which has a number of notches and
indentings all round its sides. The use of the ancient
shield of this form was, that the notches served to rest
the lance upon, that it might be firm while it gave the
thrust; but this form being less proper for the receiving
nrmorial figures, the two former have been much more
used in the heraldry of that nation. .
Beside this different form of the shields in heraldry,
we find them also often distinguished by their diflerent
positions, some of them standing erect, and others slant¬
ing various ways, and in different degrees j this the he¬
ralds express by the word pendant, “ hanging, they
seeming to be hung up not by the centre, but by the
right or left corner. The French call these ecu pendant,
and the common antique triangular ones ecu ancien.
The Italians call this scuta pendente ; and the reason
.riven for exhibiting the shield in these figures in heral-
]
SHI
noble situation ; and all the pendant shields of the sons
of the royal family of Scotland and England, and of our
nobility at the time, are thus hanging from the left
coiner. The hanging from this corner was a token of
the owner's being of noble birth, and having fought in
the tournaments before ; but no sovereign ever had a
shield pendant any way, hut always erect, as they never
formally entered the lists of the tournament.
The Italians generally have their shields of arms of
an oval form-, this seems to be done in imitation of those
of the popes and other dignified clergy: but their herald
Petro Sancto seems to regret the use of this figure of the
shield, as an innovation brought in by the painters and
engravers as most convenient for holding the figures, but
derogatory to the honour of the possessor, as not repre¬
senting either antiquity or honours won in war, but ra¬
ther the honours of some citizen or person of learning.
Some have carried it so far as to say, that those who
either have no ancient title to nobility, or have sullied
it by any unworthy action, cannot any longer weai their
arms in shields properly figured, but were obliged to
have tliem painted in an oval or round shield.
In Flanders, where this author lived, the round and
tival shields are in the disrepute he speaks of; but in
Italy, besides the popes and dignified prelates, many of
the first families of the laity have them.
The secular princes, in many other countries, also re¬
tain this form of the shield, as the most ancient and tinly
expressive of the Roman clypeus.
Shield, in Heraldry, the escutcheon, or field on which
the bearings of coats of armsare placed. See Heraldry.
SIIIELDRAKE, or Sheldrake. See Anas, Or-
Nithology Index.
SHIELDS, North and South, two sea-port towns,
at the mouth of the Tyne, the one in Northumberland,
the other in the county of Durham. South Shields
contained above 200 salt-pans, 50 years ago j but now
there are not more than five or six and the duty which
is now only io,oool. per annum, amounted formerly to
80,pool. South Shields has a considerable trade, m
which not less than 500 vessels from IPO to 500 tons
burden are employed; and has nine dry docks or re¬
pairing, and 10 yards for building ships. 1 his town
has been much improved of late years. In the centre
there is a large square, in which there is a handsome
town-hall, with a colonnade under it for the weekiy
market, and from which streets branch out on all sides
given for exhibiting me snie‘“ North Shields contains also some fine streets andsquares.
dry is, that in the ancient tilts an > ) The harbour is very commodious, and so spacious, that
■who were to just at these military exercises, wereol)lige<l “f Svin„ 2000 sl ips. It is defcnM b,
to hang tip their shields with the.r armories, orcoats of it is capable receiving y
arms on them, out at the windows and balconies of the
houses near the place ; or upon trees, pavilions, or the
barriers of the ground, if the exercise was to be perform¬
ed in the field. x r
Those who were to fight on foot, according to Co-
lumbier, had their shields hung up by the right corner,
and those who were to fight on horseback had theirs
hung up by the left. This position of the slue ds in
heraldry is called coucjie by some writers, though by the
generality pendant.
It was very frequent in all parts of Europe, in amis
given between the nth and 14th centuries -, but it is
to be observed that the hanging by the left corner,
3s it was the token of the owner’s being to fight on
horseback, so it was esteemed the most honourable and
*
it is capable of receiving 2000 ships. It is defended by
a fort, in which there is also a light-house, correspond¬
ing with another on the top of the bank, to direct ves¬
sels into the harbour. The population of North an
South Shields is estimated at 35,000. W. Long. 1. 12.
N. Lat. 55. 44. .
SHIFTERS, on hoard a man of war, certain men
Lvho are employed by the cooks to shift and chrnige
water in which the flesh or fish is put, and laid for some
time, in order to fit it for the kettle. .
SHIFTING A TACKLE, in sea-language, the act 01
removing the blocks of a tackle to a greater distance
from each other, on the object to which they ar<\*?
plied, in order to give a greater scope or extent to m
purchase. This operation is otherwise calledyu’c «•
Shifting the helm denotes the alteration of its positUM
11
.. . S H 1 [2
Sr.ing. by pnslnng it towards the opposite side of the ship
Shifting the voyal, signifies changing its position on the
capstern, from the right to the left, and vice versa.
SHILLING, an English silver coin, equal to twelve
pence, or the twentieth part of a pound.
Freherus derives the Saxon scilling, whence our shil-
.g, "oni a corruption of sihqua; proving the deriva¬
tion by several texts of law, and, among others, by the
2oth law, De annuls legatis. Skinner deduces it from
the Saxon scild, “ shield,” by reason of the escutcheon
ct arms thereon. ■*
Bishop Hooper derives it from the Arabic scheelc.
Signifying a weight; but others, with greater probabi¬
lity, deduce it from the Latin sicilicus, which signified
m that language a quarter of an ounce, or the 48th part
. .a 1™man i)0un{1- In confirmation of this etymology
it is alleged, that the shilling kept its original significa¬
tion, and bore the same proportion to the Saxon pound
as Siemens did to the Roman and the Greek, being ex-
actly the 48th part of the Saxon pound 1 a discovery
which we owe to Mr Lambarde *.
However, the Saxon laws reckon the pound in the
Verl urn r0l)ml number at 50 shillings, but they really coined
^ ^ °n^ 48’ the ValuG °f the sIjilIing was five-
S H I
* E li.
catitie-
rum
fGra>
S-ixon,
P'S*
pence ; but it was reduced to fourpence above a century
before the Conquest j for several of the Saxon laws, made
m Athelstan’s reign, oblige us to take this estimate,
ihus it continued to the Norman times, as one of the
Conqueror’s laws sufficiently ascertains ; and it seems
to have been the common coin by which the English
payments were adjusted. After the Conquest,"1 the
Irench solidus of twelvepence, which was in use among
the Normans, was called by the English name of sbil-
Ji-ng; and the Saxon shilling of fourpence took a Nor¬
man name, and was called the groat, or great coin, be¬
cause it was the largest English coin then known in
Cngland.
It has been the opinion of the bishops Fleetwood and
Cibson, and of the antiquaries in general, that, though
the method of reckoning by pounds, marks, and shil¬
lings, as well as by pence and farthings, had been in
constant use even from the Saxon times, long before the
orman conquest, there was never such a coin in Eng-
aml as either a pound or a mark, nor any shilling, till
he year 1504 or 1505, when a few silver shillings or
we vepences were coined, which have long since been
olely confined to the cabinets of collectors.
Mr Clarke combats this opinion, alleging that some
coins mentioned by Mr Folkes, under Edward I. we"e
probably Saxon shillings new minted, and that Arch-
.. op Aelfr'c expressly says f, that the Saxons had
rce names for their money, viz. mancuses, shillings,
and pennies. He also urges the different value of the
*>xon shilling at different times, and its uniform pro-
Poit,on to the pound, as an argument that their shil-
S WaS ac0lin1’ ail(I tlle testimony of the Saxon gos-
ln w}Vch the word we have translated pieces ofsil-
shill ini- t!'6 (:0ne’ lf Aiere lad been n° sucJl coin as a
their sbi f6" •n jSe'- ^CC0Tdin&y the Saxons expressed
the,- ' in^ ln L,Rtm b-7 stclm anf! argenteus. He far-
S ’,V'’eiar *WI1“« -ver e.preJd
and ! ^ a^tei’t ,e ^orma11 settlements in England:
‘it 7fr„r,l ,tralte, ed ,'U,'i,n« !he Period that
Vo,!, xlx part'P t0 ‘,me °f He‘!l')' VI1-11
41 ]
v/as the most constant denomination of money in all pay¬
ments, though it was then only a species of account, or
the twentieth part of the pound sterling : and when it
was again revived as a coin, it lessened gradually as the
pound sterling lessened, from the 28th of Edward HI.
to the 43d of Elizabeth.
In the year 1560 there was a peculiar sort of shilling
struck in Ireland, of the value of ninepence English^
which passed in Ireland for twelvepence. The motto on
the reverse was,posuiDeum cdjulorem meum. Eightv-
two of these shillings, according to Malynes, went to
the pound ; they therefore weighed 20 grains one-
fourth each, which is somewhat heavier in proportion
than the English shilling of that time, 62 whereof went
to the pound, each weighing 92 grains seven-eighths:
and the Irish shilling being valued at the Tower at nine-
pence English, that is, one-fourth part less than the
ng ish shilling, it should therefore proportionabiy
weigh one-fouith part less, and its full weight be some-
what more than 62 grains 5 but some of them found at
this time, though much worn, weighed 69 grains. In
the year 159S, five different pieces of money of this
kind were struck in England for the service of the kin<r-
dom of Ireland. These were shillings to be current Fn
Ireland at twelvepence each; half shillings to be current
at sixpence, and quarter shillings at threepence. Pen¬
nies and halfpennies were also struck of the same kind
and sent over for the payment of the army in Ireland!
1 he money thus coined was of a very base mixture of
copper and silver; and two years after there were more
pieces of the same kinds struck for the same service
vvluch were still worse ; the former being three ounces
of silver to nine ounces of copper ; and tlFese latter only
two ounces eighteen pennyweights to nine ounces two
pennyweights of the alloy.
I he Dutch, Flemish, and Germans, have likewise
their shilling, called schelin, schilling, scalin, &c. but
these not being of the same weight or fineness with the
English shilling, are not current at the same value. The
English shilling is worth about 23 French sols; those of
Holland and Germany about n sols and a half; those
of Flanders about nine. The Dutch shillings are also
called sols de gros, because equal to twelve gros. The
Danes have copper shillings worth about one-fourth of a
farthing sterling.
SHILLUK, a town in Africa on the banks of the
true Nile. The houses are built of clay, and the clothing
or the inhabitants consists of long grass, which they pass
round the waist and between the thighs. They are all
black, and both sexes shave their heads. These people
have the dominion of the river, and exact toll ofall pas¬
sengers. The meaning of the word Shilluk seems to be
unknown. When they transport Mahometans across
the ferry, they sometimes shew the importance which
their situation gives them. After the Mahometan has
placed himself in the boat, they ask him, who is the
master of that river ? The other replies Ulloh or Rub-
baric, God is the master of it. No, you must say that
such a one (naming his chief) is the master of it. or you
shall not pass. They are said to be hospitable to such
as come among them in a peaceable manner, and as ne¬
ver betraying those to whom they have once afforded
protection. The particulars of their worship have not
been described. Sbilluk, according to Mr Browne’s
map, is in 130 N. Lat. 3 20 26' E. Long,
f H h °
Sllillijjn
If
Shilhik.
SHILOH,
S H I
[ 242 ]
S H I
Shiloh.
SHILOH, is a term famous among int^T^te_r3 ^d
commentators upon Scripture It x« *p»nd (Gem xhx.
J0.) to denote the Messiah.
tells his coming in these words , _ IhescepU
depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver ^orn between h
feet, until Shiloh come 5 and unto him shall the gath
in* of the people be.” The Hebrew text reads, rtv **
until Shiloh come. All Christian commentators
acrce that this word ought to be understood ol the
Messiah, or Jesus Christ j but all are not agreed about
its literal and grammatical signification. St Jerome,
who translates it by Qi« mittendns est, manifestly reads
Shiloach “ sent,” instead of Shiloh. T be Septuagin ^ iav e
it ^ e&vrct} or E»>? «
xeiT*;, (as if they had read instead of nhtr), i. e.
“ Until the coming of him to whom it is reserve!
or “ Till we see arrive that which is reserved lor him.
’it must he owned, that the signification ol the He¬
brew word Shi/oh Is not well known. Some translate,
“ the sceptre shall not depart from Judah, till he comes
to whom it belongs >” nbtf or rim instead of U-
thers, “ till the coming of the peace-maker, or
pacific ; or, “ of prosperity,” rhvprosperous est. Sha-
lah signifies, “ to be in peace, to he in prosperity ,
others “ till the birth of him who shall be born ol a
woman that shall conceive without the knowledge o a
man ” him or ^rim secundina, fiuxus • ,• otherwise the
sceptre shall not depart from Judah, till its end,^its ruin j
—till the downfal of the kingdom of the Jews _ hKm or
f Le Ckrc ^ ft has ceased, it has finished t. Some Rabbins have
™ taken the name Siloh or Shiloh, as it if signified the city
of this name in Palestine : “ The sceptre shall not be
taken away from Judah till it comes to Shiloh 5 til it
shall be taken from him to be given to Saul at Shiloh.
But in what part of Scripture is it said, that Saul was
acknowledged as king or consecrated at Shiloh . It we
would understand it of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, the
matter is still as uncertain. The Scripture mentions no
assembly at Shiloh that admitted him as king. A more
modern author derives Shiloh from r\\v, fatigare, which
sometimes signifies to be weary, to suffer ; till lus la¬
bours, his sufferings, his passion, shall happen.
But not to amuse ourselves about seeking put the
grammatical signification of Shiloh, it is sufficient for
as to show, that the ancient Jews are in tins matter
agreed with the Christians: they acknowledge, that
* Arab,
hud. de
Dieu.
this word stands for the Messiah the King. It is thus
tfUS worn biauua ---- o
that the paraphrasis Onkelos and Jonathan, that tne an¬
cient Hebrew commentaries upon Genesis, and that the
Talmudists themselves explain it. If Jesus Christ and
his apostles did not make use of this passage to prove
the coming of the Messiah, it was because then the com¬
pletion of this prophecy was not sufficiently manifest.
The sceptre still continued among the Jews •, they had
still kings of their own nation in the persons of the He-
rods; but soon after the sceptre was entirely taken
away from them, and has never been restored to them
since.
The Jews seek in vain to put forced meanings upon
this prophecy of Jacob ; saying, for example, that the
sceptre intimates the dominion oi stranger*, to which
they had been in subjection, or the hope of seeing one
day the sceptre or supreme power settled again among
themselves. It is easy to perceive, that all this is con¬
trived to deliver themselves out ol perplexity. In vain
likewise they take refuge in certain princes of the cap¬
tivity, whom they pretend to have subsisted beyond the
Fupbrates, exercising an authority over then-nation
little differing from absolute, and being of the race of
David This pretended succession of pnnees is per¬
fectly chimerical •, and though at certain times they
could show a succession, it continued but a short time,
and their authority was too obscure, and too much Is-
mited, to he the object of a prophecy so remarkable as
thlSHINGLES, in building, small pieces of wood, or
quartered oaken boards sawn to a certain scantling, 01,
Is is more usual, cleft to about an inch thick at one end
and made like wedges, four or five inches broad, and
^Shingle^ar^ustri instead of tiles or slates, especially
for churches and steeples-, however, this covering is
dear; yet, where tiles are very scarce, and a light co-
veringis required, it is preferable to thatch ami where
they are made of good oak, cleft, and not sawed, and
well seasoned in water and the sun, they make a sure,
light, and durable covering.
' The building is first to be covered all over with boaids,
and the shingles nailed upon them.
SHIP a general name for all large vessels, particu-
l,rlv those equipped with three masts and a bowsprit;
the masts being composed of a lowermast, topmast, and
top-gallant-mast: each of these he,„g provided wUh
yards, sails, &c. Ships, in general, are either employed
for war or merchandise. . . • 1
Ships of (Par are vessels properly equipped with a?-
tillery, ammunition, and all the necessary martialwea.
pons and instruments for attack 01 defence. >
distinguished from each other by their several rank or
classes, called rmes, as follows : Ships of the tot rats
mount from too guns to I JO guns and upwards , seco
rate from 90 to 98 guns j thud rate, from 64 to 74
guns fourth rate, from 50 to 60 guns rate, fiom
q 2 to 44 guns and sixth rates, from 20 to 28 guns.
See the article Rate. Vessels carrying fess ban ^
guns are denominated sloops, cutUrs, jhe-s p ^
bombs. It has lately been proposed to reduce the num-
her of these rates, which would be a saving to the "a,
tion, and also productive of several material adyanta •
In Plate CCCCLXXX. is the represen alien ofa
first rate, with rigging, &c. the several parts of which ^
^Part^ofThe hull—Fig. 1. A, The cathead j B, The ^
fore-chain wales, or chainsC, The mam-chams , D, 5?'
The mizen-chains E, The entering port, ,
hawse-holes*, G, the poop lanterns; H, H
tree ; I, 'I'he head ; K, The stern.
i, The bowsprit. 2, Yard and sail. 3, Gam
jng. 4, Manrop. 5, Bobstay. 6, Spntsai-sheets. 7,
Pendants. 8, Braces and pendants. 9, Halliards. .
Lifts. 11, Clue-lines. 12, Spritsail-horses. 13,
lines. 14, Standing lifts. 15, Bowsprit-shroud. >
Jib-boom. 17, Jibstay and sail. x8, Halhaid v 9
Sheets. 20, Horses. 21, Jib-guy. 22, Spritsai - P _
yard. 23, Horses. 24, Sheets. 25, Lifts. 2
and pendants. 27, Cap of Bowsprit. 28, Jac.v
29, Truck. 30, Jack flag.—31, Foremast, 3 > gtay
ner and tackle. 33, Shrouds. 34, Laniards. 35’ '
and laniard. 36, Preventer-stay and ..niait . /
Woolding of the mast. 38, Foreyard am sa^orses’
5! p.
PI
cccgiLj
% .
SHI [ 243
Horses. 40, Top. 41, Crowfoot. 42, Jeers. 43,
* Yard-tackles. 44, Lifts. 45, Braces and pendants.
46, Sheets. 47, Foretacks. 48, Bowlines and bridles.
49, Fore buntlines. 50, Fore leechlines. 51, Pre¬
venter-brace. 52, Futtock-shrouds.—53, Foretop-mast,
54, Shrouds and laniards. 55, Foretop-sail yard and
sail. 56, Stay and sail. 57, Runner. 58, Back¬
stays. 59, Halliards. 60, Lifts. 61, Braces and pen¬
dants. 62, Horses. 63, Clew-lines. 64, Bowlines and
bridles. 65, Reef-tackles. 66, Sheets. 67,£untlines.
68. Cross trees. 69, Cap. 70, Foretop-gallant mast.
71, Shrouds. 72, Yard and sail. 73, Backstays. 74,
Stay. 75, Lifts. 76, Clewlines. 77, Braces and pen¬
dants. 78, Bowlines and bridles. 79, Flag-staff. 80,
Truck. 81, Flag-stay-staff. 82, Flag of the lord high
admiral.—83, Mainmast. 84, Shrouds. 85, Laniards.
86, Runner and tackle. 87, Futtock-shrouds. 88,
Top-lantern. 89, Crank of ditto. 90, Stay. 91, Pre¬
venter-stay. 92, Stay-tackles. 93, Woolding of the
mast. 94, Jeers. 95, Yard-tackles. 96, Lifts. 97,
Braces and pendants. 98, Horses. 99, Sheets. 100,
Tacks. 101, Bov/lines and bridles. 102, Crow-foot.
103, Cap. 104. Top. 105, Buntlines. xo6, Leech¬
lines. 107, Yard and sail.—108, Main-topmast. 109,
Shrouds and laniards. 110, Yard and sail, in, Fut¬
tock-shrouds. 112, Backstays. 113, Stay. 114, Stay¬
sail and halliards. 115, Tye. 116, Halliards. 117,
Lifts. 118, Clewlines. 119, Braces and pendants.
120, Horses. 121, Sheets. 122, Bowlines and bridles.
123, Buntlines. 124, Reef-tackles. 125, Cross-trees,
126, Cap.—127. Maintop gallantmast. 128, Shroud
and laniards. 129, Yard and sail. 130, Backstays.
131, Stay. 132, Staysail and halliards. 133, Lifts.
134, Braces and pendants. 135, Bowlines and bridles.
136, Clewlines. 137, Flagstaff. 138, Truck. 139,
Flagstaff-stay. 140, Flag standard.—141, Mizzenmast.
142, Shrouds and laniards. 143, Cap. 144, Yard
and sail. 145, Block for signal halliards. 146, Sheet.
147, Pendant lines. 148, Peckbrails. 149, Staysail,
x jOjStay. 151. Derrick and span. 152, Top. 153,
Crossjack yard. 154, Crossjack lifts. 155, Crossjack
braces. 156, Crossjack slings.—157* Mizen-topmast.
158, Shrouds and laniards. 159, Yard and sail. 160',
Backstays. 161, Stay. 162, Halliards. 163, Lifts.
164, Braces and pendants. 165, Bowlines and bridles.
166, Sheets. 167, Clewlines. 168, Staysail. 169,
Crosstrees. 170, Cap. 171, Flagstaff. 172, Flagstaff-
stay. 173, Truck. 174, Flag, union. 175, Ensign-
staff 176, Truck. 177, Ensign. 178, Stern ladder.
iyPt Bower cable.
Fig. 2.. Plate CCCCLXXXI. is a vertical longitu-
< ual section ot a first rate ship of war, with references
to the principal parts •, which are as follows:
A, Is the head containing,—I, The stem; 2, The
knee of the head or cutwater; 3, The lower and upper
cheek; 4, The trail-board ; 5, The figure ; 6, The
gratings; 7, The brackets; 8, The false stem ; 9, The
breast hooks; 10, The hause holes; u, The bulkhead
torward ; 12, The cathead ; 13, The cathook ; 14, Ne¬
cessary seats ; 15, The manger within board ; 16, The
bowsprit.
B, Upon the forecastle—17, The gratings; 18, The
partners of the mast; 19, The gunwale ; 20, The bel-
• ^ 'F|ie funnel for smoke ; 22, The gangway po-*
ing off the forecastle ; 23, The forecastle guns. ^
] SHI
C, In the forecastle—24, The door of the bulkhead
forward ; 25, Officers cabins; 26, Staircase ; 27, Fore¬
top-sail sheet bits ; 28, The beams; 29, The callings.
D, The middle gun-deck forward—30, The fore-
jeer bits; 31, The oven and furnace of copper; 32,
The captain’s cook room ; 33, The ladder or way to
the forecastle.
£, The lower gun-deck forward—34, The knees fore
and aft; 35, The spirketings, or the first streak next
to each deck, the next under the beams being called
clamps; 36, The beams of the middle gun-deck fore
and aft; 37, The carlings of the middle gun-deck fore
and aft; 38, The fore-bits; 39, The after or main
bits; 40, The hatchway to the gunner’s and boatswain’s
store-rooms ; 41, The jeer capstan.
F, The orlop—42, 43, 44,The gunner’s, boatswain’s,
and carpenter’s store-rooms; 45, The beams of the lower
gun-deck ; 46, 47, The pillars and the riders, fore and
aft; 48, The bulkhead of the store-rooms.
G, The hold—49, 50, 51, The foot-hook rider, the
floor rider, and the standard, fore and aft; 52, The
pillars ; 53, The step of the foremast; 54, The kelson,
or false keel, and dead rising; 55, The dead-wood.
H, At midships in the hold—56, The floor-timbers;
57, I he keel; 58, The well; 59, The chain-pump;
60, The step of the mainmast ; 61, 62, Beams and car-
lings of the orlop, fore and aft.
I, The orlop amidships—63, The cable tire ; 64, The
main hatchway.
K, The lower gun-deck amidships—6j, The ladder
leading up to the middle gun deck; 66, The lower tire
of ports.
L, The middle gun-deck amidship—67, The middle
tire of ports; 68, The entering port; 69, The main
jeer bits; 70, Twisted pillars or stanchions ; 71, The
capstan ; 72, Gratings ; 73, The ladder leading to the
upper deck.
?*I, The upper gun-deck amidships—74, The main-
topsail-sheet bits ; 75, The upper partners of the main¬
mast ; 76, The gallows on which spare topmasts, See.
are laid ; 77, The fore sheet blocks; 78, The rennets;
79, The gunwale ; 80, The upper gratings ; 81, The
drift brackets; 82, The piss dale; 83, The capstan
pall.
N, Abaft the mainmast—84, The gangway off the
quarterdeck ; 85, The bulkhead of the coach ; 86, The
staii’case down to the middle gun-deck; 87, The beams
of the upper deck ; 88, The gratings about the main¬
mast ; 89, The coach or council-chamber; 93, The
staircase up to the quarterdeck.
O, The quarterdeck—91, The beams; 92, The car-
lings; 93, The partners of the mizenmast; 94, The
gangway up to the poop; 95, The bulkhead of the
cuddy.
P, The poop—96, The trumpeter’s cabin; 97, The
taffarel.
Q, The captain’s cabin.
R, The cuddy, usually divided for the master and se¬
cretary’s officers.
S, The state-room, cut of which is made the bed¬
chamber and other conveniences for the commander in
chief; 98, The entrance into the gallery; 99, The
bulkhead of the great cabin ; 100, The stern lights and
after galleries.
T, The ward-room, allotted for this lieutenants and
H h 2 marine
SHI [ 244- ] ^ ^ ^
rri i mTlcrv • 102 The is a ship which would be converted mta a bark by strip
iox, TLhe lower gtiliery ? 10^, ^ ^ i . , j ^i,.. —
marine officers: -*-‘7 ;  •' ; rr,
steerage anti bulkliead of the wardroom, I03’ .
whipstaff, commanding the tiller; 104, I he after stair¬
case leading down to the lower gun-deck..
Y, Several officers cabins abaft the mainmast, where
the soldiers generally keep guard.
w, The gun room—105, the tiller commanding the
rudder ; ic6, The rudder ; 107, The stern-post; io«,
The tiller transom ; 109, The several transoms, viz. I,
2 3 4 c ; no, The gun-room ports, or stern-chase ;
ni, The bread-room scuttle, out of the gun-room;
112, The main capstan ; 113, The pall of the capstan ;
114, The partner; 115, The bulkhead of the bread-
room.
X, The bread-room.
Y, The steward’s room, where all provisions are
weighed and served out. , # .
Z, The cockpit, where are subdivisions for the purser,
the surgeon and his mates. ... ,
A A, The platform or orlop, where provision is made
for the wounded in the time of service ; 116, The hold
abaft the main-mast; 117, The step of the mizen-mast;
118, The kelson, or false keel; 119, The dead wood or
^Ships of war are fitted out either at the expence of
the state or by individuals. rl hose fitted out at the puo-
lic expence are called King's ships, and are divided into
ships of the line, frigates, sloops, &c. For an account
of each of these, see the respective articles, bhips ot
war fitted out by individuals are called privateers, bee
the article Privateer.
Armed-Ship. See AnMED-Ship.
Bomb-Ship. See Bo up Vessels.
Dmble-SmP. See SniP-Building.
Fire-Snip. See FiRE-Ship. . „
Hospital Ship, a vessel fitted up to attend on a fleet 01
men of war, and receive their sick or wounded ; tor
which purpose her decks should be high, and her ports
sufficient!v large. Her cables ought also- to run upon
the upper'deck, to the end that the beds or cradles may
he more commodiously placed between decks, and admit
n free passage of the air to disperse that which is oilen-
sive or corrupted.
Merchant-Smp, a vessel employed m commerce to
carry commodities of various sorts from one port to an-
other. iii
The largest merchant ships are those employed by Uie
different companies of merchants ivho trade to the East
Indies. They are in general larger than our 40 gun
ships ; and are commonly mounted with 20 guns on their
upper-deck, which are nine pounders ; and six on their
quarter-deck, which are six pounders.
Begister-Ship. See BEGisTER-Ship.
Store-SniP, a vessel employed to carry artillery or
naval stores for the use of a fleet, fortress, or garrison.
Transport-Ship, is generally used to conduct troops
from one place to another.
Besides the different kinds of ships above mentioned,
which are denominated from the purpose for which
they are employed, vessels have also, in general, been
named according to the different manner of rigging
, them. It would be an endless, and at the same tune
cclxxxi. an unnecessary task, to enumerate all the different Kinds
iig. 3. of vessels with respect to their rigging ; and there¬
fore a few only are here taken notice of. T ig. 3’
Ship,
ping the mizen mast of its yards and the sails belong- 1 ^
ing to them. If each mast, its corresponding topmast
and topgallant-mast, instead of being composed of se¬
parate pieces of wood, were all of one continued piece,
then this vessel with very little alteration would be a
polacre. Fig. 4. represents a snow ; fig. 5. a bilanoer; p]ate
fitr. 6. a brig; fig- 7- a fig. 8. a schooner; Ww\ni
fig. 9. a sloop; fig. 10. a %ebec; fig. 11_. a galhot; vg. iig.6.
12. a dogger; %. 13. a galley under sail; fig- 14- dltt«
rowing. ,
Ships are also sometimes named according to the dit-
ferent modes of their construction. Thus we say, a cat-
built ship, &c.
To Ship, is either used actively, as to ernbai k any
person or put anv thing aboard ship : or passively, to re¬
ceive any thing into a ship ; as, “ we shipped a heavy
sea at three o’clock in the morning. ...
To Ship, also implies to fix any thing in its place *
as, to ship the oars, that is, to put them in their row-
locks ; to ship the swivel guns, is to fix them in their
sockets ; to ship the handspokes,
Machine for drawing Bolts out of Ships, an instru¬
ment invented by Mr William Hill for this purpose
His account of which is as follows*.
# Tra»
IS account 01 WHIUU is *13 - , . .
“ First, The use of this machine .s to draw the kelson »»
_ _ - « , i. . 1 i. _ .1  4-1, ^ thp
dor's
and dead wood bolts out, and to draw the knee of the ^
head bolts.—Secondly, The heads of the kelson holtsrag{maj,j
heretofore were all obliged to he driven through the ke\-Art, h A
son, floor-timbers, and keel, to get them out; by tins™* |I|
means the kelson is often entirely destroyed, and the large
hole the head makes materially wounds the floors ; and
frequently, when the holt is much corroded, it scar s, and
the bolt comes out of the side of the keel.— Ihirdly,
The dead-wood holts that are driven with two or three
drifts, are seldom or never got out, by which means the
dead wood is condemned, when some ot it is really ser¬
viceable.—Fourthly, In drawing the knee of the head-
bolts, sometimes the knee starts off, and cannot be got
to ao-ain, but furs up, and with this machine may be
draw^n in ; for it has been proved to have more power
in starting a bolt than the maul.”
In fig. 1. “ A, A, represent two strong male serews, Itej,
working in female screws near the extremities of the . ^
cheeks,^against plates of iron E, E. CC is the bo!
to be drawn ; which, being held between the chaps 0 |
the machine at DD, is, by turning the screws by the
lever B, forced upwards out of the wood or plank ot
the ship. F, F, are two dogs, with hooks at their low¬
er extremities ; which being driven into the plank, serve
to support the machine till the chaps have got last hold
of the bolt. At the upper part of these dogs are rings
passing through holes in a collar, moveable near the
heads of the screws. Fig. 2. is a view of the upper side tig-
of the cheeks when joined together; a, a, the fio'f3111
which the screws work; b, the chaps by which the bolts
are drawn. Fig. 3- rlhe under side ol the cheek . n, ®)F)g.3
the holes in which the screws work ; b, the chaps y
which the holts are drawn, and where the teeth that
gripe the bolt are more distinctly shown. Fig. 4. Unettg.*
of the checks separated from the other, the letters re
ferring as in fig. 2. and 3.. _ — .
This machine was tried in his majesty’s yard at-Uep
ford, and was found of the greatest utility. “ First, 1
drew a bolt that was driven down so tight as only to go
- one
S H I
Sir'■ one ^nc!l sixteen blows with a double headed maul,
——and was well clenched belew t: the bolt drew the ring a
considerable way into the wood, and the wire drew itself
through, and left the ring behind. Secondly, it drew a
bolt out ot the Venus’s dead wood that could not be got
out by the maul. That part of it which went through
I the keel was bent close up to the lower part of the dead-
wood, and the machine drew the bolt straight, and drew
it out With ease. It also drew a kelson bolt out of the
Stanley V est Xndiaman, in Alessrs Well’s yard, l)ept-
j fold 5 which being a bolt of two drifts, could not be dri-
ren out.
_ XTi/jagement of Ships at single anchor, is the method
ot taking care of a ship while riding at single anchor in
a tide-way, by preventing her from fouling her anchor,
I &c. I he following rules for this purpose, with which
Tayrti' wc ,iave 'fen favoured by Henry Taylor * of North
'■struct Suields, will be found of the utmost conse(|uence.
mt° Riding [n a tide-way, with a fresh-of-wind, the ship
^I'-shoukl have what is called a short or windward service,
'igatt-say 45 or 5° fathoms of cable, and always sheered to
or in windward (a), net always with the helm hard down,
b!,t more or jess so according to the strength or weak-
^ ness of the tide. It is a known fact, that’ many ships
sheer their anchors home, drive on board of other ships,
and on the sands near which they rode, before it has
been discovered that the anchor had been moved from
the place where it was let go.
... . W,ien the wind is cross, or nearly cross, off shore, or
wilt! in the opposite direction, ships will always back. This
is done by the mizen-topsail, assisted, if needful, by the
mizen-staysail ; such as have no mizen-topsail common¬
ly use the main-topsail, or if it blows fresh, a topoallant-
sail, or any such sail at the gaff.
In backing, a ship, should always wind with a taught
cable, that it may be certain the anchor is drawn round.
In case there is not a sufficiency of wind for that pur¬
pose, the ship should be hove apeak.
Riding with the wind afore the beam, the yards should
Jbou;, be braced forward j if abaft the beam, they are to be
• ueel braced all aback.
If the wind is so far aft that the ship will not back
(which should not be attempted, when the tide eases,
f 245 ]
S H I
k
if
■ hen tf
n.
:k
w the
3.
i Ung
i war the slnp forges ahead, and brings the buoy on the lee
• :of quarter), she must be set ahead : if the wind is far aft,
aking an(l b!ows fresh, the utmost care and attention is neces-
sbcei sary> as ships riding in this situation often break their
sheer, and come to windward of their anchors again.
It should be observed, that when the ship lies in this
Ship,
ticklish situation, the after-yards must be braced for¬
ward, and the fore-yards the contrary way : she will lay t
safe, as the buoy can be kept on the lee quarter, or sup¬
pose the helm is a-port, as long as the buoy is on the
larboard quarter. With the helm thus, and the wind
right aft, or nearly so, the starboard main and fore bra¬
ces should he hauled in. This supposes the main braces
to lead forward.
When the ship begins to tend to leeward, and the Tending to
buoy comes on the weather-quarter, the first thing toleevvard
be done is to brace about the fore-yard ; and when the ?Cn thc
wind comes near the beam, set the fore-staysail, and beTet’a-1
keep it standing until it shakes; then brace all the head,
yards sharp forward, especially if it is likely to blow
strong. J
If laying in the aforesaid position, and she breaks her How-to
sheer, brace about the main-yard immediately : if s|,enianag®
recovers and brings the buoy on the lee or larboard quar- w^en lhc
ter, let the main-yard be again braced about; but if she
come to a sheer the other way, by bringing the buoy on ~
the other quarter, change the helm and brace the fore¬
yard to.
Riding leeward tide with more cable than the wind-When a
ward service, and expecting the ship will go to wind-long ser-
ward of her anchor, begin as soon as the tide eases tov'eeis 0llt>
shorten in the cable. This is often hard work ; but it the.
is necessary to be done, otherwise the anchor may beL
on ed by the great length of cable the ship has to draw windward,
round ; hut even if that could be done, the cable would
~e damaged against the bows or cut-water. It is to
be observed, that when a ship rides windward tide, the
cable should be cackled from the short service towards
t se anchor, as far as will prevent the bare part touching
the ship. &
V. hen the ship tends to windward and must be set a-
head, hoist the fore-staysail as soon as it will stand, and
when the buoy comes on the lee quarter, haul down the
lore-staysail, brace to the fore-yard, and put the helm
a-lee ; for till then the helm must be kept a-weather
and the yards full.
When the ship rides leeward tide, and the wind in-Howto
creases, caie should be taken to give her more cable nianago in
in time, otherwise the anchor may start, and probably a stoim#
it will be troublesome to get her brought up again ;
and this care is the more necessary when the ship rides
m the hause of another ship. Previous to giving a lone-
service it is usual to take a weather-bit, that is a turn
of the cable over the windlass end, so that in veering
away the ship will be under command. The service
ought
r,J:‘'lh '’‘“ keen tl,ought by some theorists, that ships should be sheered to leeward of their anchors ■ hot „
fcatSCrVr8 tllat.,”^ i1|> '•i,!'0Ut a.rudder> m tlle bein' left loose, will wear; they always in such si-
to break Iwr sheer'thalT? ’ll ‘ h® i"”"d l,ressl"8 “P011 the quarter and the helm a-lee, a ship will be less liable
"ill be a .Ither Wben ,Y ■ f M"' “ if the 1,elm “ -1“ "I*- .he breaks her sheer it
Lr briL , COmeS O" ti« other quarter, as it ought to be until she either swing to leeward
! lead Jth, • 7 °n °i)Cr fiuaiter- Now tbe ship breaks her sheer with the helm a-weather, it throws her
■ot anchor before IlmforeSa^lMn be '“** U,e ^ ab°Ut’ ^ Prob“bl.v the will fall over
SHI t 24<5
ought to be greased, which will prevent its chafing in
thTgale continues to increase, the topmasts sliouid
i . Vint- the fore-vard should seldom, n
struck in time •, but tne imc
hcrsul&e:
sl ouia be more on deck than the common anchor-watch
Jr no accident may happen from inattent.on or fal-
ling asleep.
1 S H 1
clearly of opinion she might be again got off, I recom- ^
mended as the first necessary step, the immediate dis¬
charge k the cargo •, and, in the progiess of that busi¬
ness, I found the tide always flowed to the same he g t
on the ship,; and when the cargo was half discharged,
and I knew the remaining part should not ma e er
draw more than eighteen feet water, and while I was
observing the water at twenty-two feet six inches by
the ship’s marks, she instantly lifted to seventeen fee
eight inches ; the water and air being before excluded
’ cl 1„„ orwl thft ntmosohere actimr
^na tide-way a second anchor should never be let go her^ressure on the clay, and the atmosphere acting
JwheSsoJtd, necessary ; for a ship wd semet.m s by he press, ^ J^ ^ wh,cS
vL easier and safer especially .fthosearuoshgh, With upo^ ^ ^ dUplaced at the drfference of
a very lon'j scope of cable and one an , . ,, these two drafts of water. , , , ,
L“;SveflentS "rive, ’and “The VSwast first a^ehendid, her
J. _ L. ^ nP.e
with a range ot lead should
^"a^e line fluently »^d
, blame them for neglecting therr duty.
The parti- Prudent mates seldom lie a week ^ a ro
ealar duty without heaving their anchor m sig.it J ev ° There
of the chief- . o.- i„„i. 0.,ar.\n\nn nf its beins foul. Ibeie
mate.
without neavmg tucix "j? •? / _ fnlli There
have not the least suspicion ot its being to .
are other reasons why the anchor should he looked at,
sometimes the cable receives damage by sweeping wrecks
or anchors that have been lost, or from rocks or stones
and it is often necessary to trip the anchor, m oidei
SJe a clearer birth, which should be done as often as
“''ifrltoti/oftZ safe removal of such Ships as have
J y J -E* i.U:       pmTltV CRSkS 3X6
water "in an hour and a half. As nothing eflectua was
to he expected from pumping, several scuttles or hoi*
in the ship’s side were made and valves fixed thereto^
to draw off the water at the lowest ebb of the tide, to
facilitate the discharge of the remammg par^of the car-
ao • and, after many attempts, I succeeded m an exter
mil application of sheep-skins sewed on a sail and thrust
under the bottom, to stop the body of water from rush¬
ing so furiously into the ship. This business effected
moderate pumping enabled us to keep the ship to about
six feet water at low water, and by a vigorous e or we
could bring the ship so light as (when the cargo should
be all discharged) to be easily removed into deep water.
But as the external application might be disturbed by
1 doin", or totally removed by the agitation of the
qn dom", or totally tcniuv^n D
shin it was absolutely necessary to provide some per¬
manent "enritv for the lives of those who were to na.
Xal her to the river Thames. I then recommended
asStbe cheapest, quickest, and most eftectual plan to
lav a deck in the hold, as low as the water could be
Trumped t0 framed so solidly and securely, and caulk¬
er ^ La’ crwiin the. shin independent ol her own
-’.iZTfTo!5™,./-*« r- * “ -.ari- .u--
usuauy cu p y the to which it
rsma^audlt the same time near the port to which it
is proposed to conduct her. In other cases, the follow-
pineal
Transac-
tiom,
voL Ixx.
part i.
y rvir joaruaiu w ax. '—~ -
» On January I. 1779 (says Mr Barnard), in a most
dreadful storm, the York East Indiaman, of eight hun¬
dred tons, homeward bound, with a pepper cargo, part¬
ed her cables in Margate roads, and was driven on
shore, within one hundred feet of the head and t ir y
feet of the side of Margate pier, then drawing twenty-
two feet six inches water, the flow of a good spring tide
beinf only fourteen feet at that place.
«&Qn the third of the same month I went down, as a
ship-builder, to assist, as must as lay in my power, my
worthy friend Sir Richard Hotham, to whom the ship
belonged. I found her perfectly upright, and her shere
“ Beams of fir-timber twelve inches square were PU
ced in the hold under every lower-deck beam in the
ship as low as the water would permit j these were m
two pieces, for the conveniency of getting them am ,
and also for the better fixing them of an exact W,
and well bolted together when m then place..
thesewere laid loSg Dantxic deals of two inches and
a half’hick, well nailed and caulked. Again®
iiVs s£, ’all fore and aft, .was well nailed a piece of
fir twelve inches broad and six inches thick
JLTnd three inches on the upper edge, « P«v™^
deck from rising at the side. Over the deck, .
beam, was laid a cross piece of fir umber «heU /
and twelve inches broad, reaching from the P to
the hold to the ship’s «<!«.«» bene»t
Xir'f«‘her perfectly upright, and her shere ^ the water henealh
ojSthese, and
(or side appeaiauoc^ cue. f . ,1
sunk to the twelve feet water-mark fore and aft m a be
of chalk mixed with a stiff blue clay, exactly the shape
of her body below that draft of water j and from the
rudder being torn from her as she struck coming on
shore, and the violent agitation of the sea after her be¬
ing there, her stern was so greatly injured as to admit
free access thereto, which filled her for four days equal
to the flow of the tide. Having fully informed myself
of her situation and the flow of spring-tides, and being
3
be piaceu 10 icoiai- ^  - — t
On each of these, and against the lower-deck beani,
equal distances from the side and middle o t le * ’ P>
placed an upright shore, six inches by twelve the 1»«
end let two inches into the crosspiece. 1
of this shore to the ship’s side, under the ent. • clJ
lower deck beam, was placed a diagonal shoie
by twelve, to ease the ship s deck o par o
4 throwing it on the side An upright shore of three
inches by twelve was placed from the end of y
iitU')
SHI [ 247 ] SHI
Lap, piece to the lower deck beams at the side, and one of
' three inches by twelve on the midship end of every cross
piece to the lower deck beam, and nailed to the pillars
in the hold. Two firm tight bulkheads or partitions
were made as near the extremes of the ship as possible.
The ceiling or inside plank of the ship was very securely
caulked up to the lower deck, and the whole formed a ship,
complete ship with a flat bottom within side, to swim the
outside leaky one ; and that bottom being depressed six
feet below the external water, resisted the ship’s weight
above it equal to five hundred and eighty-one tons, and
safely conveyed her to the dry-dock at Deptford.”
SHIP-BUILDING.
CHIP-BUILDING, or Naval Architfxture, is
.ian. O |.|ie art 0f constructing a ship so as to answer a
particular purpose either of W'ar or merchandise.
x To whom the world is indebted for the invention of
ships, is, like all other things of equal antiquity, un¬
certain.
A very small portion of art or contrivance was seen
in the first ships: they were neither strong nor durable ;
hut consisted only of a few planks laid togethez1, with¬
out beauty or ornament, and just so compacted as to
keep out the water. In some places they wrere only the
hulks or stocks of trees hollowed, and then consisted
only of one piece of timber. Nor was wood alone ap¬
plied to this use; but any other buoyant materials, as
the Egyptian reed papyrus ; or leather, of which the
primitive ships were frequently composed j the bottom
and sides being extended on a frame of thin battens or
scantlings, of flexible wood, or begirt with wickers,
such as we have frequently beheld amongst the Ameri¬
can savages. In this manner they were often navigated
j upon the rivers of Ethiopia, Egypt, and Sabsean Arabia,
even in latter times. But iu the first of them, we find
no mention of any thing but leather or hides sewed to¬
gether. In a vessel of this kind, Dardanus secured his
retreat to the country afterwards called Troas, when he
was compelled by a terrible deluge to forsake his former
habitation of Samothrace. Accordingly to Virgil, Cha¬
ron’s infernal boat w'as of the same composition.
But as the other arts extended their influence, naval
architecture likewise begau to emez'ge from the gloom
af ignorance and barbarism j and as the ships of those
ages were increased in bulk, and better proportioned
for commerce, the appearance of the floating citadels
of unusual form, full of living men, flying with seeming¬
ly expanded wings over the surface of the untravelled
ocean, struck the ignorant people with terror and asto¬
nishment : and hence, as we are told by Aristophanes,
arose the fable of Perseus flying to the Gorgons, who
was actually carried thither in a ship ! Hence, in all
probability, the famous story of Triptolemus riding ou
a winged dragon is deduced, only because he sailed from
Athens, in the time of great dearth, to a more plentiful
country, to supply the necessities of bis people. The
fiction of the flying horse Pegasus may be joined w'ith
those, who, as several mythologists report, was nothing
but a ship with sails, and thence said to be the offspring
of Neptune the sovereign of the sea ; nor does there ap¬
pear any other foundation for the stozdes of griffins, or
of ships transformed into birds and fishes, which we so
often meet with in the ancient poets. So acceptable to
the first ages of the world were inventions of this na-
L(ire, that whoever made any improvements in naviga¬
tion or naval architecture, building new ships better fit¬
ted for strength or swiftness than those used before, or History,
rendered the old more commodious by additional contri- '’-■■-y——
vances, or discovered countries unknown to former tra¬
vellers, were thought worthy of the greatest honours,
and often associated into the number of their deified he¬
roes. Hence we have in astronomy the signs of Aries
and Taurus, which were no other than two ships; the
former transported Pliryxus from Greece to Colchos,
and the latter Europa from Phoenicia to Crete. Ar-
go, Pegasus, and Perseus, were likewise new ships of a
different sort from the former, which being greatly ad-
znired by the barbarous and uninstructed people of those
times, were translated amongst the stars, in comme¬
moration of their inventors, and metamorphosed into
constellations by the poets of their own and of succeed¬
ing ages.
The chief parts, of which ships anciently consisted,
were three, viz. the belly, the prow, and the stern : these
were again composed of other smaller parts, which shall
be briefly described in their order. In the descriptiozi,
we chiefly follow Scheffer, who has so copiously treated
this subject, and with such industz'y and learning col¬
lected whatever is necessary to illustrate it, that very
little room is left for enlargement by those who incline
to pursue this investigation.
I. In the belly, or middle part of the ship, there was
carina, or the “ keel,” which was composed of
wood: it was placed at the bottom of the ship, being
designed to cut and glide through the waves, and there¬
fore was not broad, but narrow and sharp ; whence it
may be perceived that not all ships, but only the
which ships of war were called, whose bellies wei*e
straight, and of a small circumference, were provider!
with keels, the rest having usually flat bottoms. Around
the outside of the keel were fixed pieces of wood, to
prevent it from being damaged when the ship was first
launched into the water, or afterwards struck ou any
rocks ; these were called ^iXiva-f^urcc, in Latin cunei.
Next to the keel was (pccXais, the “ pump well, or
well-room,” within which was contained the ctvrXiof, or
“ pump,” through which water was conveyed out of
the ship.
After this, there was or the “ second
keel,” somewhat resembling what is now called kelson ;
it was placed beneath the pump, and called XsoGim,
%c&XKt)H, xXtiToTro'Siov; by some it is falsely supposed to be
the same with <pizX)cis.
Above the pump wras an hollow place, called by He¬
rodotus xocXy t/i? ws, by Pollux, kvt«s and yar^x, because
laz-ge, and capacious, after the form of a belly ; by the
Latins testudo. This was formed by crooked ribs, with
which it was suiTounded, which were pieces of wood
rising from the keel upwards, and called by Hesychius
yopUf,
248
History.
S HIP-B U
vowsf?, anti by others tyy,oiXtu, the belly of the ship being
contained within them : in Latin costa ; and. ,n
fish, timbers. Upon these were placed certain planks,
which Aristophanes calls smgcmias, or nm^vidot.
The ntevpcu, latera, or “ sides” of the ship, encom¬
passed all the former parts on both hands ; these were
composed of large rafters extended from prow to stern,
and called and typtu.puTX, because by them the
whole fabric was begirt or surrounded.
In both these sides the rowers had their places, call¬
ed Toiyjt and i'SuKcc, in Latin/on and transtra, placed
above one another; the lowest was called and
those that laboured therein 3-xXupiotthe middle,
and the men j the uppermost fyxm, whence the
rowers were termed In these apartments were
spaces through which the rowers put their oars : these
were sometimes one continued vacuity from one end to
the other, called r^xpnl, but more usually distinct holes,
each of which was designed for a single oar } these
were styled t^/ixxIx, tpvtt-axxtx, as also o(p6xXy.oi, because
not unlike the eyes of living creatures. All ol them were
bv a more, general name termed tyxuTrx, from containing
the oars; but tyy,»7riv seems to have been another thing,
signifying the spaces betiveen the banks ol oars on each
side, where the passengers appear to have been placed.
On the top of all there was a passage or place to walk,
called vx^xcios, and vx^xi^xu;, as joining to the B-^xvoi,
or uppermost bank of oars.
2. Tt^apx, the “ prow, or fore-deck,” whence it is
sometimes called yirxTrov, and commonly distinguished
by other metaphorical titles taken from human laces.
In some ships there is mention of two prows, as also
two sterns; such as Danaus’s ship adorned by Minerva
when he lied from Egypt. It was usual to beautify
the prow with gold and various sorts of paint and co¬
lours j in the primitive times red was most.in use;
whence Homer’s ships were generally dignified with
the titles of yiXra7rx^r,ot, and (p»tnxo7rx^m, or “ re^ fa¬
ced ;” the blue, likewise, or sky-colour, was frequently
made use of, as bearing a strict resemblance to the colour
of the sea ; whence we find ships called by Homer
Kvxvo7r£6>£ot, by Aristophanes xvxny./2e>Xoi. Several other
colours were also made use of *, nor were they barely
varnished over with them, but very often annealed by
wax melted in the fire, so that neither the sun, winds,
nor water, were able to deface them. The art of doing
this was called from the wax xv^oy^xiptx, from the fire
iyxxvTtxn, which is described by Vitruvius, and mention¬
ed in Ovid.
I L I* I N G.
3. Tl^v/xw, “ the hind-deck or poop,” sometimes.cal-
-Picta coloribus ustis
Cceruleam matrem concava puppis hebet.
The painted ship with melted wax anneal’d
Had Tethys for its deity 
In these colours the various forms of gods, animals,
plants, &c. were usually drawn, which were likewise
often added as ornaments to other parts of the ships, as
plainly appears from the ancient monuments presented
to the wmrld by Baysius.
The sides of the prow were termed yrltgce, or “ wings,”
and -xx^x, according to Scheffer, or rather -kx^mi ; for
since the prow is commonly compared to a human face,
it will naturally follow that the sides should be. called
checks. These are now called bows by our mariners.
4
led" ag/the “ tail,” because the hindmost part of the '—\
ship ; it was of a figure more inclining to round than
the prow, the extremity ol which was sharp, that it
might cut the waters; it was also built higher than the
prow, and was the place where the pilot sat to steer;
the outer-bending part of it was called iTtrimiui, answer¬
ing to our term quarter. v . !
They had various ornaments of sculpture on the
prow ; as helmets, animals, triumphal wreaths, &.c—
The stem was more particularly adorned with wings,
shields, &c. Sometimes a little mast was erected where¬
on to hang ribbands ol divers colours, which served in¬
stead of a&llag to distingush the ship; and a weather¬
cock, to signify the part from whence the wind blew.
On the extremity of the prow was placed a round
piece of wood, called the 7rlvyis} from its.bending; and
sometimes o(p6xXpo?, the “ eye” cl. the ship, because fix¬
ed in the fore-deck ; on this was inscubed the name of
the ship, which was usually taken from the figure paint¬
ed on the flag. Hence comes the frequent mention of
ships called Pegasi, Scyllce, bulls, rams, tigers, &c.
which the poets took the liberty to represent as living
creatures that transported their riders from onecountiy
to another. . .c ,
The whole fabric being completed, it was tortihecl
with pitch, and sometimes a mixture of rosin, to secure
the wood from the waters ; whence it comes that Ho¬
mer’s ships are everywhere mentioned with the epithet
of yiXx^, or “ black.” Pitch was first used by the
inhabitants of Phmacia, since called Corsica ; some¬
times wax was employed for the same purpose; whence
Ovid,
Peer idea ceratas accipit unda rates.
The azure waves receive the waxed ships.
After all, the ship being bedecked with garlands and
flowers, the mariners also adorned with crowns, she was
launched into the sea with loud acclamations and other
expressions of joy; and being purified by a priest with a
lighted torch, an egg and brimstone, or alter , some
other manner, was consecrated to the god whose image
she bore. .. . . .1
The ships of war of the ancients were distinguished
from other kinds of vessels by various turrets and acces¬
sions of building, some to defend their own soldiers, and
others to annoy the enemy; and from one another, m
latter aces, by several degrees or ranks ol oars, the mos
usual number of which was four or five, which appear
not to have been arranged, as some imagine, on tlie
same level in different parts of the ship ; nor yet, a
others have supposed, directly above ^ one another
heads ; but their seats being placed one oehind anothe ,
ascended gradually, like stairs. Ptolemy Philopatcr
urged by a vain-glorious desire ol exceeding a
world besides in naval architecture, is said to have la ¬
ther enlarged the number of banks to 40.; and t ie s 1 p
being otherwise in equal proportion, this raise mr
such an enormous bulk, that she appeared at a dlS^an
like a floating mountain or island ; and, upon a uea
viewq like a prodigious castle on the ocean. / V
280 cubits long, 38 broad, and 48 high (each cu n
ing I English foot inches), and carried 4G0 r(jwe, ’
400 sailors, and 3000 soldiers. Another whicu^
If! lory
Finder
tol- iii«,
m-
lb. toll.,,
P. 6S4,.
s H I P-B U
same prince made to sail on the Nile, we are told was
half a stadium long. Yet these were nothing in compa¬
rison of Hiero’s ship, built under the direction of Ar¬
chimedes ; on the structure of which Moschion wrote a
whole volume. There was wood enough employed in
it to make 50 galleys j it had all the variety of apart¬
ments of a palace } such as banqueting-rooms, galleries,
gardens, fish-ponds, stables, mills, baths, and a temple to
Venus. The floors of the middle apartment were all
inlaid, and represented in various colours the stories of
Homer’s Iliad. The ceilings, windows, and all other
parts, were finished with wonderful art, and embellished
with all kinds of ornaments. In the uppermost apart¬
ment there was a spacious gymnasium, or place for exer¬
cise, and water was conveyed to the garden by pipes,
some of hardened clay, and others of lead. The floors
of the temple of Venus were inlaid with agates and
other precious stones j the inside lined with cypress
wood j the windows adorned with ivory paintings and
small statues. There was likewise a library. This ves¬
sel was adorned on all sides with fine paintings. It had
20 benches of oars, and was encompassed with an iron
rampart, eight towers, with walls and bulwarks, furnish¬
ed with machines of war, particularly one which threw
a stone of 300 pounds, or a dart 12 cubits long, the
space of half a mile, writh many other particulars related
by Athenaeus. Caligula likewise built a vessel adorned
wftli^ jewels in the poop, with sails of many colours, and
furnished with large porticoes, bagnios, and banquet¬
ing-rooms, besides rows of vines, and fruit-trees of va¬
rious kinds. But these, and all such monstrous fabrics,
served only for show and ostentation, being rendered by
their vast bulk unwieldy and unfit for service. Athe¬
naeus informs us, the common names they were known
by, were Cyclades or JEtna^ 1. e. islands, or moun¬
tains,” to which they seemed nearly equal in bigness;
consisting, as some report, of as many materials as
would have composed 50 triremes, or ships of three
banks.
The vessels employed by the northern nations appear
to have been still more imperfect than those of the Ro¬
mans j for a law was enacted in the reign of the em¬
peror Honorius, 24th September, A. D. 418, inflict¬
ing capital, punishment on any who should instruct the
barbarians in the art of ship-building ; a proof at once
of the great estimation in which this science was then
held, and of the ignorance of the barbarians with re¬
gard to it.
The fleet of Richard I of England, when he weighed
anchor for the holy war from Messina, in Sicily, where
he had passed the winter, A. D. 1190-1, is said to have
consisted of 150 great ships and 53 galleys, besides
barks, tartans, &c. What kinds of ships these were is
not mentioned. 1o the crusades, however pernicious in
other respects, this science seems to owe some improve¬
ments; and to this particular one we are indebted for
Richard’s marine code, commonly called the Laws of
Vleron, from the name of a small island on the coast of
prance, where he composed them, and which most of
the nations in Europe have made the basis of their ma¬
ritime regulations. Those ships, if they merited the
name ot ships, were probably very small, as we find that
0 long after as the time of Edward I. anno 1304, 40
men were deemed sufficient to man the best and largest
vessels in England ; and that Edward the Third, anno
vOL. XIX. Part 1. |
I L D I N G.
1335, ordained the mayor and sheriffs of London to
“ take up all ships in their port, and all other ports in
the kingdom, of the burden of 40 tons and upwards,
and to lurnish the same with armed men and other ne¬
cessaries of war, against the Scots his enemies, confede¬
rated with certain persons of foreign nations.” Edward
the Third’s fleet before Calais, anno 1347, consisted of
738 English ships, carrying 14,956 mariners, being on
a« average but 20 men to each ship ; 15 ships and 459
mariners, from Bayonne in Guienne, being 30 mon to
each ship ; 7 ships and 183 men from Spain, which is
26 men to each ship; one from Ireland, carrying 25
men; 14 from Flanders, with 138 men, being scarcely
10 men to each ship ; and one from Guelderland, with
24 mariners. Fifteen of these were called the king’s
own ships, manned with 419 mariners, being somewhat
under 17 to each ship.
Historians represent the vessels of Venice and Genoa
as the largest and the best about this time, but they
were soon exceeded in size by the Spanish vessels called
casricks, some of which carried cannon; and these again
were exceeded by the vessels built by the northern peo¬
ple, particularly those belonging to the Hanse-towns 
In the 14th century, the Hanseatics were the sovereigns
of the northern seas, as well without as within the Bal¬
tic ; and their ships were so large, that foreign princes
often hired them in their wars. According to Hak¬
luyt, an English ship from Newcastle, of 200 tons bur¬
den, was seized in the Baltic by those of Wismar and
Rostock, anno 1394 ; and another English vessel of the Feeders
same burden was violently seized in the port of Lisbon, vt)- viie
anno 1412. P-7 37-
Soon after ships of a much larger size were con- ^ voL «.
structed. It is mentioned that a very large ship was p' 25s*
built, anno 1449, by John Taverner of Hull; and in voi* xi
the year .1455, King Henry IV. at the request ofl)- 3*4’
Charles king of Sweden, granted a licence for a Swedish
ship of the burden of a thousand tons or under, laden
with merchandise, and having 120 persons on board, to
come to the ports of England, there to dispose of their
lading, and to relade back with English merchandise,
paying the usual custums. The inscription on the tomb
of William Canning, an eminent merchant, who had
been five times mayor of Bristol, in RatclifF-church at
Bristol, anno 1474, mentions his having forfeited the
king’s peace, for which he was condemned to pay 300
marks; in lieu of which sum, King Edward IV. took
of him 2470 tons of shipping, amongst which there
was one ship of 900 tons burden, another of 500 tons,
and one of 400 tons, the rest being smaller.
In the year 1506, King James IV. of Scotland built
the largest ship which had hitherto been seen, but which
was lost in her way to I ranee in the year 1512, owing
probably to a defective construction, and the unskilful¬
ness of the crew in managing so large a ship.—About
this time a very large ship was likewise built in France.
In the fleet fitted out by Henry VIII. anno 1512, there
was one ship, the Regent, of 1000 tons burden, one of
500, and three of 400 each. A ship still larger than
the Regent, was built soon after, called Henri Grace
Dieu! In the year 1522 the first voyage round the
globe was finished.
The English naval historians think that ships carried
cannon on their upper decks only, and had no gun-
ports before the year 1545 : and it is certain that many
li of
2 5°
History,
^lowon's
ffavul
Tracts,
V- 294-
SHIP-BUILDING.
of the largest ships in former times were fitted ont from
' harbours,^where ships of a moderate size now wo d
not have water enough to float them. In I575> j
whole of the royal navy did not exceed 24 3h^> *
the number of merchant-ships belonging to ^Sla‘ul
amounted to no more than 135 vessels above
and 656 between 40 and 100 tons. Ac Queen LI z. -
beth’s death anno 1603, there were not above ou
merchant-ships in England of 400 tons burden each--
The largest of Queen Elizabeth’s ships 0 war was 1000
tons burden, carrying but 340 men, and 4® a
the smallest 600 tons, carrying 150 men and 30 guns.
-Smaller vessels were occasionally hired by her from pr -
"e^morable sea-fight of Lepanto between the
Turks and Christians, anno 1 57 L no vessfels We^ ^ar'
nloved but galleys j and it would appear from the car
Ss of soufe of them, which are still preserved rn the
arsenal at Venice, that even these were not so large or
so well constructed as those of our times ^
cible Armada, as Spanish vanity styled it, once the
terror and admiration of nations, in the pompous and
r mted descriptions of wl.icl. the Span,sh author,
of tTiose times dwelt with so mud, apparent
consisted of .30 ships, near .00 »' "h!C' ''"Q ®
stateliest that had yet been seen on the <» '■ •
lamest of these, however, would be no more than a thml
ritfvLsel in onr navy, and they were so ,11 construe-
ed, that they would neither move eas.ly, sail nea, t ,
wind nor be properly worked ,n tempest.mns wea her.
The whole of the naval force collected by Queen I.lira-
l,eth to oppose this formidable fleet, me ml,nR lured ves¬
sels, tenders, store-ships, &c. amounted to no more than
'‘’Ship building began now to make a considerable pro¬
gress in Britain, an'-
crease of shipping , so that in tne y e / , _
nual charge of the navy was^reported to he 5°^ ' J
and in 1678 the navy consisted ot 83 ships, ot which
rg were of the line. At this time the exports amount¬
ed to ten millions per annum*, and the balance ot tra e
was two millions. In 1689 there were 173 ships, great
and small, in the royal navy, and it has been constan -
^increasing-, so that in 1761 the ships in the navy
amounted to ^2, of which 129 were of the line , and
in the beginning of the year 1795, the total amount
was above 430> . r a
As ships of the common construction are found to
be very defective in many particulars, various methods
have therefore from time to time been proposed to re¬
move some of the bad qualities they possessed. As it
would be an endless task to enumerate the different m-
   ventions for this purpose, a few of them only will now
provements be mentioned. ,.
proposed. In l66, sir William Petty constructed a double ship,
tv, sL or rather a single ship with a double bottom, which was
stops in- found to sail considerably faster than any of the s ups
troduced
by Sir Wil- ^ — — 
Ham Petty, —
?rr0peZl r ThU is frecnientlv repeated mt the authority of Mr Gordon and others
Magazine (a) This q ? T? . . • tu„ mn,t unexceotionahle manner,
with which it had an opportunity of being tued. _ Hei
first voyage was from Dublin to Holyhead *, and m her
return she turned into that narrow harbour against
wind and tide, among rocks and sh.ps with such dex¬
terity as many ancient seamen confessed they had never
seen the like.” This vessel with 70 more was lost m
a dreadful tempest.
Histort
Ltreadiui eempesi. , . j • i-.andagaitt
The salgect was a^n revived by MrGnrd»n;n.lu^^
me SUOieei, was   j : ~ I proposed
Principles of Naval Architecture, printed at Aberdeen by iVlr
anno 1784*, where, having delivered his sentiments on Gordon,
the construction of large masts, he says : “ These ex-P-5*
periments likewise point out to us methods by which
Uvo vessels may be laterally connected together, though
at a considerable distance from each other, in a manner
sufficiently strong, with very little increase of weight 01
expence of materials, and without exposing much sur¬
face to the action or influence of the wind or the waves,
or obstructing their motion in any considerable degree
and consequently without be.ng much opposed by them
on that account under any circumstances*, and it vessels
are judiciously constructed with a view to such a junc¬
tion it would be no easy matter to enumerate all the
advantages that may be obtained by tins means. e
then enumerates the advantages that r ou ® ^ . ndkely
would have over those of the common constructio .^cted
Soon after double ships were actually built by Mi Mil-byMrMy.
1C Anotlerplanwas proposed hy Mr Gordon to mak Sg
a ship sail fast, draw little water, and to keep a good Architec-
1  . • . LC. f 1 ShHU Cl . . .. ..
1
E
jifi
a ship sail iasi, u.avy uvwv.   , — . v, Arckta-
wind! For this purpose, “ the bottom (he says) should
.. .  1 oGioc mi rip tn rise ueroen-
1 hire, p.
wind. I* or tins purpose,   v -
he formed quite flat, and the sides made to rise perpen- 8
dicular from it, without any curvature*, which would
not only render her more steady, as being more opposed
to the water in rolling, but likewise more convenient tor ^*1
stowage, &c. while the simplicity of the form would in oi;derto
contribute greatly to the ease and expedition with obtain «•
which she might he fabricated Though d,"lin^,»ng ocl y’ '
the draught of water is, evterts paribus, undoubted y 9
the most effectual method of augmenting the velocity^o(
with wliicb vessels go before the wind j yet, as it pro-thisp|M,
portionally diminishes their hold of the water, tt »
ders theni extremely liable to be dr.ven to leeward, and R.-
altogether incapable of keeping a good wind, ibis ....
altogether incapaoie 01 - a /— f n’entins
deft ct may, U
* tlie deptli
3
Ships of
the com-
jnon form
found de¬
fective,
4
and iui-
deft ct may, however, oe itmcuicu, r ,ul Ti
fectual manner, by proportionally augmenting the depthof theked,
of keel, or, as so large a keel would be inconvenient on ^
many accounts, proportionally increasmg their nun^r ’ or by *■
as in place of adding a keel eight feet deep to a vessel sl„g
drawing six feet water, to affix to different parts of her the J®*
flat bottom, which would be well adapted for receivmg
them, six different keels of two feet deep each at equal
distances from each other, with proper intervals -
tween *, which will be found equally effectual for pre
venting these pernicious effects. Four such, indeed,
would have answered the purpose as well as the eig
feet keel, were it npt for the superior pressure or resi
ance of the lawer water (a).
W This is frequently repented otr the snthority of Mr Gordmt -d others. ^ Theory
for Attgost experiments nf Sir Isaac Newton show, m the mo, nnex P | Fap;n„ „„ 0f the water on the bow, occasioning
cending throngh the water Virion to an equal surface, b»t
of,gre^te7hortzonmUdhnensions, greater, because it bears a greater proportion to the resistance.
HRory
The! an
fart ' im-
prow. by
the op¬
tion slid
ing els.
Tliei ility
of si: ng
keeli/i 10-
ved ex-
perir at.
And ifu-
ally in
pi'act ;
Upoiij
large
nale
Ihus then it appears, that a vessel drawing eight
feet water only, keels ami all, may be made to keep as
good a wind, or be as little liable to be driven to lee¬
ward, as the sharpest built vessel of the same length
drawing 14, nay 20 or upwards, il a few more keels
are added, at the same time that she would be little
more resisted in moving in the line of the keels than a
vessel drawing six feet water only. These keels, be¬
sides, wobld strengthen the vessel considerably, would
render her more steady, and less liable to be overset,
and thereby enable her to carry more sail 5 and Mr
Gordon then enumerates the several advantages that a
ship of this construction will possess.
This plan has been put into execution by Captain
Schank, with this difference only, that instead of the
keels being fixed as proposed by Mr Gordon, Captain
Schank constructed them so as to slide down to a cer¬
tain depth below the bottom, or to be drawn up within
the ship as occasion might require.
Captain Schank having communicated his plans to
the Navy Board, two vessels were in consequence or¬
dered to be built of 13 tons each, and similar in dimen¬
sions, one on the old construction, and the other fiat-
bottomed, with sliding keels. In 179^ a comparative
trial in presence of the commissioners of the navy was
made on the river Thames, each having the same quan¬
tity of sail; and although the vessel on the old con¬
struction had leeboards, a greater quantity of ballast,
and two Thames pilots aboard, yet Captain Schank’s
vessel with three sliding keels beat the other vessel,
to the astonishment of all present, one half of the whole
distance sailed j and no doubt she would have beat her
much more had she been furnished with a Thames
pilot.
This trial gave so much satisfaction, that a king’s
cutter of 120 tons was immediately ordered to be built
on the same construction, and Captain Schank was re¬
quested to superintend its building. This vessel was
launched at Plymouth in 1791, and named the Trial.
The length of this vessel is 66 feet, breadth 21 feet,
and depth of the hold seven feet: her bottom is quite
flat, and draws only six feet water, with all her guns,
stores, &c. whereas all other vessels of her tonnage on
the old construction draw 14 feet \ so that she can go
with safety into almost any harbour or creek. She has
three sliding keels inclosed in a case or well j they are
each 14 feet in length ; the fore and the after keels are
three feet broad each, and the middle keel is six feet
broad. I he keels are moveable by means of a winch,
and may be let down seven feet below the real keel j
and they work equally well in a storm as in still wa¬
ter. Her hold is divided into several compartments,
all water tight, and so contrived, that should even a
plank or two start at sea in different parts of the vessel,
sue may be navigated with the greatest security to any
place. If she should be driven on shore in a gale of
wind, she will not soon become a wreck, as her keels
will be driven up into their cases, and the ship being
flat-bottomed, will not be easily overset; and being able
to go into such shallow water, the crew may all be
easily saved. By means of her sliding keel she is kept
steady in the greatest gale ; she is quite easy in a great
sea, does not strain in the least, and never takes in wa¬
ter on her deck; and when at anchor, she rides more
upright and even than any other ship can do : she sails
SHIP-BUILDING. 251
very fast either before or upon a wind ; no vessel she History,
has ever been in company with, of equal size, has been
able, upon many trials, to beat her in sailing; and yet
her sails seem too small.
It has also been proposed to construct vessels of other
materials than wood ; and a vessel was built whose bot¬
tom, instead of being plank, was coppec.
Book I. Containing the Method of Delineating the
several Sections of a Ship.
Chap. I. Of the Properties of Ships.
A ship ought to be constructed so as to answer theCeneral
particular purpose for which she is intended. It would principles
be an easy matter to determine the form of a ship in_°f ship-
tended to sail by means of oars; but, when sails are
used, a ship is then acted upon by two elements, tbe
wind and water ; and therefore it is much more diffi¬
cult than is commonly imagined to ascertain the form
of a ship so as to answer in an unfavourable as well as
a favourable wind ; tbe ship at the same time having a
cargo of a certain weight and magnitude.
Every ship ought to sail well, but particularly when Properties
the wind is upon the beam ; for this purpose a consider-t'iat a s*liP
able length in proportion to the breadth is necessary,™!^ to°be a
and the plane of resistance should be the least possible.good sailer.
The main frame should also be placed in a proper situa¬
tion ; but according to tbe experiments of Mr Chap¬
man *, its plane is variable with the velocity of the * T;rrtlte'^
ship: the mean place of the main frame has, however,.^nieulu
been generally estimated to be about one-twelfth of theefc* Vais--
length of the keel before the middle. Without a suf-nw/.r,
ficient degree of stability a ship will not be able to car-P- “i0-
ry a press of sail ; a great breadth in proportion to the
length and low upper-works will augment the stability.
The followi ng particulars being attended to, the above
property will be gained, and the ship will also steer
well. Tbe wing transom should be carried pretty high ;
the fashion-pieces well formed, and not full below the
load water-line : the lower part of the stem to be a por¬
tion of a circle, and to have, a considerable rake : the
sternpost to be nearly perpendicular to the keel ; and all
the upper works kept as low as possible. }
Many ships from construction are liable to make much To make a
leeway. This may in a great measure be avoided byshipkemp
giving the ship a long keel, little breadth, and a consi-a
derable depth in the hold : whence the bow will meet"Uld’
with little resistance in comparison to the side, and
therefore the ship will not fall much to the leeward.
Another very great retardation to the velocity of a and
ship is her pitching. The principal remedy for this is smoothly81
to increase the length o! the keel and floor, to diminish without
the rising afore and abaft, and to construct the hull in pitching-
such a manner that the contents of the fore-bodyhald*
may be duly proportioned to the contents of the after¬
body.
In a ship of war the lower tier of guns ought to he l0
of a sufficient height above the water, otherwise it will 01
be impossible to work the lee-guns when it blows hard.
This property will be obtained by giving her a long guns to be
floor-timber, little rising, a full midship frame, light up-sufficiently
per works, and the wing transom not too high: And^K^ above
in every ship the extreme breadth ought always to bet!ie water'
higher afore and abaft than at midships.
I i 2 \
252
S H I P-B UI L D I N G.
Properties A merchant ship, besides being a fast sailer onght
SPs to carry a considerable cargo m proportmn to xts
 ' length, to sail with httle ballast, and to be naMgated
•with few hands.
Properties , pi
of Ships, ; ft;
2°- with tew lianas. „
Properties j • t k(J ;n a considerable cargo, it
shouldlrve a^eatb.eadA a,;d depth in Foport.oo to
its length, a full bottom, and a long ami Hat door,
to take in aj^ a 0f this construction will neither sail last, not
greatcargo, muchsajU
and If a ship he filled out much towards the hne of float-
stabilitj’.
ation, together with low upper works, she will require
little ballast: and that ship which is stiff from con
tion is much better adapted lor saihiig fast than on
which, in order to carry the same quantity of canvas,
is obliged to be loaded with a much greater weight.
for ^resistance is as the quantity of water to be re-
moved, or nearly as the area of a transverse section of
the immersed part of the body at the midship frame J
and a body that is broad and shallow is much sti e
♦ lrin one the same capacity that is narrow and deep.
“ The advantages (says Mr Gordon) are numerous,
important, and obvious. For it is evident, that by en
larking perhaps doubling the breadth of vessels, and
formfiS 'their bottoms flat and well furn.shed wtth
• • , keels they must, in the first place, become much stea-
Prumpkt k?els’ * . j’f an(l be enabled to carry greatly
of naval dier, 10I iitt c, i any a (Urecti at the same
Architec- more sail, and that in a oeue „(• i’;no. aigmast-
ture, p. I0°- time that they would be in no danger ol hei g ■
. 23 ed or overset, unless the masts were, of a most extrao-
Advantages lodced. Secondly, 1 hey would have little
of a ship ofdinary ueigi md if any was used, could
a Email or no occasion for ballast, and a any v ,
draught of ;ncur ]ess danger from its sinking. * J' ^
wouU be inucll 7-. ^ Siting s mudr t
creasetl tvltfiont^ny diminution^of the heiglit above the
load-watm' line. Fourthly, That they would dnvta e
much less from the intended course, and penetrate the
water much easier in the proper direction ; for doubling
the breadth, without any increase of weight, would c i-
minish th depth or draught of water one half-, and
T\ZX the extent of the directly opposing surface
would be the same as before, yet the vessel m moving
would meet with half the former resistance only-, foi so
great is the difference between the pressure, force, mr
reaction, of the upper and the under water. Fifthly,
That they would by this means be adapted for lying
unsupported in docks and harbours when dry, be ren-
dereiUapable of being navigated in shallow water, and
of being benefited by all the advantages attending that
very important circumstance : and it is particularly to
be observed, that making vessels which may be naviga¬
ted in shallow water, may, in many respects justly be
regarded as a matter of equal importance with increa-
sing the number of harbours, and improving them, as ha-
vbg identically the same effects with regard to naviga¬
tion ; at the same time that the benefits which would
result from such circumstances are obtained by tins
means without, either ex pence, trouble, or inconvenience.
besides it would not only enable vessels to enter many
St bays, and creeks, formerly inaccessible to sh.ps
of burden! but to proceed to such places as are most
landlocked, where they can he or nde most sec r
and with least expence of men and ground tackle. As
ships of war would carry their guns well by being
steady, there could be but little occasion for a high
topside, or much height of hull above water-, and as
little or no ballast would be required, there would be
no necessity, as in other vessels, for increasing their
weight on that account, and thereby pressing them
deeper into the water. These are very important cir¬
cumstances, and would contribute much to improve tlie
sailing of such vessels.” From whence it appears that
there would be united, what has hitherto been deemed irre-
concileable, the greatest possible stability, which is nearly
as the area of a transverse section of the immersed part
of the body at the mid-ship frame: and a body that is bioad
and shallow is much stiffer than one of the same capaci¬
ty that is narrow and deep. A ship of this construction
may take in a considerable cargo in proportion to her
size -, but if deeply loaded will not sail fast, for then the
area of a section of the immersed part of the midship
frame will be very considerable -, and as the sails o
such a ship must necessarily be large, more hands wi
therefore be required. . - -.mandto'be .
The less the breadth of a ship, the fewer hands will i
be necessary to work her j as in that case the quankty o ^ few <
sail will be less, and the anchors also of less weight. VVe^d*
shall gain much (says M. Bouguer) by making the
treme breadth no mie than the fifth or sixth part of the X**-
length, if, at the same time, we diminish the depth pro¬
portionally, and likewise this most surprising circum¬
stance, that by diminishing these two dimensions, or by
increasing the length, a ship may be made to go some¬
times as fast as the wind.
24
nes as rasi as me
In order to obtain the preceding properties, very ep-
posite rules must be followed j and hence it appears to
be Impossible to construct a ship so as to be possessed ol.
them all. The bodv. however, must be so tormed, that same ^
jl
sibie to coiibiiu^L w ^ — £ t liiiesiniK
The body, however, must be so formed, that same
as many of these properties may he retained as possible,
always observing to give the preference to those which
are most required. If it is known what particular trade
the ship is to be employed in, those qualities are then
principally to be adhered to which are most essentially
necessary for that employment. ,. mi
It may easily be demonstrated that small ships will Small
not have the same advantages as large ones of a
form, when employed in the same trade: for a large
ship will not only sail faster than a small one of a si mi-
lar form, but will also require fewer hands to work her.
Hence, in order that a small ship may possess the same
advantages as a large one, the corresponding dimensions
will not be proportional to each other. The reader ui
see in Chapman’s Architectura NavahsMercatorm am¬
ple tables of the several dimensions of ships, of ditterent
classes and sizes, deduced from theory combined with
experiment. Tables of the dimensions of the princi¬
pal ships of the British navy, and of other ships, are
contained in the Ship-builder’s Kepository, and in Mur¬
ray’s Treatise on Ship-building.
Chap. II. Of the different Plans of a Ship.
When it is proposed to build a ship, the proper
tional size of every part of her is to be laid down ’, rom
whence the form and dimensions of the timbeis, an o
every particular piece of wood that enters into t ie con
struction, is to be found. As a ship has length, brea »
and depth, three different plans at least are neceSoar^jkjt
4
a- a w
S H I P-B U
Di^ent exhibit the form of the several parts of a ship : these are
I'ii • of a usually denominated the sheer plan, the half breadth
IfP* and body plans.
. The sheer plan or draught, otherwise called the plan
She tf elevation, is that section of the ship which is made
liraait, or by a vertical plane passing through the keel. Upon
elevion. tj)j9 p]an are laid down the length of the keel; the
height and rake of the stem and sternpost ; the situa¬
tion and height of the midship and other frames ; the
place of the masts and channels ; the projection of the
head and quarter gallery, and their appendages ; and
in a ship of war the position and dimensions of the gun-
ports. Several imaginary lines, namely, the upper and
lower height of breadth lines, water lines, &c. are also
drawn in this plane.
The half breadth, or floor plan, or, as it is frequently
called the horizontal plane, contains the several half-
. breadths of every frame of timbers at different heights 5
rihoi ribbands, water lines, &c. are also described on this
Hal:!,
!>rea .
plan x
plane.
tion.
plan
pn
Bod Jan, The body plan, or plane of projection, is a section of
or pec- the ship at the midship frame or broadest place, perpen¬
dicular to the two former. The several breadths, and
the particular form of every frame of timbers, are de¬
scribed on this plane. As the two sides of a ship are
similar to each other, it is therefore unnecessary to lay
down both ; hence the frames contained between the
main frame and the stem are described on one side of
the middle line, commonly on the right hand side, and
the after frames are described on the other side of thatline.
Several lines are described on these planes, in order
Th«'
iuies
down
these
ions
^ the more readily to assist in the formation of the tim-
:aa4bers; the principal of which are the following:
The top-timber line, is a curve limiting the height of
the ship at each timber.
The top-timber half-breadth line, is a section of the
ship at the height of the top-timber line, perpendicular
to the plane of elevation.
The height of breadth lines, are two lines named the
upper, and lower heights of breadth. These lines are
described on the plane of elevation to determine the
height of the broadest part of the ship at each timber j
and being described in the body plan, limit the height
and breadth of each frame at its broadest part.
Main half breadth, is a section of the ship at the
broadest part, perpendicular to the sheer plan, and re¬
presents the greatest breadth at the outside of every
timber. J
Water-lines, are lines supposed to be described on the
bottom of a ship when afloat by the surface of water j
and the uppermost of these lines, or that described by
the water on the ship’s bottom when sufficiently load-
1 ? l9> called the load water line. According as the
ship is lightened, she will rise higher out of the water}
and hence new water lines will be formed. If she be
igitened in such a manner that the keel may preserve
the same inclination to the surface of the water, these
lines will be parallel to each other ; and if they are pa¬
rallel to the keel, they will be represented by straight
ines parallel to each other in the body plan ; otherwise
y curves. . In the half breadth plan, these lines are
curves limiting the half breadth of the ship at the height
« the corresponding lines in the sheer plan. In or¬
der to distinguish these lines, they are usually drawn in
I L D I N G. 253
Ribband lines, are curves on a ship’s bottom by the Different
intersection of a plane inclined to the plane of eleva- Plans of a?
tion ; and are denominated diagonal or horizontal ac- sh'P-
cording as they are measured upon the diagonal, or in “Y-—'
a direction perpendicular to the plane of elevation.
Both these answer to the same curve on the ship’s bot¬
tom, but give very different curves when described on
the half breadth plan.
Frames, are circular pieces of timber bolted toge-FranL^
ther, and raised upon the keel at certain distances, andcompo^d
to which the planks are fastened. A frame is composed °.f a
of one floor-timber, two or three futtocks, and a top-!:imbe£
timber on each side : which being united together, form a^idTop’
a circular inclosure, and that which incloses the greatest timber,
space is called the midship or main frame. The arms
of the floor-timber of this frame, form a very obtuse an¬
gle } but in the other frames this angle decreases with
the distance of the frame from midships. Those floor-
timbers which form very acute angles are called crutches.
The length of the midship floor-timber is in general
about half the length of the main frame. 32
A frame of timbers is commonly formed by arches ofSweeP« of
circles called sweeps. There are generally five sweeps: t^e severa*
1st, The floor sweep; which is limited by a line in theS2^.°f a
body plan perpendicular to the plane of elevation, a
little above the keel } and the height of this line above
the keel at the midship frame is called the dead rising.
The upper part of this arch forms the head of the floor
timber. 2d, The lower breadth sweep ; the centre of
which is in the line representing the lower height of
breadth. 3d, The.reconciling sweep. This sweep joins
the two former, without intersecting either; and makes
a fair curve from tlm lower height of breadth to the
rising line. If a straight line is drawn from the upper
edge of the keel to touch the back of the floor sweep,
the form of the midship frame below the lower height
of bieadth will be obtained. 4th, The upper breadth
sweep; the centre of which is in the line representing
the upper height of breadth of the timber. This sweep
described upwards forms the lower part of the top tim¬
ber. 5th, The top-timber sweep is that which forms the
hollow of the top-timber. This hollow is, however, very
often formed by a mould, so placed as to touch the up¬
per breadth sweep, and pass through the point limiting
the half breadth of the top-timber.
The main frame, or as it is usually called dead-flat, is Nan^ of
denoted by the character 0. The timbers before dead-frames,
flat are marked A, B, C, &c. in order; and those abaft
dead-flat by the figures 1, 2, 3, &c. The timbers ad¬
jacent to dead-flat, and ol the same dimensions nearly,
are distinguished by the characters (A), (B), &c. and
C1)) (2)j &c* That part ol the ship abaft the main
frame is called the after body; and that before it the
fore body.
All timbers are perpendicular to the half breadth
plan. Those timbers whose planes are perpendicular
to the sheer plan, are called square timbers ; and those
whose planes are inclined to it are called canted timbers.
The rising line, is a curve drawn in the sheer plan, at
the heights of the centres of the floor sweeps in the
body plan. As, however, this line, if drawn in this
manner, would extend beyond the upper line of the
figure, it is therefore usually so drawn that its lower part
may touch the upper edge of the keel. This is per¬
formed by taking the heights of each of the centres in
the
s H I P-B U
34
Principal
pieces that
compose a
ship.
Plate
cccclxxxiv
fig. i.
the body plan, from the height of the centre of the
sweep of dead-flat, and setting them off on the con
spending timbers in the sheer plan from the upper ecge
°f flcdfbreadth of the rising, is a curve in the floor plan,
which limits the distances of the centres ot the floor
sweeps from the middle line of the body plan.
The rising of the floor, is a curve drawn in the sheet
plan at the height of the ends of the floor timbers. It
is limited at the main frame or dead flat by the dear
rising, and in flat ships is nearly parallel to the keel for
some timbers afore and abaft the midship frame^ fox
which reason these timbers are called/afc. but m sharp
ships it rises gradually from the main frame, and e
on the stem and post. , c
Cutting-clown line, is a curve drawn on the plane o
elevation? It limits the depth of every floor timber at
the middle line, and also the height of the uppei part of
the dead wood afore and abaft. aistance
Timber and room, or room and space, is the distance
between the moulding edges of two timbers, 'vhich niust
always contain the breadth ot two timbers and an inter
w i of about two or three inches between them In
forming the timbers, one mould serves tor two,tlie f0.1^
side of the one being supposed to unite with the aftsid
of the other, and so make only one line, which
ed the joint of the timbers. .
I„ oiler to illustrate the above, arul to explato more
particularly the principal pieces that co"-pose a slnp rt
will be necessary to give a description ot the •
pieces are for the most part represented according to
0It Kepresents^the^pieces^oi" the bee, to he securely
"t, TTStnpaotC"«e„a„te. into the keel, and
C0Tm hack’ste pSt6, M is also tenanted into
the keel, and securely bolted to the pest i ‘l>e mten to
of it is to give sufficient breadth to the pert, which, sd
dom can be got broad enough in one piec .
false post, which is laved (b) to the lore part of the
Stec"PThe stem, in two pieces, to be scarfed together.
The stem is joined to the fore foot, which makes a part
°f nfl-he apron, in two pieces, to be scarfed together
and fayed on the inside of the stem to support the scar
thereofand therefore the scarf ot the apron must be at
some distance from that of the stem.
I, The stemson, in two pieces, to suppoit the sc. i
of the apron. . , , , T. i
D, The beams which support the decks ; and 1 th
knees by which the beams are fastened to the sides o
"’'k The wing transom : it is fayed across the stern-
post,’ and bolted to the head of it, and ... extrem.ttes
are fastened to the fashion pieces. I„ Is the deck tiao-
“om parallel to the wing transom. M N, 1 wo of the
lower transoms : these are fastened to the sternpost and
fashion pieces in the same manner as the wing transom
Q, The knee which fastens the transom to the ship s
I L D 1 N G.
side. And, O, The fashion piece, of which there is Different
one on each side. The keel of the fashion piece is con- Plans oft
nected with the dead-wood, and the head is fastened to —^
8° Breast-hooks j these are fayed in the inside to
the stem, and to the bow on each side o it, to which
they are fastened with proper bolts. 1 here aie gene-
i-allv four or five in the hold, in the form of that marked
R, Ld one in the form of that marked S, into which the
lower deck planks are rabbeted : There is also one im¬
mediately under the hause holes, and another under ic
Vim rudder, which is joined to the sternpost by
the rudder irons, upon which it turns r^nd in e
gooefings, fastened to the sternpost for tliat PurP?be-
TheSre is a mortise cut in the head of the rudder, into
which along bar in atted called the tiller, and by winch
the rudder is turned. , ., . i.
U A floor timber: it is laid across the keel, to
which it is fastened by a bolt through the middle
V V V V The lower, the second, third, and fourth
futlocks ’ W, W, The top timbers. These represent
the length and scarf of the several timbers in the mid-
The* piece* which compose the kelson. They
are scarfed together in the same manner as the keel, a
placed over the middle of the floor timbers, being scored
ibout an inch and a half down upon each side of them,
“X^Trrtllpie-oithe knee of the head i the
represented by0Z^And^rth^^tem^ l^alcneTtalled a
standard, in the form of that marked ©.
« The cathead of which there is one on each d
of the how, projecting so far as to keep t te anc tor c
°f rTllKTtoVhlcrdie^c-ahle Is fastened when the
Sli ^ side Counter timbers, which terminate the ship
^^^dSd^od, one afore and the
"^"is^t^e^resentationof^shipln..,^
med and ready for the planking , m 'v 11 ’ |
keel ; B, the sternpost •, C, the stem •, K, h, M,
, ’ c . F F F F F, I, the ribbands,
transoms j
Chap. III. Containing Preliminary Problems, &c.
The general dimensions of a ship are the length,
breadth, and depth. . , -n ’uest answerpropef-
To ascertain those dimensions  nf consi-tionaWi
nensions tuav uni • -Aidi.
j i . ., rtvoblem of consi-tio>'all“
the intended purpose is, no doubt, a ] . vn«>iellS1<)"
tween _4c length, breadth -td depth, ^^wmc ^
tween the length, breadth, and cepui, h 'teii
dimensions may be settled ; yet, iy com & ap.t'titorj
and practice, the proportional dimensions may heap
proximated to pretty nearly.
tombl3<
. witu f
As^ej
(b) To fay, is to joii two pieces
5
of timber close together.
4
Pifnii-
Kr
Prut mi
and so
fron: lie
circls
S H I P-B U
As ships are constructed for a variety of different
purposes, their principal dimensions must therefore be
altered accordingly, in order to adapt them as nearly as
possible to the proposed intention ; but since there is no
fixed standard whereby to regulate these dimensions, the
methods therefore introduced are numerous, and in a
great measure depend upon custom and fancy.
With regard, however, to the proportional dimen¬
sions, they perhaps may be inferred from the circle.
Thus, if the extreme breadth be made equal to the dia¬
meter, the length at the load water line, or the distance
between the rabbets of the stem and post at that place,
may be made equal to the circumference of the same
circle 5 and the depth of the hold equal to the radius,
the upper works being continued upwards according to
circumstances. A ship formed from these dimensions,
with a bottom more or less full according as may be
judged necessary, will no doubt answer the proposed in¬
tention. Nevertheless, one or other of these dimensions
may he varied in order to gain some essential property,
which the trade that the vessel is intended for may re¬
quire.
*Pi ncal The following hints are given by Mr Hutchinson *
Sem towards fixing rules for the best construction of ships
f'P'^ bottoms. P
1. “ I would recommend (says he), to prevent ships
t Sci ,00k bottoms from hogging f upwards amidship, to have the
ri.cli 2. fore and after part of their keels deep enough, that the
upper part may he made to admit a rabbet for the gar-
board streak, that the main body and bearing part of
the ships bottoms may be made to form an arch down¬
wards in their length, suppose with the same sheer as
their bends, at the rate of about 2 inclies for every 20
feet of the extreme length of the keel towards the mid¬
ship or main frame, which may be reckoned the crown
ot the arch ; and the lower part of the keel to be made
straight, but laid upon blocks so that it may form a re¬
gular convex curve downwards at the rate of an inch
for every 30 feet of the extreme length of the keel, the
lowest part exactly under the main frame : which curve,
I reckon, is only a sufficient allowance for the keel to*
become straight below, after they are launched afloat,
'by the pressure of the water upward against their floors
amidship, which causes their tendency to hog. And
certainly a straight keel is a great advantage in sailing,
as well as to support them when laid upon level ground
or on straight blocks in a repairing dock, without taking
damage. G
2. As square-sterned ships, from experience, are
tound to answer all trades and purposes better than
round or pink-sterned ships, I would recommend the
tore part of the siernpost, on account of drawing the
water lines in the draught, only to have a few inches
rake, that the after part may stand quite upright per-
pendicular to the keel: and lor the rake of the stem I
wou d propose the rabbet for the budding ends for the
entrance, and bows from the keel upwards, to form the
same curve as the water line from the stem at the har-
P'ti towards the main breadth, and the bows at the har-
P>n to be formed by a sweep of a circle of half the three-
uuitis 0 the main breadth; and the main transom to
be three-fourths of the main breadth ; and the buttocks,
at the loan or saibng mark aft, to be formed, in the same
manner as the bows at the barpin, with a sweep of a
of half the three-fourths of the main breadth, to
I L D I N G.
extend just as far from the stem and sternpost as to ad¬
mit a regular convex curve to the main frame, and from
these down to the keel to form regular convex water-
lines, without any of those unnatural, hollow, concave
ones, either in the entrance or run ; which rules, in my
opinion, will agree with the main body of the ship,
whether she is designed to be built full for burden or
sharp below for sailing.
3. “ This rule for raking the stem will admit all the
water lines in the ship’s entrance to form convex curves
all the way from the stem to the midship or main frame,
which answers much better for sailing as well as mak¬
ing a ship more easy and lively in bad weather. And
the hows should flange off, rounding in a circular form
from the bends up to the gunwale, in order to meet the
main breadth the sooner, with a sweep of half the main
breadth at the gunwale amidships; which will not only
prevent them greatly from being plunged under water
in bad weather, but spread the standing fore-rigging the
more, to support these material masts and sails forward
to much greater advantage than in those over sharp
bowed ships, as has been mentioned. And as the sail¬
ing trim ot ships in general is more or less by the stern,
this makes the water lines ot the entrance in proportion
the sharper to divide the particles of water the easier,
so that the ship may press through it with the least re¬
sistance.
4- The run ought to he formed shorter or longer,
fuller or sharper, in proportion to the entrance and main
body, as the ship is designed for burden or sailing fast.
The convex curves of the water lines should lessen gra¬
dually from the load or sailing mark aft, as has been
mentioned, downwards, till a fair straight taper is form¬
ed from the after part of the floor to the sternpost be¬
low, without any concavity in the water lines ; which
wall not only add buoyancy and burden to the after¬
body and run of the ship, but, in my opinion, will help
both her sailing and steering motions ; for the pressure
oi tiie water, as it closes and rises upon it to come to its
1-evel again, and fill up that hollow which is made by
the fore and main body being pressed forward with sail,
will impinge, and act with more power to help the ship
forward in her progressive motion, than upon those un*
n at oral concave runs, which have so much more flat
dead wood, that must, in proportion, be a hinderance
to the stern being turned so easily by the power of the
helm to steer the ship to the greatest advantage.”
Many and various are the methods which are employ¬
ed to describe the several parts of a ship. In the follow¬
ing problems, however, those methods only are given
which appear to be most easily applied to practice^ and
which, at the same time, will answer any proposed pur¬
pose. 1
Problem I. To describe in the plane of elevation the
sheer or curvature of the top timbers
.Let QR (fig. 3.) he the length of the ship between
the wing transom and the rabbet of the stem. Then cccdxxxr.
since it is generally agreed, especially by the French % <•
constructors, that the broadest part of the ship ought ^
to be about one-twelfth of the length before the mam ^ 1,lace
frame or dca.l flat; therefore make B© equal five-mai/frame
twelfths ot QR, and ® will, he the station of the main about one-
frame ; space the other frames oq the keel, and from t'velfl11 be-
these points let perpendiculars he drawn ttrrthe keel l0f? t!ie
Let ®P be the height of the ship at the main frame, th'eshi^
YE
Plate
256
SHIP-BUILDING.
Preiimi-
nary
Problems.
39
Method of
describing
the top-
timber line.
40
The stem,
* ig- 3*
4^
and post.
Fig- 3-
4/2
Main half
breadth
line.
Fig- 4*
VF the height at the aftermost frame, and EK the
height at the stem. Through 1> <1™'EPI-paraUehto
the keel; describe the quadrants 1 OI, the r ,
j'u, Tetg P© make PH equaltoEF and POegual
KL and draw the parallels GH,OM: Divide GI si¬
milar to ©C, and OM similar to ©11. Througl^these
points of division draw lines perpendicular to DL, a
the several portions of these perpendiculars containe
between EL and the arch will be the risings of the top-
timber line above EL. A curve drawn threugh these
points will form the top-timber line.
1 This line is more easily drawn by means of a curved
or bent ruler, so placed that it may touch the three
points F, P, and K.
Pros. II. To describe the stem. ,
Let K the upper part of the stem, through
which draw KS parallel to the keel aml th^stem
KR : Through the termination of the wales on the stem
kraw TW parallel to QR. Then from the centre S,
with the distance SK, describe an arch: Take an ex¬
tent eoual to the nearest distance between the parallel
WT, QRand find the point W, such that one point
of the compass being placed there the otber pomt wil^
just touch the nearest part of the above urch , and ^om
this point as a centre describe an arch until it meets the
keel, and! the stem will he formed.
Pros. III. To describe the sternpost.
o , -a-QV ffip- o/) for the rake of the post: draw
VX‘pefpSout .'o «l,e keei, and equal to tie height
of limbing transom, join QX, and ,t w.U represent the
aft side of the post. _ . 1C, 1fi i-
Prob. IV. To describe the half breadth Une.
Tret MN ffig* 4-) be tlie siven
equal to five-twelfths of MN *, draw the line ©P per¬
pendicular to MN, and equal to the f extreme
rif breadth. Let 1ME be the round aft ol the stern
or n-irm transom ; make EO perpendienlar to MN and
the given half breadth at the stern, which is
generally between two-thirds and three-fourths ol the
® • i if breadth; and describe the arch MO, the
Centre of which is in the middle line. Space the frames
(A), A, B, &c. and (i), i, ^ &c. From the centre
wbli the radius ©P, describe the quadrant PRS ,
Scribe the qu?dra’nt PCX Through the pmnt
O draw ORU parallel to MN ; divide the straight line
RIT similar to M©; and through these points of di-
Sin d aw HntsS^ndicnlar to MN, aud mee.mg
[he arch Transfer these lines to the correspondent
frames each to each, and a curve drawn through the
extremities will represent that part of the side contain¬
ed between the main frame and the stern. Again,
, u Q the extremity of the foremost frame, draw
QV parallel to MN. Or make PV a fourth or third
part of PU, according as it is intended to make the ship
more or less full towards the bow. Divide \ C similar
through these points draw lines perpendi-
CU1® to MN, and terminating in the quadrantal arch .
Transfer these lines to the corresponding timbers m the
fore uart, and a curve drawn through the extreme points
will limit that part of the ship’s side contained between
P andQ. Continue the curve to fhe next Lmber at
X Prom Q draw QZ perpendicular to QX, make
the angle ZNQ equal to ZQN, and the point Z will
be the ^centre of the arch forming the bow. Remark,
if it is proposed that the breadth of the ship ai the fi ames p^j . ^
adiacent to the main frame shall he equal to the breadth nary „
at the main frame; in this case, the centres of the qua- Probte ^
, . i i „.:n nnints nr intersection ot '
43
at the mam irame ; in uiia i ,
drantal arches will he at the points of intersection of
these frames with the line MN ; namely, at (A) and
f O. Also, if the height of the ship at the frames (A)
and (i) is to be the same as at dead flat, the quadrantal
arches in tig. 3- are to be described from the points of
intersection of these frames with the line jlL.
These rules, it is evident, are variable at pleasure;
and any person acquainted with the first principles of
mathematics may apply calculation to find the radii ot
the several sweeps. . j i a P H a
Prob. V. To describe the main frame or dead Hat. ofthtmi (<
This frame is that which contains the greatest space, ship f»
ami the particular form of each of the other frames de¬
pends very much on it. If the ship is intended to carry
a o-reat burden in proportion to her principal dimensions,
this frame is made very full ; but if she is intended to
sail fast, it is usually made sharp. Hence arises diver¬
sity of opinions respecting its form ; each constructor
using that which to him appears preferable. In order
to save repetition, it is judged proper to exp am cer¬
tain operations which necessanly enter into all the dif¬
ferent methods of constructing this frame. , i r 44,
In the plane of the upper side of the keel produced,G™
,1 1- AT>/-c.„ - V on.ial m ihp nronosed breadthP17** 11
In the plane oi uie uppei aiu* ...v, — r- ' t ,
draw the Hue AB (Eg. 5-) equal to the proposed breadth PJ.
p 1 • . ATi In C and draw AD. LE, and..
draw tne line ^ug. vj riTr
of the ship; bisect AB in C, and draw AD, CE, and.^
BE, perpendicular to AB. Then, since the two sides ^
of a ship are similar, it is therefore thought sufficient
to describe the half of each frame between the mam
frame and the stern on one side of the middle line kL,
and the half of each of those before the mam frame on
the other side of it. The first half is called theq/kr-
body, and the other the fore-body. Ihe after-body i
commonly described on the left side of the middle line
and the fore-body on the right side of it: hence the line
AD is called the side line of the a/ter body, and B
the side line of the fore body. Make AD and Bi each
equal to the height of the ship at the main frame.
Make AG, BG, and AH, BH, equal to the lower and
upper heights of breadth respectively, taken from the
sheer plan. Let II be the load water line, or me of
floatation when the ship is loaded, and KK the hem
of the rising line of the floor at this frame. Make LIN,
CO, each equal to half the length of the floor timber,
and N, O, will be the heads of the floor timber, though
which draw perpendiculars to AB. Make C w,L>
each equal to half the thickness of the sternpost, and
C w, E 77, equal to half the thickness of the stern, and
join 777 777, 7777. v .]
Method I. Ofdescnbmgamatnfra^Trom W
centre a (fig. 50, ^ the hreadth line, de cribe
the lower breadth sweep Ge ; makeN b equa
proposed radius of the floor sweep, and from the cen
Lescribe the floor sweep N/. Let the radius « ‘he
reconciling sweep be Ag, equal to about 10 , to
‘ " then make A h equal to N b, and 2 m q
Now from the centre o, with an extent eqi
g 777, describe an arch, and from the centre > ;n
extent g h, describe an arch intersecting the former
c, which will be the centre of the reconciling sweep /
Join N 7?7 by an inverted curve, the centre 0 w 1
be in the line b N produced downwards; or it m
AC
G a.
g
2
S H 1 P - B U
rig.
PI;
%
joined by two curves, or by a straight line if there is
little rising j and hence the lower part of the main frame
will be described.
In order to form the top timber, make F k equal to
such part of the half breadth, agreeable to the proposed
round of the side, as one-seventh ; join H k, and make
k i equal to about two-thirds of H £ ; make the angle
H equal to f H /; and from the centre / at the dis¬
tance / H describe the arch H i; and from the centre o,
the intersection ol / z‘, and k F produced, describe the
arch ik, and the top timber will be formed.
II. To describe a main frame of an intermediate ca¬
pacity, that is, neither too flat nor toosharp.—Divide the
line AX (fig. 6.), which limits the head of the door
timber, into three equal parts; and make a b equal to
one of them. Divide the line d B, the perpendicular
distance between the load water line and the plane of
the upper side of the keel, into seven equal parts $ and
set oft one of these parts from d to c, and from c to m.
Let GH be the lower deck, join G m, and produce it
to q. Draw the sti’aight line V a, bisect it in n, and
from the points n, a, describe arches with the radius G q
intersecting each other in P, which will be the centre
of the arch n a. The centre of the arch V n is found by
describing arches downwards with the same radius.
With an extent equal to once and a half of B e, de¬
scribe arches from the points b, e, intersecting each other
in A, and from this point as a centre describe the arch
e b ; make a l equal to d m, and join A m, A /. Then,
in order to reconcile two arches so as to make a fair
curve, the centres of these arches and of the points of
contact must be in the same straight line. Hence the
point k will be the centre of the arch d m, and o the
centre of the arch a L 'I he arch / m is described from
the centre A.
To form the top timber, set back the tenth part of
the half breadth from K to S upon the line of the se¬
cond deck j then with an extent equal to two-thirds of
the whole breadth describe an arch through the points
S and H, the upper height of breadth. Again, make
MI equal to the fifth part of the half breadth ; describe
an arch of a circle through the points S and T, taking
the diagonal GB for the radius. As this arch is in¬
verted in respect of the arch d S, the centre Will be
Without the figure. Hence one-half of the main frame
is formed, and the other halt is described by similar ope¬
rations.
Remark. This frame may be made more or less full
by altering the several radii.
HI. To describe a main frame of a circular form 
Let the several lines be drawn as‘before : Then make
! Vl- U a (fig- 7-) equal to the half breadth G a, and from
the centre a, with the radius G o, describe the arch
/i •'^et ^ 1)6 t^ie kead of the floor-timber, and
( x . rising. Assume the point in the arch, ac¬
cording to the proposed round of the second futtock, and
describe the arch df; the centre of which may be found
as in the former method : from the centre a, with the
distance a d describe the arch dcO-, make r/c equal to
one-third of d O, and the angle dc h equal to e dh, and
™ thi CentrG h describe the arch d c. The inverted
"tv” ,maJr 136 described as before.
I v . To describe a very full main frame.—Let the
vertical and horizontal lines he drawn as before : let b,
and b x the rIsInS- Divide G c
'OL. XLX. Part I. a.
?57
Prelimi-
I L D 1 tsr G.
into two equal parts in the point d, and upon c d de¬
scribe the square d b ac, in which inscribe the quadrant *
d e 0% Divide the line b d into any number of equal parts D-oblems
in the points O, N, M, L, and draw the lines L m. Me,'
N n, O b, perpendicular to db. Divide the line G C,
the depth of the hold, the rising being deducted, into
the same number of equal parts in the points E, F, I, K,
and make the lines E /?, F gb I r, K a-, in the frame,
equal to the lines O £, N «, M e, Lm, in the square,
each to each respectively ; and through the points G, p,
q, r, s, b, describe a curve. The remaining part of the
frame may be described by the preceding methods.
V. To describe the main frame of a ship intended to
be sctf/er.—The principal lines being drawn as be¬
fore, let the length of the floor timber be equal to half
the breadth of the ship, and the rising one-fifth or one-
sixth of the whole length of the flooi’-timber, which lay
oft from x to E, fig. p. Through the point E draw the Fig. 9.
line Tar perpendicular to GC, and 7E perpendicular to
AG. Join I d, which bisect in B, and draw BE per¬
pendicular thereto j and meeting CG produced in F,
from the centre F, at the distance El’, describe the se¬
micircle I d D. Divide GT into any number of parts,
VW, &c. and bisect the intervals DV, DW, &c. in
the points X, Z, &c.; then, from the centre X, with
the extent XV, describe the semicircle D A V, intersec¬
ting AG in b. Let VP he drawn perpendicular to
GT, and b P perpendicular to AG, and the point of in¬
tersection P will be one point through which the curve
is to pass. In like manner proceed for the others, and
a curve drawn through all the points of intersection will
be part of the curve of the main frame. The remain¬
ing part of the curve from E to Y will be composed of
two arches, the one to reconcile with the former part of
the curve at E, and the other to pass through the point
Y, the ceittre of which may be found by any of the pre¬
ceding methods. In order to find the centre of that
which joins with the curve at E, make Tit equal to the
half of GD, and join Elt, in which a proper centre for
this arch may be easily found.
The portion G £ E of the curve is a parabola, whose
vertex is G and parameter GD.
I or GD : G 6 :: G 5 : GV by construction.
Hence DG X GV=G b*, which is the equation for
a parabola.
VL To describe a main frame of a middling capaci¬
ty.—Let the length of the floor-timber be equal to one-
half of the breadth of the ship. Make O d, fig. 10. p;,,. ro
equal to one-fourth of the length of the floor-timber, ami ''
draw the perpendicular d c equal to the rising, and di¬
vide it into two equal parts in the point e. Describe
an arch through e, and the extremity a of the floor-tim¬
ber, the radius being equal to the half breadth, or more
or less according to the proposed round of the floor-head.
Then with the radius O /, half the length of the floor-
timber, describe the arch e Y.
Draw / m perpendicular to OA : bisect A n in p, and
draw the perpendicular p q. From the middle of A p
draw the perpendicular r s, and from the middle of A r
draw the perpendicular t u. Make n -z, p g, each equal
to / « : make the distancesp y, r b, each equal to a g ;
r F, £ E, each equal to a 6 ; and t ,v equal ton E. Then
a curve drawn through the points a, z, y, F, .v, T, will
form the under part of the midship frame.
We shall finish these methods of describing the main
K k frame
S H I P-B U I L D I N G.
* Architec
tare Na-
vale, p. 22.
Traits de
JVavire de
Ho uglier,
p 601.
Tig. i X.
rk. 12.
Plnte
cccclxxxvii
Jig. 14.
frame of a ship with the following remark from ivi. v lal
da Clairbois *. “ It seems (says he) that they have af¬
fected to avoid straight lines In naval architecture ; yet,
geometrically speaking, it appears that a main trame
formed of straight lines will have both the advantage
and simplicity over others.” To illustrate this, draw
the straight line MN (fig. 9.) in such a manner that
the mixtilineal space M a l may be equal to the mix-
tilineal space DNY. Hence the capaci ty of the nm. n
frame formed by the straight lines MN, IS\ "'ill be
equal to that of the frame formed by the curve M «
DY; and the frame formed by the straight lines will
for the most part be always more susceptible of receiving
a bow that will easily divide the fluid. It is also evi¬
dent, that the cargo or ballast, being lower in the frame
formed of straight lines than in the other, it will there¬
fore be more advantageously placed, and will enable the
ship to carry more sail (c) •, so that having a bow equal¬
ly well or better formed, she will sail faster.
ProB. VI. To describe a stern having a square tuck.
Let AB ffig. 11.) be the middle line of the post,
and let CD be drawn parallel thereto at a distance equal
to half the thickness of the post. Make CE equal to
the heiyjit of the lower part of the fashion-piece aboxe
the keel : make CT equal to the height of t.'.e extre¬
mity G of the transom above the ■plane ot the keel pro¬
duced and CII equal to the height of the transom on
the post, HT being equal to above one-ninth or one-
tenth of GT, and describe the arch GH, the centre of
which will he in BA produced: make Ek equal to
five twelfths of ET : through K draw kL perpendicu¬
lar to CD, and equal to EK 5 and with an extent equal
to EL describe the arch EL. Make GI equal to the
half of ET, and from the centre 1 describe the arch
GM, and draw the reconciling curve ML.—L.et the
curve of the fashion-piece be produced upwards to the
point representing the upper height of breadth as at O.
Make ON equal to the height ol the top timber, and
BN equal to the half breadth at that place, and join
ON. Through. N and the upper part of the counter,
let arches be described parallel to GH. The taflferel,
windows, and remaining part of the stern, may be finish¬
ed agreeable to the fancy of the artist.
In fig. 12. the projection of the stern on the plane ot
elevation is laid down, the method of doing which is
obvious from inspection. . , » . .
If the transom is to round aft, then since the fashion-
pieces are always sided straight, their planes will inter¬
sect the sheer and floor planes in a straight line. Let
G rr (fm. 14.) be the intersection of the plane oi the ta-
shion-piece with the floor plane. From the pointg draw
<r W perpendicular tog'M: make ?/& equal to the height
of the tuck, and W /c being joined will be the intersec¬
tion of the plane of the fashion-piece with the sheer
plane Let the water lines in the sheer plane produced
meet die line k W in the points a, s, /i, and draw the per¬
pendiculars aa, ss, hh. From the points a, s, h (fig. 14).
draw lines parallel to Gg to intersect each correspond¬
ing; water line in the floor plane in the points 3, 2, 1.
From the points G, 3, 2, L in the floor-plane oraw prflint *
lines perpendicular togM, intersecting the water lines nary _
(fig. 13.) in the points G, 3, 2, I 5 and through these ^
points describe the curve Q 3 2 1 fc: and MG 3 2, ^
1 k will le tlie projection of the plane o. the fashion-
piece on the sheer plane. Through the points G, 3, 2,
l (fig. 13.) draw the lines GF, 3 A, 2 B, 1 H, per- '?• 3>
pendicular to W k ; and make the lines M I, a A, s S,
h H, equal to the lines g G, a 3, s 2, h 1 (fig- M-) re*
spectively, and WFASH k will be the true form of the
plane of'the aft side of the fashion-piece. M hen it is
in its proper position, the line ME will he in the same
plane with the sheer line 5 the line a A in the same
plane with the Water line a 3 J the line s S in same
plane with the water line .v 2 •, and the line h H in the
same plane with the water line h 1. If lines be drawn
from the several points of intersection of the water lines
with the rabbet of the port (fig. I3-). perpendicular to
„ M, and curved lines being drawn from these points to
2 2 1 (fig. 14.) respectively, will give the form pjg.
and dimensions of the tuck at the several water lines.
Pros. YII. To bevel the fashion piece of a square
tuck by water-lines.
As the fashion-piece both rakes and cants the planes
of the water-lines will therefore intersect it higher on
the aft than on the fore-side 5 but before the heights on
the fore-side can he-found, the breadth of the timber
must be determined ; which let be b » (fig. 15 )* >
as it cants, the breadth in the direction ot the water¬
line will exceed the true breadth. In order to find the
true breadth, form the aft-side of the fashion-piece as di-
*Y(fig! I3P.) he the aft side of the rabbet on the Fig. 13 j
outside of the post, WM the common section of the p an |
of the fashion-piece and the sheer-plan. Before this last
line can be determined, the several water-fines J, 2, 3,
4 and 5, must be drawn parallel to the keel, which may
represent so many transoms.-Let these stater- mes be
formed and ended at the aft-side ot the rabbet, as
fig. 14. where the rounds aft of the several transoms are
described, limiting the carves of the water-hnes. Now
the line WM must rake so as to leave room for halt the
thickness of the post, at the tack : in oraer to which,
nroduce AY g- to r ; make rg half ihe thickness of tie
post*, through r draw a line parallel to gM to mtemc^
l G in b : then with the radius r 6, fvom .r the pom
the tuck as a centre, describe an arch, and draw the hue
WM just to touch the back of that arch. ,
The line WM being drawn, let any point it be
assumed at pleasure : from k draw iy perpeadicnUt
g M : through 31 draw yf (fig. 14-) pa™11'1 t0
tersecting the line M/drawn perpend,color 0 gM m
the point /. Front M draw M , perpemhenkr‘0
and from y draw yn perpendicular to WM
Make M n (fig. 1 5-) cqiml 'o M * ^v’ > ! j
(fio-. 15.) being equal toyk (fig. 13.), jmn « ,
the angle 1 n M will be the bevelling to the honzont
plane.0 Again, make M is, M/(fig. IC.) respcct.veh;
equal to tj n (fig. 13.) and My (fig. I4')i anl1 J011 .-(j
pav M. Vuil du Clairbois^ p. 23.
frlutti* and tlie angle M ss/ will be the bevelling to the sheer-
plane.
> ,11! The bevelling being now found, draw the line a b
pigL (fig. 15.) parallel to z az or & « being the scantling
of the timber. Then n x will be the breadth of the
timber on the horizontal plane, and z e its breadth on
the sheer-plane, and a c what is within a square.
Now as the lines g G, a 3, s 2, h 1, y /, represent
the aft-side of the fashion piece on the horizontal plane
(tig. 14), dotted lines may be drawn parallel to them
to represent the fore-side, making 71 x (lig. 15.) the per¬
pendicular distance between the lines representing lore
and aft sides of the fashion-piece, lly these lines form
the fore-side of the fashion-piece in the same manner as
the aft-side was formed. The water-lines on the fore¬
side of the plane of the fashion-piece must, however, be
first drawn in fig. 13. thus : Draw the lines? b, c d pa¬
rallel to WM, and whose perpendicular distances there¬
from may be equal to a c and z e (fig. 1 5.) respective-
ff I ly. Draw a line parallel to a A through the point
Where the line cd intersects the fifth water-line. Draw
a line parallel to a A through the point where the
fourth water-line intersects the line c d; in like manner
proceed with the other water-lines. The fore-side of
the fashion-piece is now to be described by means of
these new water-lines, observing that the distances in
the floor-plane must be set oft'from the line ? Z>, and not
U " from WM, as in the former case $ and a curve describ¬
ed through the points 5, 3, 2, 1, where these distances
reach to, will represent the fore-side of the fashion-piece.
The nearest distance between the points 5, 3, 2, x,
and the aft-side of the fashion-piece is what the bevelling
is beyond the square when both stock and tongue of
r._r the bevel are perpendicular to the timber. Make Mg
~ (fig. 16.) equal to the breadth of the timber, and M 5
equal to the perpendicular distance of the point 5
(%• 13.) from the aft-side of the fashion-piece, anil
join 5 jo. In like manner proceed with the others, and
the bevellings at these parts will be obtained ; but, in
order to avoid confusion, the perpendiculars 4, 3, 2,
(%• I3-)» instead of being laid oft' from M (fig. 16.),
were set off from points as far below M as the other ex¬
tremities of the lines drawn from these points are below
the point p.
PitOB. VIII. To describe the transoms of a round
! poop.
The transoms are fastened to the stern-post in the
same manner that the floor-timbers are fastened to the
keel, and have a rising called the flig/tt similar to the ri¬
sing of the floor-timbers. The upper transom is called
the wing transom, the next the deck transom, and the
others theJirst, second, and t/u'rd transoms in order. The
wing transom has a round aft and a round up: the round
up of the deck transom is the same as that of the beams.
The fashion-piece of a square tuck must be first de¬
scribed, together with the three adjacent frames, by the
method to be explained. The part of the stern above
bie wing transom is to be described in the same manner
as before, and may therefore he omitted in this place.
Die part below the keel of the fashion-piece is also the
Pia: same in both cases. Let fig. 17. represent the fashion-
cclxyjjjpiece of a square tuck, and the three adjoining frames.
& 1 .vide the interval AB into four equal parts in the
points C, D, E, and draw the perpendiculars AF, CG,
2 59
DH, El, and BJv : these will be portions of water lines Prelimi-
answering to the several transoms. nary
Let these water-lines be described on the floor-plan Problems,
(fig. 18.), in which ABC represents the wing tran-
som. Describe the arch £ C to reconcile the curves1*®’ i ”
A b and CE. Eet LEG be the water-line answering
to the lower part of the fashion-piece, the distance be¬
tween the points L and A being equal to the excess
of the projection of the point A beyond that of 1»
(fig. 2C.). Draw CK (fig. x8.) perpendicular to AM,
and make the angle KCM equal to about 25 degrees,
and CN will be the projection of the fashion-piece on
the floor-plane. Make AB (fig. 19.) equal to ABFio
17')- Divide it into four equal parts, and draw ° "
tlie perpendiculars AF, CH, DI, EK, and BG. Make.
AI equal to CM, arid BG equal to ININ, and draw the
curve FHIKG, having a less curvature than the fa¬
shion-piece of the square tuck s cjo £• «. Make MO,
^.^>? e(lual CH, DI, and EK respectively.
Divide AL (fig. 18.) into four equal parts, and to
these points ot division draw curves through the points
50 as t0 Partake partly of the curvature of
A 0 CE and partly of that of ENF, but most of the
curvature ol that to which the proposed curve is near¬
est j and hence the form of the several transoms will be
obtained.
In order to represent the curve of the fashion-piece
on the plane of projection, make the lines AF, CG,
DH, LI, and BK, (fig. 17.) respectively equal to the
perpendicular distance of the points C, O, P, Q, and N.
Iiom the line AN (fig. 18.), and through the extremi¬
ties of these lines, draw the curve FGH1K.
It remains to lay down the projection of the fashion-
piece on the plane of elevation. In order to which, di¬
vide the line AB, fig. 20. (equal to AB fig. 17.) into Fig. 2*
four equal parts, and through the points of division
draw the perpendiculars AF, CG, DH, El, and BK ;
make AI (fig. 20.) equal to the perpendicular distance
of the point C from the line BL (fig. 18.). In like man¬
ner make the lines CG, DH, El, and BK (fig. 20.) re¬
spectively equal to the perpendicular distances of the
points O, P, Q, and N, from the line BL (fig. 18.) j
and a curve drawn through these points will be the pro¬
jection of the fashion piece on the plane of elevation.
Prob. IX. To describe the intermediate frames in
the after body.
For this purpose the midship and stern frames must
he drawn in the plane of projection. As the main frame
contains the greatest capacity, and the stern frame is
that having the least, it hence follows that the form and
dimensions of the intermediate frames will be between
these •, each frame, however, partaking most of the form
of that to which it is nearest.
Let ACDE (fig. 21,) be the main frame on the Fig. 214
plane of projection, and FGH the stern frame 5 and let
there be any convenient number of intermediate frames,
as nine. Draw the floor ribband CF, and the breadth
ribband GD. Divide the curves CD, LG, each into
the same number of equal parts, as three, in the points
K, M ; L, N 5 and draw the second and third ribbands
KL, MN. In order to divide these ribbands so as to
form fair curves in different sections, various methods
have been proposed. One of the best of these, bein'*
that which is chiefly employed by the French construct
k h a tors,
SHIP-BUILDIN a
260
Prelini-
nary
Problems.
Fig. 22.
Fig. 33.
S HIP-B U
tors, is by means of an ettuilateral triangle, which is con-
structed as iuIIows. . . oir n
Draw the line ME (fig 22.), limited at M, but pio-
’ duced towards E : take M I equal to any convenient
extent; make X, 2 equal to thrice that extent, 2, 3
equal to five times, and 3, 4 equal to seven times the
above extent 5 and continue this division to E, ahvay
increasing by two, until there be as many points as there
are frames, including the main and stern frames. Up¬
on ME describe the equilateral triangle MSE, and draw
lines from the vertex S to each point of division j then
the line SM will be that answering to the main Irame,
and SE that corresponding to the post; and the other
lines will be those answering to the intermediate Irame
Let fig. 23. be the projection of part of the stern on
the phme oi* elevation, together with the e.ghth and
ninth frames. From the points L, N, G, (fig. ■)
draw the lines LO, NF GQ, P>!rP™r'1‘.culaFRt0ftfi1'e
plane of the upper edge ol the keel. Make AB ( g.
23.) equal to AF (fig. 21.), and draw the water line
BCD. Draw the line BC (fig. 22.) so that 1 may be
parallel to the base of the triangle, and equal to C1J
(fig. 23.), which produce indefinitely towards H. Make
BD equal to BC (fig. 23.), and draw the dotted line
SD (fig. 22.). The ribband EC (fig. 21.) is 0 be ap¬
plied to the triangle, so that it may be parade to tb
base, and contained between the line Mb and the
ted line SD. Let cf represent this line5 then transfer
the several divisions from c/to the ribband CE (fig-^O,
and number them accordingly. Again, make LI ( g.
23.) equal to LO (fig. 2l.), and draw tlie water line
YGH make BE (fig. 22.) equal to 1G (fig; 230|
and draw the dotted line SFj apply the second ribband
LK to the triangle, so that the extremity K may be
on the line SM, and the other extremity L on the dot¬
ted line SF, and making with SM an angle of about
6 2I degrees. Let k / be this line, and transfer the divi¬
sions from it to the ribband KL. In like manner make
IK (fig. 23.) equal to NP (fig, 21.), and draw the wa¬
ter line KLM. Make BG (fig. 22.) equal to KL (fig.
22 ) and draw the dotted line SG *, then the ribband
/in’ is to he applied to the triangle in such a manner
that its extremities M and N may be upon the lines
SM SG respectively, and that it may make an angle
of about 68 degrees with the line SM ; and the divi¬
sions are to be transferred from it to the ribband Tv •
The same process is to be followed to divide the othe
ribbands, observing to apply the fourth ribband to t ie
triangle, so that it may make an angle of 86 degiees
with the line SM} the fifth ribband to make an angle
of 65 degrees, and the sixth an angle of 60 degrees with
the line SM. c c
The quantities of these angles are, however, far from
being precisely fixed. Some constructors, in app ymg
the ribbands to the triangle, make them all paiallel to
its base 3 and others vary the measures of these angles
according to fancy. It may also be remarked, that a
different method of dividing the base of the triangle 1
used by some. It is certainly proper to try different
I L D I N G.
methods 3 and that is to be preferred which best answers Prelimi-
the intended purpose. . , . p/r “
Beside the frames already mentioned, there are other Prota V
two laid down by some constructors in the several plans —
called balance frames. The after balance frame is placed
at one fourth of the length of the ship before the stern-
post 3 and the other, commonly called the loofframe, at
one fourth of the ship’s length aft of a perpendicular to
the keel from the rabbet of the stem. Let the dotted
line at X, between the fifth and sixth frames (fig. 23.)
be the place of the after balance frame in the plane 0
elevation. Then, in order to lay down this frame in the
plane of projection, its representation must be previously
drawn in the triangle. To accomplish tins, draw he
line SV (fig. 22.) so that the interval 5 V may have the
same ratio to 5 6 (fig. 22 ) that 5X. has to 5 6 (fig.
22.1 (d). Then the several points in the ribbands in
the plane of projection answering to this frame are to
be found by means of the triangle in the same manner
<iis before# • •
The loof frame is nearly of the same dimensions as
the after balance frame, or rather of a little greater ca¬
pacity, in order that the centre of gravity of that part
of the ship may be nearly in the plane of the midship
frame. Hence the loof frame may be easily drawn in
the plane of projection, and hence also the other frames
in the fore body may he readily described.
Prob. X. To describe the frames m the fore body.
Draw the middle line of the stem AB (fig. 24.) j Fig. * ,
make AC, BD each equal to half the thickness ot the
stem, and draw the line CD 3 describe also one half of
the main frame CEFGHI. LeteE,/F,5 jr> .
water lines at the heights of the ribbands on the mam
frame 3 also let a he the termination of the floor ribband,
and b that of the breadth ribband on the stem. _ Divide
the interval « b into three equal parts in tbepoints c ^
and draw the ribbands a E, cF, (1G, and b H. Ma
ei,fk,gl, hm (fig. 24.) equal to e 1,/*, S A
(fio-. 2it) respectively, and draw the curve Yiklm,
winch will be the projection of the loot frame. Or since
it is necessary that the capacity of the loof frame shou
be a little greater than that of the after balance fran ,
each of the above lines may be increased by a propor¬
tional part of itself, as one tenth, or one twentieth, as
m^cfiP& (fig. 25.) in the re
as fig. 22, only observing, that as there aie fewer ia
in the fore than in the afterbody, its base will therefor
be divided into fewer parts. Let there be eight fiames
in the fore body, then there will be eight divisions m
the base of the triangle beside the extremes.
Let fig. 26. represent the stem and P^t of the lore
body in the plane of elevation, and let O )e 16 P
of the loof frame. Divide the interval 4, 5 ( S* X
so that 4, 3 may be to 4 Z, as 4, 5 to 4, o ( g* ’
and draw the dotted line SZ, which will be the line de¬
notin a the loof frame in the triangle. , . ,
dL the lines AB, CD, EF, GH (fig. 26.) para -F,^
lei to the keel, and whose perpendicular distances there¬
from may be equal to C o, C c, C d, C b,
NT- • i f f m thp method used to divide the base of the triangle, that this proportion does not agie*
eSa(c«ly wr.Vhee"onst«ion i the difference, however, being small, is therefore neglected m Fac„ce.
SHI P-B U I L DING.
intersections of these lines with the rabbet of the stem,
namely, the points I, K, L, M will be the points of
termination of the several ribbands on the stem in the
plane of elevation. Divide 8 A (fig. 25.) so that 8 B,
8 C, 8 D, and 8 E, may be respectively equal to BI,
DK, 1' L, and HM (fig. 26.), and draw the dotted
lines SB, SC, SD, SE (fig. 25.). Apply the edge of
a slip of card to the first ribband (fig. 24.), and mark
thereon the extremities of the ribband «, E, and also
the point of intersection of the loof frame. Then ap¬
ply this slip of card to the triangle in such a manner
that the point a may be on the dotted line SB, the
point E on the line S.M, and the point answering to the
loof frame on the dotted line SZ j and mark upon the
card the several points of intersection of the lines S 1,
S 2, &c. Now apply the card to the ribband aE (fig.
24.) as before, and transfer the several points of divi-
Irom it to the ribband. In like manner proceed
26l
Pp
, eocc :iix,
Fig.
%
with the other ribbands ; and lines drawn through the
corresponding points in the ribbands will be the projec¬
tion of the lower part ot the frames in the fore body.
The projections ot the top-timbers of the several frames
may be taken from the half breadth plan j and hence
each top-timber may be easily described.
In large ships, particularly in those of the French
navy, a different method is employed to form the top-
timbers in the fore body, which is as follows :
Let BI (fig. 27.) be one-fourth of the breadth of
the ship, and draw IK parallel to AB. Take the
height of the foremost frame from the plane of eleva¬
tion, and lay it oil from A to B : from the point B
draw BH perpendicular to AB, and equal to half the
length of the wing transom. Let E be the place of
the breadth ribband on the main frame, and F its place
on the stem at the height of the wing transom. With
a radius equal to five-sixths of hall the greatest breadth
of the ship describe the quadrant EFG (fig. 28.) j
Make EH equal to FG (fig. 27*)> point F being
at the height of the wing transom. Through H draw
HO perpendicular to EH, and intersecting the circum¬
ference in O $ then draw OL parallel to HE, and EL
parallel to HO. Divide EL into as many equal parts
as there are frames in the fore body, including the main
fiame, and from these points of division draw the per¬
pendiculars II, 22, &c. meeting the circumference as
in the figure. Take the distance 11, and lay it oil’
from G (fig. 27.) towards F to the point 1 ; and from
the same point G lay off towards F the several per¬
pendiculars contained between the straight line and the
curve to the points 2, 3, &c. and through these points
draw lines parallel to EG.
lake any line AB (fig. 29.) at pleasure: divide it
equally in two in the point 8 : divide 8 B in two parts
in the point 7, and continue this method of division un-
ti there are as many points as there are frames in the
fore body, including the main frame. Upon AB con-
struct the equilateral triangle ACB, and draw the line
’ ^ 7> Place a slip of card on the parallel
° 27.), and mark thereon the points opposite
0 K, and 8 ; and let them be denoted accordingly.
Ihen apply this slip of card to the triangle, so that the
point a, which is that answering to the rabbet of the
stem, may be on the line AC j that the point answer-
mg to K may be on C 8, and the extremity 8 on the
me CB j and mark on the card the points of intersec¬
tion of the lines C 7, C 6, &c. and number them ac-
cordingly. Now apply this slip of card to the seventh nary
parallel (fig. 23.), the point a being on the line CD, Problem?,
and mark on this parallel the point of intersection 7 ; '"t
slide the card down to the sixth parallel, to which trans¬
fer the point N° 6. In like manner proceed with the
other parallels.
The point K, at the intersection of the line IK with
the eighth parallel, is one point through which the
eighth frame passes. From this point upwards a curve
is to be described so as to reconcile with the lower part
of this frame already described, and the upper part,
forming an inverted arch, which is to terminate at H.
Ibis top-timber may be formed by two sweeps, whose
radii and centres are to be determined partly from cir¬
cumstances and partly according to fancy. It how¬
ever may be more readily formed by hand.
Let LM (fig. 27.) be the line of the second deck
at the main frame, and let LN be the difference of tlie
draught of water, if any. Make GN (fig. 28.) equal
to LN : draw NM perpendicular to GN, meeting the
ciicle in M } and through the points G and AI draw
the parallels GV and MV ; divide GN as before, and
from the several points of division draw perpendiculars
terminating in the curve. Transfer these perpendicu¬
lars from L upwards (fig. 27.), and through the points
thus found draw the lines n, 22, Stc. parallel to LM.
Apply a slip of card to the eighth parallel, and mark
upon it the point answering to the stem, the eighth and
main frames : carry this to the triangle, and place it so
that these points may be on the corresponding lines.
Then the points of intersection of the lines C 7, C 6,
&c. are to be marked on the card, which is now to be
applied first to the eighth parallel (fig. 27.), then to
the seventh, &c. transferring the several points of di¬
vision in order as before.
Draw the line HO (fig. 27.) j mark its length on a
slip of card, and apply it to the triangle, so that it may
be parallel to its base, and its extremities one on the
eighth and the other on the main frame : mark on the
card the points of intersection of the several interme¬
diate lines as before ; then apply the card to HO, and
transfer the divisions.
There are now three points determined through
which each top-timber must pass, namely, one in the
breadth ribband, one in the fifth, and one in the upper
ribband. Through these curves are to be described,
so as to reconcile with the lower part of the frame, and
partake partly of the curvature of the eighth frame,
and partly of that of the main frame, but most of that
of the frame to which it is nearest: and hence the
plane of projection is so far finished, that it only re¬
mains to prove the several frames by water lines.
Another method of describing the frames in tire
body plan is by sweeps. In this metho'd it is necessary,
in the first place, to describe the heigth of the breadth
lines, and the rising of the floor, in the plane of eleva¬
tion. The half breadth lines are next to be described in
tiie floor plan. The main frame is then to be descri¬
bed by three or more sweeps, and giving it such a form
as may be most suitable to the service the ship is design¬
ed for. The lower, upper, and top-timber heights of
breadth, and the risings of the floor, are to be set upon
the middle line in the body plan, and the several half
oreadths aie then to be laid off on lines drawn through
thesa
s H I P - B a I L D I N G.
262
rrelin,i. tWss points perpendicular to the middle line. A mould
nmy may then be n.ade for the main frame, and la,d upon
Problems, jlig several risings, as in ivliole mouldings, expiaitie
    Chapter V. with this difference, that here an under
breadth sweep is described to pass through the point
which limits the half breadth of the timber, the centre
of which will be in the breadth line ol that Umbei.
The proper centres for all the frames being found, am
the arches described, the bend mould must be so pla¬
ced on the rising line of the floor that the back 0 it
may touch the back of the under breadth sweep. Jiut
the general practice is, to describe all the floor sweeps
with compasses, as well as the under breadth sweeps
and to reconcile these two by a mould Which is an ait
of a circle, its radius being the same with that oi the re¬
conciling sweep by which the midship frame was formed.
It is usual for all the floor sweeps to be of the same ra¬
dius j and in order to find their centres a lines formed
on the floor plan for the half breadth of the floor As
this line cannotbe described on the surface of a ship, 1
is therefore only an imaginary line. Instead of h some
make use of a diagonal m the body plane to limit the
half breadth of the floor upon every rising line, ami to
erect perpendiculars at the several intersections, in the
same manner as for the midship frame. . . ,
After the sweeps are all described, recourse is bad to
moulds, or some such contrivance, to form the hollow 0
the timbers, much in the same manner as in whole
moulding $ and when all the timbers are formed they
must be proved by ribband and water lines, and alteied,
if necessary to make fair curves.
The precedingmethods of describing the several planes
6r sections of a ship being well understood, it will be a
very ea«y matter to construct draughts for any proposed
ship : and as the above planes were described separately
and independent of each other, it is therefore of little
consequence which is first described In the following
application, however, the plane of elevation wi be Iik
drawn, then part of the floor plan, and lastly the body
plan : and in connecting these plans the most ration a
and simple methods will be employed.
Chap. IV. Application of the foregoing Rules to the
Construction of Ships.
Sect. I. To construct a Ship intended to carry a corm-
derable Burden in Proportion to her general Vi-
mensions, and to draw little V ater.
Dimensions.
liCngth between the wing transom and a per- T. In*
pendicular from the rabbet of the stem at
the height of breadth line - °° 0
Main half breadth moulded - II o
Half breadth at the height of breadth line at ^
the stern - “ * 7 ^
Top-timber half breadth - " f 13 °
Height of the stem above the upper edge ot
the keel - - * 17 2
Height of the breadth line at the stem • J3 0
Height of the breadth line at the stern - 123
Upper height of breadth at the main frame 7 4
Lower height of breadth - " 5 10
Height of middle line of wales at the stem 10 o
I
Height of middle line of wales at the main
frame
Height of middle line of wales at the stern
Breadth of the wales
Height of top timber at midships
    —— at stern *■
Apjllicatloi
T. In.
0 10 ot the to;?.
10 6 goil>g Mi
to the CoS'
I
14
9 struction of
^ Shins.
lb 0 v—J
Draw II,e lint a b (fig. 30.) eq»a! to 80 feet from eta
a ^convenient scale : divide it into as many equal parts‘■tut.
plus one as there are to be frames, which let be 16,
and through each point of division draw perpendiculars.
Make b c equal to 17 feet, the perpendicular height of
the top of the stem above the upper edge of the keel,
and describe the stem by Prob. II. Make « d equal
to io-J feet, the height of the middle line of the wales
at the stern, and ae equal to the proposed rake of the
post, which may be about 2 feet : join de; and draw
the line fg representing the aft-side of the pos.. l)e-
scribe the counter and stern by Problem \ I. and VII
Make 0/i equal to 14 feet, the top timber height at
the main frame, and ik equal to 18 feet the height at
the stern j and through the three points c, /?, describe
the curve limiting the top-timbers by Problem L Make
bd equal to 10 feet, the height of the middle line oi
the wales at the stem, and ©H equal to 6 feet 10
inches, the height at the main frame *, and the curve
dlld being described will represent the middle line oi
the wales. At the distance of io\ niches on each side
of this line draw two curves parallel thereto, and the
wales will be completed in this plan. Make bl equal
to infect, the height of the breadth line at the stem;
a ni equal to 12^ feet, the height at the stern, and 10
K© equal to 5 feet 10 inches and 7 feet 4 inches re¬
spectively ; and draw the upper breadth line /km and
lower breadth line llm. From the fine ab lay down¬
wards the breadth of the keel, which may be about one
foot, and draw the line L* parallel to « b.
Let the line Lr, which is the lower edge of the keel,
represent also the middle line of the floor plan. 1 re¬
duce all the perpendiculars representing the frames.
make © M (fig* 31-) €t!ual U! 11 ^et’ the "f1" lg'34
breadth at midships; through m (fig. 30.)Jraw the
line perpendicular to a b, and make p N equal to
7^ feet, and draw the main half breadth line N r
Problem IV. Describe also the top-timber half breadth
line POr, ©O being equal to 10# feet, and form the
projecting part of the stem q rst.
J In order that the top-timber line may look fair 0
the bow, and to prevent the foremost top-timbers from
being too short, it is necessary to lift or raise ll ^ 8
from the round of the bow to the stem. I or this pur
wose the following method is usually employed . fro
duce the circular sheer before the stem m the plane 0
elevation at pleasure ; then place a batton to the r
of the bow in the half breadth plan, and mark on it th
stations of the square timbers and the side of the stem,
apply the batton to the sheer plan, and place >t to ^
sheer of the ship, keeping the stations of the ti 1
the batton well with those on the sheer plan for ■ _
ral timbers before dead flat, where they will not a ter ,
then mark the other timbers and the stem on the W
line produced ; through these points draw lines F
to the keel, to intersect their corresponding 1
and the stem in the sheer plan : then curve descri
these last points will be the sheer of the ship ^
SHIP-BUIL D IN G. ' 263
Ration t|ie ’onw, lilted required: and the heights of the Some constructors begin at the after timber, after the Application
oft 1 fore timbers thus lengthened are to be transferred to the mould is made for the midship top-timber, because they of the fore-
goirltuies body plan as before. think it easier to keep the straight part of the mould pa-Rules
t°t Con- Draw the line AB (fig. 32.) equal to 22 feet, the rallel to this than to the midship timber; and by this10 the.
vvllole b.reailt,1> from the middle of which draw the means the top side is kept from winding. Others, again, spp™ ^
1—J perpendicular CD: make CE equal to halt the thickness make a mark upon the mould where the breadth line of1 —/--ij1
] of the post, and CF equal to halt that of the stem, and the midship timber crosses it, and with the same mould
ccco vm. from the points A, E, t, B, draw lines parallel to CD. they form the after timber : this will occasion the mark
Make AG, BG each equal to 14 feet, the height at that was made on the mould when at the main frame to
the main frame, and draw the line GG parallel to AB. fall below the breadth line of the after timber, and
Make GH, GH each equal to half a foot, the diflerence therefore another mark is made at the height of the
between the main and top timber half-breadths. From
A and B set up the heights of the lower and upper
breadth lines to I and K, and draw the straight lines
IK, IK. Let CL be the rising at the main frame, and
@, ® the extremities qf the floor timber. Hence, as
there are now five points determined in each half of
the main frame, it may be very easily described.
Make CM equal to L@, join M®, and draw the
other ribbands NO, PQ. In order, however, to sim¬
plify this operation, the rectilineal distance ®I was
trisected, and through the points of division the lines
NO, PQ were drawn parallel to the floor ribband
M®.
Take the distance b c (fig. 30.), and lay it off from
F to (fig. 32.); also make F b (fig. 32.) equal to
Fu (fig. 30.); through b draw be parallel to AB, and
equal to IR (fig. 31,). In like manner take the
heights of each top-timber from fig. 30. and lay them
off from C towards D (fig. 32.) ; through these points
draw lines parallel to AB, and make them equal each to
each, to the corresponding half breadth lines taken from
the floor-plan : Then through the several points a, c,
&c. thus found, draw a line a c II, which will be the
projection of the top-timber line of the fore body in the
body plan. Proceed in the same manner to find the
top-timber line in the after body.
Transfer the height of the main-breadth line on the
stem b l (fig. 30.), from I to d (fig. 32•)• Transfer
also the heights of the lower and upper breadth lines at
timber F (fig. 30.) namely, FW, FX, from F to c
andy’(fig. 32.) ; through which draw the parallels eg,
fh; make them equal to FS (fig. 31.), and draw the
straight line g h. In this manner proceed to lay down
the portions of the extreme breadth at each frame, both
in the fore and in the after body in the body plan, and
draw the upper and lower breadth lines dh K, dg \ in
the fore body and K It in the after body. Hence
the portions of the several top-timbers contained between
the top-timber and main breadth lines may be easily de¬
scribed. It was before remarked that their forms were
paitly arbitrary. 1 he midship top-timber lias generally
a hollovy, the form of which is left entirely to the artist,
though in some ships, especially small ones, it has none.
It is the common practice to make a mould for this hol¬
low, either by a sweep or some other contrivance, which
is produced considerably above the top-timber line, in a
straight line or very near one. The midship top-timber
is formed by this mould, which is so placed that it
ireaks in four with the back of the upper breadth sweep.
Lie other top-timbers are formed by the same mould,
observing to place it so that the straight part of it may
be parallel to the straight part of the midship timber,
and moved up or down, still keeping it in that direction
1 lt; just touches the back of the upper breadth sweep.
breadth line at the after timber; the straight part of tlie
mould is then laid obliquely across the breadth lines of
the top-timbers in such a manner that it may intersect
the breadth line of the midship timber at one of these
marks and the breadth line of the after timber at the
other mark ; then the several intersections of the breadth
lines of the timbers are marked upon the mould ; which
must now be so placed in forming each timber, that the
proper mark may be applied to its proper breadth, and
it must be turned about so as just to touch the upper
breadth sweep. Any of these methods may make a fair
side, and they may be easily proved by forming another
intermediate half breadth line.
The remaining parts of the frames may be described
by either of the methods laid down in Problems IX.
and X. In order, bower, to illustrate this still far¬
ther, it is thought proper to subjoin another method of
forming the intermediate frames, the facility of which
will recommend it.
Take FZ (fig, 30.), and lay it from F to & (fig 32.);
then describe the lower part of the foremost frame, ma¬
king it more or less full according as proposed ; and in¬
tersecting the ribbands in the points /, ?n, n. Describe
also the aftermost frame 0, />, q. Make a (fig. 30.)
equal to F r (fig. 32.), and produce it to a (fig. 31.) ;
also draw y S and (fig. 30.) equal to E E r and E s
(fig. 32.) respectively ; and produce them to b and c:
Make F e, Y f FR (fig. 31.) equal to M /, N m, P n
(fig. 32.) each to each. Let also ® h, ®/, ®/<-, and
9 /, 9 m, 9 n (fig. 31.) he made equal to M ®, NO,
PQ, and M 0, N Py? (fig. 32.) ; then through these
points trace the curvesae n hlb, rfim c, and rli k np,
and they will be the projections of the ribbands in the
floor plane. Now transfer the several intervals of the
frames contained between the middle line and the rilN
bands (fig. 31.) to the corresponding ribbands in the
body plan (fig. 32.). Hence there will be five points
given in each frame, namely, one at the lower breadth
line, one at each ribband, and one at the keel ; and
consequently these frames may be easily described. In
order to exemplify this, let it he required to lay down
the frame E in the plane of projection. Take the in¬
terval E n (fig. 31.) and lay it from M to u (fig. 32.).
Lay ofi also E 77, E c (fig. 31.) from N to ^ and from
P to n (fig. 32.); then through the points F, z/, v, n
and the lower breadth line describe a curve, and it
will be the representation of the frame E in the body
plan. In like manner the other frames may be de¬
scribed.
The ribbands may now be transferred from the body
plan to the plane of elevation, by taking the several
heights of the intersection of each ribband with the
frames, and laying them off on the corresponding frames
in the floor plan ; and if the line drawn through these
points
264-
SHIP-BUILDING.
Arolicfttion points make a fair curve, it is presumed that the curves
(/the foie- of the frames are rightly laid down m the body plan,
going Rules Only one of these ribbands, namely, the nrst, is lau
♦ yx ^ f ^ .X n — • r* F i S I    -    _ r . . 1 r' 1 A ^ 4" 41 1 * t 11 ( ^ T' TAT'O •
to the Con- (jowo o0. These curves may also be farther pro
(.traction of .. • .1  -C -'“..of.nil
Ships.
ved, by drawing water lines in the plane or elevation,
and in the body plan, at equal distances from the upper
edo-e of the keel. Then the distances between the mid¬
dle line of the body plan, and the several points ot in¬
tersection of these lines with the frames, are to be laid
off from the middle line in the floor plan upon the cor¬
responding frames j and if the line drawn through these
points form a fair curve, the frames are truly drawn in
the body plan.
In fiu-s. 30. and 32. there are drawn four water lines
at any equal distances from the keel, and from each
other. These lines are then transferred from ng. 32.
to fig. 31. j and the lines passing through these points
make fair curves. .
The transoms are described by Problem V 111. it is
therefore unnecessary to repeat the process. A rising
line of the floor timbers is commonly drawn in the plane
of elevation. _ .
As this is intended only as an introductory example,
several particulars have therefore been omitted j which,
however, will be exemplified in the following section.
Sect. IV. To describe the several Plans of a Ship of
JFar proposed to ccnvij 80 Guns upon two Decks.
upper edge of the keel to the under side of
the plank at after perpendicular
Heio-ht from the upper side of the gun-deck
plank to the under side of the upper deck
plank, all fore and aft
H'eight from the upper side of afore
upper deck plank to the under side > ajjaft
of the greater deck plank J
Height to the under side of forecastle plank,
afore and abaft
Height from the upper side of thel afore
quarter-deck plank to the under > akaft
side of the round-house plank J
Height of the lower edge of the main wales
at foremost perpendicular
Height of the lower edge of the main wales
at dead flat - " . "
Height of the lower edge of the main wales
at after perpendicular
Height of the lower edge of the channel
wales at foremost perpendicular
Height of the lower edge of the channel
wales at dead fiat
Height of the lower edge of the channel
wales at after perpendicular > -
Height of the upper side of the wing tran-
£
26 3
I*1- Application
of the fore,
going Rufe
to the Cor..
stnrction of
Ships,
10
11
6 6
9
IG
24 6
20 0
26 6
32
29
34 0
As it is proposed in this place to show the method of
describing the plans of a ship of a very considerable size,
it therefore seems proper to give the dimensions of every
Plate particular part necessary in the delineation of these plans.
CCCCSCI. The several plans of this ship are contained in figs. 33*
Figs. 33. & and 34. But as it would very much confuse the fa-
34* gures to have a reference to every operation, and as the
former example is deemed a sufficient illustration, the
letters of reference are upon these accounts omitted in
the figures.
Principal Dimensions.
SJdp Build- Lengths.—Length, on the gun or lower deck
er's Reposi- from the aft part of the rabbet ot the stem
F. In.
to the aft part of the rabbet of the post
Length from the foremost perpendicular to
dead flat
Length from the foremost perpendicular to
timber Y
Length from after perpendicular to timber 37
Boom and space ot the timbers
Length of the quarter deck from the aft part
of the stern - - "
Length of the forecastle from the fore part of
the beak-head - - -
Length of round-house deck from the aft part
of the stern - - "
Height of the gun or lower deck
from the upper edge ot the keel to the
under side ot the plank at dead flat
Height of the gun or lower deck from the
upper edge of the keel to the under side ot
the plank at foremost perpendicular
Height of the gun or lower deck from the
3
182
63 n|
95
49
51
24
26
auiii
Height of the touch of the lower counter at
the middle line
Height of the touch of the upper counter at
the. middle line - . “■
Height of the top-timber line at the after part
of the stern timber
Breadths.—Main wales in breadth from low¬
er to upper edge
Channel wales in breadth from lower to up¬
per edge
Waist rail in breadth
Distance between the upper edge of the chan¬
nel wales and the under edge of the waist
rail
Sheer rail in breadth - “
Distance between the sheer rail and the rail
above from timber 13 to the stern
Distance between the sheer rail and the rail
above from timber 7 to timber 11 "
Distance between the sheer rail and the rail
above from timber C to the lorepart or
beak-head -
And the said rail to be in breadth
Plank sheer to be in thickness
x-entrcs of the masts.—From the foremost per¬
pendicular to the centre of the mainmast
on the gun-deck
From the foremost perpendicular to the centre
of the foremast on the gun-deck
From the after perpendicular to the centre of
the mizen-mast on the gun-deck
The centre of the sweep of the stem
abaft timber P
Height of ditto from the upper edge of the
keel -
Stem moulded
28 4
33
36 2
44 7
o 7
2 5
1 4
103
20 5
28
0 4
26
1 3
Foremost
4pj|eatioM I" oi’emost part ot the head afore the perpen-
oi- j tore- dicular - - ■ _
gOiti Rules j.|ejght 0f dJtto from the upper edge of the
to i ; ton- , ,
strr ion of “
tips. otern-post.--A.it part of the rabbet afore the
perpendicular on the upper edge of the keel
Aft part of the port abaft the rabbet at the
upper edge of the keel
Aft part of the port abaft the rabbet at the
wing transom -
Stern-port fore and aft on the keel
Ditto square at the head
Counters.—The touch of the lower counter at
the middle line, abaft the aft part of the
wing transom - _ _
Round aft of the lower counter
Round up of the lower counter
The touch of the upper ioanter at the middle
line, abaft the aft part of the wing tran¬
som - - _ _
Round aft of the upper counter
Round up of the upper counter
Aft part of the stern-timber at the middle
line, at the height of the top timber line,
abaft the aft part of the wing transom
SHIP-BUILDING.
F.
i
In.
4
38 3
3 4
i
i
ol
9
3^
10
12 6
Round aft of the wing transom
Round up of the wing transom
Draught of water.— Load draught of} r
water from the upper edge of the>, or,f
keel - - - jabaft
Channels.—Foremost end of the fore channel
afore timber R - - _
The channel to be in length
And in thickness at the outer edge
The dead eyes to be 12 in number, and in dia¬
meter - - _ _
Foremost end of the main channel afore tim¬
ber 9 - - - .
The channel to be in length
And in thickness at the outer edge
The dead eyes to be 14 in number, and in
diameter - - -
Foremost end of the mizen-channel abaft tim¬
ber 27 - - - .
The channel to be in length
And in thickness at the outer edge
The dead eyes to be 7 in number, and in dia¬
meter ,
265
I. Tn. Application
o
o
20
20
6 of the fore-
.1 goingPiuies
to the Con-
r struction of
Ships,
5 i—Jl.. —■
1 o
37 °
o 47
o 10
38 o
° 4-sr
2 4
20 O
O 4
Dimensions of the several Parts of the Bodies.
Fore Body.
Lower height of breadth
Upper height of breadth
Height of the top-timber line
Height of the rising line *
Height of the cutting down
Main half breadth
Top-timber half breadth
Hall breadth of the rising
Length of the lower breadth sweeps
First diagonal line
Second ditto
Third ditto
Fourth ditto
Fifth ditto -
Sixth ditto
Seventh ditto
Timbers Names.
Ft. In
22 6
24 10
37
o
2 3*
24 Si
20 11
8 7
r9
7
J3
20
9
9
o
23 4i
24 8
24 i§
Ft. In
22 6
24 10
37 7
° Si
2 3^
24 Si
20 10
8 4
18 9
7 81
13 8*
19 11
23 4i
24 8
24
Ft.
22
24
38
3
2
24
20
6
18
7
3
19
23
24
24
In.
7
10
o
10
3i
4i
9
Si
3
7
4^
2
o
4*
Ft.
23
24
38
9
2
24
20
2
*7
7
12
J7
21
23
In.
O
IO a
5
10
8
o-
6
9
3
1
1
7
81
Si
23 9
Ft. In.
23 II
25 Si
39 1
18 6
3 10
23 24
20 o
■5 .7
Outside
lS
6 3
10 3
15 1
18 11
21 2^
22 10
Ft.
25
26
39
6
20
18
14
3
7
11
14
J7
In
7
4i
10
4
2
9i
W
1
8
1!
1
83-
1
20 io-I
Ft. In.
26 10
27 4i
40 4
17 o
17 10
12
4 6
8 3i
11 5
13 8£
18 6i
Ft. In
28 8
29 o
40 9
n o!
16 6
12
3 4v
6 o
7 11
14 7
Rising height 11 feet 10 inches at dead flat, from which all the other risings must be set off.
VOL. XIX. Part I.
LI
266
SHIP-BUILDING.
After Body.
Timbers Names.
Lower height of breadth
Upper ditto - *
Height of the top-timber line
Height of the cutting down
Height of the rising
Main half breadth
Half breadth of the rising
Top-timber half breadth
Topsides half breadth
Length of lower breadth sweeps
First diagonal - - -
Second ditto
Third ditto
Fourth ditto
Fifth ditto -
Sixth ditto
Seventh ditto
Ft. It
22 6
24 10
37
2
o
24
8
20 11
5
3
5 4
6
19
7
20
In
6
10
5
3i
8f
3
10
Ft.
22
24 10
37
23 4f
24 8
19 2
7 81
l3
19 ni
23 3
24 7
!3
2
1
24
7
20
r9
7
!3
l9
23
24
Ft. In
20 74
24 II
37 10
2 3i
6 iof
20 9
o 18
7
l3
7i
if
6
J9
22
24
Ft.
22
25
38
2
6
24
5
20
r7
7
12
18
21
23
21
25
In.
9
I
3
4
o
1
3i
7
1
24
6
i4
II
6
Ft.
23
25
38
2
10
23
2
20
x9
16
6
11
16
20
22
In
o-J
4
11
7*
1
84
8
3
7
o
7
2
6
3
3
23 94
Ft.
27
25
39
3
J7
23
2
x9
18
r4
5
9
J4
18
20
23
29
In
7i
8
8
5
o
o^
6
5
4
5
9
7
2
o
64
Ft.
24
26
40
5
33
35
37
21 10
Outside
2
I o
x7
12
4
7
II
!5
18
21
In.
I0|
I
5
7
16
JJ
9
2
4
7
n
T4
18
81 20
Ft.
26
27
42
In.
9l
9
o
Ft.
28
28
42
o
5
7
7
it
3i
2
10
1 of
10
84
8
4
4
8
ici
11
11
84
1
5
7
5
o
11
oi
■F'g- 33-
Diagonal Lines for both the Fore and After Bodies.
Fore and After Bodies.
Height up the middle line
Distance from the middle line on the base line
Height up the side line - - - -
Names of the Diagonal Lines.
1st
Ft. In.
6 II
4 8
2d
Ft.
11
9
3d 4 th
In
Si
6
Ft. In.
20
5th
Ft. In.
23 Si
6 7
6th
Ft. In.
27 5
12 74
7 th
Ft. In
43 9
32 84
I. Of the Sheer Draught or Plane of Elevation.
Draw a straight line (fig. 33.) to represent the up¬
per edge of the keel, erect a perpendicular on that end
to the right, and from thence set oil' 18 2 leet, the length
on the gun-deck, and there erect another perpendicular j
that to "the right is called the foremost perpendicular,
and the other the after one : upon these two perpendi¬
culars all the foremost and aftermost heights must be set
off, which are expressed in the dimensions.
Then set off the distance of the main frame or dead
flat from the foremost perpendicular, and at that place
erect a third perpendicular, which must be distinguished
by the character ®. From dead flat the room and
space of all the timbers must be set off } but it will on¬
ly be necessary to erect a perpendicular at every trame
timber-, which in the fore body are called dead fiat,
A, C, E, &c. and in the after body (2), I, 3, 5, &c.:
hence the distance between the frame perpendiculars will
be double the room and space expressed in the dimen¬
sions. Then set off the heights of the gun-deck alore
at midship or dead flat, and abaft from tne upper side
of the keel ; and a curve described through these three
points will be the upper side ol the gun-deck. Set off
the thickness of the gun-deck plank below that} and
another curve being drawn parallel to the lormer, the
gun-deck will then be described at the middle line of
the sheer plan.
The centre of the stem is then to be laid down by
means of the table of dimensions} from which centre,
with an extent equal to the nearest distance of the upper
edge of the keel, describe a circle upwards: describe
also another circle as much without the former as the
stem is moulded. Then set off the height of the hea
of the stem, with the distance afore the perpendicular,
and there make a point j and within that set oft the
moulding of the stem, and there make another point:
from this last-mentioned point let a line pass downwards,
intersecting the perpendicular at the height of" the gun-
deck, and breaking in fair with the inner circle, and
the after part of the stern is drawn. Draw another line
from the foremost point downwards, parallel to the ior-
mer, and breaking in fair with the outer circle } then
the whole stem will be formed, except the after or low¬
er end, which cannot be determined till hereafter.
The stern-post must be next formed. Set off on t e
upper edge of the keel a spot for the aft part of t ie
rabbet taken from the dimensions, and from that for¬
ward set off another point at the distance of the tine
ness
SHIP.BUILDING.
A icatlonness of the plank of the bottom, which is four inches
of e fore- and a half; and from this last mentioned point draw a
gc-Rules j;ne UpWards intersecting the perpendiculars at the height
sti um'of^f t^e lower deck; then set up the perpendicular the
Jps. height of the wing transom, and draw a level line, and
u.-y—J where that line intersects, the line first drawn will he
the aft side of the wing transom ; on the upper part of
the middle line set off from that place the distance of
the aft side of the stern-post; set off also the distance of
the after part from the rabbet on the upper edge of the
keel, and a line drawn through these two points will
be the aft side of the post. A line drawn parallel to
the first drawn line at the distance of four inches and
a half, the thickness of the plank on the bottom, will
be the aft side of the rabbet: and hence the stern-post
is described, except the head, which will be determin¬
ed afterwards.
From the dimensions take the several heights of the
upper deck above the gun-deck, afore, at midship, and
abaft, and set them oft accordingly ; through these
points describe a curve, which will be the under side
of the upper deck ; describe also another curve paral¬
lel thereto, at the distance of the thickness of the plank,
and the upper deck will be then represented at the
middle line of the ship.
Set off the height of the lower counter, at the mid¬
dle line, from the upper edge of the keel, and draw a
horizontal line with a pencil ; then on the pencil line
set off the distance the touch of the lower counter is
abaft the aft side of the wing transom: from this point
to that where the fore part of the rabbet of the stern-
post intersects the line drawn for the upper part of the
wing transom, draw a curve at pleasure, which curve
will represent the lower counter at the middle line.
The height of the upper counter is then to be set off
from the upper edge of the keel, and a horizontal line
is to be drawn as before, setting off the distance the
touch of the upper counter is abaft the aft side of the
wing transom; and a curve described from thence to
the touch of the lower counter will form the upper
counter at the middle line.
Both counters being formed at the middle line, the
upper part of the stern timber above the counters is to
be described as follows: On the level line drawn for
the upper side of the wing transom set off the distance
of the aft side of the stern timber at the middle line
from the aft side of the wing transom, at the height of
the top-timber line, and erect a perpendicular : then
upon this perpendicular, from the upper edge of the
keel, set oil the height at the middle line of the top-
timber line at the after side of the stern timber ;
through this point draw a straight line to the touch of
the upper counter, and the upper part of the stern-
timber will be described.
As the stern rounds two ways, both up and aft, the
stern-timber at the side will consequently alter from
that at the middle line, and therefore remains to be re¬
presented. Take the round up of the upper counter
from the dimensions, and set it below the touch at the
middle, and with a pencil draw a level line; take also
the round aft, and set it forward from the touch on the
touch line, and square it down to the pencil line last
drawn, and the point of intersection will be the touch
ot the upper counter at the side. In the same manner
hnd the touch of the lower counter; and a curve, si-
267
milar to that at the middle line, being described from Application
the one touch to the other, will form the upper counter of the tore
at the side. going Ruks
Take the round up of the wing transom, and set it t.° thf. Con:
oft below the line before drawn for the height of the* 's'liipi] ^
wing transom, and draw another horizontal line in pen- >■■■■«■- v——.j
cil: then take the round aft of the wing transom, and
set it forward on the upper line from the point repre¬
senting the aft side of the wing transom ; square it down
to the lower line, and the intersection will be the touch
of the wing transom : then a curve, similar to that at
the middle line, being drawn from the touch of the
wing transom to the touch of the lower counter at the
side, will be the lower counter at the side. Draw a
line from the upper counter upwards, and the whole
stern timber at the side will be represented. But as
the straight line drawn for the upper part of the side
timber should not be parallel to that at the middle line,
its rake is therefore to be determined as follows.
Draw a line at pleasure, on which set off the breadth
of the stern at the upper counter ; at the middle of this
line set oft the round aft of the upper counter ; then
through this point and the extremities of the stern de¬
scribe a curve. Now take the breadth of the stern at
the top timber line, and through the point where that
breadth will intersect the curve for the round aft of the
stern draw a line parallel to that first drawn, and the
distance from the line last drawn to the curve at the
middle of the line is the distance that the side timber
must be from the middle line at the height of the top-
timber line.
The sheer is to be described, which is done by set¬
ting off the heights afore, at midships and abaft; and
a curve described through these three points will be the
sheer. But in order that the sheer may correspond
exactly with the dimensions laid down, it will be ne¬
cessary to proceed as follows: The perpendicular re¬
presenting timber dead flat being already drawn, set
off from that the distances of the other frame timbers,
which is double the room and space, as the frames are
only every other one; and erect perpendiculars, writing
the name under each : then on each of these perpen¬
diculars set oft the corresponding heights of the top-
timbei fine taken from the table of dimensions for con¬
structing the bodies ; and through these points a curve
being described, will represent the sheer of the ship or
top-timber line agreeable to the dimensions.
T he quarter-deck and forecastle are next to be de¬
scribed, which may lie done by taking their respective
heights and lengths from the dimensions, and describing
their curves. In the same manner also, the round-house
may be drawn. The decks being described represent¬
ing their heights at the middle, it is then necessary to
represent them also at the side. For this purpose take
the round of the decks from the dimensions, and set
them off below the lower line drawn for the middle ;
and a curve described both fore and aft, observing to
let it be rather quicker than the former, will be the re¬
presentation of the decks at the side.
The ports come next under consideration. In the
placing of them due attention must be paid, so as to
preserve strength ; or that they shall be so disposed as
not to weaken the ship in the least, which is often done
by cutting off principal timbers, placing them in too
large openings, having too short timbers by the side of
L 1 2 them,
268
Application
of the fore¬
going Rules
to the Con¬
struction of
Ships.
S H 1
them, &c. The frames represented by the lines al¬
ready drawn must be first consulted. Then with a
pencil draw two curves, for the lower and upper parts
of the lower deck posts, parallel to the line represent¬
ing the lower deck ; the distances of these lines trom
P-B U 1 L D I N C.
inches already mentioned
and in order to make that Applieatioi if
... ^
part uniform with the breaks at the foremost end of the Hie fore
quarter-deck, there must be set down 14 inches nioreg;1”
the deck are to be taken from the dimensions, obser¬
ving, however, to add to these heights the thickness ot
the deck, as the deck line at the side represents the un¬
der pail of the deck.
The foremost port is then to be described, observing
to place it as far aft as to give sufficient room lor the
manger: the most convenient place will therefore be
to put it between the frames E and T, and equally di¬
stant from each. It will then be placed In the most con¬
spicuous point of strength, as it will have a long top-
timber on the aft side and a long fourth iuttock on the
fore side of it. The second part may be placed in ‘ike
manner between the next two frames, which will be
-equally well situated for strength as the former ; and
by proceeding in this manner, the ports on the gun deck
may also be placed, taking care to have two frames be¬
tween every two ports, all fore and aft.
The upper deck ports are then to be described •, and
in order to dispose of them in the strongest situation
possible, they must be placed over the middle between
the gun deck ports, so that every frame m the ship will
run up to the top of the side, by their coming between
a gun and upper deck port j and every port will lie
between the frames, which will in a great measure con¬
tribute towards the strength of the ship. dv itb regard
to the ports on the quarter deck, it is not ot such ma¬
terial consequence if they cut the head of the frame, as
in placing them the situation of the dead eyes must be
considered, placing a port where there is a vacancy be¬
tween the dead eyes large enough to admit ot one j ob¬
serving always to place them as nearly as possiule at
equal distances from each other; and where it happens
that they do not fall in the wake ol a frame, then that
frame must by all means be carried up to the top ot the
The necessary length of the round-house being de¬
termined in the dimensions, it may be set oft; observing,
however, to let it be. no longer than is just sufficient
for the necessary accommodations, as the shorter the
round-house the works abaft may be kept lower, and a
low snug stern is always accounted the handsomest.
Then set off the round of the deck at the foremost end,
below the line drawn j the deck at the side may be de¬
scribed by another curve drawn quite aft. Now, from
the point for the round of the deck to the stern-timber,
draw a curve parallel to the top-timber line, and that
will be the extreme height of the top of the side abaft,
which height continues to range fair along to the fore¬
most end of the round-house, and at that place may
have a fall about 14 inches, which may be turned oft
with a drift scroll. At the fore part of the quarter-
deck, the topside may have a rise of 14 inches, which
may also be turned off with a scroll. But as the raising
of the topside only 14 inches at that place will not be
sufficient to unite with the heights abaft, it will there¬
fore be necessary to raise 14 inches more upon that,
and break it off with a scroll inverted on the first scroll,
and continue these two lines, parallel to the top-timber
line, to the distance of about seven feet aft. At the
foremost end of the round-house there is a breaiv of 14
below the former j and at these two heights continue two ,
curves parallel to the top-timber line, fiom the ait pait
of the stern to the ends of the two curves already drawn v
at the foremost end of the quarter-deck. 1 f they should
happen not to break in fair with them, they must be
turned oft with a round j but to make them appear
more handsome, the lower line may be turned off with
a scroll. These lines being drawn will represent the
upper edges of the rails.
The height of the top side at the fore part of the ship
must next be considered j which, in order to give propel
height for the forecastle, must have a rise there of 14
inches, the break being at the after end of the fore¬
castle, and turned oft as before. But as tins p.ut of
the ship is still considerably lower than the after part, it
will be necessary to give another of eight inches upon
the former, and turn it off with a scroll inverted. Hence
this part of the ship will appear more uniform to the af¬
ter part.
The finishing parts, namely, the wales, stern, head,
rails, &c. remain to be described, i he wales may be
first drawn j and as the strength of the ship depends
very much on the right placing of them, grea. care
mUst therefore be taken that they may be as little as
possible wounded by the lower-deck ports, and so pla¬
ced that the lower-deck bolts shall bolt in them, and
also that they come as near as possible on the broadest
part of the ship. In the first place, therefore, the
height of breadth lines must be chosen for our guide.
These heights of breadth are to be taken from the di¬
mensions, and set oft on the respective frames, and curves
drawn through these points will be the upper and lower
heights of breadth lines. The height of the wales
may be now determined j which in general is in such
a manner that the upper height of breadth line comes
about six inches below their upper edge, and the wales
are then placed right upon the breadth lines. Fake the
heights and breadths of the wales afore, at midships,
and abaft, from the table of dimensions j draw curves
through the points thus found, and the wales will be
represented
The channel wales are then to he described. They
are principally intended to strengthen the top side, and
must be placed between the lower and upper deck ports;
and the lower end of them at midships should be placed
as low as possible, in order to prevent them from being
cut by the upper deck ports alore and abaft. Take
their heights and breadths from the dimensions; lay
them off, and describe curves through the correspond¬
ing points, and the channel wales will be represented.
Lay off the dimensions of ihe waste rail found in the
table; and through the points draw a line parallel to the
top timber line ail fore and aft. This rail terminates
the lower part of the paint work on the top side, as all
the work above this rail is generally painted, and the
work of the top side below it payed with a varnish, ex¬
cept the main wales, which are always payed with pbcb*
Take the draught of water from the dimensions, and
draw the load water-line, which is always done in green.
Divide the distance between the load water-line and the
upper edge of the keel into five equal parts, and through
these points draw four more water-lines. ^
S H I P-B U I L D I N G.
Apiptum Set o(T the centres of the masts on the gun-deck •,
of i fore- their rake may likewise be taken from the dimensions.
gi-Set off" also the centre of the bowsprit, letting it be
sunion ofi'001' i’eet- i*1'0™ l!ie tjeck at the after part of the stem,
f )>. which will give sufficient height for a light and airy ti-
1 ' gure.
Draw the knight-heads so as to be sufficiently high
above the bowsprit to admit of a chock between them
for the better security of the bowsprit. The timber
heads may also be drawn above the forecastle, observ¬
ing to place the most convenient for the timbers of the
frame, being those which come over the upper deck
ports, as they may be allowed long enough to form hand¬
some heads. There should be one placed abaft the cat¬
head, to which the foremost block is to be bolted, and
there may be two ports on the forecastle formed by them,
and placed where it is most convenient to the dead
eyes.
Describe the channels, taking their lengths and
thicknesses from the dimensions, and place their upper
edges iveil with the lower edge of the sheer rail. The
dead eyes may then be drawn, observing to place them
in such a manner that the chains may not interfere with
the ports; and the preventer plates must all be placed
on the channel wales, letting them be of such a length
that the preventer bolt at each end may bolt on each
edge ol the channel wales, ft must also be observed to
give each ol the chains and preventer plates a proper
raive, that is, to let them lie in the direction of the
shrouds, winch may be done in the following manner:
Produce the mast upwards, upon which set off the
length of the mast to the lower part of the head 3 these
straight lines drawn from that point through the centre
of each dead eye will give the direction of the chains
and preventer braces.
The fenders may be then drawn, observing to place
them right abreast of the main hatchway, in order to
prevent the ship’s side from being hurt bv whatever
may be hoisted on board. I he proper place for them
will therefore be at timber 3 3 and the distance between
them may be regulated by the distance between the
ports. The chest-tree may also be drawn, which must
be placed at a proper distance abaft the foremast, for
the conveniency of hauling home the fore tack. It
may therefore be drawn at the aft side of timber C
from the top of the side down to the upper edge of the
channel wales 5 and the fenders may reach from the top
of the side down to the upper edge of the main wales.
As the fenders and chest tree are on the outside of the
planks, wales, &c. the lines representing the wales, &c.
should not be drawn through them.
Draw the steps on the side, which must he at the fore
part of the main drift or break, making them as long as
ie distance between the upper and lower deck ports
j of- T!iey may he about six inches asunder,
and hve inches deep, and continued from the top of the
side down to the middle of the main wales.
la order to describe the head, the height of the beak-
ead must be first determined, which may be about two
teet above the upper deck. At that place draw a bori-
I zontal line, upon which set off the length of the beak-
tiead, which may be 74 feet .abaft the fore part of the
f J, , ti,ence square a line up to the fore-
1 hJ-Vj 5 'Yhlc.h H.ne wliI represent the aft part of the
'-Iiead, and wffi likewise terminate the foremost end
269
of the forecastle. The length of the head may now be Application
determined, which by the proportions will be found to°f the fore-
be 15 feet six inches from the fore part of the stem. SetSoin3Ilules
it off from the fore part of the stem, and erect a per-
pendicular, which will be the utmost limits of the figure ships.
forward : then take the breadth of (be figure from the ‘  v—— >
proportions, which is four feet four inches, and set it off
forward 3 and another perpendicular being drawn will
show the utmost extent of the hair bracket forward, or
alt part of the figure. Then draw the lower cheek, let¬
ting the upper edge be well with the upper edge of the
main wales, and the after end ranging well with the
beak-head line; set oft' the depth of it on the stem 3
which is about 11 inches, and let a curved line pass
from the alter end through the point on the stem, and
to break in fair with the perpendicular first drawn for
the length of the head, the fore part of the curve will
then represent the p osition of the figure.
The upper cheek may next be drawn 3 but, in order
to know the exact place of it on the stem, the place of
the main rail must first be set off on the stem, the up¬
per edge of which may be kept on a level with the beak-
head 3 then setting oil the depth of it below that, the
place for the upper cheek may be determined, letting
it be exactly in the middle between that and the lower
cheek: then, by drawing curves for the upper and low¬
er edges of the cheek from the after end parallel to the
lower cheek, to break in fair with the perpendicular
drawn for the hack of the figure : then the upper cheek
will be formed. The upper part may run in a serpen¬
tine as high as where the shoulder of the figure is suppo¬
sed to come, at which place it may be turned off with
a scroll. The distance from the scroll to the heel of the-
figure is called the hair-bracket.
Mie head ol the block may be formed by continuing
the line at the breast round to the top of the hail-brac¬
ket, observing to kee p the top of it about six inches
clear of the under side of the bowsprit.
Having the distance set off on the stem for placing the
main rail, it may next he described, keeping the bag of
it as level as possible lor the conveniency of the grat¬
ings, and letting the foremost end rise gradually accord¬
ing to the rise of the upper cheek and hair bracket, and
mav turn off on the round of the scroll before drawn for
the hair-bracket. Io form the alter end, set oft the
size of the head of the rail abaft the beak-head line,
and erect a perpendicular 3 then describe the arch of a
circle from that perpendicular, to break in fair with the
lower side of the rail in the middle, and also another
from the beak-head perpendicular, to break in fair with
the upper side of the rail at the middle, observing to,
continue the head of it sufficiently high to range with
the timber heads above the forecastle.
The head timbers are next to be drawn, placing the
stem timber its own thickness abaft the stem, and tin fore¬
most must be so placed that the fore side may be up and
down with the heel of the block or figure, which has not
yet been set off. Take therefore the distance from the
breast to the heel on a square which is seven feet, and
erect a perpendicular from the lower part of the lower
cheek to the lower part of the upper cheek 3 which per¬
pendicular will terminate the foremost t rd of the Jo-.ver
cheek and the heel of the figure, and will also termi¬
nate the lower end of the hair-bracket : then, by conti¬
nuing the same perpendicular from the upper'part of
the ■
270 S Xi. X , " ^
Annlicationthe lower deck to the under part of the mam rail, the
of Kre-fore side of the foremost head timber will be described,
going Rules and by setting off Its thickness aft, the other side may
to the Con-^g drawn. The middle head timber may be spread be-
struction the tWQ former ones 5 and there may also be one
timber placed abaft the stem, at a distance from the
stem, equal to that between the others, and the lower
end of It may step on the upper edge of the lower rail.
To describe the middle and lower rails, divide tbe
distance between the lower part of the main rail and the
upper part of the upper cheek equally at every head
timber ; and curves being described through these points
will form the middle and lower rails. rl be after end ol
the lower rail must terminate at the after edge ot the
after head timber.
The cat-head ought to be represented in such a man¬
ner as to come against the aft side of the head of the
main rail, to. rake forward four inches m a foot, and to
steeve up 5I- inches in a foot, and about one foot six
inches square. The lower part of it comes on the plank
of the deck at the side, and the supporter under .t must
form a fair curve to break in with the after end of the
middle rail. , i
The hawse holes must come between the c1kv.ivS,
which is the most convenient place for them ; but their
place fore and aft cannot be exactly determined until
they are laid down in the half-breadth plan.
The knee of the head is to project from the breast ot
the figure about two inches j and particular care must
be taken that in forming it downwards it be not too
full as it is then liable to rub the cable very much : it
may therefore have no more substance under the lower
cheek at the heel of the figure than is just sufficient to
admit of the bobstay holes, and may be 3y feet distant
from the stem at the load-water line, making it run in
an agreeable serpentine line from the breast down to the
third water line, where it may be i4 feet from tbe stem.
By continuing the same line downwards, keeping it
more distant from the stem as it comes down, the gripe
will be formed. The lower part of it must break in fair
with the under part of the false keel ; and the breadth
of the gripe at the broadest place will be found by the
proportions to be 4^ feet. As the aft part of the gripe
is terminated by the fore foot, or foremost end of the
keel, it will now be proper to finish that part as fol¬
lows : From the line representing the upper edge of the
keel set down the depth of the keel through which
draw a line parallel to the former, and it will be the
lower edge of the keel. From that point, where the
aft side of the stem is distant from the upper edge ot
the keel by a quantity equal to the breadth of the keel
at midships, erect a perpendicular, which will limit the
foremost end of the keel ; and the alter or lower end of
the stem may be represented by setting off the length of
the scarf from the foremost end of the keel, which may
be six feet. Set down from the line representing the
lower edge of the keel the thickness of the false keel,
which is seven inches; and a line drawn through that
point parallel to the lower edge of the keel will be the
under edge of the false keel, the foremost end of which
may be three inches afore the foremost end of the main
^The head being now finished, proceed next to the
stern, the side and middle timbers of which are already
drawn. From the side timber set off forward 14 feet,
the length of gallery, and draw a pencil line parallel t°Appfer
the side timber ; draw also a line to intersect the touch
the side timber ; draw also a nne iu — j . P
of the upper counter at the side, producing it forwards ^ ^ j*
parallel to the sheer as far as the pencil line firstdrawn , slructi M;
and this line will represent the upper edge of the gal- Ship?*!
lery rim. From which set down eight inches, the
breadth of the gallery rail, and draw the lower edge
of the rail. At the distance of eight inches from the
fore side of the side timber draw aline parallel thereto ;
and from the point of intersection of this line with the
upper edge of the gallery rim, draw a curve to the
middle timber parallel to the touches of the upper coun¬
ter, whicli line will represent the upper edge of the up¬
per counter rail as it appears on the sheer draught.
The lower edge of this rail may be formed by setting
off its depth from the upper edge. In the same manner
the lower counter rail may be described : then take the
distance between that and the upper counter rail, and
set it off below the rim rail; and hence the rail that
comes to the lower stool may be drawn, keeping 1 pa¬
rallel to the rim rail. Underneath that, the lower fi¬
nishing may be formed, making it as light and agree¬
able as possible. . r
Set off from the middle timber on the end of the
quarter-deck the projection of the balcony, which may
be about two feet, and draw a line with a pencil paral¬
lel to the middle timber. On this line set off a point
if inches below the under side of the quarter-deck,
from which draw a curve to the side timber parallel to
the upper counter rail, which curve will represent the |
lower side of the foot space rail of the balcony as it ap¬
pears in the sheer draught. .
Take the distance between the point of intersection
of the upper edge of the upper counter with the mid¬
dle line, and the point of intersection of the under side
of the foot space rail with the middle line, which set
up on a perpendicular from the upper edge of the rim
rail at the foremost end. Through this point draw a
line parallel to the rim rail to intersect the lower part
of the foot space rail, and this line will represent the
lower edge of the rail that comes to the middle stool,
and will answer to the foot space rail. Then between
this line and the rim rail three lights or sashes may be
drawn, having a muntin or pillar between each light ot
about 14 inches broad, and the lower gallery will be
finished. Set off the depth of the middle stool rail
above the line already drawn for the lower edge, and
the upper edge may be drawn. Then set off the same
depth above the curve drawn for the lower edge ot the
foot space rail, and the upper edge of that rail may then
be drawn. . . . , 1
The quarter-piece must be next described, the
of which must step on the after end of the middle stool.
Draw a line with a pencil parallel to the middle tnnber,
and at a distance therefrom, equal to the projection ol
the balcony. Upon this line set up from the round¬
house deck the height of the upper part of the stern or
tuff rail, which may be four feet above the deck,
that height draw with a pencil a horizontal line, an
from its intersection with the line first drawn descii a
curve to the middle stool rail, observing to make tbe
lower part of this curve run nearly parallel to the si e
timber, and the lower part about three inches abaft tne
side timber; and this curve will represent the aft Sll‘e ®
the quarter-piece at the outside. There set off the nc ^
'kM.
loflPF
to;oir
’sir,-*11
■ aru
eu S'
e -
e
i
e
e
i-
)■
ationness of the quarter-piece, which is one foot six inches,
jfore- afore the curve already drawn j and another curve be-
iRulcs ing described parallel to it from the lower part to the
!on°ofto.P °t t^e s*ieer> an<^ quarter-piece at the outside
L will be represented. On the horizontal line drawn for
!_—/ the upper part of the taff-rail set off forward the thick¬
ness of the taff-rail, which is one foot 5 then draw a
curve down to the head of the quarter-piece parallel to
the first, and that part of the taff-rail will be described.
Instead of a fair curve, it is customary to form the upper
part of the taff-rail with one or two breaks, and their
curves inverted. Either way may, however, be used
according to fancy.
Set off the depth of the taff-rail, which may be about
feet, on the line drawn for the projection ; from the
upper part, and from this point, describe a curve as low
as the heel ef the quarter-piece, and about five inches
abaft it at that place 5 observing to make it run nearly
parallel to the after edge of the quarter-piece; and the
after-part of the quarter-piece, which comes nearest to
the side, will be represented.
Set up on the line drawn for the projection of the
balcony the height of the upper part of the balcony or
breast-rail, which is 3-J feet from the deck ; set off the
thickness of the rail below that, and describe the balco¬
ny, keeping it parallel to the foot space rail, and termi¬
nating it at the line drawn for the after part of the quar¬
ter-piece nearest the side } and the whole balcony will
then be represented.
The upper gallery is then to be described. In order
to this, its length must be determined, which may be
11 feet. Set off this distance from the side timber for¬
ward with the sheer j and at this point draw a line pa¬
rallel to the side timber, which line will represent the
fore part of the gallery. Then take the distance be¬
tween the upper part of the foot space rail and the up¬
per part of the breast rail on a perpendicular, and set it
off on a perpendicular from the upper part of the middle
stool rail on the line drawn for the fore part of the gal¬
lery, from which to the fore part of the quarter-piece
draw a straight line parallel to the rail below, which
line will be the upper edge of the upper rim rail 3 and
its thickness being set oft", the lower edge may also be
drawn. From the upper edge of that rail set up an ex¬
tent equal to the distance between the lower rim rail
and middle stool rail, and describe the upper stool rail,
the after end of which will be determined by the quar¬
ter-piece, and the fore end by the line for the length of
the gallery. There may be three sashes drawn between
these two rails as before •, and hence the upper ealierv
will be formed.
The upper finishing should be next drawn, the length
of which may be i£ foot less than the upper gallery.
Draw a line parallel to the rake of the stern for the fore
end of it, and let the upper part of the topside be the
upper part of the upper rail, from which set down three
inches for the thickness of the rail, and describe it.
Describe also another rail of the same length and thick¬
ness as the former ; and eight inches below •, from the
end of which a serpentine line may be drawn down to
pleM ^ St°01 ra^’ Ui)per will be com-
The stern being now finished, the rudder only re¬
mains to be drawn. The breadth 'of the rudder at the
ower part is to be determined from the proportions, and
SHIP-BUILDING.
set off from the line representing the aft part of the
stern-post j which line also represents the fore part of
the rudder. Then determine on the lower hance, let¬
ting it be no higher than is just sufficient, which may be
about one foot above the load-water line, and set off its
breadth at that place taken from the proportions. Then
a line drawn from thence to the breadth set oft at the
lower part will be the aft side of the rudder below the
louder hance. There may also be another hance about
the height of the lower deck. The use of these breaks
orhances isto reduce the breadth as it rises toward the
head. I he aft part may be drawn above the lower
hance, the break at the lower hance being about ten
inches, and the break at the upper hance six inches. 
The back may be then drawn. It is of elm, about
four inches thick on the aft part. That thickness be¬
ing set oft, and a line drawn from the loiver hance to
the lower end will represent the hack. The head of the
rudder should be as high as to receive a tiller above
the upper deck. Therefore set off the size of the head
above the upper deck, and draw a line from thence to
the break of the upper hance, and the aft part of the
rudder will be represented all the way up. The beard¬
ing should he drawn, by setting off the breadth of it
at the keel from the foreside of the rudder, which may
be nine inches. Set off also the breadth at the head of
the wing-transom, which may he a foot. Then a line
being drawn through these two points, from the lower
part of the rudder to about a foot above the wing-tran¬
som, and the bearding will be represented. As the
bearding is a very nice point, and the working of the
rudder depending very much upon it, it should always
e \eiy particularly considered. It has been customary
to beard the rudder to a sharp edge at the middle, by
winch the mam piece is reduced more than necessary,
ine rudder should, however, be bearded from the side
of tiie pintles, and the fore side made to the form of the
pintles.
The pintles and braces may next he drawn. In order
to which determine the place of the upper one, which
must be so disposed that the straps will come round the
head of the standard, which is against the head of the
stern-post on the gun-deck, and meet at the middle line.
Jjy this means there is double security both to the brace
and standard. To obtain those advantages, it must
therefore be placed about four inches above the wimj-
transom : the second must he placed just below the gun-
jk 80 as to bolt in the middle of the deck-transom
and the rest may be spaced equally between the lower
one, winch may be about six inches above the upper
edge of the keel. The number of them is generally
seven pair upon this class of ships j but the number may
be regulated by the distance between the second and
upper one, making the distance between the rest nearly
he same. Ihe length of all the braces will be found
by setting off the length of the lower one, which may
he eight feet afore the back of the stern-post 5 and alsj
the length of the third, which is four feet and a half
afoie the bacN of the stern-post 5 and a line drawn from
the one extremity to the other will limit the interme¬
diate ones, as will appear on the sheer draught. The
braces will seem to diminish in length very much as
they go up 5 hut when measured or viewed on the
wli, T|heib0dll’ ‘fey, "iM 1,8 nea‘lI' of a“ eq'wl
length. The length of the straps of the pintles which
come
271
Application
of the fore¬
going Rules
to the Con¬
struction of
Ships.
1 . 
Sciccomo upon .1,e ««« n,ay all j
0/the fore.-of the aft side ot the rudder; and the rudder
S H
IP-BUILBING.
stances from the middle line on the base, and set them Appllcaiio, .
off- Set off alsotheir height, UP U.e s.ffe h^^d..^
oft. bet ott also tneir neiguua uF — —“ ~ ■
tie ait siue ui w.e ——‘7 ■ - n f t. r0per draw the diagonals. Then take from the sheer plan the ^ ,
going Rules a flat surface, they will all appeal - p P fleio-hts of the lower height of breadth-line, and set them sUuclim(<
totlieCon-. .i _. 'o , -in i:  .i,0 Undv r»lnn i tnrouffh sk;«.
>thf.Lon; lengths
Lructioii ot p>
Ships.
’ll. V the half-breadth and body plans.—half¬
breadth plan must be first drawn. Then produce e
lower edge of the keel both ways, and let it als« ,ein
sent the middle line of the half-breadth plan. 1 |0<
all the frames downwards, and also the lore and at
perpendiculars. Then from the place in the sheer-plan,
where the height of breadth-lines ‘ntersect thej em
square down to the middle line the lore an^a t Pa t
the rabbet and the fore part of the stem. 1 ake lion
the dimensions what the stem is sided at that place, and
cet off half of it from the middle line in the half-breadth
plan through which draw a line parallel to the middle
Fine through the three lines squared down and the lia
breadth of the stem will be represented in the ha 1-
breadth plan. Take the thickness of the plank ot the
bottom which is inches, and describe the rabbet of
the stem in the half-breadth plan.
From the points ef intersection of the height of
breadth lines with the counter timber at the side, and
with the counter timber at the middle line, draw lines
perpendicular to the middle line oi the half-breadth
plan from which set off the half breadth of the counter
on the line first drawn ; and from this point to the in¬
tersection of the line last drawn, with the middle line
. draw a cm” e, and the half breadth of the eonnter w.il
t represented at the height of breadth, winch will he
the broadest part of the stern. . _ ^ f
Take the main half breadth of timber dead flat from
the dimensions, and lay it off from the middle me on
.lead flat in the half-breadth plan. Take also.lrom the
.dimensions the main half breadth of every timber, and
set off each from the middle line the cone»pondi g
timbers in the half-breadth plan. Then a curve drawn
from the end of the line representing the half-breadth
of the counter through all the points, set oft en ie im-
bers and terminating at the aft part of the stern, will
be the main half-breadth line, lake from the dimen¬
sions the top timber half-breadth, and describe the top-
limber half breadth line in the half-breadth plan, in the
same manner as the main half-breadth line. .
Take from the dimensions the half-breadth of the ri-
and set it off from the middle line on the cone-
heicMits ot tne unvei utig.n.    , sttuclionof
off upon the middle line in the body plan ; through
r . .i- _   nom e to the base.
Ships.
Plate
-ccccxeit.
35*
sincr, aBu set it ou uum ... i
spending timbers, in the half-breadth phm, observing
where the word outside is expressed in the tables, the
half-breadth for that timber must be set oft above or
on the outside of the middle line. Then a curve drawn
through these points will be the half-breadth oi rising
in the half-breadth plan. . . , ,
it will now be necessary to proceed to the body plan.
Draw a horizontal line (fig- 35-)» "hich * ^ !
base line, from the right-hand extremity of winch erect
a perpendicular. Then set off on the base line the
main half-breadth at dead flat, and erect another per¬
pendicular, and from that set oft the n.am half breadth
again and erect a third perpendicular, i be first pei
pedicular, as alrea,!y ubserved, » ualthu »i<le line
of the fore body ; the secuud the middle hoe , and the
''third the side line of the after hoi y. _ fliago-
Take from the dimensions the height=. o. lie diago
-nals up the middle line, and set them from the base up
the middle line in the body plan, 'lake also their di-
5
on upon me iiiuiuio ^ i
these points lines are to be drawn parallel to the base,
and terminating at the side lines. In like manner pro-
ceed with the upper height of breadth line.
The rising is next to he set oft on the body plan , it
must, however, be first described in the sheer plan:
Take, therefore, the heights from the dimensions, and
set them off on the corresponding timbers in the sheer
plan, and a curve described through these points will
be the rising line in the sheer plan. T^n ^ke from
the dimensions the rising heights of dead flat, bet it
off in the body plan, and draw a horizontal line. Now
take all the rising heights from the sheer plan, and set
them off in the body plan from the line drawn for the
rising height of dead flat, and draw horizontal lines
through these points. Take from the half-breadth
plan the half breadths of the rising, and set them off
from the middle line in the body plan, and the cenhes
of the floor sweeps of the corresponding timbers will be
°bFrom’the half-breadth plan take the main half*
breadth lines, and set them off from the middle line in
the body plan on the corresponding lines before drawn
for the lower height of breadth ; and from the extremi¬
ties of these lines set off towards the middle line the
lengths of the lower breadth sweeps respectively.
take from the dimensions the distance of each frame
from the middle line on the diagonals, and set them oft
from the middle line on their respective diagonal lines.
Now these distances being set off, and the ower breadth
and floor sweeps described, the shape of the frames^e-
low the breadth line may easily be drawn as folloiro .
Place one point of a compass in the distance set oft r
the length of the lower breadth sweep, and extend the
other to the point which terminates the breadth and
describe an arch of a circle downwards, which wi 1 i»-
tersect the points setoff on the upper diagonal lines, let-
tbg it pass as low as convenient. Then hx one pom
of fhe compasses in the centre of the floor sweep, and
extend the other to the point set oft on the fourth diago¬
nal which is the floor head ; and describe a circle to
intersect as many of the points set off on the diagona
as it will. Then draw a curve from the back of tb
lower breadth sweep, through the points on the d..go-
nals to the hack of the floor sweep. Descube also a
other curve from the back of the floor sweep through
the points on the lower diagonals, and terminating t
the upner part of the rabbet of the keel, and that pa
of the frame below the breadth will be formed. In ^
manner describe the other frames. , in.ver
Through the extremities of the frames au th
height of breadth draw lines parallel to the mid le Ime,
and terminating at the upper height of breadth ,
r VrrpaHth sweeps ; non
ana u-i-iiuuaiing -rr— mv fix
from thence set off the upper breadth sweeps , now h
one point of the compass m the centres of the . pp^
breadth sweeps successively, and the other P ^
extremities of the frames, and describe circles upi^ ^
Then from the sheer plan take oft .the beig
top-timber lines, and set them oft m t o ^/top-
drawing horizontal lines ; upon winch set
.timber half-breadths taken from the coriespo ‘ ^
S H I P-B U
G.
App'&tion bers in the half-breadth plan J ami by describing curves
oft fore-from the back of the upper breadth sweeps through the
goir ftules p0jnf.s se|; 0ff on ^]e seventh or upper diagonal; and in-
t° tJ t"011'tcrsecting the top-timber half-breadths, the timbers will
OToa 0f tersect,ng • ,   -
then be formed from the keel to the top of the side.
Sips.
The upper end of the timbers may be determined by
taking the several heights of the upper part of the top
side above the top-timber line, and setting them off
above the top-timber line on the corresponding timbers
in the body plan. The lower parts of the timbers are
ended at the rabbet of the keel as follows : With an ex¬
tent of four inches and a half, the thickness of the bot¬
tom, and one leg of the compasses at the place where
the line for the thickness of the keel intersects the base
line ; with the other leg describe an arch to intersect the
keel line and the base. Then fix one point at the inter¬
section of the arch and keel, and from the point of in¬
tersection of the keel and base describe another arch to
intersect the former. Then from the intersection of
these arches draw one straight line to the intersection of
the keel and base, and another to the intersection of the
lower arch and the keel, and the rabbet of the, keel
will be described at the main frame. All the timbers
in the middle part of the ship which have no rising ter¬
minate at the intex-section of the upper edge of the rab¬
bet with the base line ; but the lower part of the tim¬
bers, having a rising, end in the centre of the rabbet,
that is, where the two circles intersect. Those timbers
which are near the after end of the keel must be ended
by setting off the half breadth of the keel at the port in
the half breadth plan, and describe the tapering of the
keel. Then at the corresponding timbers take off the
half breadth of the keel ; set it off in the body plan,
and describe the rabbet as before, letting every timber
end where the two circles for its respective rabbet in¬
tersect.
To describe the side counter or stern timber, take
the height of the wing transom, the lower counter, up¬
per counter, and top-timber line at the side ; from the
sheer plan transfer them to the body plan, and through
these points draw horizontal lines. Divide the distance
between the wing transom and lower counter into three
equal parts, and through the two points of division
draw two horizontal lines. Draw also a horizontal line
equidistant from the upper counter and the top-timber
line in the sheer plan, and transfer them to the body
plan.
Now, from the point of intersection of the aft side of
the stern timber at the side, with the wing transom at
the side in the sheer plan, draw a line perpendicular to
the middle line in the half breadth plan. Draw also
perpendicular lines from the points where the upper and
lower transoms touch the stern-post; from the points of
intersection of the stern-timber with the two horizontal
lines drawn between, and from the intersection of the
stern-timber with the horizontal line drawn between the
upper counter and top-timber line. Then curves must
be formed in the half breadth plan for the shape of the
body at each of these heights. In order to which, be¬
gin with the horizontal or level line representing the
height of the wing transom in the body plan. Lay a
sup ol paper to that line, and mark on it the middle
hne and the timbers 37, 35, 33, and 29 j transfer the
'P. to the half breadth plan, placing the point marked
on it for the middle line exactly on the middle in the
Vol. XIX. Part I. f
I L D I N . 273
half breadth plan, and set off the half breadths on the Application
corresponding timbers 37, 35, 33, and 29, and describe ol the fore-
a curve through these points, and to intersect the per-MO'ngRules
pendicular drawn from the sheer plan. In like manner10 tlle.Con-
proceed with the horizontal lines at the heights of the ^ships* 0t
counters, between the lower counter and wing transom, ^ ¥ ' ■
above the upper counter and top-timber line $ and from
the intersections of the curve drawn in the half breadth
plan, with the perpendicular lines drawn from the
sheer plan, take the distances to the middle line, and
set them off on the corresponding lines in the body
plan ; then a curve described through the several points
thus set oft will be the representative of the stern-
timber.
The round-up of the wing transom, upper and lower
counter, may be taken from the sheer draught, and set
off at the middle line above their respective level lines
in the body plan, by which the round-up of each may
be drawn. The round-aft of the wing transom may
also be taken from the sheer plan, and set oft' at the
middle line, abaft the perpendicular for the wing tran¬
som in the half breadth plan, whence the round-aft of
the wing transom may be described.
The after body being now finished, it remains to form
the fore body ; but as the operation is nearly the same
in both, a repetition is therefore unnecessary, except in
those parts which require a different process.
The foremost timbers end on the stem, and conse¬
quently the method of describing the ending of them
difl'ers from that used for the timbers used in the after
body. Draw a line in the body plan parallel to the
middle line, at a distance equal to the half of what
the stem is sided. In the sheer plan take the height
of the point of intersection of the lower part of the
rabbet of the stem with the timber which is required
to be ended, and set it off on the line before drawn in
the body plan. Then take the extent between the
points of intersection of the timber with the lower and
upper parts of the rabbet, and with one leg of the com¬
passes at the extremity of the distance laid off in the
body plan describe a circle, and the timbers may then
pass over the back of this circle. Now, by applying a
small square to the timber, and letting the back of it in¬
tersect the point set off for the low'er part of the rabbet,
the lower part of the rabbet and the ending of the tim¬
bers will be described.
The foremost timbers differ also very much at the
head from those in the after body : For since the ship
carries her breadth so far forward at the top-timber line,
it therefore occasions the two foremost frames to fall
out at the head beyond the breadth, whence they are
called knuckle timbers. They are thus described :
The height of the top-timber line being set oft’ in the
body plan, set off on it the top half breadth taken from
the half breadth plan, and at that place draw a perpen¬
dicular; then from the sheer plan take the height of
the top of the side, and set it off on the perpendiculas
in the body plan : Take also the breadth of the rail at
the top-timber line in the sheer plan, and set it off- be¬
low the top-timber line at the perpendicular line in the
body plan, and the straight part of the knuckle timber
to be drawn will be determined. Then from the last-
mentioned point set off describe a curve through the
points set off’ for the timber down to the upper breadth,
and the whole knuckle timber will be formed. It will
M m hence
2'7 +
Application
i>!' ihe Ibre-
gbin^ Rules
to the Coiv-
struetian oJf
Ships.
SHI P-B U I L
hence be seen that those timbers forward will fall out
beyond the main breadth with a hollow, contrary to the
rest of the top side, which falls within the main breadth
with a hollow. .
The fore and after bodies being now formed, the wa¬
ter lines must next be described in the half-breadth plan,
in order to prove the fairness of the bodies, in t.ns
draught the water lines are all represented parallel to
the keel ; their heights may, therefore, be taken from
the sheer plan, and transferred to the body plan, draw¬
ing horizontal lines, and the water lines will be repre¬
sented in the body plan. In ships that draw more wa¬
ter abaft than afore, the water lines will not be parallel
to the keel: in this case, the heights must be taken at
every timber in the sheer plan, and set oft on the cor¬
responding timbers in the body plan-, and curves being
described through the several points, will represent the
water lines in the body plan.
Take the distances from the middle line to the points
where the water lines intersect the different timbers in
the body plan, and set them oft on their corresponding
timbers in the half-breadth plan. From the points
where the water lines in the sheer plan intersect the
aft part of the rabbet of the sternpost, draw perpendi¬
culars to the middle line of the half-breadth p an, and
upon these perpendiculars set off from the middle line
the half thickness of the sternpost at its corresponding
water line *, which may be taken from the body plan,
by setting off the size of the post at the head and t le
keel, and drawing a line for the tapering ot it and
where, the line so drawn intersects the water lines, that
will be the half thickness required : then take an extent
in the compasses equal to the thickness of the plank, and
fix one point where the half thickness of the post in¬
tersects the perpendicular, and with the other describe
a circle, from the hack of which the water lines may
_ D I N G.
cant of the fashion-piece will he described, and will he Application
found situated in the best manner possible to answer the .or the foe.
before-mentioned purposes. < toThe Con-
The cant of the fashion-piece being represented, the ^
cant of the other timbers may now be easily determi- ship?.
ned. Let timber 29 be the foremost cant timber 111 the < ^
after body, and with a pencil draw timber 28 j then
observe how many frames there are between timber 28
and the fashion-piece, which will be found to he nine,
namely, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33* 34* 35* 3<5, and 37. ^ow
divide the distance between timber 28 and the lashion-
piece on the middle line into 1 o equal parts: Divide
also the corresponding portion of the main hali-breadm
lines into the same number of equal parts j and straight
lines joining the corresponding points at the middle line
with those in the half-breadth line will represent the
cant timbers in the after body.
The line drawn for the cant of the fashion-piece re¬
presents the aft side of it, which comes to the end of
the transoms hut in order to help the conversion with
regard to the lower transoms, there may be two more
fasliion-pieces abaft the former therefore the foremost
fashion-piece, or that which is already described in the
half-breadth plan, may only take the ends of the three
upper transoms, which are, the wing, filling, and deck,
the middle fashion-piece may take the four next, and
the after fashion-piece the lower ones : therefore set oft
in the half-breadth plan the siding of the middle and
after fashion-piece, which may he 13 inches each then
by drawing lines parallel to the foremost lasliion-piece,
at the aforesaid distance from each other, the middle and
after fashion-piece will be represented m the half-breadth
plan. . ,
The fashion-piece and transoms yet remain to be re¬
presented in the sheer plan ; in order to which, let the
number of transoms be determined, which, lor so large
the same manner as with the atter part
from the water line to the point set off for the halt
thickness of the post will represent the aft part ot the
rabbet of the post and in like manner the rabbet ot
the stem may be represented. The water Imes being
»ll described, it will be seen if the body is fair-, and it
the timbers require any alteration, it should he complied
The cant-timbers of the after body may next be de¬
scribed in the half-breadth plan-, in order to winch the
cant of the fashion-piece must first be represented. Ha¬
ving therefore the round aft of the wing transom re¬
presented in the half-breadth plan, and also the shape
of a level line at the height of the wing transom -, then
set off the breadth of the wing transom at the end,
which is one foot four inches, and that will be the place
where the head of the fashion-piece will come : now to
determine the cant of it, the shape of the body must he
considered; as it must he canted in such a manner as
set off its siding below that, and draw a level line for
the lower edge. The filling transom follows -, which
is merely for the purpose of filling the vacancy between
the under edge of the wing and the upper part ot the
deck plank : it may therefore be represented by draw-
ing two level lines for the upper and lower edge, caving
about two inches between the upper edge and lower
edge of the wing transom, and four inches between t&e
lower edge of the gun deck plank 5 then the deck tran¬
som must be governed by the gun-deck, letting t le un
der side of the gun-deck plank represent the upper side
of it, and setting off its siding below that; the under
edo-e may also be drawn: the transoms below the
may all be sided equally, which may he 11 inches j ^
must also have a sufficient distance between to admit toe
circulation of the air to preserve them, which may
about three inches. . .. , f
The transoms being now drawn with a pencil, tne
considered; a, it mast be. canted in such a manner as ^ in the sheer plan by
nn/h stronger than if it were crooked t the “n m"s J L cS h veTe upper transom, it may thereto
Vs C?r,drred’ 1", r T et 1 etfo e tl e h el of he first described : in order to which, draw a sufficto
KSK^eSleH^twolhet^re
—^Kndthewingtransom.andoneaha*
Apication tlie wing transom at the intended height of the head of
fore-the fashion-piece, which may be about five feet : then
SHIP-BUILDING.
f con-take the he,Sht of these tw» Ievel lines, and transfer
itn :on ofthem *° '•l16 l-'n'ly plan j and take oft two or three tim-
Bips. bers and run them in the half-breadth plan, in the same
'—manner as the water lines were done j then from the
point where the line drawn for the cant of the fashion-
piece, in the half-breadth plan, intersects the level line
drawn for the head of the fashion-piece, draw up a per¬
pendicular to the said line in the sheer plan, making a
point. Again, from the intersection of the cant line,
with the le.vel line for the wing transom in the half-
breadth plan, draw a perpendicular to the wing transom
in the sheer plan. Also draw perpendiculars from the
points where the cant line in the half-breadth plan in¬
tersects the level line below the wing transom, and also
(lie water lines to the corresponding lines in the sheer
Pian i then a curve described through these points will
be the representation of the foremost fashion-piece in the
sheer plan. In the same manner the middle and after
fashion-pieces may be described ; observing to let the
middle one run up no higher than the under part of the
deck transom, and the after to the under side of the
fourth transom under the deck. The transoms may now
he drawn with ink, as their lengths are limited by the
fashion-pieces.
Neither tne head nor the foreside of the sternpost are
yet described5 take, therefore, from the dimensions, the
bieaoth oi the post on tne keel, and set it off on the
; upper edge of the keel from the aft side of post. The
head of the post must next be determined, which must
just be high enough to admit of the helm-post transom
and the tiller coming between it and the upper deck
beam ; the height therefore that is necessary will be one
foot nine inches above the wing transom. Now draw
a level line at that height, upon which set off the breadth
of the sternpost at that place, taken from the dimen¬
sions, and a line drawn from thence to the point set off
on the keel will be the foreside of the sternpost; obser¬
ving, however, not to draw the line through the tran¬
soms, as it will only appear between them. The inner
post may be drawn, by setting off its thickness forward
from the sternpost, and drawing a straight line as be¬
fore, continuing it no higher than the under side of the
wing transom.
The cant timbers in the after body being described,
"together with the parts dependent on them, those in the
fore body may be next formed j in order to which, the
I oremost and aftermost cant timbers must be first deter-
, nnned, and also the cant of the foremost ones. The
foremost cant timber will extend so far forward as to be
named the cant on the middle line may be one foot
Jour inches afore square timber W, and on the main half
breadth fine one foot nine inches afore timber Y: in
which situation the line may be drawn for the cant;
the altermost may be timber Q. The cant timbers
may now be described in the same manner as those in
the alter body, namely, by spacing them equally be¬
tween the cant timber and the square timber P, both
pa the main half-breadth, and middle lines, and draw¬
ing straight lines between the corresponding points, ob-
Tr r Ct t!iem rUn °Ut t0 tlie tnP'timber half-
breadth line6’ " ^ ^ C°meS without the raain balf-
brpari'ii ha,WSe pi,eces. must next be laid down in the half¬
breadth plan j the sides of which must look fore and aft
with the ship upon account of the round of the bow.
Take the siding of the apron, which may he about four
inches more than the stem, and set off half of it from
the middle line, drawing a line from the main half¬
breadth to the foremost cant timber, which will repre¬
sent the foremost edge of the knight-head ; then from
that set oil the siding of the knight-head, which may
be one foot four inches, and draw the aft side of it.
The hawse pieces may then be drawn, which are four
in number, by setting off their sidings, namely, one foot
six inches parallel from the knight-head, and from each
other 5 and straight lines being drawn from the main
half-breadth line to the foremost cant timber will repre¬
sent them.
The hawse boles should be described in such a man¬
ner as to wound the hawse pieces as little as possible j
they may therefore be placed so that the joint of the
hawse pieces shall he in the centre of the holes, whence
they will only cut half the hawse pieces. Take the di¬
mensions of the hawse holes, which is one foot six
inches, and set off the foremost one, or that next the
middle line, on the joint between the first and second
hawse piece j then set off the other on the joint between
the third and fourth hawse piece j and small lines being
drawn across the main half-breadth at their respective
places will represent the hawse holes in the half-breadth
plan.
i The hawse holes should next be represented in the
sheer plan. Li this class of ships they are always pla¬
ced in the middle between the cheeks ; therefore set
off their diameter, namely, one foot six inches, between
the. cheeks, and draw lines parallel to the cheeks for
their upper and lower part. Then to determine their
situation agreeable to the half-breadth plan, which is
the fore, and aft way, draw perpendiculars from their
intersections with the main half-breadth line to the lines
drawn between the cheeks, and their true situations, tlie
lore and aft way, will be obtained 5 and, by describing
them round or circular, according to the points set. off,
they will be represented as they appear in the sheer plan!
The apron may be drawn in the sheer plan, setting
oft its bigness from the stem, and letting it come so low
that the scarf may be about two feet higher than the
foremost end of the fore foot $ by which it will give ship
to the scarfs of the stem. It may run up to the head of
the stem.
The cutting down should next be drawn. Take
therefore from the tables of dimensions the different
heights there expressed, and set them off from the up-
per edge ol the keel on the corresponding timbers in the
sheer plan : then.a curve described through the points
set ofi, from the inner post aft to the apron forward,
will be the cutting down. Next set off from the cut¬
ting down the thickness of the timber strake, which is
eight inches and a half, and a curve described parallel
to the former will represent the timber strake, from
which the depth of the hold is always measured.
The kelson is drawn, by taking‘its depth from the
dimensions, and set it off above the cutting down line j
and a curve described parallel to the cutting down will
represent the kelson.
The cutting down line being described, the knee of
the dead wood abaft timber 27, being the after floor
timber, may then be represented. Set off the siding
of the floor abaft it, and erect a perpendicular in the
sheer plan, which will terminate the foremost end of
M m 2 the
2y5
AppIieeiJwn
of tlie fore¬
going Rules
to the Con~
siruetion of
Ship,.
276
HIP-BUILDING.
« r tVn the dead wood : then the fore and aft arm of the knee
tfthTfo're- may be half the length of the whole dead wood, and the
going Rides an(} (iovvn arm may reach to the under part ot tlie
to theCon-jovver u.ansom . anti tlie whole knee may be placed in
StSir °‘ such a manner that the upper piece of the dead wood
■ * 1 shall bolt over it, and be of as much substance as the
knee itself: therefore the knee must consequently be
placed its whole thickness below the cutting down line
representing the upper part of the dead wood.
The sheer draught, the body, and half-breadth p
are now finished, from whence the ship may be laid
down in the mould loft, and also the whole frame erect¬
ed. As, however, the use of the diagonal lines in the
body plan has not been sufficiently explained, it is there¬
fore^ thought proper to subjoin the following illustration
Katie and°l diagonal lines in the body plan are mentioned
use of dia- ;n the tables of dimensions merely for t le purpose
gonal lines. f ; the body therefrom ; but after the body is form¬
ed, they are of very principal use as at their stations
the ribbands and harpins which keep the body of the
ship together while in her frames are all described, and
the heads of the different timbers in the frame likewise
detThe lowermost diagonal, or N° I- which is named
the lower sirmark, at which place the bevellings are ta¬
ken for the hollow of the floors j its situation is gene¬
rally in the middle between the keel and the floor sir-
maSecond diagonal is placed in the midships, about 18
inches below the floor head, and is the station where he
floor ribband is placed in midships, and .lkewise the
floor harpin forward *, there is also a beveffing taken at
this diagonal all the way fore and aft, from which it is
termed the floor sirmark. „ , a
Third diagonal, terminates the length of the floors,
and is therefore called Ww floor head. There are like-
wise bevellings taken at this diagonal as far forward
and aft as the floor extends. The placing of tffis dia¬
gonal is of the utmost consequence to the strength of the
fhip, it being to near to that part of the bulge which
takes the ground, and of consequence is always liable to
the greatest strain: it should therefore be placed as
much above the bearing of the body in midships as could
be conveniently allowed by conversion of the timber ,
but afore and abaft it is not of so much consequence.
Fourth diagonal is placed in the middle between the
floor head and the fifth diagonal, at which place a rib¬
band and harpin are stationed for the security of the
first or lower futtock, from whence it is named the> st
futtock sirmark. There are also bevellings taken at this
diagonal all afore and aft, which being part of the body
where the timbers .most vary, occasions them to be the
greatest bevellings in the whole body.
b Fifth diagonal terminates the heads of the first lut-
tocks, and is therefore called Wk first futtock head. It
should be placed at a convenient distance above the
floor head, in order to give a sufficient scarf to the
lower part of the second futtocks. There are likewise
bevellings for the timbers taken at this diagonal, all
l0Six"h diagonal should be placed in the middle between
the first futtock head and the seventh diagonal j at
which place the ribband and harpin are stationed for the
support of the second futtocks. Bevellings are taken at
3
this diagonal all fore and aft. It is named the *WAppHeatiw
futtock sirmark. o! llie fo'#-
Seventh diagonal terminates the second futtock heads g™g
from the fore to the aftermost floors, and afore and
abaft them it terminates the double futtock beads in the
fore and aft cant bodies. It should be placed in mid- > ^
ships, as much above the first futtock head as the first
futtock is above the floor head : by which it gives the
same scarf to the lower part of the third futtock as the
first futtock does to the second.. There are bevellings
taken all fore and aft at this diagonal. It is named the
second futtock head. ,
Eighth diagonal is the station for the ribband and
harpin which supports the third futtocks, and is there¬
fore placed between the second futtock head and ninth
diagonal. It is also a bevelling place, and is named
the third futtock sirmark.
Ninth and last diagonal is placed the same distance
above the second futtock head as that is above the first,
and terminates all the heads of the third futtocks which
are in the frames, as they come between the ports; but
such as are between the frames, and come under the
lower deck ports, must run up to the under part of the
ports, as no short timbers should by any means be ad¬
mitted under the ports, which require the greatest pos¬
sible strength. This diagonal is likewise a bevelling
place for the heads of the third futtocks, and is there¬
fore called the third futtock head. * 111
The fourth futtock heads are terminated by the un¬
der part of the upper deck ports all fore and aft, and a
ribband is placed fore and aft at the height of the up¬
per breadth line, another between the lower and upper
deck ports, and one at the top-timber line 5 which, with
the ribbands and harpins before mentioned, keep the
whole body of the ship together, and likewise m its pro¬
per form and shape. , „
It must be observed, that the diagonal lines laid down
in the dimensions will not correspond to what has been
said above upon diagonals, as they were drawn discre-
tionally upon the body for the purpose of giving the true
dimensions of it. Therefore, when the body is drawn
in fair, the first diagonals (which should only be in pen¬
cil) are to be rubbed out, and the proper diagonals
drawn with red ink, strictly adhering to what has been
said above.
Sect. III. Of the Inboard Works of the Ship describe
ed in the preceding Section.
Draughts of the outboard works being now con¬
structed, in which every part is described that is neces¬
sary to enable the artist to put the ship m her frames’£
must now proceed to form another draught of the cavity
of the ship or inboard works, which must be so contrivea
that every thing within the ship may be arranged in tne
most c&mmodious manner and to the best advantage.
)Si; conmiuuiuus luauutj. — — - . . t _
It is usual to draw the inboard works in the sheer-
It is usual to draw me muoaiu ■
draught 1 but as this generally occasions much contu-^Sf
sion,git is therefore the best and easiest method to ap-t«j/.
propriate a draught to this particular purpose.
Take from the sheer-draught the stem, stern-post,
counter timbers, and keel, and describe them on an¬
other paper j draw in also the cutting doWn, kelson,
apron, transoms, fashion-pieces, and decks, and P
per line of the sheer all fore and aft, also pass the tim
hers and ports.
ipplrition The beams come first under consideration, and should
of tl fore- be so disposed as to come one under and one between
S^’each port, or as near as can be to answer other works
struc >n nf0t *.*,e w^ere it happens that a beam cannot
“s possibly be placed under the port, then a beam arm
should be introduced to make good the deficiency.
Lvery beam, and also the beam arms, should be kneed
at each end with one lodging and one hanging knee ;
and in those parts of the ship which require the knees
to be very acute, such as the after beams of the gun-
deck, and in some ships, whose bodies are very sharp,
the foremost beams of the gun-deck, there should be
knees of iron. Care should be taken always to let the
upper side of the knees be below the surface of the
beams, in large ships one inch and a half, and in small
ships an inch, by which means the air will have a free
passage between the knees and under part of the
deck.
In the conversion of the beams the side next the
lodging knee should be left as broad at the end of the
beam as can possibly be allowed by the timber, the
beam retaining its proper scantling at the end of the
lodging knee ; by so doing the lodging knees will be
more without a square, which consequently makes them
the more easily to be provided.
In ships where the beams can be got in one piece,
they should be so disposed as to have every other one
with the butt end the same way; for this reason, that
the butts will decay before the tops. In large ships the
beams are made in two or three pieces, and are there¬
fore allowed to be stronger than those that are in one
piece. The beams in two pieces may have the scarf
one-third of the length, and those in three pieces should
have the middle piece half the length of the whole
beam. The customary way of putting them together
is to table them; and the length of the tablings should
be one-half more than the depth of the beam. It is
very common to divide the tablings in the middle of
the beam, and that part which is taken out at the up¬
per side to be left at the lower side, and then kersey or
flannel is put into the scarf; but in this case the wa¬
ter is liable to lie in the scarf, and must be the means
of rotting the beams. If, however, the beams were ta¬
bled together in dovetails, and taken through from side
to side, putting tar only between them, which hardens
the wood; then the water occasioned by the leaking
ol the decks would have a free passage, and the beam
would dry again ; and this method would not be found
inferior in point of strength to the other. The len°-th
of the fore and aft arm ot the lodging knee should ex¬
tend to the side of the hanging knee next to it ; but
there is no necessity for that arm to be longer than the
other. In fastening the knees, care would be taken to
let one bolt pass exactly through the middle of the
throat, one foot six inches from each end, and the rest
divided equally between; observing always to have the
holes bored square from the knee. The bolts for the
thwartship arms of both hanging and lodging knees
may go through the arms of each knee, and drive every
one the other way. J
In order to draw the beams in the draught, take the
moulding of the lower deck beams, and set it off below
the line representing the deck at the side, and draw a
»ine in pencil parallel thereto, which will represent the
nn er side of the beams. In like manner represent the
S H I P-B U I L D 1 N G.
277
under side of the beams for the upper deck, quarter Application
deck, forecastle, and roundhouse. Then take the siding of ihe fbre-
ot the lower deck beams, and place one under and one£oinSRuies
between each port, all fore and aft, drawing them in10 the.Con:
Determine the dimensions of the " ‘‘ stluctl°n 0
pencil. Uetermine the dimensions of the well fore
and aft, which is ten feet, and set it oil’ abaft the beam
under the eighth port, placing the beam under the ninth
port at that distance ; those two beams may then be
drawn in ink, and will terminate the extent of the well
the fore and aft way; and as a beam cannot go across
the ship at that place upon account of its being the well
and mast room, there must therefore be a beam arm be¬
tween these two beams.
The main hatchway should then be determined, let¬
ting the beam that forms the fore part of the well
form the aft part ot it, and the beam under the next
part may form the fore side of it, which beam may also
be now drawn in ink : there should also be another
beam arm introduced in the wake of the main hatch¬
way.
. for? hatchway may be next determined ; the fore
side of which should range well up and down with the
after end of the forecastle, and it may be fore and aft
about four-sevenths of the main hatchway. At the
foreside of the fore hatchway there must be a ladder-
w-ay down to the orlop, which may be as much fore and
aft as the beams will allow. The rest of the beams
afore the fore hatchway may remain as first placed
there being nothing in the way to alter the ship. Then
determine on the after hatchway, the foreside of which
comes to the aft side of the mainmast room.
I here should also be a hatchway, the foreside of
which may be formed by the aft side of the beam un¬
der the twelfth port; which is for the conveniency of
the spirit and fish rooms; and there should be a ladder¬
way abaft it to lead down to the cockpit. There may
be also another hatchway, the foreside of it to be form¬
ed by the aft side of the beam under the eleventh port.
Ihe size of the ladder and hatchways must be governed
by the beams, as when there is a good shift of beams
they should not be altered for ladder and hatchways
unless it is the three principal hatchways, which must
always be of a proper size, according to the size of the
ship.
I lie after capstan must he placed between the two
hatchways last described, and the beams abaft may
stand as they^ are already shifted observing only the
mizenmast. There should be a small scuttle placed
afore the second beam from aft, for the convenience of
the bread room : it must be on one aide of the middle
lines, as there is a carling at the middle under the four
or five after beams to receive the pillars for the support
thereof.
The bits may he placed, letting the foreside of the
after ones come against the aft side of the beam abaft
the third port, and the foreside of the foremost ones
against the next beam but one forward; then at the fore¬
side of each bit there should be drawn a small scuttle
for the conveniency of handing up the powder from the
magazine. The breast hook should also be drawn,
which may be three feet the moulding away, and sided '
nine-tenths of the beams of the lower deck.
The gun-deck, beams, knees, &c. being described •
in which, as well as all the decks having ports, the same
precautions are to be used as in the gun-deck; and ob¬
serving
Ships.
27S
s H I F - B U
Apniicatioa sefvlng to keep tlie beam? upon one deck as nearly as
o*'the 1'ere-possible over the beams ol the other, ior the co.i%e
aj.sr.o-Rules njenc 0f pillaring, as they will then support each
to the Con-
Ships! ^ The hatchways are to be placed exactly over those
-v—on the lower deck, each over each *, and there ore,
where there is a beam arm in the lower dec.i there
must also be one above it in the upper deck, and the
same in the middle deck in three-deck ships. It com¬
monly happens in ships of the line that there cannot be
a whole beam between the deck breast hook and the
beam that supports the step of the bowsprit, because the
bowsprit passes through that place : in this case, there
must be a beam arm placed, letting the end come equal¬
ly between the beam and the breast bock : but m ships
that the bowsprit will allow of a whole beam, then the
ports and the rest of the beams must be consulted in or¬
der to space it; and when it so happens that the fore
mast comes in the wake of a port, then a beam arm
must be necessarily introduced. _ .
Having placed the beams according to the disposi¬
tion of the other beams below, the ladderways should
be contrived : there should be one next abalt the tore
batchway, which is a single ladderway } and one next
afore the main hatch, which is a double ladderway ;
the ladders standing the fore and aft way. I here
• should also be another next abaft the after hatch, and
one over the cockpit corresponding with that on the
lower deck. „
The capstans are next to be considered *, the alter
one is already placed on the lower deck, the barrel oi
■which must pass through the upper deck to receive the
■whelps and drumhead there, it being a double capstan.
In shipshaving three decks, the upper part ol each
capstan is in the middle deck ; but in ships with one
deck there is only this one capstan, the upper part ot
which is. placed on the quarter deck. The foremost
capstan should be placed in the most convenient spot,
to admit of its being lowered down to the orlop out ot
the way of the long boat: it may therefore be placed
between the main and fore hatchways-, the beam under
the sixth port of the lower deck may form the alt side
-of its room, and the beams on each side of it should be
placed exactly over or under the beams on the other
. decks, and they should be at a distance from each other
sufficient to let the drumheads pass between them, l ie
centre of the capstan should then be placed in the
middle between the beams which compose its room 5
and the partners should be fitted in such a manner as to
-shift occasionally when wanted, which is by letting them
he in two pieces fitted together. The partners on the
lower deck, wherein the capstan steps, must be support¬
ed by a pillar on the orlop deck, the lower part of which
may be fitted in an oak chock-, so that when the pillar
is taken away, and the capstan lowered down, that
chock serves as a step for the capstan. Those two
beams on the orlop, by having the pillar and chock
upon them, have therefore the whole weight of the cap¬
stan pressing downwards : for the support of them, there
should be a carling placed underneath the fore and att
way, with three pillars, one under each beam, and one
between -, all of them being stept in the kelson, by
which the orlop deck will be well supported in the
wake of the capstan, and the other decks will feel no
strain from it.
I L B I N ©•
The fire hearth is next to he disposed j wnicn i- Application1
placed differently according to the size oi the ship. In of Uie fort,
three-deckers it found most convenient to place it on
the middle deck -, whence there is much more room uiy "
tier the forecastle than there would have been had it
been placed there. In all two-deck ships it is placed
under the forecastle, because on the deck underneath
the hits are in the way. It is also under the forecastle
in one-deck ships, though confined between the hits: in
this case it should he kept as near as possible to the af¬
ter hits, that there may be more room between it and
the foremost hits to make a good galley. _
The positions of the main-topsail-sheet bits are next
to be determined -, the foremost of which must he so
placed as to let its foreside come against the alt side of
the beam abaft the main hatchway, and to pass down
to the lower deck, and there step in the beams: admit¬
ting it to he a straight piece, it would come at the ait
side of the lower deck beam the same as it does at the
■upper deck beam, in consequence of those two beams
ranging well up and down with each other : it must
therefore have a cast under the upper deck beam, by
which the lower part may be brought forward sufficient
to stop in the lower deck beam. The aftermost must
be placed against the foreside of the beam abaft the
mast, and step on the beam below -, but there is no ne¬
cessity to provide a crooked piece as before, for the
beam of the upper deck may be moved a little farther
aft, till it admit of the bit stopping on the lower deck
beam, unless the beam comes under a port, as^ in that
case it must not by any means be moved. The cross
pieces to the bits should he on the foreside, and in
height from the upper deck about one third of the
height between it and the quarter deck. With regard
to the heads of the bits, the length of the ship’s waste
should be considered 5 and if there is length enough
from the forecastle to the foremost hits to admit of the
spare geer being stowed thereon without itaching ar
ther aft, the quarter deck may then run so far forward
that the head of the foremost bits shall tenon in the
foremost beam -, this gives the mainmast another deck,
and admits of the quarter deck being all that the long¬
er : but if there is not the room before mentioned, then
the quarter deck must run no further forward than the
after bits, which will then tenon in the foremost beam;
and the foremost hits must have a cross piece let on
their heads, which is termed a horse, and will be ior the
purpose of receiving the ends of the spare geer.
The length of the quarter deck being now determin¬
ed, the beams are then to he placed. For this purpose
the several contrivances in the quarter deck must
previously consulted. It is necessary to observe, that
there are neither carlings nor lodges, the carhngs ot »
hatches excepted, in the quarter deck, round-house, an
forecastle ; as they would weaken instead of strengthen-
forecastle ; as uiey wouiu wcaivcii o ,
ing the beams, which should be as small as the size 0
the ship will permit, in order that the upper works may
be as light as possible. Hence, as there are to be ne*
ther carlings nor lodges, the deck will require a gvea
number of beams, and a good round up, as on the con¬
trary the deck will be apt to bend with its own weig •
The most approved rule is therefore to have dou e
number of beams in the quarter deck as there aie m
space of the same length in the upper deck.
Then proceed to shift the beams to the best a w
App ationtage, consulting the hatclnvays, ladder-ways, masts, bits
fore-wheel, &c. With respect to the ladder-ways on the’
fj', ^quarter decks of all ships, there should be one near the
strac n af^ore Pai^- great cabin for the officers, and an-
S1 s. other near the foremost end of the quarter deck, con-
'  1 sisting of double ladders for the conveyance of the men
up fiom the other decks in cases of emergency j and
likewise one on each side of the fore part of the quarter
deck from the gangway : and in every ship of the line
all the beams from the foremost ladder-way to the after
one should be open with gratings, both for the admission
of air, and for the greater expedition of conveying dif¬
ferent articles in the time of action.
Two scuttles are to he disposed, one on each side of
the mainmast, if it happens to come through the quar¬
ter deck, for the top tackles to pass through, to hook
to the eye bolts drove in the upper deck for that pur¬
pose.
The steering wheel should he placed under the fore-
part of the roundhouse, and the two beams of the quar¬
ter deck, which come under it, should be placed con¬
formable to the two uprights, so that they may tenon
in them. The quarter deck beams should be kneed at
each end with one hanging and one lodging knee 5
which adds greatly to the strength of the side. The
hanging knees which come in the great cabin may be
of iron; their vertical arms to be two-thirds of the
length of that of wood, and to reach the spirketing. It
should be observed, that the beam abaft, which comes
under the screen bulkhead, should round aft agreeable
to the round of the bulkhead, for the support of the
same.
Tiie forecastle beams should be placed according as
the works of the deck will admit. The hatchways are
therefore to be considered first. There should be one
far the funnel of the fire hearth to pass through, and
one for the copper to admit of vent for the steam ; and
| also one or two over the galley as the forecastle will
admit of. The fore-topsail-sheet hits should be so dis¬
posed as to come one p>air on the fore and one on the aft
side of the mast, to let into the side of the forecastle
beams, and step on the upper deck beams below: there
should also he a ladder-way at the fore part of the fore¬
castle for the conveniency of the fore part of the ship.
The beams may now he placed agreeable thereto,
their number being four more than there are in a space
in tlie upper deck equal in length to the forecastle;
and where there happens to be a wide opening between
I the beams, as in the case of a hatchway, mast room,
I &£• then half a beam of fir may be introduced to make
good the deficiency. The foremost beam should be of
a breadth sufficient to take the aft side of the inboard
arms of the catheads, as they are secured upon this beam
by being bolted thereto. Every beam of the forecastle
should be kneed at each end with one hanging and one
lodging knee : the vertical arms of the hanging knees
should reach the spirketing, and the knees well bolted
and carefully clenched.
Proceed to the roundhouse; the same things being
observed with respect to the beams as in the quarter
deck . for ag t|ie roun(3]1(m8e beams are sided very small
it hence follows that they must be near to each other!
Eet therefore the number of beams on the roundhouse
be lour more than in the same length of the quarter
S H I P-B U I L D I N G,
deck; every other beam being of fir for lightness, and
every oak beam may be kneed at each end with one
hanging and one lodging knee ; the hanging knees abaft
may be of iron, their vertical arms to be in length two
thirds ol those of wood. The roundhouse shoul(f always
have a great round up, both for strength and convenien¬
cy. Ihere must be on the roundhouse a small pair of
knee-bits on each side of the mizenmast, turned round
and scarfed over each other, and bolted through the mast
carlings. There must also be a companion on the round¬
house placed over the middle of the coach, in order to
give light thereto.
TVith regard to placing the roundhouse beams, the
uprights of the steering wheel and the mizenmast are.
to be observed ; as when the beams which interfere with
those parts are properly spaced, the rest may be disposed
of at discretion, or at an equal distance from each other,
and letting the beam over the screen bulkhead have a
proper round ait, agreeable to the quarter deck beam
underneath.
1 lie upper parts of the inboard works being now de-
sciibed, proceed next to the lower parts, or to those
which come below the lo wer deck. Draw in the orlop
by taking the heights afore, at midships, and abaft!
between that and the gun-deck, from the dimensions,
and a curve described through these points will repre¬
sent the upper part of the deck. Set off the thickness
or the plank below, and the under side of the plank will
be represented. As this deck does not run quite for¬
ward and aft as the other decks, the length of it must
be therefore determined ; for this purpose let the after
beam be piaced at a sufficient distance from aft to ad¬
mit of the bread rooms being of a proper size for the
ship, which will be under that beam of the gun-deck
that comes at the second part from aft. The after
beam being drawn in, proceed to space the other beams,
placing them exactly under those of the gun-deck ; and
that which comes under the foremost beam of the gun-
deck may terminate the fore part of the orlop. Draw
the limber strake, by setting off its thickness above the
cutting down line, and aline drawn parallel thereto will
represent the limber strake. That part of the orkip
winch is over the after magazine, spirit room, and fish
room, and also that which is over the fore magazine, is
laid with thicker planks than the rest of the deck ;
which is for the better security of those places, the
planks being laid over the beams; but in the midships,
10m the fore part of the spirit room to the aft part of
the fore magazine, the beams are laid level with the sur¬
face of the deck, and the planks are rabbeted in from
one beam to the other.
In order to represent the orlop as just described, tire,
dimensions of the different apartments above mentioned
must be determined. Let the aft side of the after beam
e the aft side of the after magazine, and from thence
draw, the bulkhead down to the limber strake ; and the
foreside of the third beam may be the foreside of the af¬
ter magazine, drawing that bulkhead likewise, which
will also form the aft side of the fish room : the foreside
of the fish room may be drawn from the aft side of the
fifth beam, which will also represent the aft side of the
spirit room ; then the foreside of the spirit room may
he drawn from the foreside of the sixth beam. Hence
from the foreside of the sixth beam quite aft the deck,
will *
279
Application
of the fore¬
going Rates
to the Con¬
struction of.
Ships.
s H I P-B U I L D 1 N G.
280
Application will be represented by tbe two lines already drawn and
tif the fore- the upper side of the beams will be represen y
go:ng Rules iower [jjje.
to the Con- proceed next t0 tl,e fore part of tbe orlop, letting the
Stl'£s foreside of the after bits be the aft part of the foremost
1 1 magazine, drawing the bulkhead thereof, which will
come to the aft side of the sixth beam j therefore, from
the sixth beam to the foremost end of the orlop, the
plank and beams will be represented just 111 the same
manner as before mentioned for the after part ot the
orlop : then the midship part of the deck will be re¬
presented by letting tbe upper line be the upper side ot
the plank, and likewise the upper side of the beams ,
and the lower line will represent the lower edge ol the
plank, only drawing it from beam to beam, and observ-
ino- not to let it pass through them.
°rhe hatchways, &c. may now be represented on the
orlop, letting the main, fore, and after hatchway, be
exactly under those of the gun deck *, there must be
one over the fish room, and one over the spirit room.
There must be two scuttles over the after magazine tor
the passage to the magazine and light room, ihere
should also be one afore the fourth beam from foreward
for the passage to the fore magazine, and one abatt the
second beam for the passage to the light room.
The bulkheads for the fore and alter parts ot the
well may be drawn from the lower deck beams to the
orlop, and from thence to tbe limber strake in the hold.
The shot lockers may also be represented, having one
afore and one abaft the well: there should also be one
abaft the foremost magazine, the ends ot which may he
formed by the after bits. The steps of the masts may
be drawn in by continuing their centres down to the
limber strake *, and likewise two crutches abalt the mi-
zen step divided equally between that and the after part
of the cutting down: the breast hooks may also be drawn,
letting them be five in number below the lower deck
hook, and all equally divided between that and the fore¬
step. Hence every part of the inboard is described as
far as necessary.
Chap. V. Of the Method of Whole-moulding.
Method of Having now finished the methods of laying down the
whole- several plans of a ship, any farther addition on this sub-
moalding. • t • ilt appear unnecessary. We cannot, however,
E&vith propriety, omit to describe the method called
»»/ whole-moulding, used by the ancients, and which still
continues in use among those unacquainted with the
more proper methods already explained. This method
will be illustrated by laying down tbe several plans of
a long-boat •, the length of the keel being 29 feet, and
breadth moulded nine feet.
ADollld to Draw the straight line PO (fig. 37.) equal to 29
a long boat, feet, the extreme length ol the boat, and also to repre-
Plate sent the upper edge ot the keel. Let be the station
ccccxcm. of the midship frame. From the points, P, ©, and O,
fig- 37' draw the lines PT, ©M, and OS, perpendicular to
PO. Make ©M, ©N, equal to the upper and lower
heights of breadth respectively at the main frame, PL
the height of breadth at the transom, and OS the height
at the stem. Describe the curve IMS to represent the
sheer or extreme height of the side, which in a ship
would be called the upper height oj breadth line, or up¬
per edge of tbe wale. Through the point N draw a
curve parallel to TMS, to represent the breadth of the Method of
upper strake of a boat, or lower edge of the wale if m Whole,
a ship. The dotted line TNS may also be drawn tomooldn^
represent the lower height of breadth.
Set off the rake of the port from P to p, and draw
the line p t to represent the aft side of the port ; then
T t will represent the round-up ol the transom. Set off
the breadth of the port from p to r, and from T to
s and draw the line r s to represent the foreside ot the
port, which may either be a curve or a straight line at
pleasure. Setup the height of the tuck from 71 tofu
Let £ X be the thickness of the transom, and draw the
line ZX to represent the foreside of the transom.
There is given the point S, the height of the sheer
on the foreside of the stem j now that side of the stem
is to be formed either by sweeps or some other contri¬
vance. Set off the breadth of the stem, and form the
aft side of it. „ , , , r -u •
Set up the dead-rising from © to d, and Irom n*
sing line r i s. Draw the line KL parallel to PO to
represent the lower edge of the keel, and another to re¬
present the thickness of the plank or the rabbet. I he
rabbet on the post and stem may also be represented j
and the stations of the timbers assigned, as ©,(i),l,
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 -, and ©, (A), A, B, C, D, E, F,
G H ; and the sheer plan will be completed.
The half-breadth plan is to be formed next; lor this
purpose the perpendiculars TP, 9, 8»
duced. Upon M© produced set off the half breadth
from the line KL to R (fig. S8-) *> ft off also the half^3
breadth at the transom Irom K to b, and describe the
extreme half-breadth line b RX, making the forepart
of the curve agreeable te tbe proposed round ol the
transom. . ,,
We may next proceed to form the timbers in the
body plan. Let AB (%. 39.) be the breadth n.oolWt
ed at ©. Erect tbe perpendicular CD in the middle
of the line AB *, draw the line m n distant therefrom
the half thickness of the post, and xy the half thickness
of the stern. Then take off the several portions ot
the perpendiculars ©, I, 2, &c. intercepted between
the upper edge of the keel and rising line in he
sheer plan, and set them up from C upon the line CD,
through these points draw lines parallel to AC ; take on
also the several lower heights of breadth at ©, 1, 2, <Xc.
from the sheer plan j and set them up from C upon the
middle line in the body plan j and draw lines parallel to
AC through these points : Then take off the seve .
half breadths corresponding to each from the floor plan,
and set them off on their proper half-breadth lines fro
the middle line in the body plan.
Construct the midship frame by 1 roblem \ . the to
of which will in some measure determine the form oi
the rest. For if a mould be made on any side of the
middle line to fit the curve part of it, fd the rising
line, or that marked bend mould (fig. 40.) and If 2
such a manner that the lower part of it which is straigi ,
may be set upon the several rising lines, and the upp
part iust touch the point of the half breadth m
breadth line corresponding to that rising upon v n
the mould is placed, a curve may then be drawn y
the mould to the rising line. In this j”®nne‘,"e, I
proceed so far as the rising line is parallel to ie
height of the breadth line. Then a hollow mould mus
be made, the upper end of which is le»t straigi*^
Ifc oJ that marked hnltow mould (fig. 40.). This is applied
llST “ Tt “ TT’t th,M P“rt <-f Mo" may
“ ^ touch the side of the keel, and the straight part touch
tiie back ot the curve before described by the bend
mould ; and, beginning abaft, the straight part will al¬
ways come lower on every timber, till we come to the
midship timber, when it comes to the side of the keel.
Having thus formed the timbers, so far as the whole
mouldings will serve, the timbers abaft them are next
formed. Their half breadths are determined by the
sheer and floor plans, which are the only fixed points
through which the curves of these timbers must pass,
borne form these after timbers before the whole is
moulded, and then make the hollow mould, which will
be straighter than the hollow of either of these timbers.
It is indifferent which are first formed, or what methods
are used ; for after the timbers are all formed, though
every timber may appear very fair when considered by
itself, it is uncertain what the form of the side will be.
In order to find which, we must form several ribband
and water lines ; and if these do not make fair curves,
they must be rectified, and the timbers formed from
these ribband and water lines. In using the hollow
mould when it is applied to the curve of each tim¬
ber, it the straight part is produced to the middle
line, we shall have as many points of intersection as
there are timbers ; and if the heights above the base be
transferred to the corresponding timbers in the sheer
plan a curve passing through these points is what is
called a. rising strait. This may be formed by fixing
a point for the aftermost timber that is whole moulded!
and transferring that height to the sheer plan. The
curve must pass through this point, and fall in with the
rising fine somewhere abaft dead flat; and if the seve¬
ral heights of this line be transferred from the sheer to
the middle line in the body plan, these points will re¬
gulate what is called the hauling down of the hollow
mould,
• ^he timbers in the after body being all formed, those
r thec fore bo1d7 are formed, in the same manner, by
transferring the several heights of the rising and breadth
lines from the sheer to the body plans; the half
breadths corresponding to each height must also be
transferred from the floor to the body plan. The same
hollow mould will serve both for the fore and after
body; and the level lines, by which the water lines to
prove the after body were formed, may be produced into
1 the fore body, and by them the water lines to prove the
lore body may be described.
Another method of proving the body is by ribband
ines, which are formed by sections of planes inclined
na.,!e sh®er Plan» and intersecting the body plan diago-
by, as before observed, of which there may be as many
exnidniT JUdgtd 'lecLessaiy- As this has been already
espla „ed, we shall therefore lay down only one, repre-
Tl e„'"4,e b0-'i5, P'?" ^ the marked <11 a.
cular t J draWn 1‘1 SUch a manner as to be perpendi-
thev 0 ^ many timbers as conveniently may be. After
they are drawn ‘n the body plan, the several portions
and each'^T intercLePted between the middle line
Thus fix on^T T? ^ transferred to the floor plan,
the db, T- f°0t °f 116 comPasses in the point where
rnendT ,rerfCtS the mi<Wle I" the body plan”
tersect iVttT f"°V° the point whore the diagonal in-
Vol. XlX PaVt I.r eI‘a“,I, ’ “ml>er 9; Set “ff 11,6
SHIP-BUILDING.
28l
same extent upon the perpendicular representing the plane .
of timber 9 from the point where it intersects the line of Whd!
IvLi on the floor plan : in like manner proceed with all mouldinu
the other timbers both in the fore and after body ; and —
these shall have the points through which the curve must
pass. If this should not prove a fair curve, it must be
altered, observing to conform to the points as nearly
as the nature of the curve will admit : so it may be car¬
ried within one point, and without another, according
as we find the timbers will allow. For after all the
ribband lines are formed, the timbers must, if needful
be altered by the ribband lines : this is only the reverse
of forming the ribband lines ; for taking the portions
ot the several perpendiculars intercepted between the
me KF and the curve of the ribband fine in the floor
plan, and setting them off upon the diagonal from
the point where it intersects the middle line, we shall
have the points in the diagonal through which the
curves of the timbers must pass. Thus the distance
between the line KL and the ribband at timber 3 on
the floor plan, when transferred to the body plan, will
extend on the diagonal from the middle line to the
point where the curve of timber 3 intersects that dia-
gonah I he like may be said of all the other timbers ;
and if several ribband lines he formed, they may he so
contrived that their diagonals in the body plan shall
be at such distances, that a point for every timber be¬
ing given in each diagonal, will be sufficient to deter¬
mine the form of all the timbers.
In stationing the timbers upon the keel for a boat,
there must be room for two futtocks in the space be¬
fore or abaft © ; for which reason, the distance between
these two timbers will be as much more than that be¬
tween the other as the timber is broad. Here it is
between © and (A) ; which contains the distances be¬
tween © and (1), and the breadth of the timber be-
sides.
Tlie timbers being now formed, and proved bv rib¬
band and water lines, proceed then to form the'tran¬
som, fashion pieces, &c. by Problem VI.
1 his method of whole moulding will not answer for
the long timbers afore and abaft. They are generally
canted in the same manner as those for a ship. In or¬
der to render this method more complete, we shall here
describe the manner of moulding the timbers after they
are laid down in the mould loft, by a rising square,
bend, and hollow mould. 1 ’
It was shown before bow to form the timbers by the
bend and hollow moulds on the draught. The same
method must be used in the loft; but the moulds must
lie made to their proper scantlings in real feet and
inches. Now when they are set, as before directed, for
moulding each timber, let the middle line in the body
plan be drawn across the bend mould, and draw a line
across the hollow mould at the point where it touches
the upper edge of the keel ; and let them be marked
with the proper name of the timber, as in fig. 40 The
graduations of the bend mould will therefore be exactly
the same as the narrowing of the breadth. Thu=
the distance between © and 7 on the bend mould is*
equal to the difference between the half breadth of tim¬
ber 7 and that of©. The height of the head of each
timber is likewise marked on the bend mould, and also
the floor and breadth sirmarks. The floor sirmark is
in that point where a straight edged batten touches the
f N n back
282
SHIP-BUILDIN G.
Method Itack of Uie bend mould, the batten being so placed
of Whole-as to touch the lower edge of the keel a the same
moulding. time. The several risings of the floor and heights oi
w'v t|ie cutttng down line are marked on the rising square,
and the half breadth of the keel Is set oft' from the side
Cf The moulds being thus prepared, we shall apply them
to mould timber 7. The timber being first properly
sided to its breadth, lay the bend mould upon it, so as
may best answer the round according to the grain 0
the wood ; then lay the rising square to the bottom ot
the bend mould, so that the line drawn across the bend
mould at timber 7 may coincide with the line repie-
senting the middle of the keel upon the rising square*,
and draw aline upon the timber by the side of the
square, or let the line be scored or cut by a tool made
for that purpose, called a raseing kmfet(v) *, this line so
rased will be the side of the keel. 1 hen the square
must be moved till the side of it comes to 7 on the
bend mould, and another line must be rased in by the
side of it to represent the middle oi the keel. I he
other side of the keel must likewise he rased alter the
same manner, and the point 7 on the rising square be
marked on each side of the keel, and a line rased across
at these points to represent the upper edge ot the keel.
TTom this line the height of the cutting-down line at
7 must be set up, and then the rising square may be ta¬
ken away, and the timber may be rased by the heri
mould, both inside and outside, from the head to t..e
floor sirmark, or it may he carried lower if necessary.
After the sirmarks and head of the timbers are marke ,
the bend mould may likewise be taken away, and then the
hollow mould applied to the back of the sweep in such a
manner that the point 7 upon it may intersect the upper
sitle of the keel, before set off by the rising square j and
•when in this position the timber may be raised by it,
which will complete the outside of the timbers. 1 be
inside of the timbers may likewise be formed by t ie
hollow mould. The scantling at the keel is given by
the cutting down before set off. ] be mould must be
so placed as to touch the sweep of the inside of the tim¬
ber formed before by the bend mould, and pass through
the cutting down point. „ , , , c
The use of the sirmarks is to find the true places ot
the futtocks 5 for as they are cut oft three or lour
inches short of the keel, they must be so placed that
the futtock and floor sirmarks may be compared and co¬
incide. Notwithstanding which, if the timbers are not
very carefully trimmed, the head of the futtock may
be either within or without its proper half breadth 5 to
prevent which a half breadth staff is made use oi.
The half breadth staff may be one inch square, and
of any convenient length. Upon one side ot it are set
off from one end the several half-breadths of all the
timbers in the after body, and those of the fore body
upon the opposite side. On the other two sides are set
off the several heights of the sheer, the after body on
one side, and the tore body on its opposite. J wo sides
of the staff are marked half breadths, and the other two
sides heights of the sheer. . ,
The staff being thus prepared, and the floor timbers
fastened on the keel, and levelled across, the futtocks Practice
must next he fastened to the floor timbers •, but they ^.bbp.
must be set first to their proper half breadth and heigh . , ^
The half breadth staff, with the assistance of tne ram¬
line* serves to set them to the half breadth , for as See next,
the keeUf a boat is generally perpendicular to the ho-^pter.
ri7.cn, therefore the line at which the plummet is_ sus¬
pended, and which is moveable on the ram line, will be
perpendicular to the keel. Whence we may by it set
the timbers perpendicular to the keel, and then set them
to their proper half breadths by tiie sta i . am w len
the two sirmarks coincide, the futtock will he at its
proper height, and may be nailed to the floor Umbers
and also to Hie breadth ribband, which may be set to
the height of the sheer by a level laid across, taking the
height of the sheer by the staff from the upper side of
the keel j by which means we shall discover it the rib¬
band is exactly the height of the sheer; and if not, the
true height may he set off by a pair of compasses fiom
the level, and marked on the timbers.
Chap. VI. Of the Practice of Ship-Building.
The elevation, projection, and half-breadth plans, of
a proposed ship being laid down on paper, we must next
proceed to lay down these several plans on the mould
loft of the real dimensions of the ship proposed to be
built, and from which moulds for each separate part are
to he made. The method of laying down these plans,
from what has been already said, will, it is presumed, e
no very difficult task to accomplish, as it is no more than
enlarging the dimensions of the original draughts j ami
with respect to the moulds, they are very easily formed
agreeable to the figure of the several parts oi the ship
laid down in the mould loft.
Blocks of wood are now to be prepared upon which
the keel is to be laid. These blocks are to be placed
at nearly equal distances, as of five or six feet, and m
such a manner that their upper surfaces may be exactly
in the same plane, and their middle m the same straig 1
line. This last is easily done by means of a line stretch¬
ed a little more than the proposed length ol t*1® keel,
and the upper planes of these blocks maybe verified y
a long anil straight rule ; and the utmost care and pre¬
caution must be taken to have these blocks proper y
bedded. Each block may be about six or eight inches
longer than the keel is in thickness ; their breadth from
12 to 14 inches, and their depth from a foot to a toot
Al The dimensions of the keel are to be taken from the
mould loft, and the keel is to be prepared according -
As, however, it is seldom possible to procure a p
of wood of sufficient length for a keel, especially if im
a large ship, it is, therefore, for the most part necessary
to compose it of several pieces, and these pieces are
he scarfed together, and securely bolted, so as to m he
one entire piece. It must, however, be observed,
the pieces which compose the keel ought to e 0
lengths, that a scarf may not be opposite to the s cp
nnv of the masts. Kabbets are to be formed on eac
side of tiie keel to receive the edge of tbe planks
00 The term ramng is nsed when any line is drawn hy such an instrument instead of a pencil.
r «tiec
eliiliip-
Sinir.
ceedj, ;v
s H 1 P - B u I L
to it, 01* gartjoard strake, and the keei is to he laid on
the blocks (f).
The stem, and the post, and the several transoms be¬
longing to it, are to be prepared from the moulds, and
rabbeted in like manner as the keel, to receive the ends
of the plank. The transoms are to be bolted to the
post at their middle, each at its respective height, ta¬
ken from the elevation in the mould loft, and the ex¬
tremities of the transoms are to be firmly connected with
the fashion-pieces. Both stern and post are then to be
erected, each at its respective extremity of the keel.
Ihe tenons at the heel ol each being let into mortises
prepared to receive them, and being set to their proper
rakes or angles with the keel, are to be supported by
props or shores. Pieces of wood called dear/ wood are
to be laid upon and fixed to the upper side of the keel
towards the fore and aft parts of it 3 the deepness of
the dead wood increasing with its distance from the mid¬
dle, agreeable to the proposed form of the cutting-
down line. °
A line is to be stretched from the middle of the bead
of the stem to that of the post, called the ram line,
upon which is a moveable line with a plummet affixed
to it. Tiie midship and other frames are to be erected
upon the keel at their proper stations. The extremities
of each frame are set at equal distances from the vertical
longitudinal section of ihe ship, by moving the frame
in its own plane until the plumb-line coincides with a
mark at the middle between the arms of each frame •
and although the keel is inclined to the horizon, yet
the frames may also be set perpendicular to the keel by
means of the plumb-line. The shores which are sup¬
porting the frames are now to be securely fixed, that the
position of the frames may not be altered. The rib¬
bands are now to be nailed to the frames at their pro¬
per places, the more effectually to secure them ; and
the intermediate vacancies between the frames filled up
with filling timbers. For a perspective view of a ship
frame, see fig. 2. 1
The frames being now stationed, proceed next to
fix on the planks, of which the wales are the principal,
being much thicker and stronger than the rest. The
harpins, which may be considered as a continuation of
the wales at their fore ends, are fixed across the hawse
pieces, and surround the fore part of the ship. The
D I N G.
28
Plate CLAIX. See also the article Deck 3 and the Practice
hanging-knees, together with the breadth, thickness, of&hip-
and position of the keel, floor timbers, futtocks, top- buildi,1kr.
timbers, wales, clamps, thick stuff, planks within and ' 
without, beams, decks, &c.
The cable-bits being next erected, the carlings and
ledges, represented in Plate CXjXTX. are disposed be¬
tween the beams to strengthen the deck. The ivater-
ways are then laid on the ends of the beams throughout
the ship’s length, and the spirketing fixed close above
them—The upper deck is then planked, and the string
piaced under the gunnel, or plansheer, in the waist.
j hen proceed next to plank the quarter-deck and
forecastle, and to fix the partners of the masts and cap-
sterns with the coamings of the hatches. The breasU
hooks are then bolted across the stem and bow within-
board, the step of the foremast placed on the kelson*
and the riders fayed to the inside of the timbers, to re¬
inforce the sides in different parts of the ship’s length.
\ he pointers, if any, are afterwards fixed across the hold
diagonally to support the beams 3 and the crotches sta¬
tioned in the after hold to unite the half timbers. The
steps of the mainmast and capsterns are next placed-
the planks of the lower decks and orlop laid 3 the navel-
hoods fayed to the hawse holes 3 and the knees of the
head, or cut-water, connected to the stern. The figure
of the head is then erected, and the trail-board and
cheeks fixed on the side of the knee.
The taffarel and quarter-pieces, which terminate the
ship abaft, the former above and the latter on each side,
are then disposed, and the stern and quarter galleries
framed and supported by their brackets. The pumps
with their well, are next fixed in the hold ; the limber
boards laid on each side of the kelson, and the garboard
strake fixed on the ship’s bottom next to the heel with¬
out.
The hull being thus fabricated, proceed to separate
the apartments by bulkheads or partitions, to frame
the port-lids, to fix the catheads and chess-trees 3 to
form the hatchways and scuttles, and fit them with pro¬
per covers or gratings. Next fix the ladders at the dif-
feient hatchways, and build the manger on the lower
deck, to carry ofi the water that runs in at the hawse
holes, when the ship rides at anchor in a sea. The
bread Toom and magazines are then lined 3 and the
planks that inclose the ship’s sides are then brought about T ,t,!en ,Imed ’ a»(1 ^
*he »"d. I* "Md. are of e,4l thick- fhe .hiAdlSTlT
the timbers3 and the clamps, which are of equal thick¬
ness with the wales, fixed opposite to the wales within
the ship. These are used to support the ends of the
beams, and accordingly stretch from one end of the ship
to the other. The thick stuff or strong planks of the
bottom within board are then placed opposite to the
several scarfs of the timbers, to reinforce them throug-h-
°ut the ship’s length. The planks employed to line the
ship, called the ceiling orJbot-w a ling, is 'next fixed in
tne intervals between the thick stuff of the hold. The
beams are afterwards laid across the ship to support the
<!ecks, and are connected to the side by lodging and
Slanging knees : the former of which are exhibited at F,
the ship. The cleats, kevels, and ranges, by which the
ropes are fastened, are afterwards bolted or nailed to the
sides in different places.
Ihe rudder, being fitted with its irons, is next hung
to the stern-post, and the tiller or bar, by which it is
managed, let into a mortise at its upper end. The
scuppers, or leaden tubes, that carry the water off from
the decks, are then placed in holes cut through the
ship’s sides 5 and the standards bolted to the beams and
sides above the decks to which they belong. The poop
lanthorns are last fixed upon their cranes over the stern,
and the bilge-ways or cradles placed under the bottom to’
conduct the ship steadily into the water whilst launehW.
N n 2 /s
r»r(/th^a'e finuJT n ^ .r® “ Io"« "'''i'0 in. it.1’"* been found that the keel is often a„t to rot be-
the keel afterwards. i'°” ' " ’ ‘1C‘'0U“,’ ‘"erelore, some builders have begun with the floor timbers, and added
2S4
I mprove -
nieuts in
the Masts
and Rud¬
der.
S H I P-B U I L D I N G.
As the various pieces which have been mentioned
above are explained at large in their proper places, it is
therefore superfluous to enter into a more particular de¬
scription of them here.
Chap. VII. Of Improvements in the Masts and
Rudder.
43
Iraprove-
ments in
masts.
49
Of wound¬
ed masts by
Captain
Pakenham.
Page 2op.
An account of a method for restoring masts of ships
when wounded, or otherwise injured, in an easy, cheap,
and expeditious manner, by Captain Edward Pakenham
of the royal navy, has been published in the tenth vo¬
lume of the Transactions of the Society for the Encou¬
ragement of Arts, &c. Captain Pakenham introduces
his invention with the following observations :
“ Among the various accidents which ships are liable
to at sea, none call more for the attention and exertion
of the officer than the speedy refitting of the masts *,
and having observed, in the course of last war, the very
great destruction made among the lower masts of our
ships from the enemy’s mode of fighting, as well as the
very great expence and delay in refitting a fleet alter
an action, particularly across the Atlantic—a very simple
expedient has suggested itself to me as a resource in part;
which appears so very speedy and secure, that the ca¬
pacity of the meanest sailor will at once conceive it. 1
therefore think it my duty to state my Ideas of the ad¬
vantages likely to result from it; and I shall feel my¬
self exceedingly happy should they in any wise contri¬
bute to remedy the evil.
“ My plan, therefore, is, to have the heels ot all
lower masts so formed, as to become the heads; but it
is not the intention of the above plan to have the small¬
est alteration made in the heels of the present lower
masts ; for as all line-of-battle ships masts are nine inches
in diameter larger at the heel than at the head, it will
follow, that by letting in the tressel-trees to their pro¬
per depth, the mast will form its own cheeks or hounds ;
and I flatter myself the following advantages will result
from the above alteration.
41 First, I must beg to observe, that all line-of-hattle
ships bury one-third of their lower masts, particularly
three-deckers ; it therefore follows, that if the wounds
are in the upper third, by turning the mast so as to
make the heel the head, it will he as good as new *, for,
in eight actions I was present in last war, I made the
follownng observations:
“ That in the said actions fifty-eight lower masts were
wounded, and obliged to he' shifted, thirty-two of
which had their wounds in the upper third, and of course
the ships detained until new masts were made. And
when it is considered that a lower mast for a 90 or 74
stands government in a sum not less, I am informed,
than 2000V. or 2300I. the advantages across the At¬
lantic resulting from the aforesaid plan will he particu¬
larly obvious ; not to mention the probability of there
being no fit spars in the country, which was the case in
the instances of the Isis and Princess Royal ; and as
I was otie of the lieutenants of the Isis at that time,
I am more particular in the circumstance of that ship.
The Isis had both her lower masts wounded above the
cathar pins in her action with the Caesar, a French 74?
and as there were no spars at New York, the Isis was
detained five weeks at that place.—Now, if her masts
had been fitted on the plan I have proposed, 1 am con-
4
fident she would have been ready for sea in 48 hours ; Improve,
and as a further proof, I beg leave to add, that the ineiusin
whole fleet, on the glsrious I2th of April, had not the
least accident of any consequence except what betel ^
their lower masts, which detained them between eight v—^
and ten weeks at Jamaica.
“ The delay of a ship while a new mast is making,
and probably the flOet being detained foi want of that
ship, which frequently occurred in the course of last
war, the taking of shipwrights from other work, with a
variety of inconveniences not necessary to mention here,
must he obvious to every officer that has made the small¬
est observations on sea-actions.
“ You will further observe, that this substitute is
formed on the most simple principle, fitted to the mean¬
est capacity, and calculated to benefit all ships, from a
first-rate down to the smallest merchantman, in cases of
an accident by shot, a spring, a rottenness, particularly
as these accidents generally happen in the upper third,
of the mast and above the cheeks.
“ It might probably he objected, that a difficulty and
some danger might arise from the wounded part of the
mast being below j hut this will at once he obviated,
when it is remembered, that as the wounded part is be¬
low the wedges, it may with ease he both fished, cased,,
and secured, to any size or degree you please, with the
addition of its being wedged on each deck. . .
Fig. 41. represents a mast of a ftrst-rate in its proper p]^
state, the figures representing its thickness at the differ-cccanu.
’ . . ° fig. 41-
ent divisions. , .
Fig- 42. the same mast inverted, the heel forming the Fig.41'
head, and the tressel-trees let into their proper depth,
the additional thickness of the mast forming its own
checks*
Fig. 43. the proposed mast, the figures rePresepfin£>
the thickness of the mast in the proposed alterations;
o, the heel made square ; A, the letting in o! the tressel-
trees; c, the third proportion of thickness continued up
to where the fourth is in the present mast, or at least
some little distance above the lower part of the cheeks,
which is always looked upon as the weakest part of the
mast; and by its being so proportioned, the mast, when
turned, will he nearly as strong in the partners as be-
fore. i , .
As the expence of a mast is much greater than is ge-
nerally imagined, it is therefore thought proper to sub¬
join the following statement of the several articles used
in making a 74 gun ship’s mainmast. ^ ^
Fishes for a spindle, 21 inches, 2 nails of
two masts, - - r. IOI
Two side fishes, 22 inches, 2 ditto,
Fore and aft fishes, 22 inches, 2 nails of
one mast,
Fish") 21-5- inches, 1 nail of half a mast,
t On the fore part
Iron J 3 qrs- 19 lbs*
Aries load baulk, 2 loads 22 feet,
Breadthningl 2 loads 7 feet,
t Dantzic fir timber,
y Cheeks j 4 l°a<ls 2 feet,
\ Iron, 5 cwt. 2 qrs. 24 lb.
Knees, elm timber, 13 feet,
Iron, 2 qrs. 14 lb.
133 10 9
pitpfllM
11
chitecM
parti
66 13
29 8
1
12
11
20
8
o
o
18
o
17
Carried over, L. 3^5
SHI P-B U
Ignore- Value.
nuts in Brought over, L. 385 17 8
th< lasts Hoops and holts on the body, la cwt
1 qr. 16 lb. - . .
j Tressel-trees, straight oak timber, second
sort, 2 loads 10 feet,
Iron, 3 qrs. 10 lb.
Cross trees, straight oak timber, second
sort, 1 load 12 feet,
Iron, 2 qrs. 2 lb. - - _
Cap, elm timber, r load 24 feet,
Iron, 2 cwt. 14 lb. -
Fallings, bolters, bollins, and Dantzic fir,
1 load 2 feet, -
Workmanship, - - - _
I L D I N G.
2SK
18
10
I
5
o
4
1
2
3
*4
14
6
der.
"V"
5
78
Main-topmast of a 74 gun ship,
Main-top-gall ant-mast.
^•5i3 6
50 16
8 11
Pritvp let
of A ml
Arch ':c-
ture, 50,
Mr C
don’s j
of bn: :
masts i
nS
p- 44
4S
* lS< 46
In order to lessen the enormous expence of masts, a
proposal was made some years ago to construct them
hollow ; and the author having premised several experi¬
ments which he had made, proceeds as follows :
Galileo taught us, that the resistance or strength
of a hollow cylinder is to that ofa 'full cylinder, con¬
taining the same quantity of matter, as the total diame¬
ter of the hollow one is to the diameter of the full one j
and these experiments show us, that the strength or re¬
sistance of two or more pieces of wood, fastened toge¬
ther at each end, and connected by a pillar, pillars,°or
framing, increases, at least to a certain degree, ceeteris
paribus, as the distance between them and number of
pillars, provided the force is applied in the line or di¬
rection of the pillars.
“ It is surprising that this discovery of Galileo has
not been made subservient to more useful purposes. It
is particularly applicable to the construction of masts,
as not requiring that the hollow cylinder should be made
of one solid piece of wood (g).
“ However, the foregoing experiments teach us, that
the same advantages may be obtained by other forms be¬
sides that of a cylinder; and that perhaps not only in a
superior degree, but likewise with greater facility of exe¬
cution ; as by adopting a square figure, but more parti¬
cularly by constructing them of several pieces of wood,
placed at proper distances from each other, in the fol¬
lowing or any other manner that may be found most
convenient. Fig. 44, 45, and 46. exhibit each the
transverse section of a mast, in which the small circles
represent the trees or upright pieces of wood, and the
mes the beams or framing of wood, which are employ¬
ed at proper places and at proper distances from each
other, for connecting them together. Perhaps solid
rames of wood, placed at proper distances from each
other and filling up the whole dotted space, would an¬
swer better; in which event, the mast could be strong-
ly hooped with iron at those places, and the upright- Imnrnvp
’ trees form.ed square, or of any other convenient form. mints in
It will be evident to those acquainted with this the Masts
) subject, that such masts would be greatly stronger than ar1^ ttud-
common ones containing the same quantity of materials.
It is likewise evident that they would be less apt to
► spring, as being supported on a more extended base,
and affording many conveniences for being better secu¬
red ; and that they might be constructed of such wood
as at present would be deemed altogether improper for
masts : a circumstance of importance to Britain at all
times, but more particularly now, when there is such
difficulty in procuring wood proper for the kind of
masts in common use.”
. An improvement in the rudder has lately taken place An bu¬
rn several ships, particularly in some of those in the Prove!l,erA
service of the East India Company. It will, however, ^ ru<^
be necessary previously to describe the usual form of1''
the rudder, in order to show the advantages it possesses
when constructed agreeable to the improved method.
i\ I. (fig. 47.) represents the rudder according to Papers on
the common method of construction; in which AB is Ar-
the axis of rotation. It is hence evident that a space chUecture>
considerably greater than the transverse section of the S';
rudder at the counter must be left in the counter for the
rudder to revolve in. Thus, let CAB (N° 2.) be the
section of the rudder at the counter ; then there must
be a space similar to CDE in the counter, in order that
the rudder may be moveable as required. Hence to
prevent the water from washing up the rudder case, a
rudder coat, that is, a piece of tarred canvas, is nailed
m such a manner to the rudder and counter as to co¬
ver the intermediate space : but the canvass being con¬
tinually washed by the sea, soon becomes brittle, and
unable to yield to the various turns of the rudder with¬
out breaking; in which case the ship is of course left
pervious to the waves, even of three or four feet high ;
in fact, there are few men bred to the sea who have not
been witnesses to the bad effects of such a space being
left so ill guarded against the stroke of the waves ; and
many ships have, with great probability, been suppo¬
sed to founder at sea from the quantity of water ship¬
ped between the rudder and counter.
It was to remedy this defect that the alteration above
alluded to took place ; which consists in making the
upper part AEG (fig. 48. N° 1.) of the rudder ABD Fig. 4S.
cylindrical, and giving that part at the same time a cast
forward, so that the axis of rotation may by that means
be the line AD, passing as usual from E to D, throuo-h
the centres of the braces which attach the rudder to
the stern-post, and from E to A through the axis of
thecylinder AFG, in order that the transverse section
JAJd. (JN 2.) at the counter may be a circle revolv-
ing upon its centre ; in which case the space of half an
inch is more than sufficient between the rudder and the
counter, and consequently the necessity of a rudder coat
entu-ely done away. But as it was foreseen, that if the
rudder
Withl\LmXn™perfd!lu„eces1:iVr“,ff' ,fethfr typing **1 pieces of wood placed
that nature has furnished reerwft iolnts L ffe”e t0 “ Sa'M “anner’ aml 0,1 the Siu« Principles,
m the experiments alluded to. J ? d f answennS> m sorae aspects, the same purpose as the pillars
286
S H I P-B tt 1 L D I N G.
Load-Wit- ni(tiler ty an accident Was unshipped, this alteration
ter Line might endanger the tearing atvay of the counter, the
and Ship’s J10le is made much larger than the transverse section or
Capacity. t[ie CTii1Klric part of the rudder, and the space between
^ ' filled np with pieces of wood so fitted to the counter a-a
to be capable of withstanding the shock ot the sea, but
to be easily carried away with the rudder, leaving the
counter under such circumstances, in as safe a state as
it would be agreeable in the present xorm of making
rudders in the navy.
Chap. VIII. Upon the Position of the Load-water
Line, and the Capacity of a Ship.
The weight of the quantity of water displaced by the
See Hydro- f)ottom 0f a ship is equal to the weight of the ship with
■dynamics. • - g^ provisi0ns, and every thing on board. If,
therefore, the exact weight of the ship when ready for
sea be calculated, and also the number of cubic feet m
the ship’s bottom below the load-water line, and hence
the weight of the water she displaces} it will he
known if the load-water line is properly placed in the
draught. , • i
Ship Build. The position of the ship in the draught may be either
er's Repo- on all even {ceel) or to draw most water abaft $ but an
sitory. ^en keel is judged to be the best position in point of
velocity, when the ship is constructed suitable thereto,
that is, when her natural position is such. For when
a ship is constructed to swim by the stern, and when
brought down to her load-water made to swim on an
even keel (as is the case with most ships that are thus
built), her velocity is by that means greatly retarded,
and also her strength greatly diminished : for the fore¬
part being brought down lower than it should he, and
the middle of the ship maintaining its proper depth m
the water, the after part is by that means lifted, and
the ship is then upon an even keel: but in consequence
of her being out of her natural position, the after part
is always placed downwards with a considerable strain,
which will continue till the ship’s sheer is entirely
broken, and in time would fall into its natural position
again-, for which reason we see so many ships with bro¬
ken backs, that is, with their sheers altered in such a
manner that the sheer rounds up, and the highest part
is in the midships.
Such are the disadvantages arising from not paying
due attention to those points in the construction of a
draught; therefore, when the load-water line is found
to be so situated at a proper height on the draught, ac¬
cording to the weight given for such a ship, and also
drawn parallel to the keel, as supposing that to be the
best sailing trim, the next thing is to examine whether
the body is constructed suitable thereto, in order to
avoid the above-mentioned ill consequences.
In the first place, therefore, we must divide the ship
equally in two lengthwise between the fore and after
perpendiculars and the exact number of cubic feet m
the whole bottom beneath the load-water line being
known, we must find whether the number of cubic feet
in each part so divided is the same } and if they aie
'found to be equal, the body of the ship may then be
said to be constructed in all respects suitable toiler swim¬
ming on an even keel, let the shape of the body he
whatever it wdll j and which will he found to he her
natural position at the load-water line. I5ut it either
of the parts should contain a greater number of cubic
feet than the other, that part which contains the great¬
est will swim the most out of the water, and conse¬
quently the other will swim deepest, supposing the ship
in her natural position for that construction. In order,
therefore, to render the ship suitably constructed to the
load-water line in the draught, which is parallel to the
keel, the number of cubic feet in the less part must be
subtracted from the number contained in the greater
part, and that part of the body is to be filled out till
it has increased half the difference of their quantities,
and the other part is to he drawn in as much : hence
the two parts will be equal, that is, each will contain
the same number of cubic feet, and the ship’s body will
be constructed in a manner suitable to her swimming
on an even keel.
If it is proposed that the ship laid down on the
draught shall not swim on an even keel, but draw moie
Water abaft than afore, then the fore and after parts of
the ship’s body below the load-water line are to be
compared j and if these parts are unequal, that part
which is least is to be filled out by half the difference,
and the other part drawn in as much as before.
It will be necessary, in the first place, to calculate
the weight of a ship ready equipped for sea, from the
knowledge of the weight of every separate thing in her
and belonging to her, as the exact weight of all the
timber, iron, lead, masts, sails, rigging, and in short all
the materials, men, provisions, and every thing else o»
hoard of her, from which we shall be able afterwards to
judge of the truth of the calculation, and whether tire
load-water line in the draught be placed agreeable
thereto. This is indeed a very laborious task, upon ac¬
count of the several pieces of timber, &c. being of so
many different figures, and the specific gravity of some
of the timber entering the construction not being pre¬
cisely determined.
In order to ascertain the weight of the hull, the tim¬
ber is the first thing which comes under consideration:
the number of cubic feet ot timber contained in the
whole fabric must he found ; which we shall be able to
do by help of the draught and the principal dimensions
and scantlings ; observing to distinguish the dillerent
kinds of timber from each other, as they differ consider¬
ably in weight then the number of cubic feet contain¬
ed in the different sorts of timber being reduced into
pounds, and added, will he the weight of the timber.
In like manner proceed to find the weight of the non,
lead, paint, &c. and the true weight of the whole will
be found.
In reducing quantity to weight, it may be obsene
that a cubic foot of oak is equal to 66 pounds, and the
specific gravity of the other materials is as follows.
Load tv ,
ttr
and Slii]ri||
Capaciti .
d'
Water being
Lead is
Iron
IOOO
11345
7643
Oak is
Dry elm
Dr y fir
891.89
702.70
648.64
■“! pk
;cct
Silk
14 Lou vva-
SHIP-BUILDING.
ill, v\ a-
, -4“ Estimate of the Weight of the Eighty Gun Shin ia
Igte Pl.iltes tCCCXC. and CCCCXCL as fittedfor Sea,
', - j with Six Months Provisions.
Plies
CtCTvC.
CCCXCI.
Weight of the Men, See.
NI0 of lb
Wtfight of the Hull,
]\TO of Ft. N° of lbs
Estii te of _ d'y - 01 r i. iX “ oi ids.
thevight Oak timber at 66 lb. tol
of thligb- t[ie cubic foot f 4°497 3200802
Lefor aid' t‘ml)er at 48 lb. to 'l
down tl16 cubic foot J 4457 2I393^
the cubic foot
Elm timber at 52 lb. tol
the cubic foot f
Carve work and lead work
Iron work, rudder irons,
chain-plates, nails, &c. \
Pitch, tar, oakum, and ^
paint
Cook-room fitted with fire 1
hearth Jj-
Sum
4457
520
27040
4651
88254
17920
16123
3568726,
Tons. Lbs.
1428 2082
95 1*36
12 160
2 171
39 894
8
Seven hundred men with their")
effects, including the officers £
and their effects - \
Ballast -
Sum
2S7
Load- wa~
ter Line
and Ship’s
Capacity.
316961
147840c
1795361 8oi 1121
Recapitvla tion.
7 443
The hull
The furniture
Guns and ammunition
Officers stores
Provisions
Weight of the men and ballast
Sum
35687261593
43752°
521427
665 59
1792870
r79536i
406
195 720
232 1747
29 1599
800 870
801 1121
159S 406
818246313652 1983
Weight of the Furniture.
r ^ n Iff0 of lbs.
Complete set of masts and yards, 7 i
with the spare geer - j ‘oiooo
Anchors with their stocks, and 7
master’s stores _ . r
Rigging
Sails, complete set, and spare
Cables and hawsers
Blocks, pumps, and boats
Sum
39996
69128
32008
73332
62056
437520
r c Lbs
71 i960
17 1916
30 1928
14 648
32 1652
27 1576
l9S
' 20
Weight of the Guns and Ammunition.
Guns with their carriages
1 owner and shot, powder barrels, 7
&c. i
Implements for the powder
Ditto for guns, crows, handspikes, 7
&c. 4
Sum -
377034
11632c
6500
21573
521427
!68 714
51 2080
2 2020
9 1413
li eight of the Officers Stores, &c.
Carpenter’s stores
Boatswain’s stores
Gunner’s stores
Caulker’s stores
Burgeon and chaplain’s effects
Sum
20187
21112
8964
5200
11096
66559
232 1747
9 27
9 952
4 4
2 720
4 2136
29 J599
Weight of the Pi ^visions.
-S rovisions for six months for 700 7
men, with all their equipage j
! * ater, casks, and captain’s table
Sum
383 1050
416 2060
• ^greeable to the above estimate, we find that the
eighty gun ship with every thing on board and fit for
sea when brought down to the load-water line, weighs
8,182,463 pounds, or nearly 3653 tons. It may rmw
be known if the load-water line in the draught be pro¬
perly placed, by reducing the immersed part of the bo-
dy into cubic feet. lor if the eighty gun ship, when
btought down to the load-water line, weighs 36^3 tons
the quantity of water displaced must also&be 3^ n tons!
now a cubic foot of salt water being supposed to weioh
74 pounds, if therefore 8182463 be divided by 74 the
quotient is 110573, the number of cubical f/et which
she must displace agreeable to her weight.
It is now necessary to find the number‘of cubic feet
contained in the ship’s bottom below the load-water line
fiy caculation. If the bottom was a regular solid, this
might be very easily done j but as it is otherwise, we
must be satisfied with the following method by approxi¬
mation, first given by M. Bouguer.
Take the lengths of every other of the lines tl.at re-Method 0f
present the frames in the horizontal plane upon the UD-Cakulatins
per water line ; then find the sum of these together the c°u~
mth half the foremost and aftermost frames Now nJ eiUs of thc
7? Y Ae distance between ^ fran™,Tna^.™ “
the product is the area of the water line contained be¬
tween the foremost and aftermost frames : then find the
aiea of that part abaft the after frame, which forms a
trapezium, and also the post and rudder 5 find also the
area of that part afore the foremost frame, and also of
the stem and gripe 5 then these areas being added to
tnat first found and the sum doubled, will be the area
of the surface of the whole water line. The reason of
tins rule wi I be obvious to those acquainted with the
hist punciples of mathematics.
Hie areas of the other water line may be found in
the same manner: then the sum of all these areas, ex-
tpn that of the uppermost and lowermost, of which on¬
ly one half 0 each must be taken, being multiplied by
the distance between the water lines (these lines in the
plane oi elevation being equidistant from each other)
and the product will be the solid content of the space
contained between the lower and load-water lines.
’ Add
S H I P-B U I L D I N G.
Load-wa- Add tlhe area of tlie lower water line .to.tlie area,of
288
ter3line’ the upper side of the keel 5 multiply half that sum by
and Ship’s the distance between them, the product will be the so-
Capacity.. jjj content of that part between the lower water line
' * ' and upper edge of the keel, supposing them parallel to
each other. But if the lower water line is not parallel
to the keel, the above half sum is to be multiplied by
the distance between them at the middle of the ship.
The solid contents of the keel must be next found,
by multiplying its length by its depth, and that product
by the breadth. Then the sum of these solid contents
will be the number of cubic feet contained in the im¬
mersed part of the ship’s bottom, or that part below the
load-water line.
Determination of the number of Cubic Feet contained
in the Bottom of the Eighty-Gun Ship. See rlates
CCCCXC. and CCCCXCI.
<4 The fore body is divided into five, and the after bo-
AppUedto dy into ten, equal parts in the horizontal plane j be-
thc eighty the parts contained between the foremost timber
gun ship. and tlie gtem> an(i the aftermost timber and the post.
The plane of elevation is also divided into five equal
parts by water lines drawn parallel to the keel. 1 hese
water lines are also described upon the horizontal
^Tus to be observed that there must be five inches add¬
ed to each line that represents a frame in the horizontal
plane for the thickness of the plank, that being nearly a
mean between the thickness of the plank next the water
and that on the lower part of the bottom.
Upper Water Line abaft Dead Flat..
Ft. In.
frame dead flat is 24 feet 10 inches, one-
half of which is
frame (4)
frame 3
frame 7
frame 11
« ^ frame 15
' frame 19
frame 23
frame 27
frame 31
frame 35 is 16 feet 3 inches, the hall of
which is -
12
24
24
24
24
24
24
23
22
20
II
-c
H
Second Water Line abaft Dead Flat.
frame dead flat is 23 feet iof inches, the
half of which is .
frame (4)
frame 3 -
frame 7
frame 11
frame 15
frame 19
frame 23 - “
frame 27 * “
frame ^ J — “
frame 35 is 8 feet 6 inches, the half of
which is “ " “
hoad-wa.
Ft. ki. terLine
and Slip’i
jji Capacity,
23 I04
23 I Of
23 lOf
23 lof
23 8i
23
22
20 IO
17 8
5
4 3
Sum
Distance between the frames
Product
Area of that part abaft frame 35
rudder and post
Sum
219
10 11
2397 4
31 7
5 5
2434 4
2
5
10
10
10
10
9^
5
10
9
11
Area of the 2d water line from dead flat aft 4868
Third Water Line abaft Dead Flat.
frame dead flat is 22 feet 1^ inches—half 11
frame (4)
frame 3 '
frame 7
frame 11
g frame 15
frame 19
frame 23
frame 27
frame 31 ' “ "
L frame 35 is 4 feet 3 inches—half
l
Sum ' "
Distance between the frames
Product - -
Area of that part abaft frame 35
- rudder and post
Sum
236 7
10 11
2582 8^
78 o
5 6
2666 2f
2
Area of that part abaft frame 35
rudder and post
Area of the 3d water line from dead flat aft 4203 3
Fourth Water Line abaft Dead Flat.
■3 f frame dead flat is 20 feet I inch—half
.£ | frame (4)
•| J frame 3
u | frame 7 *
m J frame II
d L frame 15
Area of the load water line from dead flat
aft - - ~ * *33*
Carry over
h ji-^a-
ttiLine
an iSliip’s
C; ^city.
Brought over
f frame 19
| frame 23 - - .
^ frame 27 - . _
£ I frame 31
« Lframe 35 is 1 foot 1 if inches—half
Area of that part abaft frame 33
rudder and post
SHIP-BUILDING.
Upper or Load Water Line afore Dead Flat
Ft.
108
J7
H
In.
9
7f
10
289
10 11
5 n
o III
X.oad-wa¬
ter Line
Ft. In. auc* Chip’s
« f frame dead flat is 24 feet 10 inches—half 12 c • CaPacitF-
a ! fror.^ ir
10
8f
1S9 o
10 11
24
24
24
21
7
J73S
9
5
10
I75°
Area of the 4th rvater line from dead flat aft 3501
Fifth or Lower Water Line abaft Dead Flat.
' frame dead flat is 17 feet 2 inches—half 8
1259
80
r343
frame (4)
frame 3 - . _
frame 7 - - _
frame 11 -
frame 15
frame 19
frame 23 -
frame 27 - _ .
frame 31
tframe 35 is 1 foot 2f inches—half
Area of that part abaft frame 33
rudder and post
*7
l7
*7
16
1S
J3
8
4
2
2
7
2
2
1
4
4
1
9
10
11
7i
121 10^
10 11
133° 2
4 8J
4
J339 J
  2
2678 10
2666 2f
4868 8
4203 3
350* o
*339 5
*6378 64-
 4 1
67693 8f-
>5 J frame E
^ J frame I - . .
J« j frame N - _
oj j frame Q - _ „
H L frame W is 13 feet 1 inch—half
Sum - _ _
Distance between the frames
Product - _ _
Area of the part afore frame W
stem and knee
Sum -
Multiply by -
Area of the load water line from dead flat
forward - . _ 2687
Second Water Line afore Dead Flat.
'frame dead flat is 23 feet 10*-inches—half 11
frame E - _ _
frame I - - .
frame N _
frame Q _ _ _
frame W is n feet 11 inches—half
Sum - . _
Distance between the frames
o
lOf
6v
4i
11
<u <
f-i
23
23
22
*9
5
“I
10
5
5
11
nf
107
10
Si
11
Area of the 3th or lower water line from
dead flat aft - .
Half the area of the load water line
Area of the second water line
Area of the third water line
Area of the fourth water line
Half the area of the lower water line
Sum - . ^
Distance between the water lines
Content in cubic feet between the lower
and load water lines
Area of the lower water line 2678 10
Area of the upper side of the keel 206 4
Distance between the lower wa- ^ ^
ter line and the keel - 4 j-
Cub. feet contained between low-
er water line and the keel 3890 6i c8oo 6*
Content of the keel, lower .part of rudder, 5 9 2
and false keel _ ’ .
464 3
Cubic feet abaft the midship frame under
Water when loaded _ * r
Vol. XIX. Part I. " 74050 6,
t
Product .
Area of the part afore frame W, with the
stem and knee
II73
43
S
um
1217
Area of the second water line from dead flat
forward - - - 2435
Third Water Line afore Dead Flat.
frame dead flat is 22 feet if inch—half n
frame E - _ _ 22
frame I - _ _ 2
frame N . _ . I0
frams Q - . . ^
. frame W is 7 feet—half . . ^
Sum
Distance between the frames
-a
rt ,
(U <
u
o
CJ-
I
8
I
If
6
94
10 II
Product - _ T_.,
a Pi n " 1031 10
Area ot the part afore W, with the stem and
Sr,Pe - - - 23 10
Sum - - - 1057 r
2
Area of the third water line from dead flat
forward - - . 2113 4
D 0 Fourth
290
Jjoad wa¬
ter Line
and Ship's
Capacity.
1'ourth Water Line afore Dead Flat.
S H I F-B U I L D I N G.
Cubic feet contained between the lower and <
3634
Ft. In.
ts r frame dead flat is 20 feet 1 inch—half 10 o|
! - •> 20 07
load water lines
Cubic feet contained between lower water
line and keel - - - - 2692
Content of the keel and false keel - 190
Tonnajtn
a
-g j frame Ih
'rt ] frame I
^ ^ frt
frame N
^ frame Q n , 1 if
^ frame W is 2 feet nine inches—halt
19 3
16 5
II 2
1 44-
Content afore midship frame under water
when loaded
Content abaft midship frame
36523
7405°
Sum
Distance between the irames
78 34
10 11
Content under water
Weight of a cubic foot of salt water
110573 10
74lbs.
Product • . " " ,
Area of part before W, with the stem and
gripe
854 8
Weight of the whole ship with every thing
onboard - - - 8182463.8^.
8 loi
Sum
863 6-i
Area of fourth water line from dead flat for¬
ward
Fifth Water Line afore Dead Flat.
Ft. In.
r frame dead flat is 17 feet 2 inches—half 8 7
^ r V - - 10 9
_ Irame L *
•5 , 1 _ . . 14 10
ns < Irame 1 “
| frame N - " ’ 10 ^
W l frame Q is 5 feet—half - - 2
As the weight of the ship, with every thing on boaid,
found by this calculation, is equal to that found by esti¬
mate •, it hence appears that the water line is properly
placed in the draught. It now only remains to hnd
whether the body is constructed suitably thereto, that
 * is whether the ship will be in her natural position when
, brought down to that line. For this purpose a perpen-
J727 J “ dicular must be erected 27 feet £ inch, abaft dead flat,
which will be the middle between the two perpendicu¬
lars and the place where the centre of gravity should
fall, that the ship may swim on an even keel. The so¬
lidity of that part of the bottom contained between the
said perpendicular and dead flat is then to be calculated,
which will be found to be 25846 feet 7 inches.
Solidity of the bottom afore dead flat 36523 ^ 41Q*
— between the middle and dead flat 25846 7
Sum
Distance between the frame
53 5-4
10 11
Product
Area of part afore Q
stem and knee
583 7
26 2|
5 11
Solid content of the fore part of the bot-
tom - - - 62369
Solidity of the bottom abaft dead flat 74°5°
- between the middle und dead flat 2584^
11
6
7
Solid content of the aft. part of the bot. 482°3
- forepart of the bottom 62369
11
11
Sum
615 9
2
Difference
Half
14166
7083
Area of the fifth or lower water line from
dead flat forward
Area of the upper side of the keel
1231 6
87 4
Sum
Half
Distance between the lower water line and
keel
1318 to
659 5
Hence the after part of the ship’s bottom is too lean
bv 7083 cubic feet, and the fore part as much too full.
The after part must therefore be filled out until it ha
received an addition of 7083 feet, and the fore par
must be drawn in till it has lost the same quantity, ana
the bottom will then be constructed suitable to tne
ship’s swimming on an even keel.
Content of the part contained between the
lower water line and the keel in cub. feet 2692
Chap. IX. Of the tonnage of a Ship
Half of the area of the load water line
Area of the second water line
third water line
fourth water line
1343
2435
2115
1727
Half the area of the fifth or lower water line 615
9
o
4
i4
9
ty. £>y me louiiit-v ui «* -—r —    r
every thing that can with safety and expediency t
ken on board that ship tor the purpose of coiivtyaiic ,a#
it is also called the shifs burthen; and it*s
different from the weight of the whole as she floats
the water, it is perhaps best expressed by caning 1
weight of the cargo. It is of importance, because i J
this that the merchant or freighter judges of tne ^
r
^ 4 This is a question of equal importance and r
By the tonnage of a ship is meant the weig
CllW11-'
Sum
Distance between the water lines
8236 iii
4 1
0f6f the ship for his purpose.
S H I P - B U
Ti)n|-e of0i llJe s»fP «or ms purpose. By this government judge
a ip. of the ships requisite for transport service, and hy this
’ u™ are all revenue charges on the ship computed. It is no
less difficult to answer this question by any general rule
which shall be very exact, because it depends not only
on the cubical dimensions of the ship’s bottom, but
also on the scantling of her whole frame, and in short
on the weight of every thing which properly makes
part of a ship ready to receive on board her cargo.
The weight of timber is variable ; the scantling of the
frame is no less so. We must therefore be contented
with an average value which is not very remote from
the truth ; and this average is to be obtained, not by
an} mathematical discussion, but by observation of the
burthen or cargo actually received, in a great variety of
cases. But some sort of rule of calculation must be
made out. 'I his is and must be done hy persons not ma¬
thematicians. We may therefore expect to find it inca¬
pable of being reduced to any principle, and that every
builder will have a different rule. Accordingly the rules
given for this purpose are in general very whimsical,
measures being used and combined in a way that seems
quite unconnected with stereometry or the measurement
of solids. The rules for Calculation are even affected
by the interests of the two parties oppositely concerned
m the result. The calculation for the tonnage by which
the customs are to be exacted by government are quite
different from the rule hy which’the tonnage of a trans¬
port hired by government is computed 5 and the same
ship hired as a transport will be computed near one half
bigger than when paying importation duties.
Yet the whole of this might be made a very simple
business and very exact. When the ship is launched,
Jet her light water line be marked, and this with the
cubical contents of the immersed part be noted down,
and be mgrossed in the deed by which the property of
the ship is conveyed from hand to hand. The weight
ot her masts, sails, rigging, and sea-stores, is most easily
obtained ; and every builder can compute the cubical
contents of the body when immersed to the load water
line, flie difference of these is unquestionably the bur¬
then of the ship.
It is evident from what has been already said in the last
chapter, that if the number of cubic feet of water which
the ship displaces when light, or, which is the same, the
number of cubic feet below the light water line, found
by the preceding method of calculation, be subtracted
from the number of cubic feet contained in the bottom
ielow the load water line, and the remainder reduced
to tons by multiplying by 74, the number of pounds in
a cubic foot of sea water, and divided by 2240, the
number of pounds in a ton, the quotient will be the
tonnage.
. '®ut t*1,s method is very troublesome, the follow¬
ing rule for this purpose is that which is used in the
king s and merchants service.
Let fall a perpendicular from the foreside of the stem
at the height of the hawse holes (h), and another per-
pendicu.ar from the back of the main post at the height
I L D I N a
of the wing transom. From the length between these Tonnaee of
two perpendiculars deduct three-fifths of the extreme a Ship.
breadth (1), and also as many times 2{ inches as there    '
are feet in the height of the wing transom above the
upper edge of the keel j the remainder is the length of
the keel for tonnage. Now multiply this length by
the extreme breadth, and the product by half the ex¬
treme breadth, and this last product divided by 04 is
the tonnage required* ^
Or, multiply the length of the keel for tonnage hy
the square ol the extreme breadth, and the product di¬
vided by 188 will give the tonnage.
Calculation of the Tonnage of an Eighty Gun Ship.
I. According to the true method.
I he weight of the ship at her launching Tons, lbs Csdvutatioit
draught of xvater - - ° 1 cos .0/'oftl'eto1’-
The weight of the furniture - 1Qr -n'^e ol ,ie
■*yy 7 zo eighty gim
The weight of the ship at her light wa- P
ter tnark - 1126
The weight of the ship at the load wa- '
tcr ma'k - - - 36.S2
Real burthen . . . lg64 gj7
II. By the common rule.
Length from the foreside of the stem at Ft* Inch*
the height of the hawse holes, to the
aft side of the main post, at the height
of the wing transom - . jg- I6
Three-fifths of the extreme breadth
TT ■ 1 « . ” ^9 f« 9t m*
-Height of the wing transom
is 28 f. 4 in. which mul¬
tiplied by 2-J inches is 6 8£
Sum ‘ * * 36 6* 36 6
Length of the keel for tonnage
Extreme breadth
149
49
Product
Half the extreme breadth
7416 io|-
24 10
94)l84l85 8;
Burthen accordin
rule
Real burthen
g to the common
1959 929
1864 &57
95 72
si;
ile
Difference
Hence an eighty gun ship will not carry the ton-com-
nage she is rated at by about 95 tons. As the body Ofmon ru|e
tins ship is fuller than in ships o(mx in general, there is
therefore a nearer agreement between the of
therefore a nearer agreement between the tonnages thund shiiuoTwar
by the two different methods. It may he observed tl,ats™t«r,
ships ol war carry less tonnage than they are rated at by aild ot mer~
the common rule, and that most merchant ships carry ant, ^
On? V less, than
a the truth*
1 M fT .be fore side of the stem a. the height of the wing
1 great rake forward. % generally so very high in merchant ships, and their stems also having
| (I) lhC b7dth unck'rst00(1 ^ this place is the breadth from outside to outside of the plank.
-
i68 f. o in.
138 o
2Q2 S H I P-B U
a (rreat deal more. In confirmation of tins, it is thought
T03p.°%er to subjoin the dimension, of several ships, with
i,,. —y— 1 ^iie tonnage calculated therefrom.
1. Audacious oj seventy-four guns.
Length on the gun deck
Length of the keel for tonnage
Extreme breadth
Depth of the hold - "
c*
Launching draught of water |abaft
f afore
Load draught of water abaj-t
The weight of the ship at her launching < on o
draught of water - 15091.678^.
The weight of the furniture - 120 II°C
I L D I N G.
Tonnage
Real tonnage
984 1670 a Ship.
46
*9
12
17
20
21
Difference
Length of the keel for tonnage
Extreme breadth
Weight of the ship at her light water
mark
1629 2178
UlCll AV
Weight of the ship at her load water
mark - - ' 2T^_ ^
Ileal burthen - - "I6 S6°
By the common rule.
Length of the keel for tonnage - 138 f. o in.
Extreme breadth - " 4 9
6451 6
23 4i
i?8 574
3. A Cutter.
58 f. o in.
29 o
f afore 5 10
Launching draught of water abaft 9 8
f afore 9 o
Load draught of water abaft 12 o
The weight of the cutter at her launch-
. b . 1471.64olbs.
mg - - r'
Weight of the furniture - 9 J99
Weight of the cutter at her light water ^
XXI 3.1*lsL “ — 5 3 9
Weiglit of the cutter at her load water
mark - - ' 266 ^
Real burthen - " 110 II^1
By the common rule.
58 f.
Product
Half the extreme breadth
94)i5o8o3
Tonnage according to the common rale 1604 643
Heal burthen - - ' 114656°
Keel for tonnage
Extreme breadth
Product
Half extreme breadth
Tonnage by the common rule
Real tonnage
29
1682
I4i
94)24389
Diflerence
458 83 Difference
259 1024
no 1131
148 2133
2. An East Indiaman.
Length between the perpendiculars for-
ward and aft - - l3gf. Sin.
Length of the keel for tonnage - IOo °
Extreme breadth - " ~ ^°
Depth in hold - ' “ 16 °
C afore 710
Launching draught ot water ^ aba£t 11 10
J afore 19 8
Load draught of ivater abajt 20 g
The weight of the ship at her launching
draught of water - - 6021. 21 l61bs.
The weight of the furniture - 50 124
Weight of the ship at her light water
mark - - “ ^53
Weight of the ship at her load water
mark - - ' *637 1670
Heal burthen - - 984 >670
By the common rule.
Keel for tonnage - - ^ 8*
Extreme breadth - - 3
Product
Half extreme breadth
3999
19
94)758i°
The impropriety of the common rule is hence mani¬
fest, as there can be no dependence on it for ascertam-
ino- the tonnage of vessels. > . ,
"We shall now subjoin the following experimental n
th0C„0nstmct”a moda'a^ee^l^ie draught of theOj
proposetfshipf t™ sca./of about one fourth of an me
to a foot, and let the light and load water lines be
marked on it. Then put the model in water ^ tonnage of
it until the surface of the water is exactly a the hgh ^b
water line •, and let it be suspended until the vvate
drains off, and then weighed. Now since the weights of
similar bodies are in the triplicate ratio of their homo 0
gous dimensions, the weight of the sinp when ig *
therefore, equal to the product of the cube of the nuni
ber of times the ship exceeds the model by the wag
of the model, which is to be reduced to tons. Hence,
if the model is constructed to a quarter of an inch scale,
and its weight expressed m ounces } tnen 0 ie
stant logarithm 0.4893556, add the loganthm f tl^
weight of the model in ounces, and the sum r
logarithm of the weight of the ship in tons.
Again, the model is to he loaded until the snrfa e of
the water coincides with the load water line. _ ,
model being weighed, the weight of the ship !•
found by The preceding rule: then the difference
tween the weights of the ship when light and loaded
s H I P - B u
It will also be worth while to add the following ex¬
act rule of Mr Parkins, who was many years foreman
of the shipwrights in Chatham dockyard.
I. For Men of War.
Take tire length of the gun-deck from the rabbet of
the stem to the rabbet of the stern post. of this is
to be assumed as the length for tonnage, — L.
Take the extreme breadth from outside to outside of
the plank ; add this to the length, and take -/T of the
sum 5 call this the depth for tonnage, — D.
' Set up this height from the limber strake, and at
that height take a breadth also from outside to outside
of plank in the timber when the extreme breadth is
found, and another breadth in the middle between that
and the limber strake} add together the extreme
breadth and these two breadths, and take y of the sum
for the breadth for tonnage, ~ D.
Multiply L, D, and B together, and divide by 49.
The quotient is the burthen in tons.
- The following proof may be given of the accuracy
of this rule. Column 1. is the tonnage or burthen by
the king’s measurement; col. 2. is the tonnage by this
rule ; and, col. 3. is the weight actually received on
board these ships at Blackstakes :
Victory
London
Arrogant
Diadem
Adamant
Dolphin
Amphion
Daphne
100 guns. 2162
90
74
64
50
44
32
20
*845
1614
1369
i°44
879
667
429
l839
I575
1308
1141
870
737
554
329
1840
1677
I3I4
965
886
758
549
374
2. For Ships of Burthen.
Take the length of the lower deck from the rabbet
of the stem to the rabbet of the stern-post ; then y-f- of
this is the length for tonnage, = L.
Add the length of the lower deck to the extreme
breadth from outside to outside of plank ; and take T3-
of the sum for the depth for tonnage, rr D.
Set up that depth from the limber strake, and at this
height take a breadth from outside to outside. Take
another at y of this height, and another at y of the
height. Add the extreme breadth and these three
breadths, and take the 4th of the sum for the breadth
for tonnage, — B.
Multiply L, D, and B, and divide by 36-f. The
quotient is the burthen in tons.
Ihis rule rests on the authority of many such trials,
as the following :
Northington Indiaman
Cranby Indiaman
Union coallier
Another coallier
King’s Actually
Measm. Rule. reed, on bd.
676 1053 1064
786 Ix79 I][79
193 266 289
182 254 277
Chap. X. Of the Scale of Solidity.
By this scale the quantity of water displaced by the
bottom ol the ship, for which it is constructed, answer-
ing to a given draught of water, is easily obtained $ and
I L D I N G.
also the additional weight necessary to bring her down
to the load water line.
In order to construct this scale for a given ship, it is
necessary to calculate the quantity of water displaced by
the keel, and by that part of the bottom below each
water line m the draught. Since the areas of the seve¬
ral water lines are already computed for the eighty-gun
ship laid down in Plates CCCCXC. and CCCCXCI.
the contents of these parts may hence be easily found
for that ship, and are as follow.
293
Seale ol'
Soliclitv.
Draugh t of water.
JP ater displaced in
Cubic feet.
Keel and false keel
Dist. bet. keel 1
and 5th w. line J
Sum
Dist. 5th and ~i
4th w. line j
Sum
Dist. 4th and 1
3d w. line j
Sum
Dist. 3d and 1
2d. w. line J
Sum
Dist. 2d. and!
1st w. line J
Sum
2 f.
4
18
22
3in-
1
660.9
85'83-1i
9243.iod
18657.8-
279OI‘7ii
51476.2J
27812.1
79288.3”
31285.7^
II°573‘11^
tons. lbs.
21 1855
283 1233
305 848
616 828
921 1676
778 1795
1700 1231
9lS 1775
2619 766
1033 1218
3652 1984
Construct any convenient scale of equal parts to re¬
present tons, as scale N° X. and another to represent
feet, as N° 2.
Draw the line AB (fig. 36.) limited at A, but pro- ccfcxcii.
duced indefinitely towards B. Make AC equal to the 60
depth of the keel, 2 feet 3 inches from scale N° 2. and Construc-
through C draw a line parallel to AB, which will re. t on of the
present the upper edge of the keel; upon which set off °*rS°"
Cc equal to 21 tons 1855 lbs. taken .from scale N° I. the ship of
Again, make AD equal to the distance between the eighty
lower edge of the keel and the fifth water line, namely, Suns-
6 feet 4 inches, and a line drawn through D parallel to
AB will be the representation of the lower water line j
and make D b equal to 305 tons 848 lbs. the corre¬
sponding tonnage. In like manner draw the other wa¬
ter lines, and lay off the corresponding tonnages ac¬
cordingly; then through the points A, c, b, e, f g,
h, draw the curve Ac befgh. Through h draw h B
perpendicular to AB, and it will be the greatest limit
of the quantity of water expressed in tons displaced by
the bottom of the ship, or that when she is brought
down to the load water line. And since the ship dis¬
places 1788 tons at her light water-mark, take there¬
fore that quantity from the scale N° I. which being
laid upon AB from A to K, and KL drawn perpendi¬
cular to AB, will be the representation of the light
water
^94-
ln;e for tonnage.
Sralc cf watei
Solidity, pleted. ~ •
' Let it now be required to find the number ot cub.c
feet displaced when the draught of water is 17 teet, ami
.^oove scale, the number of additional tons necessary to bring her
down to the load water mark.
Take the given draught of water 17 feet from the
scale N° 2, which laid from it will reach to 11 through
which draw the line IMN parallel to AB, and inter¬
secting the curve in AC; then the distance IM applied
to the~scale N° I, will measure about 2248 tons, the dis¬
placement answerable to that draught of water; and
MN applied to the same scale will measure about 1405
tons, the additional weight necessary to bring her down
to the load water mark. Also the nearfest distance be¬
tween M and the line KL will measure about 460 tons,
the weight already on hoaid. » .
It will conduce very much to facilitate this operation
'to divide KB into a scale of tons taken from the scale
N° 1, beginning at B, and also h L, beginning at h.
Then when the draught of water is taken from the scale
N° 2, and laid from it to I, as in the former example,
and IMN drawn parallel to AB, and intersecting the
curve in M. Now through M draw a line perpendicu¬
lar to AB, and it will meet KB in a point representing
the number of tons aboard, and also h L in a point de-
notiila the additional Weight necessary to load her.
Again, if the weight on hoard he given, the corre¬
sponding draught of water is obtained as follows,
Find the given number of tons m the scale K ,
through which draw a line perpendicular to AB ; then
through the point of intersection of this hue with the
curve draw another line parallel to AB. Now the
distance between A and the point where the paraM
intersected AH being applied to the scale N 2,
give the draught of water required.
Any other case to which this scale may he applied
tvill he obvious.
Book II. Containing the Properties of Ships, &C.
Chap. I. Of the Equilibrium of Ships.
Since the pressure of fluids is equal in every diiec-
tion, the bottom of a ship is therefore acted upon by
the fluid in which it is immersed ; which pressure, lor
any given portion of surface, is equal to the product of
that portion by the depth and density of the fluid : or
it is equal to the weight of a column of the flu.d whose
base is the given surface and the altitude equal to the
distance between the surface of the fluid and the centre
of gravity of the surface pressed. Hence a floating
body is in equilibrio between two forces, namely, its
gravity and the vertical pressure of the fluid ; the hori¬
zontal pressure being destroyed.
Plate Let ABC (fig, 49-) he any body immersed in a liu.ct
•ccecxciv. wjJ0se line 0f floatation is GH : hence the pressure of
the fluid is exerted on every portion of the surface of the
immersed part AFCH. Let El, CD he any two small
portions contained between the lines ED, EC, para t
to each other, and to the line of floatation GK . then
SHIP-BUILDING.
the pressure exerted upon FF is expressed by EExIrv, Equiiilirj.
I • - FF nr CD : the density of the umof
Hence the scale will he com-
me pressure exenru uyviu   ^ ' ,
IK being the depth of El or C D ; the density ol the
fluid being supposed equal to 1. In like manner the ^
pressure upon CD is equal to CD X IK. Now since the
pressure is in a direction perpendicular to the surface,
draw therefore the line EL perpendicular to LI, and
DAI perpendicular to DC, and make each equal to the
depth IK, below the surface. Now the effort or pressure
of the fluid upon EF will he expressed by El X EL,
and that upon CD by CD X DM. Complete the paral¬
lelograms ON, QS, and the pressure in the direction
EL is resolved into EN, EO, the first in a horizontal,
and the second in a vertical direction. In like manner,
the pressure in the direction DM is resolved into the
pressures DS, DQ. Hence the joint effect of the pres¬
sures in the horizontal and vertical directions, namely,
EF x EN, and EFxEO, will he equal to EF XEL :
For the same reason, CD X DP+CD X DQ—CD x
DAI. But the parts of the pressures in a horizontal di¬
rection EF x EN and CD x DP, are equal. For be¬
cause of the similar triangles ENL, ERF, and DPA1,
XCS = DP X DC, and EL X FR=rEN X EF. Now
since EL=DAI, and FR=CS, therefore EL X ER=
DAI xCS=DP XDC=:EN X EF. HencesinceEl X
ENrrDP xCD, the effects of the pressures in a hori¬
zontal direction are therefore equal and contrary, and
consequently destroy each other. _
The pressure in a vertical direction is represented by
EOxEF, DQXDC, &c. which, because of the sum-
lar triangles EOL, ERF, »'>‘t
EL x Eli, DM X DS, &c. or IK X EU, IK x DS, &c.
By applying the same reasoning to every other portion
of the surface of the immersed part of the body, it is
hence evident that the sum of the vertical pressures is
equal to the sum of the corresponding displaced columns
of the fluid.
The Weis'11
tue nuio. - The
Hence a floating body is pressed upwards by a force afafcif
equal to the weight of the quantity of water displaced; ^ito
and since there is an equilibrium between tins torce and that oj
the weight of the body, therefore the weight of a float-
ing body is equal to the weight of the displace ui plact(]t
CO. Hence also the centre of gravity of the body 6,
ami the centre of gravity of the displaced Amtl *
the same vertical, otherwise the body would not be
rest. both are"
.the same
Chap. II. Upon the Efforts of the Water to benda^d
Vessel.
When it is said that the pressure of the water upon TJJ
the immersed part of a vessel counterbalances its w-ugi )
it is supposed that the different parts of the vessel are so ^
closely connected together, that the forces which acti al^
upon its surface are not capable of producing any change. b>
For we may easily conceive, it the connection n
parts were not sufficiently strong, the vessel would rui
the risk either of being broken in pieces, or 01 sullen g
some alteration in its figure. > . . f 1
The vessel is in a situation similar to that ot a r
-K) Uttm f L principle the weight and tonnage of the 80 gtm ship laid down were calculated.
Efltts of
the ater
to lnd a
Y .el.
PI
CCCC V.
li_. .
64.
The ctji
ot a sli
hoggiH i
/S
and sa|
'ractica
's“man.
hiP, p.
s H I P-B U
AB (fig. 50.), which being acted upon by the forces
A a, C c, D d, B may be maintained in equilibrio,
provided it has a sufficient degree of stiffness : but as
,soon as it begins to give way, it is evident it must bend
in a convex manner, since its middle would obey the
forces C c and D d, while its extremities would be ac¬
tually drawn downwards by the forces A a and B b.
, ^ be vessel is generally found in such a situation ; and
since similar efforts continually act whilst the vessel is
immersed in the water, it happens but too often that
the keel experiences the bad effect of a strain. It is
therefore very important to inquire into the true cause
ol this accident.
I or this purpose, let us conceive the vessel to be di¬
vided into two parts by a transverse section through
the vertical axis of the vessel, in which both the centre
of gravity G (fig. ji.) 0i the whole vessel and that of
the immersed part are situated : so that one of them
will represent the head part, and the other that of the
stern, each of which will be considered separately. Let
g be the centre of gravity of the entire weight of the
nrst, and 0 that of the immersed part corresponding.
Jn like manner, let y be the centre of gravity of the
whole after part, and iv that of its immediate portion.
Now it is plain, that the head will be acted upon by
the two forces g m and 0 », of which the first will press
it down, and the latter push it up. In the same man¬
ner, the stern will be pressed down by the force y u, and
pushed by the force wv. But these four forces will
maintain themselves in equilibrium, as well as the total
iorces reunited in the points G and O, which are equi¬
valent to them; but whilst neither the forces before
nor those behind fall in the same direction, the vessel
will evidently sustain efforts tending to bend the keel
upwards, it the two points o u are nearer the middle
ban the two other forces gm and y p, A contrary
efleet would happen if the points 0 and » were more dis¬
tant from the middle than the points g and y.
But the first of these two causes usually takes place
almost in all vessels, since they have a greater breadth
towards the middle, and become more and more narrow
towards the extremities ; whilst the weight of the vessel
is in proportion much more considerable towards the
extremities than at the middle. From whence we see,
ia. the greater this difference becomes, the more also
tie vessel be subject to the forces which tend to
bend ns keel upwards. It is therefore from thence
. ve muft. jll%e how much strength it is necessary
0 give to this part of the vessel, in order to avoid such
a consequence.
If other circumstances would permit either to load the
esse more in the middle, or to give to the part immer*-
ed a greater capacity towards the head and stem, such
(> fe 'vo‘!!d no ,0'iger be apprehended. But the
destination of most vessels is entirely opposite to such
an arrangement : by which means we are obliged to
or(]pA U n, Ae ietd as. mueh as may be necessary, in
r to avoid such a disaster.
Vessel.
DranLf ^ coru'!ucl° tI,Js chapter with the following
ships hv Mr Hutdfn ^ ^ .,10^irf ant! egging of
dry nnn b!rpS wit!l, lon£ floor3 happen to he laid a-
■a4in!t thmi °r Sa ; Wi1'eh makes a £0,id resistance
with the ?°0rS amidshJPs’Jn comparison
1 t!le tW0feharP ends, the entrance and. run meet with
5
I L D I N G. 295
little support, hut are pressed down lower than the flat Efforts of
of the floor, and in proportion hogs the ship amid- the Water
ships ; which is too well known from experience to oc- to bend a
casion many total losses, or do so much damage by
hogging them, as to require a vast deal of trouble and
expence to save and repair them, so as to get the hog
taken out and brought to their proper sheer again : and
to do this the more effectually, the owners have often
been induced to go to the expence of lengthening them ;
and by the common method, in proportion as they add
to the burden of these ships, by lengthening their too
long straight floors in their main bodies amidships, so
much do they add to their general weakness to hear
hardships either on the ground or afloat ; for the scant¬
ling of their old timber and plank is not proportionable
to bear the additional burden that is added to them.
“ But defects of this kind are best proved from real
and incontestable facts in common practice. At the
very time I was writing upon this subject, I was called-
upon lor my advice by the commander of one of those
strong, long, straight floored ships, who was in much
trouble and distraction of mind for the damage his ship
had taken by the pilot laying her on a hard, gentle slop¬
ing sand, at the outside of our docks at Liverpool, where
it is common for ships that will take the ground to lie
for a tide, when it proves too late to get into our wet-
docks. After recommending a proper ship carpenter, l
went to the ship, which lay with only a small keel, yet-
was greatly hogged, and the butts of her upper works
strained greatly on the lee side ; and the seams of her
bottom, at the lower futtock heads, vastly opened on the
weather side : all which strained parts were agreed upon
not to be caulked, but filled with tallow, putty, or clav
&.c. with raw bullocks hides, or canvas, nailed with bat-
tons on her bottom, which prevented her sinking with
the flow of the tide, without hindering the pressure of
water from righting and closing the scams again as she
floated, so as to enable them to keep her free with
pumping. This vessel, like many other instances of
ships of this construction that I have known, was saved
and repaired at a very great expence in our dry repair¬
ing docks. And that their bottoms not only bog up¬
wards, but sag (or curve) downwards, to dangerous and
fatal degrees, according to the strain or pressure that
prevails upon them, will, be proved from the.followino-
facts: ”
. ^!as ^een known from experience, that when
ships load deep with very heavy cargoes or materials .
that are stowed too low, it makes them so very labour-
some at sea, when the waves run high, as to roll away
their masts ; and after that misfortune causes tin m to «
labour and roll the more, so as to endanger their work¬
ing and straining themselves to pieces: to prevent
which, it has been long a common practice to leave
a great part of tbeir fore and after bolds empty, and to
stow them as high as possible in the main body at mid¬
ship-, which causes-the bottoms of these long straight-
floored ships to sag downwards, in proportion as the
v\eight of the caigo stowed there exceeds the pressure
of the water upwards, so much as to make them danger¬
ously and fatally leaky. 0
“ I h'ave known many instances of those strong ships-
of 500 or 600 tons burdens built with long straioht
floois, on the east coast of England, for the coal and
timber .trade, come loaded with, timber from the Balt is
tQ:.i
296 S H I P-B U I
I'.floits of to Liverpool, where they commonly lotul tleep with
the Water rock salt, which is too heavy to fill their holds, so that
to be.nd a for t{ie above reasons they stowed it high amidships,
Vessel- and left large empty spaces in their fore and after holds,
which caused their long straight floors to sag down¬
wards, so much as to make their hold stanchions amid¬
ships, at the main hatchway, settle from the beams three
or four inches, and their mainmasts settle so much as
to oblige them to set up the main rigging when rolling
hard at sea, to prevent the masts being rolled away} and
they were rendered so leaky as to be obliged io letuin
to Liverpool to get their leaks stopped at great expence.
And in order to save the time and expence in dischaig-
ing them, endeavours were made to find out and stop
their leaks by laying them ashore dry on a level sand ;
but without effect : for though their bottoms were thus
sagged down by their cargoes when afloat, yet when
they came a-dry upon the sand, some pi their bottoms
hogged upwards so much as to raise their mainmasts and
pumps so high as to tear their coats from their decks y
so that they have been obliged to discharge their car¬
goes, and give them a repair in the repairing dock, and
i„ some to double their bottoms, to enable them to carry
their cargoes with safety, stowed in this manner. I110m
this cause I have known one of these strong ships to
founder.
“ Among the many instances of ships tnat have been
distressed by carrying cargoes of lead, one sailed from
hence bound to Marseilles, which was soon obliged to
put back again in great distress, having had four ket
water in the hold, by the commander’s account, owing
to the ship’s bottom sagging down to such a degree as
made the hold stanchions settle six inches from the
lower deck beams amidships ; yet it is common with
these long straight floored ships, when these heavy car¬
goes are discharged that make their bottoms sag down,
then to hog upwards: so that when they are put into a
dry repairing dock, with empty holds, upon straight
blocks, tbey°commonly either split the blocks close lore
and aft, or damage their keels there, by the whole
weight of the ship lying upon them, when none lies up¬
on the blocks under the flat of their floors amidships,
that being hogged upwards } which was the case ol this
ship’s bottom •, though sagged downwards six inches by
her cargo, it was now found hogged so much that her
keel did not touch the blocks amidships, which occasion¬
ed so much damage to the alter part ol the keel, as to
oblige them to repair if, which is commonly the case
with these ships, and therefore deserving particular
notice.”
In order to prevent these defects in ships, “ they
should all.be built with the floors or bottoms length¬
wise, to form an arch with the projecting part down¬
wards, which will naturally not only contribute greatly
to prevent their taking damage by their bottoms hog¬
ging and straining upwards, either aground or afloat, as
has been mentioned, but will, among other advantages,
be a help to their sailing, steering, staying, and waring.”
Chap. III. Of the Stability of Ships.
When a vessel receives an impulse or pressure in a
horizontal direction, so as to he inclined in a small
degree, the vessel will then either regain its loimer
position as the pressure is taken oft and is in tins case
L D I N G.
said to be possessed of stability
or it will continue in
Stabilitjdi
Ship?,
SiUU IU UC UUOOl.oov.vi   / . . .
its inclined state j or, lastly, the inclination will increase
until the vessel is overturned. W ith regard to the tirst' . -
case, it is evident that a sufficient degree of stability is
necessary in order to sustain the efforts ot the wind j but
neither of the other two cases must be permitted to
have place in vessels. _ , .
Let CED (fig. 52.) he the section of a ship passingFig.j,,
through its centre of gravity, and perpendicular to the
sheer and floor plans 5 which let be in equilibrium in a
fluid *, AB being the water line, G the centre of gra¬
vity of the whole body, and g that of the immersed
part AEB. Let the body receive now a very small
inclination, so that « E b becomes the immersed part, .
and y its centre of gravity. From y draw y M perpen-
dicular to a b, and meeting# G, produced, if necessary,
in M. If, then, the point M thus found is higher
than G the centre of gravity of the whole body, the
body will, in this case, return to its former position,
the pressure being taken off. If the point M coin¬
cides w-itb G, the vessel will remain in its inclined
state • but if M be below G, the inclination ot the
vessel will continually increase until it is entirely over-
set*
The point of intersection M is called the tnetacenter,
and is the limit of the altitude of the centre of gravity
of the whole vessel. Whence it is evident, from what
has already been said, that the stability of the vessel in¬
creases with the altitude of the metacenter above the
centre of gravity : But when the metacenter coincides
with the centre of gravity, the vessel, has no tendency
whatever to move out of the situation into which it may
be put. Thus, if the vessel be inclined either to the right
or left side, it will remain in that position until a new
force is impressed upon it: m this case, therefore, ie
vessel would not be able to carry sail, and is hence un¬
fit for the purposes of navigation. If the metacenter
is below the common centre of gravity, the vessel will
instantly overset. f
As the determination of the metacenter is of. the ut¬
most importance in the construction of ships, it is there¬
fore thought necessary to illustrate this subject more
1 Let AEB (fig. ?2.) be a section of a ship perpen¬
dicular to the kL' and also to the plane of elevation,
and passing through the centre of gravity of the . P,
and also through the centre of gravity of the immersed
part, which let be g. . u
Now let the ship be supposed to receive a very sn.an
inclination, so that the line of floatation is a b, am y
the centre of gravity of the immersed part a E b. I
y draw yM perpendicular to a b, and intersecting ^
ffi M, the metacenter, as before. Hence the pressure of
the water will be in the direction y M.
In order to determine the point INI, the me ace »
the position of y with respect to the lines. A am & »
must be previously ascertained. For tins PurPose’
the ship be supposed to be divided into a giea n 1
of sections by planes perpendicular to the kee , am
rallel to each other, and to that formerly drat.”, « ?
planes being supposed equidistant, ^et ABi y ‘t ->
be one of these sections, g the centre of gravity 01 ^
immersed part before inclination, and y the cenir
gra’vitv of the immersed part when the ship 11
inclined state j the distance g y between the two ce ^
Me-cha.
fnque, art
2(5 j.
s H I P*B U
Stability of of gravity In each section Is to be found. Let AB be
Ships, the line of floatation of the ship when in an upright
* ' state, and a b the water line when inclined. Then, be¬
cause the weight of the ship remains the same, the
quantity of water displaced will also be the same in both
cases, and therefore AEBrzrt E b, each sustaining the
same part of the whole weight of the ship. From each
of these take the part AE b, which is common to both,
and the remainders AO «, BO 6 will be equal j and
which, because the inclination is supposed very small,
may be considered as rectilineal triangles, and the point
0 the middle of AB.
Now, let H, I, K, be the centres of gravity of the
spaces AO o, AE b, and BO respectively. From
these points draw the lines H h, I f, and K X, perpen¬
dicular to AB, and let IL be drawn perpendicular to
EO. Now to ascertain the distance y ^ of the centre
of gravity y of the part a E 6 from the line AB, the
momentum of a E & with respect to this line must be
put equal to the difterence of the momentums of the
parts AE AO which are upon different sides of
* Baouf'j AB *. Hence aE&Xy?, or AEBxy<7=AE6
XI i—AO a x H h. But since g is the common centre
of gravity of the two parts AE&, B06, we have there¬
fore AEB XgOr^AE 6x1 £ X K k. Hence
by expunging the term AE by^\i from each of these
equations, and comparing them, we obtain AEBxy<7
=AEB xg O—BO 6 x K k—AO o x H h.
Now, since the triangles AO #, BO i, are supposed
infinitely small, their momentums or products, by the
infinitely little lines H/?, K k, will also be infinitely
small with respect to AEB X^' O } which therefore be-
ing rejected, the former equation becomes ABXy?
^AEBx.fO, and hence yq—gO. Whence the
centres of gravity y, g, being at equal distances below
AB, the infinitely little line y g is therefore perpendicu¬
lar to EO. lor the same reason g y, fig. 52. may be
considered as an arch of a circle whose centre is M.
To determine the value of g y, the momentum of
fl E & with respect to EO must be taken for the same
reason as before, and put equal to the momentums of
the two parts AO a, AE b 5 and we shall then have
a E bxgy, or AEB x^y=AEB x IL-f-AO oxO^.
But since g is the common centre of gravity of the two
spaces AE b, BO b, we shall have AE Z>xIL—BO b
XOk~0, or AE b X IL~ BO by^Qk. Hence AEB
Xgy=BO bxO /t + AOaxO/>=:2BO£xO£; be¬
cause the two triangles AO a, BO b are equal, and that
the distances O A:, O are also evidently equal.
Let x be the thickness of the section represented by
ABC. Then the momentum of this section will be
sBO^Xa'XO/r, which equation will also serve for
each particular section.
Now let s represent the sum of the niomentnms of
all the sections. Hence s, AEB X XA 2
EO b x x y.0 k. Now the first member being the
sum of the momentums of each section, in proportion
to a plane passing through the keel, ought therefore to
be equal to the sum of all the sections, or to the volume
of the immersed part of the bottom multiplied by the
distance gy. He nee V representing the volume, we
shall have Vxgyrr.?, 2 BO £ x X O
In order to determine the value of the second member
°f this equation, it maybe remarked, that when the
ship is inclined, the original plane of floatation CBPQ
Vol. XIX. Part I. f
I L D I N G.
297
54,) Jjecouaes C 5 Q. Now the triangles NT «, Stability of
BO by being the same as those in figures 52. and 53. j Ships,
and as each of these triangles has one angle equal, they ‘
may, upon account of their infinite smallness, be consi- •c^'
dered as similar 5 and hence BO : NI » : : OBl*
  obI*
: IN,*; whence 60^=:=. xNI n. Moreover, we
IN |2 ’
have (fig. 53.) 0 k=$OB, for the points K and k
may be considered as equidistant from the point O :
whence BO £ X O x NI n.
IN,*
? OBI3
Hence V xgy=.?,I=—1 X-rxNIw. From this e-
IN|2
quation the value ofg y is obtained.
To find the altitude g M (fig. 55.) of the meta- Fig. 55.
center above the centre of gravity of the immersed part
of the bottom, let the arc NS be described from the
centre I with the radius IN} then NI»—— Now
2
since the two straight lines y M, gM are perpendicular
to a n and AN respectively, the angles M and NI n
are therefore equal : and the infinitely little portion g y,
which is perpendicular to g M, may be considered as an
arch described from the centre M. Hence the two sec¬
tors NIS, g My are similar; and thereforeg- M : gy ::
IN : NS. Plence NS=r—- ^ 5 and consequently
NI n~ —^ A/f "• Now this being substituted in the
2g M 0
former equation, and reduced, we have V Xgy—s
4GB|3x^X^y p . • Ar ,
.out since g-M and gy
the
same, whatever section may be under consideration, the
equation may therefore be expressed thus, V xg 7—
tat y.
£ M
Hence g M
OBj3x.v
Let
J(=OB, and the equation becomes g M— —
Whence to have the altitude of the metacenter above
the centre of gravity of the immersed part of the bot¬
tom, the length of the section at the water-line must be
divided by lines perpendicular to the middle line of this
section into a great number of equal parts, so that the
portion of the curve contained between any two adja¬
cent perpendiculars may be considered as a straight line.
Then the sum of the cubes of the half perpendiculars or
ordinates is to be multiplied by the distance between
the perpendiculars, and two-thirds of the product is te
be divided by the volume of the immersed part of the
bottom of the ship.
It is hence evident, that while the sector at the wa¬
ter line is the same, and the volume of the immersed part
of the bottom remains also the same, the altitude ot the
metacenter will remain the same, whatever may be the
figure of the bottom.
Chap. IV. Of the Centre of Gravity of the immersed
Part of the Bottom of a Ship.
The centre of gravity * of a ship, supposed homo- * See
geneous, and in an upright position in the water, is in a chaniel
P p vertical
2 0 8
Centre of
Gravity
Tig.
"Distance
of the
centre of
pravily
from the
t.t< m or
stem.
S H I P-B U I
vertical section passing throng?, the
the ship into two equal and s.m.lar P^15- “ “ . e
stance from the stern, and alt,tnde above .tehed.f ^
In order to determine the centre oi g J
^’^n^A^^ie^aiand
31 KatWCrqu?t-mnNoHb;s curve were known, its centre
zit
•idiacent perpendiculars may be considered as straig
itr Thd*momontums of -apevmn.s D HI; .
J T) J N G
sum wm he a second tern,. Now the first tern, d.v.d 1
by the second, and the quotient mult,l,lied
terval between two adjacent perpendiculars, will be
di XhT Teui'ere be seven perpendiculars, whose va-
, ! ,R 00 08 50 50, 21,0, feet respectively, and
th^cOmmon Interval'between the perpendicrf«s *>
feet Now the sixth of the first term 18 is 3 , and /
‘the iast term is o, therefore to 3 add ^ ^
il m 105 fana L’ sum is 397; Then to the half of
!8 + o, or 9, add the intermediate ordinates, a
* BCiout's
Mecha-
nique, art.
*19-
liSm X the point^K^are then to he
S andthe sn,n of these momentums ,s to be d.v^d
by the sum of the trapeziums, that is, by
A ^/dlLce of the centre ®f
zium THFDfrom the point E is=^ df+TH*.
For the same reason, and because of the equality of the
Unis IE 1L, the distance of the centre of grav, y of
“ 3 ’ • TKMI1 from the same point E will be
",Vxr?H+2KM) t, PEX UTH+JKM)
■|"IE’°I= i'H + KM. -
iniihemant.^an^oftijecent.o^of
\V.x&lL)+2lE,oril^n™2
  KM+NP + Km+jnp
&Now if each distance he multiplied by the surface of
the con’esponding trapezium, that s, by the produe of
ba’f the sum of the two opposite sides of the tiapezium
to the common altitude IE, we shall have the mornen-
tumsofthesetrapeziums.nanielyqilEI-XfD .+2 )>
*IE[‘ x (4 TH + 5 KM) s X (7 KM +
&c. Hence the sum of these momentums will be ^
m2 X (HF^- 6TH +12KM + 18NP + 24Q8-f 14
ABF Whence it may he remarked, that if the line
CE be divided into a great number of equal parts the
factor or coefficient of the last term, which is here 14,
lill be c 2 + 3 (”-2) cl' 3 *-4, « th.e
of perpendiculars. Thus the general expression of the
sum of the momentums ,is reduced to IE| X +
2^—4
Til + 2KM + 3 NP + 4 Q$ +, &c- l 6
^ The area of the figure ANDFPB is equal to IE
V fiDF 4- TH + KM + NP +, t AB) ,
hence the .list.,,,ce EG of the “f™ /.f™'? fQ
from one of the extreme ordinates D1 is equal
67
"Rule for
ihe dis¬
tance of
the centre
oi gravity
from one
oi the ex¬
treme or-
ilinales.
IlOIIl Otic rra     .
IE X ( 5HF4-TH+2KM+3NP4-»^-c- g x
rj3F+Tir+KM4:NP+; &c. 4- v AB
"Whence the following rule to find the distance of the
centre of gravity G from one of the extreme ordinates
DF To the sixth of the first ordinate add the sixth
of the last ordinate multiplied by three times the num-
397 ^ 20 or ^94° — rg feet,
sum will b6 141* Now
four inches nearly, the distance of the centre of gravity
from the first ordinate. .
Now, when the centre of gravity of any section 1
j 'vifxl it it; easv from thence to find the centre 01
gravity of the solid, and consequently that of the bottom ^
0t The next step is to find the height of the centre of^
gravity of the bottom above the keel. For tins pur-thec,
pose the bottom must be imagined to be divided 1 ^
sections by planes parallel to the keel or water-lm ,kee,
tfio-s c? 38.). Then the solidity ol each portion co -j,g,
" Lined between two parallel lines w,U b' l” ^
the sum of the two opposed surfaces multiphed by b
distance between them •, and its centre of gravity will
be at the same altitude as that of the trapezmu, u 4c rf,
(Hg. 580 which is iu
Sthltilhra^udthUtitud^the
centre of gravity, with this difference only, that tie
word perpendicular or ordinate is to be changed »t
section. Hence the rule is, to the sixth par of ho
lowest section add the product of tl.e s“t'1 “j; ns
uimermost section by three times the number ol sectio
minus four; the second sect,on in ascending tw, ^ ^
third three times the fouith, &c. the
first ’term. To half the sum of upper a”d'™er
lions add the intermediate ones, the sum will be a secon
term. Divide the first term by the second and the
quotient multiplied by the distance between the^sw ^
will give the altitude of the centre o gr y
kt With regard to the centre of gravity of a sMp.ji*'
tiler it is considered os loaded or light, the ope
becomes more difficult. The momentum of every d
ferent part of the ship and cargo “us'‘0“"d,erliPta|
lately with respect to a horizontal and also a
plane. Now the sums of these
divided by the weight of the ship, wil g
of the centre of gravity, and its distance from th ve
tical plane-, and as this centre is in a vertical
sing through the axis of the keel, i s P ‘ rt,inis it
determined. In the calculation o t ip ”i°n’ ^ not the
must be observed to multiply the weigi > centre
magnitude of each piece, by the distance of its cen
01 A more easy method of finding the centre of gravdj
Aj,
& Cen t! o
_ Gntiy-
1 me-^-
lical re-
hod 1'
.scerlnii-
ng tl
eutn nf
ravituf
shipa
I 1
r 1
' of a si)Ip Is by a mechanical operation, as follows : Con¬
struct a block of as light wood as possible, exactly similar
- to the parts of the proposed draught or ship, by a scale
of about one-fourth of an inch to" a foot. The block is
then to be suspended by a silk-thread or very fine line
placed in different situations until it is found to be in a
state of equilibrium, and the centre of gravity will be
pointed out. The block maybe proved by fastening
the line which suspends it to any point in the line join¬
ing the middles of the stem and post, and weights are
to be suspended from the extremities of this middle line
at the stem and post. If, then, the block be properly
constructed, a plane passing through the line of suspen¬
sion, and the other two lines, will also pass through the
keel, stem, and post. Now, the block being suspended
in this manner from anv point in the middle line, a line
is to be drawn on the block parallel to the line of sus¬
pension, so that the plane passing through these two
lines may be perpendicular to the vertical plane of the
ship in the direction of the keel. The line by which
the block is suspended is then to be removed to some
S H I P-B U t L D I N G.
other convenient point in the fniddle line j and another Centre
line is to be drawn on the block parallel to the line sus- tirav
pending it, as before. Then the point of intersection
of this line with the former will give the position of the
centre of gravity on the block, which may now be laid
down in the draught.
Chap. V. Application of the preceding Rules to the
Determination of the Centre of Gravity and the
Height of the Metacenter above the Centre of Gra¬
vity of a ship of 74 Guns.
In fig. 59. are laid down the several sections in aFig*5p«
horizontal direction, by planes parallel to the keel, and
at equal distances from each other, each distance be¬
ing xo feet o inches 4 parts.
I. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the Up¬
per Horizontal Section.
To find the distance of the centre of gravity of the
plane 8 g 0 G from the first ordinate 8 g.
Ordinates.
Feet. In. Pis.
14 9 °
17 I
18 9
19 10
20 7
I
6
7
7
7
4
21
21
21
21
21
21
20 10
J9 9
J7 4
*3 1
6
o
o
6
9
3
9
9
6
o
6
o
6
Double Ord.
Feet In. Pts.
29 6
3
6
8
3
3
o
3
3
3
34
37
39
41
42
43
43
43
43
o
o
o
o
o
6
6
6
6
42 8
41 9
39
34
26
1st Factors.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
J3
1st Products. 2d Factors.
Feet. In. Pts.
4 11
6 ((3x15)—4) X
34
75
119
165
2ii
258
3°3
346
389
426 8
459 3
474 °
45i 9
179 1
o
o
o
o
o
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
o
o
04
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
1
I
I
I
I
I
of
2d Products.
Feet. In. Pts.
14 9 O
34
37
39 8
4i 3
Now
291
3897
1 3
3 1
Xio
582 2 6
3897 • 25
3897 3 1
42
43
43
43
43 3
42 8
41 9
39 6 o
34 9 0
i3 1 3
554 4 3
o
o
o
o
6
6
6
6
o
o
o
X 10.03-70.5.
554 4 3 1 554*25 j—/-j-
Hence the dtstanee of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 ^ o G front the first ordinate, Feet.
^    " ' “ ” 7°>5
i3-5
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of stern-post,
Distance of the centre of gravity from the aft side of post,
8 -o,n its o.riUnate AE’
Distance of the centre of gravity of this plane from the aft-side of the stern-post,
sr: oi r„erat°ef G 0 y.v from its ^G »•
Distance of the centre of gravity of this trapezium from the aft side of the post
:!£ sr:! s?£ sis is srJztl
r r2 The
84.0
8.42
O.58
9.0
5-44
!53-78
159.22
3©o
Centre of
Gravity.
SHIP-BUILDING.
The areas of these several planes, calculated by the common method, will be as follow :
Centre of
Gravity
c c c8 oo for that of the plane, and its momentum 5558.9 X 84 ~ _
^iqq.13 for that of double the trapezium AH# 8, and its momentum 199.13 X9 —
2^4.59 for that of double the trapezium G 0 y y, and its momentum 2I4Ji9 X
o *77 for that of the section of the stern-post, and its momentum °-77X0.29 _
o‘.77 for that of the section of the stem, and its momentum 0.77X169.76 _
466947.6000
1792.1700
34167.0236
0.2233
130.7152
5974.16 Sum
503°37-7321
Now 503037-7321 _ 84.2, the distance of the centre of gravity of the whole section from the aft side of
5974.16
the stern-post.
II. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the Second Horizontal Section.
To find the distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane Sfn G from its first ordinate 8/
Ordinates.
Feet. In. Pts.
112 3
15 3 0
17 5 0
18 10 3
19 10
20 7
21 o
21 2
21 o
20 10
20 6
Double Ord.
Feet. In. Pts.
22 4 6
30 6
34 10
37 8
I. Factors.
I. Products. 2. Fact.
Feet. In. Pis.
3 8 9
Ot
39
41
42
42
42
41
41
9
2
o
4
1
9
1
19 10
18 6
9
n 2
39 8
37 0
31 7
22 5
o
o
6
o
o
6
o
o
6
o
o
o
o
30 6
69 8
113 1
159 0
205 10
252 3
296 4
336 8
376 1
410 10
436 4
444 0
410 7
(C3Xi5)~4) 153 5 6
8
10
11
12
*3
o
o
6
o
o
o
o
o
6
o
o
o
o
2. Products.
Feet. In Pts.
1123
30 6
34 10
37 8
39
41
42
42
42
41
41
9
2
o
4
1
9
1
39 8
37 0
31 7
o
o
6
o
o
6
o
o
6
o
o
o
o
oi
II 29
273 2 3
546 4
3698 5 3
523 IX 6
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of donhle the plane 8/» G from its first ordinate
3698_S_4x I0iO.4_3Md! x 10.03=
c23 xi 6 ,5^3*9.5
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the stern-post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the above plane from the aft side of post
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the trapezium AK/8 from its ordinate AE
Distance of this ordinate from aft side of stern-post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium before the ordinate G « from that ordinate-
Distance of that ordinate from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium from the aft side of the post
<- 1 z f nf flap section of the stern-post from the aft side of the post
Distune: of the centre of gravity of the section of the stem from the aft side of the post
0.29
169.76
The
■ tti
Ct
.1 >
S H I P-B U I L D I N G.
ire of
ifity.
The areas of these several planes being calculated, will be as follow
52SS-22 f°r that of the plane 8fn G, and its momentum 5255.22 X 84«2o rr
I53*11 ^or that of double the trapezium AR^8, and its momentum 153.n xS.oc —
182.40 the area of the trapezium before, and its momentum 182.40 X I59*52 n:
0,77 the area of the section of the sternpost, and its momentum 0.77x0.29
0.77 the area of the section of the stem, and its momentum O.77X 169.76 ~
5592.27 Sum
XT 473560.2148 n
5952:27 "= 84,68, the dIstance of the centre of gravity of the whole section from
stern-post
473560.2148
the aft-side of the
III. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the Third Horizontal Section.
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 e ™ G from its first ordinate 8
Ordinates
Feet. In. Pt*.
676
II
25
37
18
*9
19
20
20
19 8
19
18
16
I3
8
Double Ord.
Feet. In. Pts.
J3 3 0
3
2
2
6
6
6
o
o
4
2
2
7
4
1st Factors. 1st Products. 2d Fact. 2d Products.
23
3°
34
36
38
39
40
40
39
38
36
32
26
o
a
6
o
a
o
o
o
6
6
o
6
6
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Feet In Ptf.
2 2 6
9
TO
II
22
J3
23
6o
102
146
192
237
280
320
354
382
397 10
391 6
342 10
46 16 9 0^(3 x 15)—4) Xf=ii4 5 6
Ot
I
I
X
I
I
1
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
Feet In. Pt*
676
23
30
34
36
38
39
40
40
39
38
36
32
26
o
o
6
o
o <
o
o
o
6 •
6
o
6 .
6
of
846-
242 5 3 484 10 6
334> ° 6
469 10 6
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane SemG from its first ordinate
4347 o 6 2 24*7.04.
4347 0 6 s 3247.04
:XIO O 4=^24x
469 10 6,N ^ 469.87
Distance of this ordinate, from the aft side of the post
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of this plane from the aft side of the post is
8 e is ~
71.44
I3,5
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the trapezium AR e 8,,from its ordinate AR
-Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the post
84.94
Distance of the centre of gravity of this trapezium from the aft side of the post.
8.61
Distance of the centre of gravity of the foremost trapezium from its ordinate G m
-Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of this trapezium frpm the aft side of the post
S’19
XS3>78
Distance 0f the centre of gravity of the section of the post from the aft side of the post
istance oi the centre of. gravity of the section of the stem from the aft side of the post
158.97
0.29
169.76
301
f'cHtre of
Gravity.
442962.4938
I37°-3345
29096.4480
- 0.2233
130.7152
The
\02
•* *
Centre of
Gravity.
SHI P-B U I L D I N G.
The areas of these several planes vail he found to he as follow :
4,I2.796t for that of double and ^ 3^7(J47.^x84.94==:
threat f—tCiuur, airts "on.eutun, :
3o.77 the area of the section of the post, and its momentum 0.77 X - 9
0.77 the area of the section of the stem, and its momentum 0.77X 169.76-
4939.2761 Sura
j. the ^stance of the centre of gravity of the whole section from
4939.2716
the post.
IV. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the Fourth Horizontal Section.
Distance of thecentre of gravity ofdouhle the plane 8 if / G from its first ordinate 8,/.
Centred
Gravity,
4OO3O4.9OO7
807.9624
2084O.967
O.2233
130.7152
422084.7706
the aft side of
Feet. In. Pts
3 3 6
7 9
II II
14 8
Ordinates. Double Ord.
Feet. In. Ft*.
670
15 6
22 IO
29 5
32 6
34 9
36 3
36 10
36 6
35 9
34 5
31 8
27 o
19 3
I. Factors. 1. Products. 2. Fact. 2. Products.
l6
*7
18
18
18
17 10
17 2
jc 10
13 6
9 7
5 4 9
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
*3
Feet. In. Pts.
I I 2
15 6
10 9
6 ((3X J5)—4) Xi 73
47 8
88 4
130 o
i73 11
217 9
257 10
292 o
322 I
340 10
348 9
324 o
25° 3
8 11
o4-
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
oj
Feet. In. Pts.
3 3 6
15 6
23 10
29 5
32 6
34 9
S6 3
36 10
36 6
35
34
31 8
27 o
19 3
205 7
411 3
2883 11 o
5 4 9
402 6 9
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 J/G fiom its fiist
_ 288i_Li_£ 0 2^9tS = .
- 402 69 ^ 4°2-56
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the plane from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the trapezium AR d 8 from its ordinate AR
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the foremost trapezium from its ordinate ^ ^ ^
Distance of this ordinate from aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the section of the post from its aft side -
Distance of the centre of gravity of the section of the stem from the aft side ot p
7.89
0.58
8.47
SHI P-B U I L D I N G.
The areas of these several planes being calculated, will be as follow
^rrfo58 fr that efrdJ0ubl1f t!r plane 8^/G’ aml lts momentura 4037.6768x8c.c5r-
51. 2 he area of double the trapezium AR r/8, and its momentum 51.12x8.47=
79.16 the area of the foremost trapezium, and its momentum 79.16 X 1 ?8.6l —
0.77 the area of the section of the post, and its momentum 0.77x0.29=
0-77 the area of tlie action of the stem, audits momentum 0.77 x 169.76=
4169.4968 Sum .
303
Centre of
Gravity.
344^r5-7I49
432.9804
lZ5S 5-5676
0.2233
I3°*7152
357735-2074
Then 357735-2074  q,.q ,
4169.4968 ~ i*8o, the distance °f the fourth horizontal section from the aft side of the stern-post,
V. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the Fifth Horizontal Section.
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane SofcG from its first ordinate 8
Ordinates Double Ord. 1. Factors. t. Products. 2. Fact.
Feet. In. L.
I90
4 6
8 3
ri 8
13 *0
J5 3
16 o
^ 5
16 3
15 9
14 10
12 10
9 8
6 1
o
o
3
3
o
3
o
o
o
o
3
9
6
Feet. In. L.
S^o
9 °
16 6
23 4
27 8
30 6
32 o
32 10
32 6
31 6
29 8
25 8
x9 5
12 3
o
o
6
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
6
6
o
°£
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
3 3 0 6 6 0^(3 x 15)—4) x
Feet. In. L.
070
9 o
33 °
70 1
no 10
152 6
192 3
229 10
260 o
283 6
296 8
282 9
233 6
J59 3
44 5 o
°T
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
2. Products.
Feet. In. JL.
I90
9 o
16 6
23 4
27 8
30 6
32 o
32 10
32 6
31 6
29 8
25 8
J9 5
12 3
3 3
o
o
6
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
6
6
o
166 6
3 333 0 7 ’ 2358 30 328 o
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 c d G from its first ordinate
Xio o 4= 10.03 =
328.04 0 .
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the post - . _
| Distance of the centre of gravity of the plane from the aft side of the post
°ofiz tLofaS :i>rz;um AK:8 from ^ - _
j Distance of centre of gravity of trapezium from aft side of the post
wt:::“ateG\ ■ .
Glance of the centre of gravity of the foremost trapezium from the aft side of the post
Distance of [lie ceL’f'r °F '!’e SeCtIon of tllE rost frora ll>' ^ ade of post .
ol the centre of gravity of the section of the stem from the aft side of post .
IS
2358 3 o
328 o 6
72.10
J3-5°
85.60
7.42
0.58
8.00
4.22
*53-73
158.00
0.29
169.76
The-
3°4
Centre of
Gravity.
S H I P-B U I L D I N G.
The areas of these several planes being calculated, will be as follow :
3290.2412 for the area of double the plane 8 ck 85'6=
Centre rf
Gravity,
31.2!
42.43
O.77
O.77
the area of double the trapezium AR c 8, and ns mGmentum 3 .2 X
the area of the foremost trapezium, and its mome,;tumn4^4^'
•the area of the section of the post, and its momentum °*77 X^9-
the area of the section of the stem, and its momentum 0.77 X 169.76-
3365-4212 Sum
281644.6467
249.68
6703.94
0.2233
130.1151
288729.2052
Now 288729.2052_Q: ?!? the distance of the centre of gravity of the whole section from the aft side of the
°W 3365-4212
stern.
VJ. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the Sixth Horizontal Section.
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 4 f G from its first ordinate 8 4.
I. Factors i. Products. 2. Fact. 2. Products.
Ordinates.
Feet. In
Double Ord.
1
2
4
7
10
12
13
13
13
12
10
7
4
2
o
5
5
3
1
1
3
9
7
8
6
1
7
10
6 9
L.
o
o
o
6
9
3
o
9
o
o
6
o
3
6
Feet. In.
2 0
4
8
14
20
24
26
27
27
25
21
14
9
5
10
10
7
3
2
6
7
2
4
1
2
2
9
i
L.
O
o
o
o
6
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
6
o
Off
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
^3
Feet. In.
O 4
4
17
43
81
121
159
193
217
228
210
155
no
74
10
8
9
2
o
o
4
4
o
10
10
6
9
Is.
o
o
o
o
o
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
o
o
Of
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
6 X ((3X15)—4)
21 4 3
Ot
Feet. In.
I O
10
10
7
3
2
6
7
2
4
1
2
2
9
6
4
8
J4
20
24
26
27
27
25
21
14
9
5
L.
o
o
o
o
6
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
6
o
232
117 4 3 »34 8 6 *639 9 3
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 4 «. G from its first
1639 9 3
X 10 0 4
— I^39‘77 ^ 10.03 —
232 13' 232,,24
Distance of this ordinate from aft side of post
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of the plane from the aft side of the post is
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium AR 4 8 from its ordinate AR ^
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the trapezium from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the foremost trapezium from the ordinate G » - _
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of post
Distance of the centre of gravity of this trapezium from the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the section of the post from its aft sid§ -
Distance of the centre of gravity of the section of the stem from the alt sale of the post
The areas of these planes will be found to be as follow :
r„r tW nf double the plane 8 6 f G, and its momentum 2328.3642 + 84.34 =
3z8fz4 for tlm area oSuble the trapezium AR 4 8, and its momentum Z..52 X 7-46 =
i c 04 the area of the foremost trapezium, and its momentum 15.04 X -
0.77 the area of the section of the post, and its momentum 0-77 X o-29 - _
0.77 the area of the section of the stem, and its momentum 0.77 X 169.76 -
2366.4642 Sum
ordinate 8 6 U
70.84
I3-S°
i96374,23^
160.5392
2356.7680
.0.2233
. 130.7152
109022.4823
Now
Feet. In. Lin
080
I I
1 7
1 10
2 1
2 1
1 10
1 8
1 1
o
o
o
o
o
Feet. In. Lin
6
6
9
3
o
9
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
1
2
3
3
4
4
2
3
2
1
1
1
1
1
4
3
3
9
2
2
9
4
2
6
4
4
4
4
o
o
o
6
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
Of
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Feet. In. Lin.
028
230
8 o
9
10
11
12
!3
4 o
((3X15)—4)
18
36 5 6
58.65
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of double
this plane from its first ordinate is 4 6 v 10 n „
35 1 6X 0 0 4
205.37
10.83=:
The distance of this ordinate from aft side of
post _
I3-50
Hence the distance of the centre of gravity of
this plane from the aft side of the post is
Distance of the centre of gravity of double the
rectangle AR « 8 from its ordinate All
Distance of this ordinate from the aft side of
the post
6 6
11 4
16 10
20 10
22 9
23 4
J7 4
13 6
J3 4
14 8
16 o
*7 4
9 1 4
205 4 6
o
o
o
o
o
o
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
I
o4
Feet. In. Lin.
080
3-
3
9
2
3
3
4
4
3
3
2
1
1
1
1
1
o
o
6
6
o
6
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
35
Distance of the centre of gravity of this rect-
ang e fiom the aft side of the post
Distance of the centre of gravity of the fore¬
most rectangle from its ordinate 7' 7 c 7'
1 stance of this ordinate from the aft side of
the post ^
Distance °f the centre of gravity of this rect¬
angle from the aft side of the post
stance of the centre of gravity of the sec¬
tion of the post from its aft side
rcer tlie C€"tre of SravJty of the sec-
mn of the ^stem from the aft side of the
169.76
^ wm’bit"lhese 6e',eral ‘,la"s
VOL. XIX. Part I.
352'^53^7 the area of double the plan
Sa/iG, and its momentum
352-2536x 72.15:=
I7-I570> the area of double the rectan¬
gle A II « 8, and its mo¬
mentum 17.1570X 7.03=
3-32S°7 the area of the foremost rect-
    angle, and its momentum
3-3250 x 155-03=
72.15 °-77> the area of the section of the
post, and its momentum
0.77x0.29=
°-77> the area of the section of the
stem and its momentum
O.77 X 166.76=
6-45
0.58
25415 9'2
120.6137
5IJ-4747
0.2233
I30-7r52
7.03 374-2756
Sum 26182.1242
I-25
i53-78
I55-03
0.29
T’lion 26l82.I242
ien 374.27^6~^9-95> the distance of the
centre of gravity of the whole section from the aft side
ox tne post.
VII. Determination of the Centre of Gravity of the
Eighth Plane.
This plane is equal in length to the seventh horizon¬
tal plane, and its breadth is equal to that of the keel
I he distance between the seventh and eighth planes is*
three feet, but -which is here taken equal to 2 feet n*
inches. 2
SHIP-BUILDING.
of Now I99°22.4823 30
2366.4642 4> ^ 16 (lstance of the centre of gravity of the whole from the aft side of the post Centre o!
" * Gravity.
m De,erminati°’‘ °f‘h* Centre of Gravity of the Seventh Horizontal Section.
j|j > Distance of the centre of gravity of double the plane 8 ah G from its first ordinate 8 a.
OrdWte, Donbl, Ord. , Factor, , Prodnct, , Fac, 2. Proi,acts_
Q q
Distance
jc6
S H I P - B U
Ccntse of
Gravity.
Distance between the aft side of the post and
tlie first ordinate * "
Fourteen intervals between llie fifteen ordi¬
nates, each interval being 10.03 feet
Distance of the last ordinate from the fore loot
Hence the length of the eighth plane is
Which multiplied by the breadth
13-5
140.42
2.2
i r6.i2
1-33
208.
78.06
The product is the area of this plane
The distance of its centre of gravity from the
aft side of the post, being equal to halt its
length, is
The centres of gravity of these eight planes being
found, the distance of the centre of gravity of the bot¬
tom of the ship from the aft side of the post, and a.so
its altitude, may from thence be easily determined.
From the principles already explained, the distance of
the centre of gravity of the bottom from the alt sole ot
the post, is equal to the sum of the momentums ol an
infinite number of horizontal planes, divided by the sum
of these planes, or, which is the same, by the so! 10. y
of the bottom. As, however, we have no more than
eight planes, we must therefore conceive their momen-
tums as the ordinates of a curve, whose distances may
be the same as that of the horizontal planes. Now the
sum of these ordinates minus half the sum of the extreme
ordinates being ffittltiplied by their distance, gives the
surface of the curve j of which any ordinate whatever
represents the momentum of the horizontal plane at the
same altitude as these ordinates j and the whole surface
will represent the sum of the rnomentums ot all the ho-
rizontal planes.
Hor. Planes FaC. Praluets.I.Vlomentums.
5974.16 of 2987.08j503037.73
I L D I N G.
IIor. Planes. ist Fact.
208.00
374-27
2366.46
3365-42
4169.50
4939.27
5592.27
5974.16^(3X8)
1
2
3
4
5
6
nt Products. 2(1 Fuel. 2d Products.
34-67
374-27
473 2.9 2
10096.26
16678.00
24696.35
33553-S2
! Xi I99I3-^7
110079.96
104.00
374.27 '■
2366.46
3365-42
4169. to
4939-27
5592-27
o~ 2987.08
Centre of
Gravity,
23898.27
Nowl£^l|^>X2.95=i3-588« tlie heJSht of the
23898.27 f
centre of gravity of the bottom of the ship above the
lower edge of the keel.
We have now found the distance of the centre ot gra¬
vity of the bottom of the ship from the aft side of the
post, and its altitude above the lower edge of the keel.
Hence the ship being supposed in an upright position,
this centre of gravity will necessarily be in the vertica
longitudinal section which divides the ship into two equal
and similar parts j the position of this centre is therefore
determined. 4 , . ,
It now remains to find the height of the metacenter
above the centre of gravity -, the expression for this alti-tionofthe
. 4 s y3 x ... , „ h'1’# *
tude, as found in Chap. III. J which we shallot,
v . center
now apply to determine the metacenter ot the ship ol-bovetk
74 guns, whose centre of gravity we have already found,
Cub. of Ordinates.
1°.
Delermm-
Ord. of the Plane of Floatation.
Fact. Products.
559^.27 1 5592-27|47356o-2i
4939 27 1 4939 27
4169-50 1 4r69 3°
3365.42 1 3365-42
2366.46 1 2366.46
374-27 1 374-27
208.00 0-5 104.00
23898.27
422084.77
357735-21
288729 20
199022.48
21682.12
16236.48
ct
1
1
1
1
1
1
Or
251 518.86
473 560.31
422084.77
357735*21
288729.20
199022.48
2168?.. 12
8; 18.24
2022451.09
Now 2022451.09 -_.84.63, the distance of the centre
gravity of the boUom of the ship from the aft side of
*fae post. , . . .
The height of the centre of gravity ot the bottom
above the lower edge of the keel maybe determined by
the same principles. Thus, > . . ,4
To one-sixth of the lowermost horizontal section add
the product of one-sixth of the uppermost section by
three times the number of sections minus four the se¬
cond section in ascending, twice the third, three times
the fourth, &c. J and to half the sum of the extreme
planes add all the intermediate ones. Now the first ot
these sums, multiplied by the distance between the planes
or sections, and divided by the second sum, gives the
altitude of the centre of gravity of the bottom of the
ship above the lower edge ol the keel as required.
1 eel.
*7
18
*9
20
21
21
21
21
21
21
20
J9
J7
13
Inches
9 0
1
9
10
7
1
6
7
7
7
4
10
9
4
1
6
o
o
6
9
3
9
9
6
o
6
o
6
3
291
Feet and dee. cf toot.
J4.7
17.I
18.7
19.8
20.6
2 I .2
21.5
21-7
21.7
.21.7
21-3
20.9
I9.7
17.4
I3-1
3209.046
5000.211
6591.797
7762392
8741.816
9595-7°3
9938-375
10289.109
10289.109
10289.109
9663-597
9129.329
77°3*734
5268 024
2248.091
291.1
Ordinate at 10 03 feet abaft the ordi¬
nate 8 #,=04, of which the cube is
64, and 64 X i
Ordinate at 10.03 feet af°rc f'16 01'<ff"
nate G 0=6, cube of which is 216
and 216 X i - -
Sum -
Distance between the ordinates
Pmluct -
115719.442
32'
108.
115859.442
10.03
I i62070,2°32^
Product
rc of Product *•
vity. Half the cube of the after-
r—* most ordinate - 32.
Half the cube of the thick¬
ness of the stem - 0.14
Sum - * 32.14
Distance between the ordinates 3.0
Product - - _
Half the cube of the fore¬
most ordinate - 108.
Half the cube of the thick¬
ness of the stem - .14
- - 108.14
Distance between the ordinates 3.3
Product .
stf a- - . _
2sy3 x
S H I P-B U
1162070.20326
I L D I N G.
S'5?
96.42
594-77
1162761.39326
2323322.78632
773174.26217
-rsy*x
The solidity of the bottom is 2327^ tonszr 70018.67
cubic feet: hence ..o, feet, tlle
v 70018.67 ' ’
altitude of the metacenter above the centre of gravity
of the bottom of the ship.
APPENDIX.
When a ship is built, she must be fitted with masts,
yards, sails, ropes, and blocks, or in other words, she
must he rigge ! before she can go to sea. To complete
this article, it may therefore be thought necessary to
treat ot the art of rigging vessels; but we have else¬
where (see i\Last-Rigging, Rope Making, and Sail)
shown how the several parts of a ship’s rigging are
made; and the art of putting them properly together,
s» as to make the ship best answer the purpose for which
she is intended, depends upon a just knowledge of the
impulse and resistance of fluids, and of the theory and
practice of seamanship. See Resistance of Fhiids
and Seamanship). Nothing, therefore, of the subject
is Jett to us here, except we were to state in few words
the progressive method of rigging ships; but there is no
one undeviating mode which is pursued, as the nature of
the operation is such that all the parts of it may be ad¬
vancing at the same time. We shall therefore take our
ieave of ships and ship-building with a few general ob¬
servations on sail-making, and refer our readers for far-
ier information to the very elegant work on the Ele¬
ments and 1 ractice of Rigging and Seamanship in two
volumes quarto.
Sails are made of canvas, of different textures, and are
tended on or between the masts, to receive the wind
"at forces the vessel through the water. They are
quadrilateral or triangular, as has been elsewhere de-
6 are cut O! t of the canvas cloth by cloth,
he width is governed by the length of the yard, gaff
'>»»»'. »r stay; the depth by the height of the mast!
In the valuable work to which we have just referred, , " ..
the following directions are given for cutting sails! . 1
“ Tl,e width and depth being given, find the number
of cloths the width requires, allowing for seams, tablim/
on the leeches, and slack cloth ; and, in the depth, al¬
low for tabling on the head and foot. For sails cut
square on the head and foot, with gores only on the
leeches, as some topsails, &c. the cloths on the head,
between the leeches, are cut square to the depth ; and
the gores on the leeches are found by dividing the depth
of the sail by the number of cloths gored, which gives
the length of each gore. The gore "is set down from a
square with the opposite selvage; and the canvas being
cut diagonally, the longest gored side of one cloth
makes the shortest side of the next; consequently, the
first gore being known, the rest are cut by it. In the
leeches of topsails cut hollow, the upper gores are long¬
er than the lower ones ; and in sails cut with a roach
leech, the lower gores are longer than the upper ones.
This must be regulated by judgment, and care taken
that the whole of the gores do not exceed the depth of
the leech. Or, by drawing on paper the gored side of
the sail, and delineating the breadth of every cloth by
a convenient scale of equal parts of an inch to a foot,
the length of every gore may be found with precision.’
bails, gored with a sweep on the head or the foot, or
on both, have the depth of their gores marked on the
selvage, from the square of the given depth on each
cloth, and are cut as above ; the longest selvage of one
serving to measure the shortest selvage of the next, be¬
ginning with the first gored cloth next the middle in
some sails, and the first cloth next to the mast leech in
others. For those gores that are irregular no strict rule
can he given; they can only he determined by the judge¬
ment ot the sail-maker, or by a drawing.
In the royal navy, mizen topsails are cut with Elements
tiiree quarters ol a yard hollow in the foot ; but, in \heanc1, Prac-
merchant service, top and topgallant sails are cut with
more or less hollow in the loot. Flyiog jibs are cut
mth a roach curve on the stay, and a three-inch goreoMirtip,
in each cloth, shortening from the tack to the clue.vo^ i-P* pi
Rower studding-sails are cut with square leeches, and
topmast and topgallant-mast studding sails with irorimr
leeches. ~ °
“ length of reef and middle bands is governed Ir-
the width ot the sail at their respective places; the leech-
linings, buntliue-cloths, top-linings, mast-cloths, and cor¬
ner-pieces, are cut agreeably to the depth of the sail;
each cloth and every article should he properly marked
with charcoal, to prevent confusion or mistake Sails
that have bonnets are cut out the whole depth of the
sail and bonnet included, allowing enough for the ta-
bhngs on the loot of the sail and head and foot of the
bonnet. The bonnet is cut off after the sail is sewed to-
gethei. If a drabler is required, it is allowed for in the
cutting out the same as the bonnet.
. ^ien ^ie cl«th is thus properly cut, the different
pieces are to be joined together in the form of a sail •
and lor doing this properly we have the following di-
recljons in the work already quoted. “ Sails have a
double flat seam, and should he sewed with the liest
English made twine of three threads, spun 360 fathoms
to the pound, and have 1mm one hundred and eight to
one hundred and sixteen stitches in every yard in length.
The twine for large sails, in the royal'nayv, is waxed
^ 9 2 J • by
Oi
08
SHIP-BUILDIN G.
AM«»dix. by hand, with genuine bees wax, mixed with one sixth
b—v ' part of clear turpentine ; and, for small saiL, in a mix¬
ture made with bee swax 4 lb. hogs lard 5 lb. and
clear turpentine 1 lb. In the mercl.antservice, the twine
is dipped in tar (l), softened with a proper proportion
.of oil. „ mi
“ It is the erroneous practice 01 some sailmakers
not to sew the seams any farther than where the edge
is creased down for the tabling } but all sails should
be sewed quite home to the end, and, when brushed,
should be well rubbed down with a rubber. In the
merchant service seams are sometimes made broader at
the foot than at the head, being stronger. Broad
seems are not allowed to be made on courses, in the
royal navy, but goring leeches are adopted in lieu ot
them Boom-mainsails and the sails ol sloops generally
have the seams broader at the foot than at the head.
The seams of courses and topsails are stuck or stitched
up in the middle of the seams, along the whole length,
with double seaming twine-, and have from 68 to 72
stitches in a yard. In the merchant service it is common
to stick the seams with two rows of stitches, when the
sail is half worn, as they will then last till the sail is
worn out. x m i
“ The breadth of the seams ot courses, topsails, ami
■ other sails, in the royal navy, to he as follow, viz. cour¬
ses and topsails, for 50 gun ships and upwards, one inch
and a half, and for 44 gun ships and under, one inch
and a quarter, at head and footj all other sails, one inch
at head and foot.
“ The tablings of all sails are to be ot a proportion-
able breadth to the size of the sail, and sewed at the
edu;e with 68 to 72 stitches in a yard. Ihose tor the
head’s of main and fore courses to be four to six inches
wide • for sprit courses and mizens, drivers, and other
boom sails, 3 to 4 inches wide lor topsails, 3 inches to
4 inches and a half; topgallant and sprit topsails, 3
inches ; royal sails, 2 inches and a half ; jib and other
staysails, 3 inches to 4 inches and a halt, on the stay 01
hoist; and for studding, sails, 3 inches to 4 inches on the
bead. Tablings on the foot and leeches of mam and
fore courses to be 3 inches to 5 inches broad; sprit
course and topsails, 3 inches ; topgallant and sprit top¬
sails, 2 inches and a half; royals, 2 inches; tore leeches
of mizen, driver, and other boomsails, 3 inches and a halt
to 4 inches ; after leech, 3 inches; and on the toot 2 or
3 inches. Tablings on the after leech ot jibs and other
staysails to be from 2 to 3 inches broad; and, on the
foot 2 to 2 inches and a half: on studding sail eeches
one inch and a half to two inches and a halt; and on the
foot, from one to two inches. . , ,
“ Main and fore courses are lined on the leeches,
from clue to earing, with one cloth seamed on and stuck
or stitched in the middle, and have a middle band halt
way between the lower reef band and the foot, also tour
buntline cloths, at equal distances between the leeches,
the upper ends of which are carried under the middle
band, that the lower side of the band may be tabled up¬
on or sewed over the end ot the buntline pieces. They
have likewise two reel bands ; each inbieadt.i one thud
of the breadth of the canvas ; the upper one is one sixth Appeadk
of the depth et the sail Irom the head, and the lowei v—
band is at the same distance from the upper one ; the
ends go four inches under the leech linings, which are
seamed over the reel bands. All linings aie seamed on,
and are stuck with 68 to 72 stitches in a yard.
“ Main, fore, and mizen topsails have leech linings,
mast and top linings, buntline cloths, middle hands, and
reef hands. 1 he leech-linings are made ol one bieadth
of cloth, so cut and sewed as to he hall a cloth broad
at the head, and a cloth and a half broad at the foot;
the piece cut out being hall the breadth of the cloth at
one end, and tapering to a point at the other. I he
middle bands are put on half way between the lower
reef and foot, the buntline cloths join the top-linings,
and the buntline cloths and top-linings are carried up to
the lower side of the middle band, which is tabled on
them. The mast lining is of two cloths, and extends
from the foot of the sail to the lower reef, to receive the
heat or chafe of the mast. I he middle band is made of
one breadth of canvas, of the same number as the top¬
lining. It is first folded and rubbed down, to make a
crease at one third of the breadth ; then tabled on the
selvage, and stuck along the crease ; then turned down,
and tabled and stuck through both the double and single
parts, with 68 to 72 stitches in a yard. It is the opi¬
nion of many, that middle bands should not be put on
until the sail is half worn.
“ Main and fore topsails have three and sometimes
four reef bands Irom leech to leech, over the leech li¬
nings ; the upper one is one eighth of the depth of the
sail from, the head, and they are the same distance asun¬
der in the royal navy, hut more in the merchant service.
The reef bands are each of half a breadth of canvas put
on double; the first sine is stuck twice, and the last tuiti¬
ed over, so that the reef holes may be worked upon the
double part of the band, which is also stuck with 68 to
72 stitches in a yard.
“ The top-lining of topsails is of canvas, N° 6 or 7.
The other linings of this, and all the linings of other
sails, should be of the same quality as the sails to which
they belong. ‘
“ Top-linings and mast cloths are put on the aft side,
and all other linings on the fore-side, of sails. Mizens
are lined with one breadth of cloth from the clue five
yards up the leech, and have a reef band sewed on, m
the same manner as on other sails, atone fifth the depth
of the sail from the foot; they have also a nock-piecc
and a peek-piece, one cut out of the other, so that each
contains one yard. Mizen topsails of 50 gnn ships an
upwards have three reefs, the upper one is one eighth
of the depth of the sail from the head, and the reels are
at the same distance asunder. Mizen topsails of ships
of 44 guns and under have two reefs one seventh part
of the depth of the sail asunder, the upper one being at
the same distance from the head. Main and main top
studding sails have each one reef, at one eighth 0
the depth of the sail from the head. Beet bands
should not be put on until the sail is sewed up, a
contrary practice being very erroneous. Lower stajf-
(l) The dipping of the twine in tar, we
Making. See that article, N 32.
are persuaded, is a very bad practice, for the reason assigned in KoPE
/'LATH CCCCZXXX/V.
siiip-nriLDixc;
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S H I P-B u
div< sails, fore top and main top staysails, and flying jibs,
have clue-pieces two yards long. Square tack staysails*
have half a breadth of cloth at the fore part, with a
due-piece containing two yards, and a peek-piece, con«
taining one yard.
“ Sails have two holes in each cloth, at the heads
and reel's .of courses, topsails, and other square sails ;
one hole in every yard in the stay of flying jibs, and
one in every three quarters of a yard in the stays of
square tack and other staysails. These are made by an
instrument called a pegging awl, or a stabber, and are
fenced round by stitching the edge to a small grommet,
made with log or other line ; when finished, they
should be well stretched or rounded up by a pricker or
a marlin spike. Heel and head holes of large sails have
grommets of twelve-thread line, worked round with 18
to 21 stitches j smaller sails have grommets of nine-
thread line, with 16 to 18 stitches, or as many as shall
cover the line,, and smaller holes in proportion. The
holes for mailing the clues of sails and the top-brims of
topsails have grommets of log-line, and should have
from 9 to n stitches j twelve holes are worked in each
doth. Main courses have marling holes from the clue
to the lower bow line cringle up the leech, and from
the clue to the first huntline cringle on the foot. Fore
courses have marling holes one-eighth of the depth of
the sail up the leech, and from the clue to the first
huntline cringle at the foot. Main and fore topsails
have marling holes three feet each way from the clue
and at the top-brims. Spritsails, mizen topsails, lower
staysails, main and fore top staysails, and jibs, have
marJing holes two feet each way from the clues. All
other sails are sewed home to the clues. Marling holes
of courses are at three-fourths of the depth of the tab-
Imgs at the clues from the rope, and those of topsails
are at.half the depth of the tablings at the clues and
top brim from the rope.”
The rope, which is sew’ed on the edges of sails to
prevent their rending, and which is called bolt-rope,
should be well made of fine yarn, spun from the best
Riga rhine hemp wrell topt, and sewed on with good
English made twine of three threads, spun 200 fathom
to the pound; the twine in the royal navy is dipped in
a composition made with bees-wax 4 lbs. ho«s lard
S H I
j Simp's Form Gauge, an instrument recommended by
Mr Hutchinson as fit to ascertain any alteration in the
bottom of a ship, by its hogging or sagging ; and also
to regulate the stowage of a ship.
. ships (says he) of any consequence are built
with staunchions fixed from the kelson to the middle of
all the lower-deck beams fore and aft, in order to sup¬
port them in their exact regular height, as well as the
whole frame of the ship in the regular form in which she
was built upon, the stocks •, yet notwithstanding these
“ aunchions, it is proved from experience that our ships
bottoms, hitherto, by the pressure of water, and impro-
I*i- stowage, have generally been hogged upwards, or
sagged downwards, and most about the midship frame
or mam body of the. ship, which is commonly about the
0Ie l,ai't tlle main hatchway* which naturally makes
I L D I N G. 309
5 lbs- and clear turpentine one pound ; and in the mer- Appendix,
chant service, in tar softened with oil. They should be 1—J
stoved in a stove by the heat of a flue, and not in a ba¬
ker’s oven or a stove tub * and tarred in the best Stock¬
holm tar. The flexibility of them should be always con¬
sidered, in taking in the slack, which must rest on the
judgment of the sailmaker.
“ Bolt ropes of courses, topsails, and all other sails,
should be neatly sewed on through every buntline of the
rope* and, to avoid stretching, the rope must be kept
tightly twisted ivliile sewing on, and care taken that
neither too much nor too little slack is taken in ; they
at-e to be cross stitched at the leeches every twelve inches
in length 5 at every seam, and in the middle of every
cloth at the foot, with three cross-stitches: four cross-
stitches should betaken at all beginnings and fastenings
off* the first stitch given twice and the last three times.
Small sails have two cross stitches at every seam, and three
at every fastening off.
41 On main and fore courses two inches slack cloth
should be allowed in the head and foot, and one inch and
a half in the leeches, in every yard in length. Topsails
are allowed 3 inches slack in every cloth" in the foot,
one inch and a half in every yard in the leech, and two
inches in every cloth left open in the top-brim. Mi¬
zen courses have two inches slack in every yard in the
foremost leech, but none in the after leech or foot.
Spritsail courses have no slack cloth. Jibs have four
inches slack in every yard in the stay, one inch in every
cloth in the foot, and none in the leech. Staysails have
three inches slack in every yard in the stay, one inch in
every cloth in the foot, but none in the leech. Topgal¬
lant sails have two inches slack in every cloth in the foot,
and one inch in every yard in the. leech. Studding sails
have an inch and a half slack in every yard in goring
leeches, but no slack in square leeches, and one inch in
every cloth in the head and foot.”
These directions for sailmaking are very general, hut
the sailmaker will find every instruction' that he can
want in a work entitled the Elements of Rigging and
Seamanship, a work which we therefore recommend to
his attention. In the article Dock Yards in the Suf-
plement, several subjects connected with ship-build¬
ing are considered,.
SHI
it the best place at which to fix the ship’s form gauge,
where either the hogging or sagging of her bottom may
he observed and seen soonest and best, to regulate the
stowage of heavy materials to the greatest advantage, so
as to keep her bottom nearly in the same form in which
she was built.
“ The gauge I recommend is nothing more than a
narrow plate of iron divided into inches and quarters
like the slide of a carpenter’s rule. Let this be fixed
to the after side of the staunch ion now mentioned, with
its upper end projecting two or three inches above tire
staunchion ; a groove being cut out for it in the after
side of the lower-deck beam, and a mark being made
(when the ship is on the stocks) at the part of the beam
which corresponds to the o on the gauge. When tire
ship alters in her shape, the gauge will slide up and
down.
SHI [31°
down in this groove, and the quantity of hogging or
° • . .1  ,i,D rv-mtrf l>v the mark
]
S H I
and the hull worked loose and made
down in uns s>iuu>c, — n  j ,
sagging will be pointed out on the gauge by the mark
on the beam. The stowage may then be so managed
as to bring this mark to coincide again with the o, or
to approach it as near as we see necessary.’
Ship-Money, was an imposition charged upon the
ports, towns, cities, boroughs, and counties of tins
realm, in the reign of King Charles I. by writs, com-
monly called under the great seal of Eng¬
land, in the years 1635 and 1636, for^the prov.di g
and furnishing of certain ships for theking s service &c.
Which was declared to be contrary to the iaws and sta¬
tutes of this realm, the petition of right and liberty of
the subject, by stat. 17 Car. I. c. 14. See Blackstone
■ Commentaries, vol. iv. P* 30- f . . -
SHIP-Shape, according to tbe fashion of a ship, or in
the manner of an expert sailor ; as, The mast is not
rigged ship-shape ; Trim your sails ship-shape.
Stowing and Trimming of Ships, the method of dis¬
posing of the cargo in a proper and judicious manner in
the hold of a ship. . 1 • j
A ship’s sailing, steering, staying, and wearing, and
being lively and comparatively easy at sea m a storm,
depends greatly on tbe cargo, ballast, or other mate¬
rials, being properly stowed, according to their weight
and bulk, and the proportional dimensions ot the built
of the ship, which may be made too crank or too stilt
to pass on tbe ocean with safety. These things render
this branch of knowledge of such consequence that
rules for it ought to be endeavoured after, it but to
prevent, as much as possible, the danger ot a ship over-
setting at sea, or being so labonrsome as to roll away
her masts, &c. by being improperly stowed, which is
often the case. , . , Uf.
When a ship is new, it is prudent to consult the
builder, who may he supposed best acquainted with a
ship of his own planning, and most likely to judge what
her properties will be, to advise how the cargo or mate-
rials, according to the nature of them, ought to be dis¬
posed of to advantage, so as to put her in the best sailing
trim ; and at every favourable opportunity afterwards
it will be proper to endeavour to find out her best trim
by experiment. . , v
' Ships must differ in their form and proportional di¬
mensions; and to make them answer their different pur¬
poses they will require different management in the
stowage, which ought not to he left to mere chance, or
done at random, as goods or materials happen to come
''to hand, which is too often the, cause that such impro¬
per stowage makes ships unfit for sea : therefore the
stowage should be considered, planned, and contrived
according to the built and properties of the ship, which
if tliey are not known should be inquired alter. It she
is narrow and high-built in proportion, so that she wdl
not shift herself without a great weight in the hold, it
is a certain sign such a ship will require a great part 01
heavy «oods, ballast, or materials, laid low in the hold,
to make her stiff enough to hear sufficient sail without
being in danger of oversetting. But it a ship he bu, t
broad and low in proportion, so that she is slit and mil
support herself without any weight in the held, such a
ship will require heavy goods, ballast, cr materials, ston¬
ed higher up, to prevent her from ben g too still am!
laboursome at sea, so as to endanger her -masts being
5
rolled away
^ In order to help a ship’s sailing, that she should be
lively and easy in her pitching and ascending motions,
it should be contrived by the stowage, that the princi¬
pal and weightiest part of the cargo or materials should
lie as near the main body of the ship, and as far from
the extreme ends, foie and aft, as things will admit of.
For it should be considered, that the roomy part of our
ships lengthwise forms a sweep or curve near four times
as long as they are broad ; therefore those roomy parts
at and above the water’s edge, which are made by a
full harping and a broad transom to support the ship
steady and keep her from plunging into the sea, and
also bv the entrance and run of the ship having little or
no hearing body under for the pressure of the water to
support them, of course should not be stowed with hea¬
vy goods or materials, but all the necessary vacancies,
broken stowage, or light goods, should be at these ex¬
treme ends fore and aft; and in proportion as they are
kept lighter by the stowage, the ship will be more lively
to fall and rise easy in great seas, and this will contri¬
bute greatly to her working and sailing, and to prevent
her from straining and hogging; for which reason it is a
wrong practice to leave such a large vacancy in the mam
hatchway, as is usual, to coil and work the cables
which ought to be in the fore or after hatchway, that
the principal weight may be more easily stowed in the
main body of the ship, above the flattest and lowest
floorings, where the pressure of the water acts the more
to support it. . . .
Improved Capstan of Ships.—A capstan has been
contrived by Mr Boswell, which works without re¬
quiring the messenger or cable coiled around it, to be
ever surged ; an operation which is necessary with com¬
mon capstans, and is always attended with delay, and
frequently with danger. This capstan has been appro¬
ved by some gentlemen connected with the Bidi 1
navy. A model of this machine was presented to the
Society for the Encouragement of Arts, and Mr Bos¬
well received the gold medal of the society for his in¬
vention *. • ■ I M. .-no ISO*
For the information of those unacquainted with ma %
ritime affairs, Mr Boswell gives an account ot the man-^
ner in which cables are hauled on board of larges in .
For the purpose of shewing the advantage ot his impro¬
ved capstan, cables, he observes, above a certain diame¬
ter are too inflexible to admit of being coiled round a
capstan; in ships where cables of such large dirnens.
are necessary, a »rll«r cable ...mplcycd i»r
ssary, a smaller came is employe — r .
pose, wiiich is called the messenger, the two en s
which are made fast together so as to form an ‘‘
rope, which, as the capstan is turned about, rolls re ^
it in unceasing succession, passing on its com*e
head of the ship, and again returning to the capita ■
To this returning part of the messenger, t!u‘r‘e^
is made fast by a number ot small ropes called nip) r,
placed at regular intervals; these nippers aie apP >
as the cable enters the hawse hole, and are agai ^
moved as it approaches the capstan, alter wuci
lowered into the cable tier. , .
The messenger, or any other rope coiled roun 1
capstan, must descend a spaceat every reyolut 10
to the diameter of the rope or cable usee., a1' &tacce
SHI [ 3
stance brings the coils in a few turns to the bottom of
—1 the capstan, when it can no longer be turned round, till
the coils are loosened and raised up to its other extre¬
mity, after which the motion proceeds as before. This
operation of shifting the place of the coils of the mes¬
senger on the capstan is called surging thr messenger.
It always causes considerable delay j and when the
messenger chances to slip in changing its position, which
sometimes happens, no small danger is incurred by those
who are employed about the capstan.
One method of preventing the necessity of surging,
by placing a horizontal roller beneath the messenger
when it first enters on the capstan, adds considerably
to the labour in turning the capstan, and the great fric¬
tion which the messenger must sutler, must occasion a
very great wear and injury to the messenger.
Another method to prevent surging was, that for
which Mr Piucknet obtained a patent. In this way a
number of upright lifters, placed round the capstan,
were made to rise in succession as the capstan turned
round by a circular inclined plane placed beneath them j
a method Mr Boswell thinks superior to the former}
but still the wear of the messenger from the lateral
friction in rising against the whelps of the capstan re¬
mains undiminished.
A third method proposed by Captain Hamilton, left
the lateral friction, and wear ot the messenger against
the whelps of the capstan, as great as in the others, hav¬
ing also the inconvenience of causing the coils to be¬
come loose as they ascend, the upper part of the barrel
being nearly one third less in the diameter than the
lower part. \
In Mr Boswell’s method of preventing the necessity
of surging, none of the lateral friction of the messenger
or cable against the whelps of the capstan, can possibly
take place, and of course the wear of the messenger oc¬
casioned thereby will be entirely avoided, while it per¬
forms its purpose with a less moving power than any of
■ them.
His method consists in the simple addition of a second
smaller barrel or capstan of less dimensions to the large
one; beside, which it is to be placed in a similar manner,
and which need not in general exceed the size of a half
| barrel cask. The coils of the messenger are to lie
passed alternately round the large capstan and this small
barrel, but with their direction reversed in the different
barrels, so that they may cross each other m the inter¬
vals between the barrels, in order to have the more ex¬
tensive contact with, and better gripe on each barrel.
To keep the coils distinct, and prevent their touching
each other in passing from one barrel to the other, pro¬
jecting ringsare fastened round each barrel at a distance
irom each other equal to about two diameters of the
messenger, and the thickness of the ring. Those rings
should be so fixed on the two barrels that those on one
barrel should he exactly opposite the middle of the in¬
tervals between those on the other barrel ; the only cir¬
cumstance which requires particular attention in the
construction of this capstan. The rings should project
about as much as the messenger from the barrels, which
may be formed with whelps, and in every other respect
not before mentioned, in the usual manner for capstan
barrels. The small barrel should be furnished with fall¬
ing palls as well as the large one ; a fixed iron spindle
ascending from the deck will be the best for it/as it
ii ] . s h r
will take up less room. The spindle may be secured
Ship.
below the deck, so as to bear any strain, as the small
barrel need not be much above half the height of the
large barrel ; the capstan bars^an easily pass over it in
heaving round, when it is thought fit to use capstan bars
on the same deck with the small barrel. As two turns
of the messenger round both barrels will be at least
equivalent to three turns round the common capstan, it
will scarcely ever be necessary to use more than four
turns round the two barrels.
That which prevents the lateral friction of the mes¬
senger in Mr Boswell’s double capstan is, that in it
each coil is kept distinct from the rest, and must pass
on to the second barrel before it can gain the next ele¬
vation on the first, by which no one coil can have any'
influence in raising or depressing another; and what
each separate coil descends in a single revolution it re¬
gains as much as is necessary in its passage between
the barrels when in the air, and free irom all contact
with any part of the apparatus, it attains a higher ele¬
vation without a possibility of friction or wear.
It is equally applicable in large and in smaller vessels,
in the former of winch messengers are necessary, from
the size ot the cables ; but in the latter also, where
cables can be managed with the same ease as messen¬
gers. The same principle may be also easily applied to
windlasses, by having a small horizontal barrel placed
parallel to the body of the windlass, and having both
fitted with l ings in the same way as is proposed for the
capstan. I he place for the small horizontal barrel is
forward, just before the windlass, and it should also be
fu rnished with catch polls.
Besides the advantages now stated, the improved cap¬
stan is simple in its construction, can he fitted up at small
expence, is easily repaired, and requires but little room.
A represents the common capstan; B, another of
smaller dimensions ; C, the coils of the messenger pas¬
sing alternately round the large and small capstans, but
wutli the direction reversed on the different barrels, so
that they may cross each other in the interval between
them; DDDD, are projecting rings round each bar¬
rel, so fixed on the two barrels, that those on one barrel
should be exactly opposite the middle of the intervals
between those on the other barrel.
Machine fur measuring a Ship's Way.—We have
already described a variety of machines or instruments
which have been proposed for this purpose under the
article Log. In ibis place, therefore, we shall confine
ourselves to the machine invented by Francis Ilopkin- Tranmc-
son, Lsq. Judge of the Admiralty m Pennsylvania. turns of thet
After having shown the fallacies to which the common
log, and also that particular kind of instrument ievent-//St'
ed by M. Saumarez, are liable, he proceeds to describe vol. ii. p. ’
his own machine as follows: ifc.'
This machine, in its most simple form, is represented lJlate...
'’J %• 5- therein ABis a strong rod of iron moveable001//**1*1'"
on the fulcrum C. I) is a thin circular palate of brass ig”
rivetted to the lower extremity of the rod. E a hori¬
zontal arm connected at one end with the top of the
rod AB by a moveable joint E, and at the other end
with the bottom of the index H, by a like moveable
joint G. H is the index turning on its centre I and
travelling over the graduated arch K; and l'is a
strong spring, bearing against the rod AB, and con¬
stantly counteracting the pressure upon the palate ]J.
Thar
Plate
ccccxeir-,.
Ship.
IV- a-
Fig. 6
^g-
SHI I 31
The rod AB should he applied close to the cut-water
, or stem, and should he of such a length that the pala e
£ maw be no higher above the keel than is necessary to
secure^it from injury when the vessel rs aground, or sail
hr shoal water. As the bow of the ship curves inward
towards the keel M, the palate D will be thrown to a
distance from the bottom of the vessel, although the
perpendicular rod to which it is annexed lies close to
he bow above ; and therefore the palate will be more
fairly reted upon. The arm E should enter the bow
somewhere near the hawse hole and lead to any con¬
venient place in the forecastle, where a smooth board or
plate may be fixed, having the index H, and graduated
arClt ^is evident* from the figure, that the ship U
urged forward by the wind, the palate D will be pres¬
sed upon by the resisting medium, with a greater cries.
f(,rcePaccording to the progressive motion of the ship ,
Ld this will operate upon the levers so as to immediate¬
ly affect the inde*, making the least increase or diminu¬
tion of the ship’s way visible on the graduated area .
the spring L always counteracting the pressure upon
the palatei and bringing back the index, on any relax¬
ation of the force impressed. , , . r
This machine is advantageously placed at tbe bowo
the ship, where the current first begins, and acts fa y
upon £ palate, in preference to the stern, where he
tumultuous closing of the water causes a wake, visible
to a great distance. The palate D is sunk nearly a
low as the keel, that it may not he influenced by the
map ng p of the water, and the dashing of the waves
andgneaPr the water line. The arch K is to ascertain
how many knots or miles she would run in one hour a
her then rate of sailing. But the graduations on this
arch must be unequal’, because the iesistance of he
snrino- L will increase as ,t becomes more bent, so that
the index will travel over a greater space from one to
five miles than from five to twelve. Lastly, The palat ,
rod spring and all the metallic parts of the instrument
should be covered with a strong varnish, to prevent l ust
from the corrosive quality of the salt water and sea-, r.
This machine may be considerably improved as iol
l0ws : Let the rod or spear AB (fig. 5-) be a round
rod of iron or steel, and instead of moving on the fu-
cram or joint, as at C, let it pass through and turn
freely in'a socket, to which socket the ™vealde joint
must be annexed, as represented in fig. 6. Ibermt
must have a shoulder to bear qn the upper edge of the
socket, to prevent its slipping quite down. 1 he
must also pass through a like socket at T, ig. 5- j
ioint of the lower socket must be fixed to the bow o
the ship, and the upper joint or socket must be connect¬
ed with the horizontal arm L. On the top of the up¬
permost socket let there be a small circular plate, bear-
no- the 32 points of the mariner’s compass; and let
the top ol the rod AB come through the centre of this
ul-ite so as to carry a small index upon it, as is repre-
_ Rented in fig. 7- This small index must he fixed to die
7' top of the rod on a square, so that by turning the in¬
dex round the plate, the rod may also turn in the -tic¬
kets, and of course carry the palate D round with it ,
the little index alwavs pointing in a direction with tie
.face of the palate. The small compass plate should not
be fastened to the,top of the socket, hut only fi te
Rightly on, that it may be moveable at pleasure, bup-
4
2 ] SHI
pose then the intended port to hear S. W. from the Ship,
place of departure, the palate must be turned on the soo- r-
ket till the south-west point therein looks directly to
the ship’s how, so that the south-west and north-east
line on the compass plate may be precisely parallel with
the ship’s keel, and in this position the plate must
remain during the whole voyage. Suppose, then, the
ship to be sailing in the direct course of her intended
voyage, with her bowsprit pointing south-west. Let the
little index he brought to the south-west point on the
compass plate, and the palate D will necessarily present
its broad face toward the port of destination ; and this it
must always be made to do, be the ship’s course what it
may. If on account of unfavourable winds, the ship is
obliged to deviate from her intended course, the little
index must he moved so many points from the south¬
west line of the compass plate as the compass in the
binnacle shall show thatshe deviates from her true course;
so that in whatever direction the ship shall sail, the pa¬
late D will always look full to the south-west point of
the horizon, or towards the port of destination, and
consequently will present only an oblique surface to the
resisting medium, more or less oblique as the ship devi¬
ates more or less from the true course of her voyage.
As therefore, the resistance of the water will operate
less upon the palate in an oblique than in a direct posi¬
tion, in exact proportion to its obliquity, the index H
will not show how many knots the vessel runs m her
then course, hut will indicate how many she gains in
the direct line of her intended voyage—I bus, in
fig. o. if the ship’s course lies in the direction of the ^9'
line AB, hut she can sail by the wind no nearer than
AC ; suppose, then, her progressive motion such as to
perform AC equal to five knots or miles in an hour,
let the index H will only point to four knots on the
graduated arch, because she gams no more t.ian at that
rate on the true line of her voyage, viz. from A to B.
Thus will the difference between her real, motion and
that pointed out by the index he always in proportion
to her deviation from her intended port, until she sails
in a line at right angles therewith, as AD ; in winch
case the palate would present only a thm sharp edge to
the resistino- medium, the pressure of which should not
be sufficient to overcome the friction of the machine
and the bearing of the spring L. So that at.whatever
rate the ship may sail on that line, yet the index will
not be affected, showing that she gains nothing on her
tme course. In this case, and also whem the vessel is
not under way, the action of the spring L should caose
the index to point at Q, as represented by the dotted
lines in fig. 5* an^ i j ti,*,
As the' truth of this instrument must depend on the
equal pressure of the resisting medium upon the palate
D, according to the ship’s velocity, and the propor¬
tionable action of the spring L, there should be a p
or screw at the joints C and F, so that the rod may be
readily unshipped and taken in, in order to clean tit
palate from any foulness it may contract, which wouW
greatly increase its operation on the index H, andtliew
by render the graduated arch false and uncertain.
w Further, the spring L may he exposed too .much
injury from the salt water, if fixed on the outside cf be
ship’s how. To remedy this, it may he brought urn^r
cover, by constructing the machine as represented ^
*i a r tko {nlrrnm or CtW*®
cover, by consiriiciing uil r \ 1 Jrp
fig. 8. where AB is the rod, C the fulcrum or mine^
SHI t 313
of its motion, D the palate, E tlie horizontal arm
leading through a small hole into the forecastle j M is
a strong chain fastened at one end to the arm E, and at
the other to a rim or barrel on the wheel G, which by-
means of its teeth gives motion to the semicircle I and
index H. The spring L is spiral, and enclosed in a box
or barrel, like the main-spring of a watch. A small
chain is fixed to, and passing round the barrel, is fasten¬
ed by the other end to the fuzee W. This fuzee is
connected by its teeth with the wheel G, and counter¬
acts the motion of the palate D. N, N, are the two
sockets through which the rod A B passes, and in which
it is turned round by means of the little index K. S
is the small compass plate, moveable on the top of the
upper socket N. I he plate S hath an upright rim
round its edge, cut into teeth or notches, so that when
the index 11 is a little raised up, in order to bring it
round to any intended point, it may fall into one of
these notches, and be detained there; otherwise the
pressure of the rvater will force the palate D from its
oblique position, and turn the rod and index round to
the direction in which the ship shall be then sailing.—
Should it be apprehended that the palate D, being
placed so lar forward, may alfect the ship’s steerage, or
obstruct her rate of sailing, it should be considered that
a very small plate will be sufficient to work the machine,
as one of three or four inches in diameter would pro.
bably be sufficient, and yet not large enough to have
any sensible effect on the helm or ship’s way.
_ The greatest difficulty, perhaps, will be in gradua¬
ting the arch K, (if the machine is constructed as in
fig- 5-) 5 the unequal divisions of which can only be as¬
certained by actual experiment on board of each ship
respectively, inasmuch as the accuracy of these gradu¬
ations will depend on three circumstances, viz. the posi¬
tion of the fulcrum C with respect to the length of the
rod, the size of the palate D, and the strength or
bearing of the spring L. When these graduations
however, are once ascertained for the machine on board
of any one vessel, they will not want any future alte¬
rations, provided the palate D be kept clean, and the
spring L retains its elasticity,
But the unequal divisions of the graduated arch will
be unnecessary, if the machine is constructed as in fig. 8.;
for as the chain goes round the barrel L, and then
winds through the spiral channel of the fuzee W, the
force of the main spring must operate equally, or nearly
30, in all positions of the index, and consequently the
divisions of the arch K may in such case he equal.
After all, it is not expected that a ship’s longitude
-an be determined to a mathematical certainty bv this
nstrument. The irregular motions and impulses to
winch a ship is continually exposed, make such an ac¬
curacy unattainable peihaps by any machinery: But if
t should be found, as we flatter ourselves it will on fair
experiment, that it answers the purpose much better
ban the common log, it may be considered as an acqui-
ition to the art of navigation.
It should be observed, that in ascertaining a ship’s lon-
ptude by a time-piece, this great inconvenience occurs,
hat a small and trifling mistake in the time makes a
ery great and dangerous error in the distance run :
'hereas the errors of this machine will operate no far-
lier than their real amount 5 which can never be great
VOL. XIX. Part I. f
1
SHI
or dangerous, if corrected bjr tile usual observations
made by mariners for correcting the common log.
/\ I 1 IT ri st li 1 ft a ^ I* a. _ * 1 /* * a
A like machine, made in its simple form (as at fin-, c)
so constructed as to ship and unship, might occasionallv
be applied alongside about midships, in'order to ascer-
tain^the leeway j which, if rightly shown, will give the
ship s precise longitude. As to sea currents, this and
all other machines hitherto invented must be subject to
their influence 5 and proper allowances must he made
according to the skill and knowledge of the navigator.
Lastly, some discretion will Be necessary in taking ob¬
servations from the machine to he entered on the lo«--
book: that is, the most favourable and equable mo¬
ment should he chosen for the observation ; not whilst
the ship is rapidly descending the declivity of a wave
or is suddenly checked by a stroke of the sea, or is in
the very act of plunging. In all cases, periods may he
round in which a ship proceeds with a true average
velocity ; to discover which, a little experience and at¬
tention will lead the skilful mariner.
It has been observed of the machine now described,
that an ingenious mechanic would probably construct it
to better advantage in many respects. The author only
meant to suggest the principle j experiment alone can
point out the best method of applying it. He is sen¬
sible of at least one deficiency, viz. that the little index
It, tig. 4. will not be strong enough to retain the palate
1) in an nh!i< tinCl I" 1 r\V> a   * . _ * 1 • 1 •
_ I
D in an oblique position when the ship is sailing by the
wind ; more especially as the compass plate S, in whose
notched nm the index R is to fall, is not fixed to, but
only fitted tight on the socket N. Many means, how¬
ever, might be contrived to remedy this inconvenience
Ship- Wreck. A French author has lately proposed
some methods of saving the lives of persons shipwrecked
near the coast. He observes, that the most proper
means for saving the crews of shipwrecked vessels is,
to establish a rope of communication from them to the
shore. To a bomb or cannon hall should be fastened
the end of a rope, extended afterwards in a zig-zag di¬
rection before the mortar or cannon, or suspended "on a
piece of wood raised several feet. But as it was neces¬
sary to know if the cord would not break by the force
of the explosion and the velocity of the motion, the au¬
thor thought it proper to consult professional men. He
accordingly wrote to some officers of the artillery in gar¬
rison at La Fere in France, and they almost all replied
that the rope would infallibly break.
Not deeming this answer satisfactory, he happily con¬
ceived the idea of making the experiment on a small
scale. He caused a piece of the barrel of a musket to
be filed into the form of a small mortar of 18 lines in
length internally; and having tied a packthread to a
common ball of lead, he made an experiment which
perfectly succeeded, as did many others which he after¬
wards repeated, even with the strongest charges of
powder. 1 his success he communicated to the officers of
artillery, who replied, that there was a great difference
between a quarter of an ounce of powder and four or
five pounds employed for a bomb ; and were still of opi¬
nion that the rope would break.
Having already made experiments, he was still dis¬
posed to doubt the truth of this assertion, and therefore
tried a four-inch mortar with a ball of the same calibre,
and 18 ounces of powder with a rope only three or
B r four
S H I
[ 3H ]
S H O
Ship
11
Shire.
* Phil.
Mag. vol,
iv. p. 247
four lines In diameter, and Ins success was equaUy flat
terinsx as before. These experiments were repeated by
order of .overnmeng at La Fere, four times with an
eio-ht-incb mortar, and three times with one of twelve
inches, all of which happily succeeded. I he same
author yoes on to observe’, ,
■1 It ounht to be remembered, that a vessel is neie
castaway: or perishes 0,1 the coast, but because .t is
driven thither against the will of the captain, an y
the violence of the waves and the wind, which ahnost
always blows from the sea towards the shore, witho .
rvhich there would be no danger to be apprehended ,
consequently in these circumstances, the wind comes al¬
ways from the sea, either directly or obliquely, and
blows towards the shore. . ,
“ 1 st, A common paper kite, therefore, aunched
from the vessel and driven by the wind to the shore,
would be sufficient to save a crew oi 1500 searnen,
such were the number of a ship of war. F u
would convey to the shore a strong packthread, to the
end of which might be affixed a cord, to be drawn on
board bv means of the string of the kite *, and with tin
cord a "rope, or as many as should be necessary, might
be conveyed to the ship. _ . ..
“ 2d, A small balloon, of six or seven feet in diame¬
ter and raised by rarefied air, would be also an excellen
means for the like purpose. Being driven by the win
from the vessel to the shore, it would carry thitbe
string capable of drawing a cord with which several
ropes might be afterwards conveyed to the vessel. Had
not the discovery of Montgolfier produced any other
benefit, it would be entitled on this account to be con¬
sidered as of great importance.
“ qdly, A sky-rocket, of a large diameter, would be
of equal service. It would also carry, from the vessel
to the shore a string capable of drawing a rope after it.
“ Lastly A fourth plan for saving the crew of a ship¬
wrecked vessel, is that of throwing from the vessel into
the sea an empty cask with a cord attached to it. Ihe
wind and the waves would drive the cask to the shore,
and afford the means of establishing that rope of com¬
munication already mentioned.”
The author just quoted says, that he announced Ins
i discovery in a French journal in January 1794. It is
however, to he observed, that the method he proposes o
conveying a rope to the shore, by fastening it to a bullet
or bomb, to he afterwards fired from a cannon or mor¬
tar was proposed some years ago by a serjeant or of¬
ficer of artillery at Woolwich, and it is said, similar ex¬
periments were made at Portsmouth and succeeded .
SHIRAUZ, See Schiras.
SHIRE, is a Saxon word signifying a division } but
a county, comitatus, of the same import, is plainly deri¬
ved from comes, “ the count of the Franks j that is,
the earl or alderman (as the Saxons called him) of the
shire, to whom the government of it was entrusted. I his
he usually exercised by his deputy, stdl called in Latin
vice-comes, and in English the sheriff shrieve, or slure-
reeve, signifying the “ officer of the shire’, upon whom,
in process of time, the civil administration ot it totally
devolved. In some bounties there is an intermediate di¬
vision between the shire and the hundred 5 as lathes m
Kent and rapes in Sussex, each of them con taining about
three or four hundred a-piece. These had formerly
their lathe-reeves and rape-reeves, acting m subordina¬
tion to the shire-reeve. Where a county is divided into
three of these intermediate jurisdictions, they are called
tr it kings, which were anciently governed by a tritlung
reeve. These trithings still subsist in the large county
of York, where, by an easy corruption, they are deno¬
minated ridings; the north, the east, and the westridings.
SHIRL, Shorl, or Cockle, a species ot mineral.
See Schorl, Mineralogy Index.
SHIRT, a loose garment, commonly of linen, worn
next the body.—Some doubt the propriety of changing
the linen when a person is sick. Clean linen promotes
perspiration 5 and it may he renewed as often as the pa¬
tient pleases, whether the disorder he of the acute or the
chronical kind. Except during a crisis in fevers whilst
the patient is in a sweat, a change of linen, if well dried
and warmed, may be daily used.
Shirts were not worn by the Jews, Greeks, 01 omans,
hut their place was supplied by thin tunica; of wool.
The want of linen among the ancients made frequent
washings and ablutions necessary. .
SHIVER, a name given by miners to some ot tlie
strata which accompany coal. See Schistus, Minera¬
logy Index. . ,
SHIVERS, in the sea language, names given to tlie
little rollers, or round wheels of pulleys. _
SHOAD, among miners, denotes a train ot metal¬
line stones, serving to direct them in the diacmveiy 0
^Shoad-Stones, a term used by the miners of Cornwall
and other parts of this kingdom, to express such loose
masses of stone as are usually found about the entrances
into mines, sometimes running in a straight course Irom
the load or vein of ore to the surface ot the earth.
These are stones of the common kinds, appearing to
have been pieces broken from the strata or larger mas¬
ses: hut they usually contain mundic, or marcasitic mat¬
ter, and more or less of the ore to he found in the mine.
They appear to have been at some time rolled about in
water, their corners being broken oft, and their surface
smoothed and rounded.
The antimony mines in Cornwall are always easi y
covered by the shoad-stones, these usually lying up to
the surface, or very nearly so’, and the matter o le
stone being a white spar, or debased crystal, in M u
the native colour of the ore, which is a shining
black, easily discovers itself in streaks and threads.
Shoad-stones are of so many kinds, and of such 1
rious appearances, that it is not easy to describe or know
them ; but the miners, to whom they are of the gieate.t
use in the tracing or searching after new mines, dis in-
puish them from other stones by their weight; to il
very ponderous, though they look ever so much hke
common stones, there is great reason to suspect tK they
contain some metal. Another mark of them is ffie r be
ing spongy and porous j this is a sign of especial u e
the tin countries j for the tin shoad-stones are of en _so
porous and spongy, that they resemble huge
thoroughly calcined. There are many other appea
ances of tin shoads, the very hardest and firmest stones
often containing this metal. _ , , ,
When the miners, in tracing a shoad up lull,
with such odd stones and earths that they »°
well what to make of them, they have recourse to vaa
ning, that is, they calcine and powder the stone 1 .»
or whatever else is supposed to contain the nit a
Shot#
I «
^ Shu»
S H 0 [ 3
then Washing it in an instrument, prepared for that pur¬
pose, and called a vanning shovel, they find the earthy
matter washed away, and of the remainder, the stony or
gravelly matter lies behind, and the metalline matter at
the point of the shoveh If the person who performs
this operation has any judgtnent, he easily discovers not
only what the metal is that is contained in the shoad,
but also will make a very probable guess at what quan¬
tity the mine is likely to yield of it in proportion to the
ore.
SHOAL, in the sea language, denotes a place where
the water is shallow 5 and likewise a great quantity of
fishes, such as a shoal of herrings.
SHOCK, in Electricity. The effect of the explosion
of a charged body, that is, the discharge of its electri¬
city on any other body, is called the electric shock.
SHOE, a covering for the foot, usually of leather.
Shoes, among the Jewrs, were made of leather, linen,,
rush, or wood 5 those of soldiers were sometimes of brass
or iron. I hey were tied with thongs which passed un¬
der the soles of the feet. To put oft their shoes was an
act of veneration 5 it was also a sign of mourning and
humiliation : to bear one’s shoes, or to untie the latchets
of them, was considered as the meanest service.
Among the Greeks shoes of various kinds were used.
Sandals were worn by women of distinction. The La¬
cedemonians wore red shoes. The Grecian shoes gene-
lally reached to the middle of the leg. I he Komans
used two kinds of shoes; the calceus, which covered the
whole foot somewhat like our shoes, and rvas tied above
with latchets or strings ; and the solea or slipper, which
covered only the sole of the foot, and was fastened with
leathern thongs. Ihe calceus rvas always worn along
with the toga when a person went abroad : slippers were
put on during a journey and at feasts, but it was reckon¬
ed effeminate to appear in public with them. Black
shoes were worn by the citizens of ordinary rank, and
white ones by the women. Red shoes were sometimes
worn by the ladies, and purple ones by the coxcombs
of the other sex. Red shoes were put on by the chief
magistrates of Rome on days of ceremony and triumphs.
The shoes of senators, patricians, and their children, had
a crescent upon them which served for a buckle ; these
were called calcei lunati. Slaves wore no shoes; hence
they were called Cretan from their dusty feet. Phocion
also and Cato Uticensis went without shoes. The toes
of the Roman shoes wrere turned up in the point; hence
they were called calcei rostrati, repandi, &c.
In the 9th and 10th centuries the greatest princes of
Europe wore wooden shoes, or the upper part of lea¬
ther and the sole of wood. In the reign of William
Lufus, a great beau, Robert, surnamed the horned, used
shoes with long sharp points, stuffed with tow, and
twisted like a ram’s horn. It is said, the clergy, being
lugbly offended, declaimed against the long-pointed
noes with great vehemence. The points, however,
continued to increase till, in the reign of Richard II.
hey were of so enormous a length that they were tied
0 the knees with chains, sometimes of gold, sometimes
)f silver. The upper parts of these shoes in Chaucer’s
■ime were cut in imitation of a church window. The
ong-pointed shoes were called crackowes, and continued
n fashion for three centuries in spite of the bulls of
•opes the decrees of councils, and the-rdeclamations of
he clergy. At length the parliament of England in-
15 ] s H o
terposed by an act A. D. 1463, prohibiting the use of
shoes or boots with pikes exceeding two inches in length,
and prohibiting all shoemakers from making shoes or
boots with longer pikes under severe penalties. But
even this was not sufficient: it was necessary to de¬
nounce the dreadful sentence of excommunication against
all who wore shoes or boots with points longer than two
inches. The present fashion of shoes was introduced
in 1633, fjut tfie buckle was not used till 1670.
In Norway they use shoes of a particular construc¬
tion, consisting of two pieces, and without heels ; iu
which the upper leather sits close to the foot, the sole
being joined to it by many plaits or folds.
Ihe shoes or slippers of the Japanese, as we are in¬
formed by Professor Thunberg, are made of rice-straw
•woven, but sometimes for people of distinction of fine
slips of ratan. The shoe consists of a sole, without up¬
per leather or hind-piece ; forwards it is crossed by a
strap, of the thickness of one’s finger, which is lined
with linen ; from the tip of the shoe to the strap a cy¬
lindrical string is carried, which passes between the great
and second toe, and keeps the shoe fast on the foot.
As these shoes have no hind-piece, they make a noise
when people walk in them like slippers. When the Ja¬
panese travel, their shoes are furnished with three strings
made of twisted straw, with which they are tied to the
legs and feet, to prevent them from falling off. Some
people, carry one or more pairs of shoes with them on
their journeys, in order to put on new, when the old
ones are worn out. When it rains, or the roads are'
very dirty, these shoes are soon wetted through, and one
continually sees a great number of worn-out shoes lying
on the roads, especially near the brooks, where travel¬
lers have changed their shoes after washing their feet.
Instead of these, in rainy or dirty weather they wear
high wooden clogs, which underneath are hollowed out
in the middle, and at top have a band across like a stir¬
rup, and a string for the great toe ; so that they can
walk without soiling their feet. Some of them have
their straw shoes fastened to these wooden clogs. The
Japanese never enter their houses with their shoes on ;
but leave them in the entry, or place them on the bench
near the door, and thus are always barefooted in their
houses, so as not to dirty their neat mats. During the
time that the Dutch live at Japan, when they are some¬
times under an obligation of paying visits at the houses
of the Japanese, their own rooms at the factory being
likewise covered with mats of this kind, they wear, in¬
stead of the usual shoes, red, green, or black slippers,
which, on entering the house, they pull off: however,
they have stockings on, and shoes made of cotton stuff
with buckles in them, which shoes are made at Japan
and can be washed whenever they are dirty. Some
have them of black satin, in erder to avoid washing
them.
Shoe of an Anchor, a small block of wood, convex
on the back, and having a small hole, sufficient to con¬
tain the point of the anchor fluke, on the foreside. It
is used to prevent the anchor from tearing or wounding
the planks on the ship’s bow, when ascending or de¬
scending; for which purpose the shoe slides up and
down along the bow between the fluke of the anchor
and the planks, as being pressed close to the latter by
the weight of the former.
To Shoe an Anchor, is to cover the flukes with a
E r 2 broad
Shoe,
Shoe*
makers.
S H 0 [3i
broad triangular piocoof plank, whose area or superficies
is much larger than that of the dukes. 18‘n.te,fe<
to give the anchor a stronger and surer hold ot the bot-
tom in very soft and oozy ground.
SHOEMAKERS MACHINE for working at U1 a
standing posture. A machine for this purpose was in¬
vented by Mr Thomas Parker, who on the 22d of No¬
vember, 1804, attended a committee appointed by the
Society of Arts, and informed them that he had made
use of this apparatus for twelve months, and found it
very useful. He observed that all the work of shoe¬
making may be done with it standing*, but that in some
parts thereof he found an advantage in using along with
it a high stool *, and that prior to the use of this ma¬
chine, lie never saw or heard of a similar invention ; and
that he found it of great service to his health.
He estimated the cost of such a machine at two
Plate
teecxcv.
£g. 1.
Big. 2.
gUplate CCCCXCVI. fig- 1. T, a bench standing on
four legs, about four feet from the ground. _
y, ^ circular cushion affixed to the bench, in t jC
centre of which cushion is an open space quite through
the bench, through which hole a leather strap L is
brought up from below. This strap holds the work and
last firm upon the cushion in any position required by
means of the workman’s foot placed upon the treadle YV .
X, Shews the last upon the cushion, with the strap
holding it firm. .
Y, An implement used in closing boots.
A small flat leather cushion, useful in adjusting
the last and strap.
L, The shoe last shewn separate from the cushion.
The ’round cushion is formed of a circular piece of wood,
covered with leather or stuffed with wool or hair to give
it some elasticity.
Another machine for the same purpose has been in¬
vented by Mr Holden of Fettleworth in Sussex, and
the following account of it was presented to the Society
of Arts. He observes that the sitting posture had so
greatly injured his health, as to render it necessary to
give up his business, and in this difficulty he invented
the machine, which he found to answer the purpose lully,
as it enabled him to resume his work with the recovery
of his health. He recommends it as the quickest way
of closing all the thread work, and he adds, that he has
made 1800 or 2000 pairs of shoes with the machine,
and still confines to employ it. The followine is a de¬
scription of the maching.
Fig. 2. A, the bed for the closing block, and to lay
the shoe in, whilst sewing.
ft. The closing block. _ # .
C, A loose bed to lay the shoe in whilst stitching *,
the lower part of which is here exhibited reversed, to
shew how it is placed in the other bed A.
D, The hollow or upper part of the loose bed C, in
which the shoe is laid while stitching.
E A table on which the tools wanted are to he laid.
F, An iron semicircle, fixed to each end of the bed
A, to allow the bed to be raised or depressed. This half
circle moves in the block G.
H, Another iron semicircle, with notches, which catch
upon a tooth in the centre of the block, to hold the bed
in any angle required. This semicircle moves sidewise
an two hooks in staples at each end of the bed.
I, the tail or stem of the bed A, moving in a cyan-
6 ] S H O
drical hole in the pillar, enabling the bed to be turned shoe,
in any required direction, and which, with the move- niaUn
ment F, enables the operator to place the shoe in any
position necessary. '—“r-j
K, the pillar, formed like the pillar of a claw-table,
excepting the two side legs being in a direct line, and
the other leg at a right angle with them.
L, The semicircle H, shewn separately, to explain
how it is connected with the staples, and how the notches
are formed. , .
M, The tail or stem of the bed A, and the lower
part of the bed N, shewn separately, to explain how the
upper part of the bed is raised or depressed occasion¬
ally. _
Horse-SnoE. See FaRRIERY, iN 131.
SHOOTING, in the military art. See Artillery,
Gunnery, and Projectiles. ... 1
Shooting, in sportraanship, the killing of game by shooting ia
the gun, with or without the help of dogs. spoitmau-
Under this article we shall lay down all the rulesslllP-
which are necessary to be observed in order to ren¬
der one accomplished and successful in the artof shoot-
^Fhe first thing which the sportsman ought to attend DjreotMs
to is the choice of his fowling-piece. Conveniency re-forck,
quires that the barrel be as light as possible, at the same^ -
time it ought to possess that degree of strength which
will make it not liable to burst. Experience has pro¬
ved, that a thin and light barrel, which is of equal thick¬
ness in every part of its circumference, is much ess lia¬
ble to burst than one which is considerably thicker and
heavier, but which, from being badly filed or bored, is
of unequal strength in different places.
It ie also of importance to determine of what length
the barrel ought to be, in order to acquire that range
which the sportsman has occasion for. On tins subject
we have received the following information from an ex¬
perienced sportsman. We have, at different times, com¬
pared barrels of all the intermediate lengths between 28
and 40 inches, and of neany the same caliber, ! uit is 0
•ay, from 22 to 26 5 and these trials were made both by
firing the pieces from the shoulder, and from a hrm
block, at an equal distance, and with equal weights 0
the same powder and of the same shot. .
To avoid every possibility of error, the quires ot paper
at which we fired were fixed against planks mstea 0
being placed against the wall. From these trials tre-
quently repeated, we found that the shot pierced an
equal number of sheets, whether it was fired from a
barrel of 28, 30, 32, 34, 36, S*, or 40,,ncheS
Nay more, we have compared two barrels «f the same
caliber, but one of them 33, and the other 66 mci
long, by repeatedly firing them in the same manner as
the others, at different distances from 45 to 100 pace ,
and the results have always been the same, 1. e. t ie ai >•
of 23 inches drove its shot through as many sheets 0
as that of 66 did. The conclusion f™" “ lf
is that the difference of 10 inches in the length
barrel, which seems to be more than is ever ms.stefl
on among sportsmen, produces no senSlble 1 ^ „e
the range of the piece *, and therefore, that eveiy
may please himself in the length of his barrel, witho
either detriment or advantage to the range.
It may appear as an objection to this, that a uc g
which is five or six feet long kills at a greater is ^
Shoemakers M A CHIN I
/JLA 77: 7 YY Y'AV 17.
'
\
4
C ber.
I Jtli
S H o [3
than a fowling-piecej but this is not owing to its lenjrtli,
but to its greater weight and thickness, which give it
such additional strength, that the shot may be increased
and the charge of powder doubled, trebled, and even
quadrupled. But a barrel of five or six feet length
would be very inconvenient for fowling. Those who
barrel consult the appearance of the piece, lightness, and the
' ease with which it is managed, will find that a barrel
from 32 to 38 inches will answer best.
The next thing to be considered is, of what dimen¬
sions the caliber or bore of a fowling-piece ought to be.
Ibis matter has been subjected to experiment, and it
has been found, that a barrel of 22 or 24, which is the
largest caliber usually employed in fowling-pieces
throws its shot as closely as one of the smallest cafiber,,
viz. of 30 or 3 2 (a).
As to the length and form of the stock, it may be
tI?o™.0f|aJ(1 t,°Wn aS a Princ!P,e’ that a long stock is preferable
to a shoit one, and at the same tune rather more bent
than usual ; for a long stock sits firmer to the shoulder
than a shoit one, and particularly so when the shooter
is accustomed to place his left hand, which principally
supports the piece, near to the entrance of the ramrod
into the stock.
It is certain, however, that the stock may lie so form¬
ed as to be better suited to one man than another. For
a tall, long-armed man, the stock of a gun should be
jonger than for one of a less stature and shorter arm.
Ihat a straight stock is proper for him who has high
shoulders and a short neck ; for, if it he much bent, it
would be very difficult for him, especially in the quick
motion icquired in shooting at a flying or running ob¬
ject, to place the butt of the gun-stock firmly to the
shoulder, the upper part alone would in general be fix¬
ed; which would not only raise the muzzle, and conse-
quently shoot high, hut make the recoil much more sen¬
sibly felt, than if the whole end of the stock were firm¬
ly placed on his shoulder. Besides, supposing the shoot¬
er to bring the butt home to his shoulder, he would
scarcely he able to level his piece at the object. On
the contrary, a man with low shoulders, and a long
neck, requires a stock much bent; for if it is straight,
he will, in the act of lowering his head to that place of
the stock at which his cheek should rest in taking aim,
feel a constraint which he never experiences, when by
the effect of the proper degree of bent, the stock lends
him some assistance, and, as it were, meets his aim half
way.
Having now described the fowling-piece which has
been found to answer best, it will next be proper to give
some instructions for the choice of gunpowder, shot
and wadding.
The various kinds of gunpowder are well known ;
but’,in tlie opinion of some'"experienced sportsmen, Her-
vey s battle-powder is the best. Those who wish to ex¬
amine the strength of powder, may determine it by -drv-
■ng some of it very well, and then trying how many
sheets of paper it will drive the shot through, at the di-
8 ance of 10 or 12 yards. In this trial we should be
Best 1
p»w,
17 ] s H O
careful to employ the same sized shot in each experi- Sfaooting,
ment, the quantity both of the shot and the powder be- -y——•>
ing regulated by exact weight; otherwise we cannot,
even in this experiment, arrive at any certainty in com¬
paring the strength of different powders, or of the same
powder at different times.
Powder ought to be kept very dry, for every degree To be Kept
of moisture injures it; and if considerable, the saltpetre dry-
is dissolved, and the intimate combination of the several
ingredients is entirely destroyed. It is observed, that
after firing with damp powder the piece becomes very
foul, which seems to arise from the diminution of the
activity of the fire in the explosion. Flasks of copper
or tin are much better for keeping powder in than those
made of leather, or than small casks. Their necks
ought to be small and well stopped with cork. 8
I he 'patent milled shot is now very generally used. Size of
and is reckoned superior to any other. The size of the s^ot*
shot must vary according to the particular species of
game which is the object of the sportsman’s pursuit, as
well as he adapted to the season. In the first month of
partridge shooting, N0 1. is most proper; for since at this
time the birds spring near at hand, and we seldom fire
at more than the distance of 40 paces, if the shooter
takes his aim but tolerably well, it is almost impossible
for a bird at this distance to escape in the circle which
the shot forms.
As hares sit closer, and are thinly covered with fur at
this season, they may easily be killed with this shot at
30 or 35 paces. N° 1. is equally proper for shooting
snipes or quails. About the beginning of October, .
when the partridges are stronger, N° 3. is the most pro-
per shot to be used. Many sportsmen use no other du¬
ring the whole season. The directions which have now
been given refer only to the patent shot.
. shall now subjoin a table, which will shew at one
view the number of pellets composing an ounce weight
of each sort of shot, the patent and the common, begin¬
ning with the smallest size.
Patent Shot.
N° 8.
7
X
1
2
O
I ounce
id.
id.
id.
id.
id.
id.
id.
N° 7.
Common Shot.
620
480
300
220
180
I57
io5
83
ounce
id.
id.
id.
id.
id.
id.
350
260
235
190
140
no
95
fora fowling-piece of a common caliber, which is Proportion
fiom 24 to 30 halls to the pound weight, a dram and a°IPovvder
L
•Tnjte; ca”w ^ ^ ,"a”3' ba"S fi“inS ^
ttinL lTlK;'!,0b8erVf thtat t.l,e PatOTt sl'°‘ ‘os no N“ 6. the X being substituted in it, place and that
o follow each other in the order of progression : The reason of this we cannot assign!
8 ]
.Shooting.
TO
Wadding-
IX
Powder
and shot
to be slight¬
ly r»ninied
down*
it
Directions
for loading
and firing.
S H O ' [31
quarter, or at most a dram and a half, of good powder;,
and an ounce, or an ounce and a quarter of slu}t’1'\ U '
ficient. But when shot of a larger size is used, such as
N° ?. the charge of shot may he increased one-tourth
for the purpose of counterbalancing in some degree what x
the size of the shot loses in the number of pellets, and
also to enable it to garnish the more, l or this pujpo-
the sportsman will find a measure marked wr 1 P
per gauges very convenient to him. An instrument of
this "nature has been made by an ingenious artist ot
-London, Egg of the Haymarket.
A consequence of overloading avid, shot, ,s the pow¬
der has not sufficient strength to throw .t to improper
distance ; for if the object 6red at be distant, one-h
of the pellets composing the charge, by their »» 8™“
ouailtity and weight, will strike against each other, an
fall by the way ; and those which reach the mark w, 1
Se Lail fojce, and will produce but little or no ef-
fc The use of the wadding is to carry the shot in a body
to a certain distance from the muzzle of the P‘ece* *
ought to be of soft and pliable materials. Ihe best kin
■of wadding, in the opinion of an experienced fow e, is
•a piece of an old bat; but this cannot be obtained m
sufficient quantity. Next to it nothing is better than
soft brown paper, which combines suppleness with con
sistence, moulds itself to the barrel, -d never falk to
the ground within 12 or 15 paces from the muzzle
the piece. Tow answers very well, and cork has bee
extolled for possessing the peculiar virtue of increasing
the range and closeness of the shot. .
The wadding ought to be quite close m the barrel,
but not rammed too hard ; for if it be rammed too close
cr be of a rigid substance, the piece will recoil, and
shot will spread too much.. On the other hand, 1
wadding be very loose, or is composed of too .sok mate
rials, such as wool or cotton, the discharge will not pos-
^L^Sfing a piece, the powder ought to be slightly
rammed down by only pressing the ramrod two or t ne
times on the wadding, and not by drawing up thy ram
rod and then returning it into the barrel with a jerk.of
the arm several times. For when the povvder is vio¬
lently compressed, some of the grains must be bruised
which will prevent the explosion from being quick, and
will spread the shot too wide. In pouring the powi er
into the barrel, the measure ought to be held so as that
the powder may fall most readily to the bottom. Ihat
no grains may adhere to the sides of the barrel, the
butt-end of the piece may be struck against the gi oum .
The shot ought never to be rammed down with force :
it is sufficient to strike the butt-end of the gun against
the ground as before. Then the wadding is to be put
down gently. A sportsman ought never to carry his
tun under his arm with the muzzle inclined downwards,
for this practice loosens the wadding and charge too
m Immediately after the piece is fired it ought to be re¬
loaded ; for while the barrel is still warm, there is no
danger of any moisture lodging in it to hinder the pow¬
der from falling to the bottom. As it is found that the
coldness of the barrel, and perhaps the moisture con¬
densed in it, diminishes the force of the powder in the
first shot •, it is proper to fire oft a little powder before
the piece is loaded. Some prime before loading, but
S H O
Sliobtm
this is not proper unless the touch-hole be very large.
After every discharge the touch-hole ought to be prick-
ed, or a small feather may be inserted to clear away
any humidity or foulness that has been contracted.
The sportsman having loaded his piece, must next
prepare to fire. For this purpose he ought to place
his hand near the entrance of the ramrod, and at the
same time grasp the barrel firmly. The muzz e should
be a little elevated, for it is more usual to shoot low
than high. This direction ought.particularly to oe at¬
tended to when the object is a little distant; because
shot as well as ball only moves a certain distance point
blank, when it begins to describe the curve of the pa-
Practice soon teaches the sportsman the proper di-Distance
stance at which he should shoot. The distance at which ^
he ought infallibly to kill any kind of game with patent,^
shot N° 3. provided the aim he well taken, is fioni 25 kill,
to 35 paces for the footed, and from 40 to 45 paces for
the winged, game. Beyond this distance even to 50 or
c c paces, both partridges and hares are sometimes kill¬
ed; but in general the hares are only slightly wounded,
and carry away the shot j and the partridges at that di¬
stance present so small a surface, that they frequently
escape untouched between the spaces of the circle, let
it does not follow that a partridge may not be killed
with N° 3, patent shot at 60 and even 70 paces di¬
stance, but then these shots are very rare. . k
In shooting at a bird flying, or a bare running across,Me
i • 1    4-K/-V Kit in nrnnnr-
xn snooting at a  ; v ^ ^'aira is to I
it is necessary to take aim before the object in propor-
J . a! i.: £^.-.rr If q nartrincre
taken*
tion to its distance at the time of firing. If a partridge
flies across at the distance of 30 or 35 paces, it will be
sufficient to aim at the head, or at most but a small
space before it. If it be 50, 60, or 70 paces distant,
it is then requisite to aim at least halt a loot before tie
head. The same practice ought to be observed in
shooting at a hare, rabbit, or fox, when running in a
cross direction 5 at the same time making due allowance
for the distance and swiftness ot the pace. Another
thing to be attended to is, that the shooter ought not
involuntarily to stop the motion of the arms at the mo-
ment of pulling the trigger ; for the instant Hie hand
Stops in order to fire, however inconsiderable the tin
he, the bird gets beyond the line of aim, and the shot
will miss it. A sportsman ought therefore to accu¬
stom his hand while he is taking aim to iol ow ie 0
iect. When a hare runs in a straight line from the
shooter, he should take his aim between the ears, othei-
Avise he will run the hazard either, of missing, or at
least not of killing dead, or as it is sometimes called
4 fowling-piece should not be fired more than 20 or ^
S5 .in«s Without being washed •, a banel when foul net-^J
ther shoots so ready, nor carries the shot so f » ^ clean«
clean. The flint, pan, and hammer, should be wci
wiped after each shot •, this, contributes greatly to make
Ihe piece go off quick •, but then it should be done wfo
such expedition, that the barrel may he reloaded wlnU
warm, for the reasons we have before, advance. .
flint should be frequently changed, without waiting ^
til it misses fire before a new one is put in.
eighteen shots, therefore, should only be fired m h the
same flint; the expence is too trifling to be ie ’
and by changing it thus often much vexation will be
prevented.
A
S H O
[
Si in
Wi and
iiovcime
is t tc
c<ni:i: for.
Do:
for 8|K)
Hirecii,
fortrai
8poimc
A gun also should never be fired with the prime of
the preceding day; it may happen that an old primmer
will sometimes go off well, but it will more frequently
contract moisture and fuze in the firing ; then the ob¬
ject will most probably be missed, and that because the
piece was not fresh primed.
for the information of the young sportsman we shall
add a few nioie general directions. Jn warm weather
he ought to seek for game in plains and open grounds,
and in cold weather he may search little hills exposed
to the sun, along hedges, among heath, in stubbles,
and in pastures where there is much furze and fern. The
morning is the best time of the day, before the dew
is exhaled, and before the game has been disturbed.
The colour of the shooters dress ought to be the same
with that of the fields and trees 5 in summer it ought to
be green, in winter a dark gray. He ought to hunt as
much as possible with the wind, not only to prevent the
game from perceiving the approach of him and his dog,
but also to enable the dog to scent the game at a great¬
er distance.
He should never be discouraged from hunting and
ranging the same ground over and over again, especi¬
ally in places covered with heath, brambles, high grass,
or young coppice wood. A hare or rabbit will fre¬
quently suffer him to pass several times within a few
yards of its form without getting up. He should be
still more patient when he has marked partridges into
such places, for it often happens, that after the birds
have been sprung many times, they lie so dead that
they will suffer him almost to tread upon them before
they will rise. Pheasants, quails, and woodcocks, do
the same.
He ought to look carefully about him, never passing
a bush or tuft of grass without examination ; but he
ought never to strike them with the muzzle of his gun,
for it will loosen his wadding. He who patiently beats
and ranges his ground over again, without beino- dis¬
couraged, will always kill the greatest quantity of game;
and if he is shooting in company, he will find\rame
Where others have passed without discovering any.
When he has fired he should called in his dog, that he
may not have the mortification to see game rise which
he cannot shoot. When lie has killed a bird, instead
of being anxious about picking it up, he ought to fol¬
low the rest of the covey with his eye till he' see them
settle.
Ihree species of dogs are capable of receiving the
pioper instruction, and of being trained. These are
the smooth pointer, the spaniel,'and the rough pointer,
the last is a dog with long curled hair, and seems to
he a mixed breed of the water-dog and the spaniel,
•the smooth pointer is active and lively enough in his
range, but in general is proper only for an open coun-
The greatest part of these dogs are afraid of water
brambles, and thickets; but the spaniel and the rough
po.nter are easily taught to take the water, even in cold
er’, am l0 ranffe tbe w°ods and rough places as
he 1, ^ t 5e.,p a‘n' Greater dependence may therefore
sn a| .theSe tW° last species of dogs than on the
smooth pointer.
- ^“ation of a pointer may commence when he
only five or s,x months ohl. The only lessons which
Ca" !,c at this time are tofitch and carry any
19 ] s H O
thing when desired ; to come in when he runs far off,
and to go behind when he returns ; using, in the one
case, the words here, come in, and in the other back or
behind. It is also necessary at this period to accustom
him to he tied up in the kennel or stable; but he ought
not at first to be tied too long. He should be let loose
m the morning, and fastened again in the eveniimi
When a dog is not early accustomed to be chained, he
disturbs every person in the neighbourhood by howling.
It is also of importance that the person who is to train
him should give him his food.
When the dog has attained the age of 10 or 12
months, he may be Gained into the field to be regularly
trained. At first he may be allowed to follow his own
inclination, and to run after every animal be sees. His
indiscriminating eagerness will soon abate, and be will
pursue only partridges and hares. He will soon become
tired of following partridges in vain, and will content
himself after having flushed them to follow them with
his eyes. It will be mare difficult to prevent him from
following hares.
All young dogs are apt to rake ; that is, to hunt with
their noses close to the ground, to follow birds rather
by the track than by the wind. But partridges lie
much better to dogs that wind them, than to those that
follow them by the track. The dog that winds the
scent approaches the birds by degrees and without di¬
sturbing them ; but they are immediately alarmed when
they see a dog tracing their footsteps. When you per¬
ceive that your dog is committing this fault, call to him
in an angry tone hold up ; he will then grow uneasy and
agitated, going first to the one side and then to the
other, until the wind brings him the scent of the birds.
After finding the game four or five times in this way, he
will take the wind of himself, and hunt with his nose
high. If it be difficult to correct this fault, it will be
necessary to put the puzzle peg upon him. This is of
very simple construction, consisting only of a piece of
oak or deal inch board* one foot in length, and an inch
and a half in breadth, tapering a little to one end ; at
the broader end are two boles running longitudinally,
through which the collar of the dog'is put, and the
whole is buckled round his neck; the piece of wood be-
ing projected beyond his nose, is then fastened with a
piece of leather thong to his under jaw. By this means
the peg advancing seven or eight inches beyond his
snout, the dog is prevented from putting his nose to the
ground and raking.
As soon as the young dog knows his game; you must
bring him under complete subjection. If he is tractable,
this will he easy ; but if he is stubborn, it will be neces-
saiy to use the trash cord, which is a rope or cord of 2Q
or 25 fathoms in length fastened to his collar. If he re¬
fuse to come back when called upon, you must check
him smartly with the cord, which will often bring him.
upon his haunches. But be sure you never call to him
except when you are within reach of the cord. After
lepeating tins several times he will not fail to comeback
when called ; he ought then to be caressed, and a bit of
bread should be given him. He ought now constantly,
to he tied up, and never unchained, except when you
give him his food, and even then only when he has done
something to deserve it.
The next step will he to throw down a piece of
bread on the ground, at the same moment taking hold
of
Sliooli^.
Shooting.
S H 0
[ 320 3
S H O
of the Jos Iv the collar, calling out to hint, “ take
' heed,—softly!” After having held him in this manner
for some space of time, say to him, “ ser/.e—lay hold.
If he is impatient to lay hold of the piece of biea
fore the signal is given, correct him gently wlhasmaU
whip. Repeat this lesson until he “ takes heed w ,
and no longer requires to be held fast to prevent him
from laying hold of the bread. When he i* ^11 ac¬
customed to this manege, turn the bread with a stick,
holding it in the manner you do a fowling-piece,
having done so, cry seize. Never suffer the dog to eat
either in the house or field without having first made
him take heed in this manner.
Then, in order to apply this lesson to the game, fiy
small pieces of bread in hogs lard, with the ^"g of Par¬
tridge ; take these in a linen bag into the fields, stub¬
bles ploughed grounds, and pastures, and there pu
pieces in several different places, marking the spots with
Ee cleft pickets of wood, which will ^ered more
distinguishable by putting pieces of card m the nicks.
This being done, cast off the dog and eonduc um
these places, always hunting in the wind. After he has
caught the scent of the bread, ifhe approaches too near,
and^seems eager to fall upon it, cry to him m a mena¬
cing tone, “ Uke heed and if he does not stop imme¬
diately, correct him with the whip. He wdl soon com¬
prehend what is required of him, and will st«-n *
At the next lesson, take your gun charged only with
powder, walk gently round the piece of br^d once
twice, and fire instead of crying seize. The next time
of practising this lesson, walk round the bread fom
fivePtimes, but in a greater circle than befor®’ ‘
tinue to do this until the dog is conquered of his impa¬
tience, and will stand without moving unti the signal s
given him. When he keeps his point well, and stand.
an obtuse spur on the hinder part of the leg, which di- SWtiii!
stinguish him from the female. He is also rather lar-y.
^ When a sportsman is shooting in a country where
the birds are thin, and he no longer chooses to range
the field for the bare chance of meeting with them,
the following method will show him where to find them
on another day. In the evening, from sunset to night¬
fall, he should post himself in a field, at the loot of a
tree or a bush, and there wait until the partridges begin
to call or juck, which they always do at that time;
not only for the purpose of drawing together when se¬
parated, but also when the birds composing the covey
are not dispersed. After calling in this manner for
some little space of time, the partridges will take to
flight; then, if he mark the place where they alight,
he may be assured they will lie there the whole night,
unless disturbed. Let him return to the same post the
next morning by break of day, and there watch a
•while ; being careful to keep his dog in a string, it be
is not under perfect command.
As soon as the dawn begins to peep, the partridges
will begin to call, and soon afterwards will perform the
same manoeuvre as on the preceding evening J that
is, after having called a while, they will take their
flight, and will most commonly settle at a little distance.
There in a few minutes they will call again, and some¬
times take a second flight, but that will be to no great
distance. Then as soon as the sun is risen, and the
sportsman can see to shoot, he may cast oft his dog and
pUThe thmsant is of the size of a common dunghillPhea*
cock, and lays its eggs generally m the woods, the
number of which is 10 or 12. ,
Pheasants are accounted stupid birds ; for when they
. i *n P  nof rlmurn liKPfl Tail-
given him. When he keeps his P™* ^ are seised they will frequently squat down like a rah
s,ea,ly in sUk up bit, supposing themselves be in safety us soon as ...n
19
and pre¬
venting his
running af¬
ter sheep.
20
Observa
tioin con¬
cerning the
partridge.
sreauv in mis icsauu, juu.  j
if he run in upon them, or bark when they spring up,
you must correct him; and if he continue to do so,
you must return to the fried bread ; but this is seldom
116 When"the dog has learned by this use of the bread
to take heed, he may be carried to the fields with the
trash-cord dragging on tbe ground. When he springs
Ss for the tat tfme, if be runs after them or bark,
check him by calling out to him, take heed. I ie pon
properly, caress him; but you ought never to hunt
without the cord until he point staunch.
If the dog runs after sheep, and it be difficult to cure
him, couple him with a ram, and then whip the dog as
long as you can follow him. His cries will at hist
alarm the ram ; he will run with alibis speed, and drag
the dog along with him ; but he will at length take
courage, turn upon the dog, and butt him severe y with
his horns. When you think the dog is sufficiently chas¬
tised untie him: 'he will never run at sheep again.
Having now given a few general instructions concern-
ino the best method of training pointers, we shall sub-
ioin a few observations respecting the most common spe¬
cies of game, tbe partridge, pheasant, grouse, wood¬
cock, snipe, and wild duck.
Partridges pair in tbe spring, and lay their egg. (g -
nerally from 15 to 2o) during May and part of June
The young begin to fly about the end of June, an
their plumage is complete in the beginning o October.
The male has a conspicuous horse shoe upon his breast,
are surpriseu uiey win J a .
bit, supposing themselves to be in safety as soon as then-
heads are concealed ; and in this way they will some¬
times suffer themselves to be killed with a stick. 1 hey
love low and moist places, and haunt the edges of those
pools which are found in woods, as well as the high
grass of marshes that are near at hand ; and above al,
places where there are clumps ol alders.
Grouse, or moor-game, are found in Wales, in tb
northern counties of England, and in great abundance
in Scotland. They chiefly inhabit those mounta.ns and
moors which are covered with heath, and seldom e-
scend to the low grounds. They fly in companies of
four or five braces, and love to frequent mossy places,
particularly in the middle of the day or when the wea¬
ther is warm. In pursuing this game, when the pointer
sets, and the sportsman perceives the birds running wu
their heads erect, he must run after them as fast as he
can, in the hope that he may get near enough to sh ot
when they rise upon the wing ; for he may e P . ^
certain they will not lie well that day. As its
are apt to grow soon putrid, they ought to be j awn
carefully the instant they are shot and stuffed with )
heath, and if the feathers happen to be wetted they mu ^
be wiped dry. . , or-Ww1
The woodcock Is a bird of passage ; it commonly
rives about the end of October, and remains un i
middle of March. Woodcocks are fattest m Hecembe
and January, but from the end of I ebruary they are
lean. At their arrival they drop any wheie, m
S H O
Shaotin;*-
. • 14
Snipe.
*5
Wild duck
Warcts take up their residence in copses of nine or ten
'years growth. They seldom, however, stay in one
place longer than 12 or 15 days. During the day, they
remain in those parts of the woods where there are void
spaces or glades, picking up earth-worms and grubs
from the fallen leaves. In the evening they go to drink
and wash their bills at pools and springs, after which
they repair to the open fields and meadows for the night.
It is remarkable, that when a woodcock springs from a
wood to go into tiie open country, he always endeavours
to find some glade or opening, which he follows to the
boundaries of the wood. At his return he pursues the
same path a good way, and then turns to the right or
left opposite to some glade, in order to drop into a
thick part of the wood, where he may be sheltered from
the wind. He may therefore be watched with advan¬
tage in these narrow passes and little alleys on the edges
of woods which lead to a pool or spring, or he may be
watched in the dusk of the evening near the pools which
he frequents.
The snipe is a bird of passage as well as the wood¬
cock. I his bird is scarcely worth shooting till the
frost commences. In the month of November they be¬
gin to grow fat. Snipes, like woodcocks, frequent
springs, bogs, and marshy places, and generally fly
against the wind. The slant and cross shots are rather
difficult, as the birds are small and fly very quickly.
The sportsman ought to look for them in the direction
of the wind; because then they will fly towards him,
and present a fairer mark.
The wild duck is also a bird of passage, and arrives
here in great flocks from the northern countries in the
beginning of winter. Still, however, a great many re¬
main in our marshes and fens during the whole year,
and breed.
The wild duck differs little in plumage from the tame
duck, but is easily distinguished by its size, which is
less ; by the neck, which is more slender; by the foot,
which is smaller ; by the nails, which are more black ;
and above all, by the web of the foot, which is much
finer and softer to the touch.
In the summer season, when it is known that a team
of young clucks are in a particular piece of water, and
just beginning to fly, the sportsman is sure to find them
«arly m the morning dabbling at the edges of the pool,
and amongst the long grass, and then he may get very
"ear to them : it is usual also to find them in those
places at noon.
In the beginning of autumn almost every pool is fre¬
quented by teams of wild clucks, which remain there
“ring the day, concealed in the rushes. If these pools
are 0 small extent, two shooters, by going one on each
s' e, making a noise and throwing stones into the rushes,
1 11 e ^em Ay up ; and they will in this way fre-
q lent y get shots, especially if the pool is not broad,
1 fC?tUract® at one end. But the surest and most suc-
Dnnl U 1S to launch a small boat or trow on the
are !-an<,to ^raverse the rushes by the openings which
DossiW n( r ati ^le Same t,me as little noise as
men t e* ln t”iIm.anwr the ducks will suffer the sports-
it often Cl°me SUm7ent!y near them to shoot flying ; and
only t-!at 1 ie dunks, after having flown up,
aliirht tmn ' ?1!rCU!t’ return in a little time, and again
*■ secon/c" 16 l100 - Then the sportsmen endeavour
V0L> pC0™^ near them. If several shooters
[ 321 ]
S H O
are in company, they should divide j two should go in shooting
the boat, whilst the others spread themselves about the (}
edge of the pool, in order to shoot the ducks in their Shore,
flight. In pools which will not admit a trow, water- '’V- '"l“1
spaniels are absolutely necessary for this sport.
In winter they may be found on the margins of little
pools ; and when pools and rivers are frozen up, they
must be watched for in places where there are springs
and waters which do not freeze. The sport is then
much more certain, because the ducks are confined to
these places in order to procure aquatic herbs, which
are almost their only food at this period.
SHOP-LIFTERS, are tho'C that steal goods privately
out of shops •, which, being to the value of 5s. though
no person be in the shop, is felony without the benefit
of clergy by the 10 and Ii W. III. c. 23.
SHORE, a place washed by the sea, or by some
large river.
Count JVlarsigli divides the sea shore into three por¬
tions : the first of which is that tract of land which the
sea just reaches in storms and high tides, but which it
never covers ; the second part of the shore is that which
is covered in high tides and storms, but is dry at other
times ; and the third is the descent from this, which is
always covered with water.
rl he first part is only a continuation of the continent,
and .suffers no alteration from the neighbourhood of the
sea, except that it is rendered fit for the growth of some
plants, and wholly unfit for that of others, by the saline
steams and impregnations ; and it is scarce to be con¬
ceived by any, but those who have observed it, how far
on land the effects of the sea reach, so as to make the
earth proper for plants which will not grow without
this influence ; there being several plants frequently
found on high hills and dry places, at three, four, and
more miles from the sea, which yet would not grow un¬
less in the neighbourhood of it, nor will ever be found
elsewhere.
The second part or portion of the shore is much
more affected by the sea than the former, being fre¬
quently washed and beaten by it. Its productions are
rendered salt by the water, and it is covered with sand,
or with the fragments of shells in form of sand, and in
some places with a tartarous matter deposited from the
water ; the colour of this whole extent of ground is
usually dusky and dull, especially where there are rocks
and stones, and these covered with a slimy matter.
The third part of the shore is moi'e affected by the
sea than either of the others ; and is covered with an
uniform crust of the true nature of the bottom of the
sea, except that plants and animals have their residence
in it, and the decayed parts of these alter it a little.
Shore, June, the celebrated concubine of the licen¬
tious King Edward IV. was the wife of Mr Matthew
Shore, a goldsmith in Lombard-street, London. Kings
are seldom unsuccessful in their amorous pursuits; there¬
fore there was nothing wonderful in Mrs Shore’s remo¬
ving from Lombard-street to shine at court as the royal
favourite. Historians represent her as extremely beau¬
tiful, remarkably cheerful, and of most uncommon ge¬
nerosity. The king, it is said, was no less captivated
with her temper than with her person : she never made
use of her influence over him to the prejudice of any
person ; and if ever she importuned him, it was in fa¬
vour of the unfortunate. After the death of Edward,
S s she
S H O
[ 322 ]
S H O
Shore
Short.
she attached herself to the lord Hastin^’
Richard HI. cut off that nobleman as an obstacle to
bis ambitious schemes, Jane Shore was ^sted as a«
arcmnnlice on the ridiculous accusation of witchcia .
This however, terminated only m a public penance ,
Scenting lhat’Kicha.,1 rifled her of all her httle ?ro-
perty : but whatever severity might have been exe ^
towards her, it appears that she was alive^ gyIIL
ficientlv wretched, under the reign ot Her y
« e Sir Thomas More saw her poor, old and shmel-
kd rvithout the least trace of her former beauty M>
S ’ • ln’q troo-edv of Jane Shore, has adopted the
1 "Tr'L V related in the old historical ballad of her
popular sto y in a ditch wllere Shoreditch now
Eds But Stow assures us that street was so named
^SHORL. See Schorl, Minf.rai.ogs' Io'/r,r.
SHORTING and MoRLING, are words ‘o ^.st.n-
cuisli fells of sheep shorlwg being the fells after the
Ces are shorn off the sheep’s back; and mo,-tog the
fells dead off after they die or are killed. In
^ i 1 j I   /-v v» o f o n rl 1VV S110 7 li
J
happy it was for him that he was so employed, as be
might otherwise have been involved in a scuffle which
took place between the retainers of Sir James Stewart
of Barra and the attendants of the earl, in which scare
of the latter were dangerously wounded.
Mr Short having returned to London, and tinally
established himself there in the line of his profession was
in 1742 employed by Lord Thomas Spencer to make
for him a reflector of 12 feet focus, for which he re¬
ceived 600 guineas. He made several other telescopes
of the same focal distance with greater improvements
and higher magnifiers •, and in 1752 finished one for the
king of Spain, for which, with its whole apparatus, he
received 1200I. This was the noblest instrument of the
kind that had then been constructed, and perhaps it has
never vet been surpassed except by the astonishing
reflectors of Herschel. See Jelescope.
Mr Short used to visit the place of his nativity once
every two or three years during his residence in Lon¬
don,^and in 1766 lie visited it for the last time. On
the 15th of June 1768 he died, after a very short ill
j T.nrwlrm. of a mortmca
Short 1
|| ■ a*
Sliortfot), i -r
XS off after they die* or are killed. Li some ^London, of a mortific,
parts of England, they understand by a ^Tsheep that tion’in his bowels, and was buried on the 22d of the
r- ^ "l flr- anfl hv a morhnX' a 1 same month, having completed, within a few days, Ins
1  Ipft a fortune of about 20,0001.
E:”kce"&n Jff; and by a a sheep that
SHORT James, an eminent optician, was born in
and being left in a state of indigence, he was rec
ed into Heriot’s hospital, (see ^
'Ruildins'S N° 16.) where he soon displayed his media-
“n u8, in constructing for himse t, Wtth, cb«.s
through the usual course of education, ant 00' 1
master’s degree with great applause.
Pv his friends he was intended for the church-, but
aft!/ attending a course of theological lectures his
• 1 revolted from a profession which he thought little
suitefl1 to iris talents and he devoted his who.e tmre t„
for
his preceptor-/who having soon discovered the bent o
his genius, and made a proper estimate of the extent of
Ms capacity, encouraged him to prosecute those studies
in which nature had qualified him to make the greate
fhmre. Under the eye of that eminent master, he be¬
gan in 1732 to construct Gregorian telescopes 5 and as
the professor observed in a letter to Dr Junn, ‘ by
taki/r care of the figure of Ins specula, he was enablec
to give them larger apertures, and to carry them 0
greater perfection than had ever been done befoie him.
("See Optics, N° 89.).
fiftY-eighth year. He left a fortune of about 20,000!.
of which 15,000k was bequeathed to two nephews, and
the rest in legacies to his friends. In gratitude for the
steady patronage of the earl of Morton, he left to Ins
daughter the lady Mary Douglas, afterwards countess of
Aboyne 1000I. and the reversion of his fortune, should
his nephews die without issue;, but this reversionary k-
eacv the lady, at the desire of her father, generously r*
finquished by a deed in favour of Mr Short s brother
Mr Thomas Short and his children. Mr Short s emi¬
nence as an artist is universally known, and we have of¬
ten heard him spoken of by those who were _a^^ ^
with him from his youth, as a man of virtue and of very
amiable manner.?.
Short-Hand Writing. See Stenograph .
Short-Jointed, ln the ^lancSe' A hors1e 18
short-jointed that has a short pastern ; ‘''3
„r the pastern is too short, the horse >s 'c‘ 10 “ ”
his fore legs from the knee to the cornet all in a straight
line. Commonly your short-jointed horses do not
nege so well as the long-jointed ; but out of the ma g«
the short-iointed are the best for travel or fatigue.
SmJsightedvess, a certain defect in vts.on by ««
obiects cannot be distinctly seen, unless they are 7
near the eye. See OPTICS, IN. J4^- . .obira
SHORi’FORD, 1. fin-do*, ** ancient cos .
in the city of Exeter, when the lord of the lee caono
he answered rent due to him out of 1>>8 te|)
no distress can be levied tor the same. T he « »>
to come to the tenement, and there take » stone, ^
some other dead thing off the tenement, and hr. g
he.bre the mayor ami hai^an^ns he ^do^
eater pertection xnau imu     before the mayor anti baiim, auu u.u- -  
at the desire of Queen Caroline, to give instructions in
mathematics to William duke of Cumberland ; and .na¬
me Ely on his appointment to that very honourable
See he was elected a fellow of the royal soce y and
patronized by the earls of Morton and Macclesfield.
To the year 17 tQ he accompanied the former of hose
UlEto^Ork^i^tvhere^trasemployed
Quarter days successively , aim 11 u .
day the lord is not satisfied id'*
the tenement shall be adjudged to tl e lo.d o M
same a year and a day and forthwith pr clamabo^
to be made in the court, that if any mai ^
title to the same tenement, he must app ^ 0ftbc
year and day next following, and sati y ^ road«,
said rent and arrears : but if no appeaia .
saiure.it n to
4
S H O
[
She*9 I’d. court> a,K^ Prays according to the custom,
Si said tenement be adjudged to him in his demesne as
  —* of fee, which is done accordingly, so that the lord hath
from thenceforth the said tenement, with the appurte¬
nances to him and his heirs.
SHOT, a denomination given to all sorts of balls for
fire-arms : those for cannon being of iron, and those for
guns, pistols, &c. of lead. See Shooting.
Case Shot formerly consisted of all kinds of old iron,
nails, musket-balls, stones, &c. used as above.
Shot of a Cable, on ship-board, is the splicing of two
cables together, that a ship may ride safe in deep waters
and in great roads j for a ship will ride easier by one shot
of a cable, than by three short cables out ahead.
Grape-Shot. See GRAPE-S/wt.
’Patent-milled Shot is made thus : Sheets of lead,
whose thickness corresponds with the size of the shot
required, are cut into small pieces, or cubes, of the
form of a die. A great quantity of these little cubes
are put into a large hollow iron cylinder, which is mount¬
ed horizontally and turned by a winch ; when by their
friction against one another and against the sides of the
cylinder, they are rendered perfectly round and very
smooth. The other patent shot is cast in moulds, in the
same way as bullets are.
ShotFlaggon, a sort of flaggon somewhat bigger than
ordinary, which in some counties, particularly Derby¬
shire, it is the custom for the host to serve his guests in,
after they have drank above a shilling.
Small Shot, or that used for fowling, should be well
sized, and of a moderate bigness : for should it be too
great, then it flies thin, and scatters too much 5 or if
too small, then it hath not weight and strength to pe¬
netrate far, and the bird is apt to fly away with it. In
order,, therefore, to have it suitable to the occasion, it
not being always to be had in every place fit for the pur¬
pose, we shall set down the true method of making all
sorts and sizes under the name of mould-shot. Its prin¬
cipal good properties are to be round and solid.
Take any quantity of lead you think fit, and melt it
down in an iron vessel j and as it melts keep it stirring
with an iron ladle, skimming off all impurities whatso¬
ever that may arise at the top : when it begins to look
t of a greenish colour, strew on it as much auripigmentum
or yellow orpiment, finely powdered, as will lie on a
shilling, to every 1 2 or 14 pound of lead $ then stirring
them together, the orpiment will flame.
.The ladle should have a notch on one side of the
brim, for more easily pouripg out the lead ; the ladle
must remain in the melted lead, that its heat may be the
same with that of the lead, to prevent inconveniences
which otherwise might happen by its being either too
| M or to° cold : then, to try your lead, drop a little of
jt into water, and if the drops prove round, then the
lead is of a proper heat; if otherwise, and the shot have
j tails, then add more orpiment to increase the heat, till
d be found sufficient.
Ihen take a plate of copper, about the bigness of a
trencher, which must be made with a hollowness in the
middle, about three inches compass, within which must
to bored about 40 holes according to the size of the
shot which you intend to cast: the hollow bottom should
be.thuv, but the thicker the brim, the better it will re¬
tain the heat. Place this plate on a frame of iron, over
a tub or vessel of water, about four inches from the wa-
323 ] S H O
the ter, and spread burning coals on the plate, to keep the
lead melted upon it : then take some lead and pour it
gently on the coals on the plate, and it will make its
way through the holes into the water, and form itself
into shot ; do this till all your lead be run through
the holes of the plate, taking care, by keeping your
coals alive, that the lead do not cool, and so stop up the
holes.
While you are casting in this manner, another person
with another ladle may catch some of the shot, placing
the ladle four or five inches underneath the plate in the
water, by which means you will see if they are defec¬
tive, and rectify them.
Your chief care is to keep the lead in a just degree
of heat, that it be not so cold as to stop up the holes
in your plate, nor so hot as to cause the shot to crack :
to lemedy the heat, you must refrain working till it is of
a pi opei coolness ; and to remedy the coolness of your
lead and plate, you must blow your fire ; observing,
that the cooler, your lead is, the larger will be your shot;
as the hotter it is, the smaller they will be.
After you have done casting, take them out of the
water, and dry them over the fire with a gentle heat,
stirring them continually that they do not melt; when
dry you are to separate the great shot from the small*
by the help of a sieve made for that purpose, according
to their several sizes. But those who would have very
arge shot, make the lead trickle with a stick out of the
ladle into the water, without the plate.
If it stop on the plate, and yet the plate be not too
cool, give but the plate a little knock, and it will run
again ; care must be had that none of your implements
be greasy, oily, or the like; and when the shot, being
separated, are found too large or too small for your pur¬
pose, or otherwise imperfect, they will serve again at tlie
next operation.
I he sizes of common shot for fowling are from N° 1
to 6, and smaller, which is called mustard seed, or dust
shot; but N° 5 is small enough for any shootino- what-
NToVer; The, N° 1 m:iy be usetl for told geese ; the
So 2 r01 ,Cks’ wu,geons, and other water-fowl ; the
3 for pheasants, partridges after the first month,
and all the fen-fowl ; the N° 4 for partridges, wood¬
cocks, 6tc.; and the N° 5 for snipes and all the smaller
birds.
Tin-Case' Shot, in artillery, is formed by putting a
great quantity of small iron shot into a cylindrical tin*,
box called a canmster, that just fits the bore of the gun.
-Leaden bullets are sometimes used in the same manner*
and it must be observed, that whatever number or sizes
of the shots are used, they must weigh with their cases
nearly as much as the shot of the piece.
SHOVEL, Sir Cloudesly, a distinguished British
admiral, was born about the year 1650, of parents in tire
lower rank of life. He was put apprentice to a shoe¬
maker; but disliking this profession, he abandoned it a
few years after, and went to sea. He was at first a cabin
boy with Sir Christopher Mynns, but applying to tire
study of navigation with indefatigable industry, his skill
as a seaman soon raised him above that station.
Ihe corsairs of Tripoli having committed great out¬
rages on the English in the Mediterranean, Sir Johft
Narborough was sent in 1674 to reduce them to rea¬
son. As he had received orders to try the effects of
-nqgociation before he proceeded to hostilities, he sentMr
S 8 3 Shovel,
SLcit,
Shovel.
Shout.
S H O
[ 3H ]
SHU
Sliovel
Shovel, who was at that time a lieutenant in his fleet,
to demand satisfaction. The Dey treated him with
a great deal of disrespect, and sent him back without
an answer. Sir John dispatched him a second time,
with orders to remark particularly the situation ot things
on shore. The behaviour of the Dey was worse than
ever. Upon Mr Shovel’s return, he informed Sir John
that it would be possible, notwithstanding their fortifi¬
cations, to burn all the ships in the harbour. The boats
were accordingly manned, and the command of them
given to Lieut. Shovel, who seized the guardship, and
burnt four others, without losing a man. This action
so terrified the Tripolins, that they sued for peace.—
Sir John Narborough gave so favourable an account of
this exploit, that Mr Shovel was soon after made cap¬
tain ot the Sapphire, a fifth rate ship.
In the battle of Bantry-Bay, after the Revolution, he
commanded the Edgar, and, for his gallant behaviour
in that action, was soon after knighted by King Wil¬
liam. Next year he was employed in transporting an
army into Ireland $ a service which he performed with
so much diligence and dexterity, that the king raised
him to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue, and de¬
livered his commission with his own hands. Soon after
he was made rear-admiral of the red, and shared the
glory of the victory at La Hogue. Fn 1694, he bom¬
barded Dunkirk. In 1703, be commanded the grand
fleet in the Mediterranean, and did every thing in his
power to assist the Protestants who were in arms in
the Cevennes.
Soon after the battle off Malaga, he was presented
by Prince George to Queen Anne, who received him
graciously, and next year employed him as commander
in chief.
In 1705 he commanded the fleet, together with the
earl of Peterborough and Monmouth, which was sent
into the Mediterranean ; and it was owing to him chief¬
ly that Barcelona was taken. After an unsuccessful
attempt upon Toulon, he sailed for Gibraltar, and from
thence homeward with a part of the fleet. On the 22d
of October, at night, his ship, with three others, was
cast away on the rocks of Scilly. All on board perish¬
ed. His body was found by some fishermen on the
island of Scilly, who stripped it of a valuable ring, and
afterwards buried it. Mr Paxton, the purser of the
Arundel, bearing of this, found out the fellows, and
obliged them to discover where they had buried the
body. He carried it on board his own ship to Ports¬
mouth, from whence it was conveyed to London, and in¬
terred with great solemnity in Westminster Abbey. A
monument was afterwards erected to bis memory bv the
direction of the queen. He married the widow of his
patron, Sir John Narborough, by whom he left two
daughters, co heiresses.
SHOVELER, a species of Anas. See Anas, Or¬
nithology Index.
SHOULDER-BLADE, a hone of the shoulder, of a
triangular figure, covering the hind part of the ribs,
called by anatomists the scapula and omoplata. See
Anatomy.
SHOUT, Clamour, in antiquity, was frequently
used on ecclesiastical, civil, and military occasions, as a
sign of approbation, and sometimes of indignation.—
Thus as Cicero, in an assembly of the people, was ex¬
posing the arrogance of L. Antony, wbp had had the
impudence to cause himself to be inscribed the patron
of the Romans, the people on hearing this raised a shout
to show their indignation. In the ancient military dis¬
cipline, shouts were used, 1. Upon occasion of the ge¬
neral’s making a speech or harangue to the army from
his tribunal. This they did in token of their approving
what had been proposed. 2. Before an engagement, in
order to encourage and spirit their own men, and fill
the enemy with dread, 'i his is a practice of great an¬
tiquity ; besides which, it wants not the authority of
reason to support it; for as mankind are endowed with
two senses, hearing and seeing, by which fear is raised
in the mind, it may be proper to make use of the ear
as well as the eye for that purpose. Shouts were also
raised in the ancient theatre, when what was acted
pleased the spectators. It was usual for those present
at the burning of the dead to raise a great shout, and
call the dead person by his name before they set fire to
the pile.
SHOWER, in Meteorology, a cloud condensed into
Rain.
SHREWMOUSE. See Sorex, Mammalia In¬
dex.
SHREWSBURY, the capital of Shropshire in Eng¬
land. This town, the metropolis of the county, grew
up out of the mins of Uriconium, anciently a city, now
a village called Wroxeter, about four miles from it. The
Saxons called it Scrobbes Berig, from the shrubs that
grew about it j and from thence the present name of
Shrewsbury is supposed to have been formed. It is
pleasantly situated upon a bill near the Severn, over
which there are two handsome bridges. It was a place
of note in the Saxon times j after which it was granted
by William the Conqueror, together with the title of
earl and most of the county, to Roger de Montgomery,
who built a castle upon the north side of it, where the
Severn that encompasses it on all other sides, leaves an
opening. His son Robert built also a wall across this
neck of land, when he revolted from Henry I. We
learn from Doomsday-book, that at that time, when a
widow of this town married, she paid 20 shillings to the
king, and a virgin 10. The above-mentioned Roger
founded also, and endoAved here, a Benedictine mona¬
stery and a collegiate church. When old age came up¬
on him, he quitted the world, and spent the rest of his
days as a monk in the abbey, and when be died was in¬
terred in its church. From the history of this church
and monastery, it appears that ecclesiastical benefices
about that time were hereditary. The abbey became
so rich afterwards, <hat the abbot was mitred, and sat in
parliament. Besides this abbey, in after times there were
three others, viz. a Franciscan, Dominican, and Augu¬
stin j and likewise two collegiate churches, one dedi¬
cated to St Chad and the other to St Mary. In the
contest between the empress Maud and Stephen, this
town and its governor William Fitz-Allen sided with
the empress. In Henry’s III.’s time, a part of it was
burnt down by the Welch ; and in Richard H’s reign
a parliament was held in it. . At a place called Battle¬
field, near this town. Henry Percy the younger, surnam-
ed Hotspur, was killed in an engagement with Henry
IV. against whom he had rebelled. The king after¬
wards built a chapel upon the spot, and endowed it for
the support of two priests to pray for the souls of the
slain. Two of Edward iV.’s sons were born here >
namely,
i»'"’
Shr
!
Shr--
SHE [3
sbury namely, RIcliard, duke of York, wliom Perkin War-
I . beck afterwards personated, and who was murdered in
'1:ire‘, the Tower ; and George Plantagenet, who died before
his brothers. Here first broke out the sweating-sick¬
ness, which carried off great numbers so suddenly, that
those who were seized with it either died or recovered
in the space of 24 h-urs. In the beginning of the civil
wars, King Charles J. came hither, and formed an army,
with which he marched towards London ; but was met
by the parliament’s forces at Edgehill. He continued
here from the 20th of September to the 12th of Octo¬
ber, during which time he was joined by Prince Rupert,
and many of the gentry and nobility’of these parts.
This town anciently gave title of earl to the Montgo¬
meries, and afterwards to the Ta!bots, by whom it^ is
still retained. Here is a free grammar-school, with three
masters and several ushers, w'ell endowed by Edward
VI. and Queen Elizabeth, and not inferior to many
colleges in the universities. It has a good library and
chapel, and there are several scholarships appropriated
to it in the university of Cambridge. Here are also se¬
veral hospitals, alms-houses, and charity-schools. This
town is one of the most flourishing in England, having
two great weekly markets for corn, cattle, and provi¬
sions ; and another for Welch cottons and flannels, of
vyhieh great quantities are sold. A great trade is car¬
ried on with the Welch, who bring their commodities
hither, as to the common mart of both nations. The
town is large and well-built, and the situation extreme¬
ly pleasant. There is a very beautiful walk called the
quarry, between the town walls and the Severn, delight¬
fully shaded with rows of lime-trees, so that it is not
inferior to the Mall in St James’s Park. The town is
also noted tor its gallantry and politeness, being full of
gentry, for whom there are always balls and assemblies
once a-week ail the year round.——Here is a fine bouse
and gardens, which belonged to the earl of Bradford ;
and in the neighbourhood, at Wroxeter, the Roman
highway, called W atling street, may be seen for several
miles, where Roman coins are frequently found. In
Shrewsbury are I 2 incorporated trading companies ; and
the corporation has a power to try even capital causes of
itself, except high treason. Shrewsbury contained 14,739
inhabitants in 1801, and, 16,606 in 181 x.
SHRIKE. See Lanius, Ornithology
SHRIMP. See Cancer, Entomology Index.
SHRINE, in Ecclesiastical History, a case or box
to hold the relics of some saint.
SHROPSHIRE, a county of England, bounded on
the south by Worcestershire, Herefordshire, and Rad-
1101 shire ; on the north, by Cheshire j on the east, by
Staffordshire j on the west, by Montgomeryshire and
Denbighshire, in Wales. Its length is between 49 and
50 miies, its breadth about 38, and its circumference
about 210. It is an inland county, containing 890,000
acres, and 15 hundreds, in which are 170 parishes, and
J5 market towns j and the number of inhabitants in
1811 was 194.298. It makes a part of three bishoprics,
viz. Hereford, Coventry and Litchfield, and St Asaph.
Some part of it lies on the north, and some on the south
side of the Severn. Besides the Severn, it is also wa¬
tered by the Temd or Tefidiauc, which flows from the
mountains of Radnorshire ; and by the Tern, which has
its rise and name from one of those pools called tearnes,
in Staffordshire. All these abound with fish, especially
25 ] s H R
trouts, pikes, lampreys, graylings, carp, and cels. The Shropshire
air, especially upon the hills, with which the county Shrove. ’
abounds, is very wholesome. There is as great a diver¬
sity of soil as in most other counties. On the hills,
where it is poor, is very good pasture for sheep ; and in
the low grounds, where it is very rich, along the Severn
in particular, there is plenty of grass for bay and black
cattle, with all sorts ot corn. Ibis county is abundant¬
ly provided with fuel, having in it many extensive
mines of coal j it has also mines of lead and iron. Over
most of the coal pits in this county lies a stratum or
luyei of blackish porous rock, ol which, by grinding
and boiling, they make pitch and tar, which aie rather
better than the common sort for caulking ships, as they
do not crack, but always continue close and smooth.
Quarries of lime-stone and iron-stone are common in the
county, and the soil in many places is a reddish clay.
1 he abundance of coal and iron-stone in this county has
given rise to numerous manufactories.
As it lies upon the borders of Wales, it was ancient¬
ly full of castles and walled towns. On the side next
that country there was an almost continued line of
castles, to guard the county against the inroads and de¬
predations of the Welch. The borders here, as those
between England and Scotland, were called marches,
and there were certain noblemen entitled barones mar-
chia;, marchiones dc marchia Wallice, “ lords of the
marches, or marquisses of the marches of Wales,” who
were vested with a sort of palatine jurisdiction, held
courts of justice to determine controversies, and enjoyed
many privileges and immunities, the better to enable
and encourage them to protect the county against the
incuisions ol the Y elch, and to maintain order amongst
the boiderers $ but they often abused their power, and
were the greatest of tyrants.
As to the ecclesiastical government of the coun¬
ty, the far greater part, belonging to the bishoprics of
Hereford, and ot Litchfield and Coventry, is under
tne jurisdiction and visitation of the archdeacon of
Shrewsbury, or Salop, and is divided into several
deanries.
The Oxford circuit includes in it this county, which
sends 12 members to parliament, viz. two for the shire,
and two for each of the following towns, Shrewsbury,
Ludlow, Wenlock, and Bishop’s Castle. See Shrop¬
shire, Supplement.
SHROVE-1 uesday, is the Tuesday after the Quin-
quagesima Sunday, or the day immediately preceding
the first of Lent 5 being so called from the Saxon word
shrive, which signifies “ to confess.” Hence Shrove-
Tuesday signfies Confession-Tuesday; on which day
all the people in every parish throughout England
(during the Romish times) were obliged to confess their
sins, one by one, to their own parish priests, in their own
parish-churches \ and, that this might be done the more
regularly, the great bell in every parish was rung at ten
o’clock (or perhaps sooner), that it might be heard by
all, and that they might attend, according to the cus¬
tom then in use. And though the Romish religion has
now given way to the Protestant religion, the custom
ot ringing the great bell in our ancient parish-churches,
at least in some of‘ them, still remains, and obtains hr
and about London the name of Pancake bell j perhaps,
because after the confession it was customary for the se¬
veral persons to dine on pancakes or fritters. Most
churches.
■p
S H K [ 326 ] S I A
Shrove clinrclies, indeed, have rejected that custom of ringing
II the bell on Shrove-Tuesday j but the usage of dining
Shnil). on par|Cakea 01- fritters, and such like provision, still
v continues.
SHROUDS (scrud Sax.), a range of large ropes ex¬
tending from the mast-heads to the right and left side of
the ship, to support the masts, and enable them to carry
sail, &c.
The shrouds as well as the sails are denominated from
the masts to which they belong. Thus there are the
main, fore, and mizen shrouds 5 the main-top-mast, fore¬
top-mast, or mizen-top-mast shrouds ; and the main-top¬
gallant, fore-top-gallant, or mizen-top-gallant shrouds.
The number of shrouds by which a mast is sustained, as
■well as the size of rope of which they are formed, is al¬
ways in proportion to the size of the mast and the weight
of the sail it is intended to carry.
Bowsprit shrouds are those which support the bowsprit.
Bumkin shrouds are those which support the bumkins.
Futtock shrouds are shrouds which connect the efforts
of the topmast shrouds to the lower shrouds. Bentick
shrouds are additional shrouds to support the masts in
heavy gales. Preventer shrouds are similar to bentick
shrouds, and are used in bad weather to ease the lower
rigging. See Mast and Sail.
SHRUB, /rwfcw, a little, low, dwarf tree, or a woody
vegetable, of a size less than a tree ; and which, instead
of one single stem, frequently from the same root puts
forth several sets or stems. See Plant and Tree. Such
are privet, phillyrea, holly, box, honey-suckle, &c.
Shrubs and trees put forth in autumn a kind of buttons,
or gems, in the axis of the leaves j these buttons are as
so many little ova, which, coming to expand by the
warmth of the following spring, open into leaves and
flowers. By this, together with the height, some distin¬
guish shrubs from suffriitices, or under shrubs, which
are low bushes, that do not put forth any of these but¬
tons, as sage, thyme, &c.
The two hardiest shrubs we are possessed of are the
ivy and box ; these stand the severity of our sharpest
winters unhurt, while other shrubs perish, and trees
have their solid bodies split and torn to pieces. In the
hard winter of the year 1683, these two shrubs suffered
no injury any where ; though the yews and hollies,
which are generally supposed very hardy, were that
winter in some places killed, and in others stripped of
their leaves, and damaged in their bark. Furze-bushes
were found to be somewhat hardier than these, but they
sometimes perished, at least down to the root. The
broom seemed to occupy the next step of hardiness be¬
yond these. This lived where the others died, and
where even this died, the juniper shrubs were sometimes
found unhurt. This last is the only shrub that ap¬
proaches to the hardiness of the box and ivy, but even
it does not quite come up to them ; for while they suffer
nothing in whatever manner they are exposed, the ju¬
niper, though it bears cold ivell under the shelter of
other trees, yet cannot bear the vicissitudes of heat and
cold •, insomuch that some juniper shrubs were found half
dead and half vigorous •, that side which faced the
mid-day sun having perished by the successive thawings
and freezings of its sap ; while that which was not ex¬
posed to the vicissitudes of heat had borne the cold per¬
fectly well. Such shrubs as are not hardy enough to de¬
fy the winter, but appear half dead in the spring, may
often be recovered by Mr Evelyn’s method of beating ||
their branches with a slender hazel-wand, to strike off Siam,
the withered leaves and buds, and give a free passage to '“v—
the air to the internal parts. Where this fails, the me¬
thod is to cut them down to the quick, and if no part of
the trunk appears in a growing cc idition, they must be
taken off down to the level of the ground. Philosophi¬
cal Transactions, N° 165.
SHUTTLE, in the manufactures, an instrument used
by the weavers, which guides the thread it contains, ei¬
ther of woollen, silk, flax, or other matter, so as to make
it form the woofs of stuffs, cloths, linens, ribbands, &c.
by throwing the shuttle alternately from left to right,
and from right to left, across between the threads of the
warp, which are stretched out lengthwise on the loom.
In the middle of the shuttle is a kind of cavity, called
the eye or chamber of the shuttle ; wherein is inclosed
the spoul, which is a part of the thread destined for the
woof 5 and this is wound on a little tube of paper, rush,
or other matter.
The ribband-iveaver’s shuttle is very different from
that of most other weavers, though it serves for the
same purpose : it is of box, six or seven inches long,
one broad, and as much deep ; shod with iron at both
ends, which terminate in points, and are a little crook¬
ed, the one towards the right, and the other towards the
left, representing the figure of an cc horizontally placed.
See Weaving.
SIALOGOGUES, medicines which promote the sa¬
livary discharge. , ,
SIAM Proper, by some called Upper, (to distinguish Boundaries
it from the Lower Siam, under which are often inclu-and extent
ded Laos, Cambodia, and Malacca), is bounded on the
north by the kingdoms of Pegu and Laos j on the east
by Cambodia and Cochin-China ; on the south by Ma¬
lacca and the bay of Siam •, and on the wrest by the
ocean. But as the opinions of geographers are extreme¬
ly various concerning the situation and extent of most of
the inland countries of Asia and Africa, neither the ex¬
tent nor boundaries of Siam are yet accurately known.
By some it is supposed to extend 550 miles in length,
and 250 miles in breadth 5 in some places it is not
above 50 miles broad. 3
The winds blow here from the south upon the coast Weather,
of Siam, in March, April, and May } in April the rains
begin, in May and June they fall almost without cea¬
sing. In July, August, and September, the winds blow
from the west, and the rains continuing, the rivers over¬
flow their banks nine or ten miles on each side, and for
more than 1 $0 miles up the stream. At this time,
and more particularly in July, the tides ax-e so strong
as to come up the river Menan as far as the city of
Siam, which is situated 60 miles from its mouth } and
sometimes as far as Louvo, which is 50 miles higher.
The winds blow from the w'est and north in October,
when the rain ceases. In November and December the
winds blow dry from the north, and the w'aters being
in a few days reduced to their ancient channels, the
tides become so insensible, that the water is fresh at the
mouth of the river. At Siam there is never more than
one flood and one ebb in the space of 24 hours. In
January the wind blows from the east, and in February
from the east and south. When the wind is at east,
the
S I A
Siam.
igetabk
^ac-
i i -is.
the current .sets to the west •, and, on the contrary,
when the wind is at west, the currents run to the east¬
ward.
As this country is situated near the tropic, it must
necessarily be very hot; but yet, as in other places
nearly of the same latitude, when the sun is vertical and
shines with a most intense heat, the inhabitants are so
skreened by the clouds, and the air is so refreshed by a
deluge of rain that overflows the plains which the peo¬
ple chiefly inhabit, that the heat is very supportable.
The coolest wind blows in December and January.
The vegetable produce of this country is chiefly rice
and wheat, besides tropical and a few European fruits.
The Siamese prepare the land for tillage as soon as the
earth is sufficiently moistened by the floods. They plant
their rice before the waters rise to any considerable
height, and, as they rise slowly, the rice keeps pace
with them, and the ear is always above the water. They
reap their corn when the wrater retires, and sometimes
go in boats to cut it while the waters are upon the
ground. They also sow rice in several parts of the king¬
dom that are not overflowed, and this is thought better
tasted, and will keep longer than the other j but they
are forced to supply these fields constantly with water,
while the rice is growing, from basins and ponds that
lie about them.
They have no European fruits except oranges, le¬
mons, citrons, and pomegranates. They have bananas,
Indian figs, jaques, durions, mangoes, mangostans, ta¬
marinds, ananas, and cocoa nuts, they have also abun¬
dance of pepper and sugar-canes. The mountains are
covered with trees which make good masts. The ve¬
getable of greatest uSe in the country is the bamboo,
which grows chiefly in marshy soils, and is often found
of a prodigious size. Cotton trees are found in great
numbers j and others that yield capoc, a very fine cot¬
ton wool, but so short as to be unfit for spinning,
though it answers very well for stuffing mattresses and
pillows.
There is no country where elephants abound more
than in Siam, or where they are held in greater venera¬
tion. They have a few horses, sheep, and goats, be¬
sides oxen and buffaloes •, but they have no good ani¬
mal food except the flesh of hogs, their beef and mutton
being of a very indifferent quality.
The Siamese are of small stature, but well proportion-
K Us!*1 a"e<^ ’ their complexions are swarthy; the faces of both
the men and women are broad, and their foreheads, sud¬
denly contracting, terminate in a point, as well as their
chins. They have small black eyes, hollow jaws, large
mouths, and thick pale lips. Their teeth are dyed,
black, their noses are short and round at the end, and
they have large ears, which they think very beautiful.
Their hair is thick and lank, and both sexes cut it so
short that it reaches no lovrer than their ears ; the wo¬
men make it stand up on their foreheads ; and the men
shave their beards.
People of distinction wear a piece of calico tied about
their loins, that reaches down to their knees.—The men
bi-ing up this cloth between their legs, and tuck it into
their girdles, which gives it the appearance of a pair of
breeches. They have also a muslin shirt without a col¬
lar, with wide sleeves, no wristbands, and the bosom
open. In winter they wear a piece of stuff or painted
t 327 1
S I A
linen over their shoulders, like a mantle, and wind it sianr.
about their arms. v
I he king of Siam is distinguished by wearing a vest
of brocaded satin, with straight sleeves that reach down
to the wrist, under such a shirt as we have just descri¬
bed, and it is unlawful for any subject to wear this
dress unless he receives it from the king. They wear
slippers with piked toes turned up, but no stockings.
The king sometimes presents a military vest to the ge¬
nerals ; this is buttoned before, and reaches to the
knees ; but the sleeves are wide, and come no lower
than the elbows. All the retinue of the king, either iu
war or in hunting, are clothed in red. The king wears
a cap in the form of a sugar-loaf, encompassed by a co¬
ronet or circle of precious stones, and those of his officers
have a circle of gold, silver, or of vermilion gilt, to dis¬
tinguish their quality; and these caps are fastened with a
stay under the chin ; they are only worn when they are
in the king’s presence, or when they preside in courts of
justice, and on other extraordinary occasions. They
have also hats for travelling; but, in general, few peo¬
ple cover their heads notwithstanding the scorching heat
of the sun.
The women also wrap a cloth about their middle,
which hangs down to the calf of their legs. They co*
ver their breasts with another cloth, the ends of which
hang over their shoulders. But they have no garment
corresponding to a shift, nor any covering for their
heads but their hair. The common people are al¬
most naked, and wear neither shoes nor slippers. The
women wear as many rings on the three last fingers of
each hand as they can keep on, and bracelets upon their
wrists and ancles, with pendants in their ears shaped like
a pear.
I or an inferior to stand before a superior is deemed ^
insolent; and therefore slaves and people of iuferioran^cus-
rank sit upon their heels, with their heads a little in-toms,
dined, and their joined hands lifted up to their fore¬
heads. In passing by a superior they bend their bodies,
joining their hands, and lifting them towards their heads
in proportion to the respect they would show. When
an inferior pays a visit, he enters the room stooping,
prostrates himself, and then remains upon his knees,
sitting upon his heels without speaking a word till he
is addressed by the person whom he visits; for he that
is of the highest quality must always speak first. If a
person of rank visits an inferior, he walks upright, and
the master of the house receives him at the door, and
waits on him so far when he goes away, but never far¬
ther. ;
The highest part of the house is esteemed the most
honourable, and no person cares to lodge under ano¬
ther’s feet. The Siamese indeed have but one story,,
but the rooms rise gradually, and the innermost, which
are the highest, are always the most honourable. When,
the Siamese ambassador came to the French court,
some of his retinue were lodged in a floor over the am¬
bassador’s head ; but they no sooner knew it, than they
were struck with the greatest consternation, and ran
down tearing their hair at the thoughts of being guil¬
ty of what they considered as so unpardonable a
crime.
The Siamese never permit such familiarities as are
practised by gentlemen in Europe. Easiness of access,
and,
*
Siam,
S I A [ 32
anti affability to inferiors, is in that part of tbe world
thought a sign of weakness, and yet they take no no¬
tice of some things which may be looked upon as ill
breeding among us } such as belching in company,
which no man endeavours to prevent or so much as
holds his hand before his mouth. They have an extra¬
ordinary respect for the head, and it is the greatest af¬
front to stroke or touch that of another pex-son; nay,
their cap must not be used with too much familiarity;
for when a servant carries it, it is put on a stick and held
above his head j and when the master stands still the
stick is set down, it having a foot to stand upon. They
also show their respect by lifting their hands to tbe
head 5 and therefore, when they receive a letter from
any one for whom they have a great respect, they im¬
mediately hold it up to their heads, and sometimes lay
S it upon their heads.
Geniux and They are esteemed an ingenious people, and though
dispositions. raj],er indolent than active in disposition, they are not
addicted to the voluptuous vices which often accompa¬
ny a state of ease, being remarkably chaste and tempe¬
rate, and even holding drunkenness in abhorrence.—
They are, however, accounted insolent toward.-, their
inferiors, and equally obsequious to those above them •,
the latter of which qualities appears to be particularly
inculcated from their earliest youth. In general, their
behaviour is extremely modest, and they are averse to
loquacity. Like the Chinese, they avoid speaking in
tire first person : and when they address a lady, it is
always with some respectful epithet, insinuating person¬
al accomplishments.
No man in this country learns any particular trade,
but has a general knowledge of all ibat are commonly
practised, and every one works six months for the king
by rotation ; at which time, if he should he found per¬
fectly ignorant of the business he is set about, he is
doomed to suffer the bastinado. The consequence of
this burdensome service is, that no man endeavours
to excel in his business, lest he should be obliged to
practise it as long as he lives for the benefit of tire
crown.
The government of this country is extremely op¬
pressive, the king being not only sovereign but proprie¬
tor of all the lands, and chief merchant likewise; by
which means he monopolizes almost the whole traffic,
to the great prejudice of his subjects. The crown is
said to be hereditary, but it is often transferred by re¬
volutions, on account of the exorbitant abuse of power
in those who exercise the royal office. In his palace,
the king is attended by women, who not only prepare
bis food, and wait on him at table, but even perform
the part of valets, and put on all his clothes, except his
cap, which is considered as too sacred to be touched by
any hand but his own. He shows himself to the people
only twice a-year, when he distributes his alms to the
talapoins or priests : and on those occasions he always
appears in an elevated situation, or mounted on the back
of an elephant. When he takes the diversion of hunt¬
ing, he is as usual attended by his women on foot, pre¬
ceded by a guard of 2CO men, who drive all the people
from the roads through which they are to pass; and
when the king stops, all his attendants fall upon their
faces on the ground.
All their proceedings in law are committed to wri¬
ting, and none is suffered to exhibit a charge against
l
8 ]
S I A
9
f Jorcni
meat.
10
Forms of
process.
another, without giving security to prosecute it, and .n^ig
answer the damages if he does not prove the fact against“v—•->
the person accused. When a person intends to prose¬
cute another, he draws no a petition, in which he sets
forth his complaint, and presents it to the nut, or head
of the band to which he belongs, who transmits it to
the governor; and if the complaint appears frivolous,
the prosecutor, according to the laws of tbe country,
should be punished; but the magistrates generally en¬
courage prosecutions on account of the perquisites they
bring to their office.
Every thing being prepared for hearing, the parties
are several days called into court, and persuaded to
agree ; but this appears to be only a matter of form.
At length the governor appoints a day for all parties
to attend ; and being come into court, the clerk reads
the process and opinion of his associates, and then the
governor examines upon what reasons their opinions are
founded ; which being explained to him, he proceeds
to pacs judgment. n
When sufficient proofs are wanting, they have re-Trial by m*
course to an ordeal trial, like that of our Saxon ance-^6^’
stors: both the plaintiff’ and the defendant walk upon
burning coals, and he that escapes unhurt is adjudged
to he in the right: sometimes the proof is made by put-
ing their hands in boiling oil; and in both these trials,
by some peculiar management, one or the other is said
to remain unhurt. They have also a proof by water,
in which he who remains longest under it is esteemed in¬
nocent. They have another proof, by swallowing pills,
which their priests administer with severe imprecations;
and the party who keeps them in his stomach without
vomiting is thought to be innocent.
All these trials are made in the pi’esence of the magi¬
strates and people ; and the king himself frequently di¬
rects them to be performed, when crimes come before
him by way of appeal. Sometimes he orders both the
informer and prisoner to be thrown to the tigers: and
the person that escapes by his not being seized upon by
those beasts, is sufficiently justified. ™
They maintain the docrine of transmigration, belie- e
ving in a pre-existent state, and that they shall pass into ^
other bodies till they are sufficiently purified to be re¬
ceived into paradise. They believe likewise that the
soul is material, but not subject to the touch ; that it
retains the human figure after quitting a body of that
species ; and that when it appears to persons with whom
it was acquainted, which they suppose it to do, the
wounds of one that has been murdered will then be vi¬
sible. They are of opinion that no man will be eter¬
nally punished ; that the good, after several transmigra¬
tions, will enjoy perpetual happiness ; but that those
who are not reformed will be doomed to transmigration
to all eternity. They believe in the existence of a Su¬
preme Being; but the objects of their adoration are de¬
parted saints, whom they consider as mediators or inter¬
cessors for them ; and to the honour of this numerous
tribe both temples and images are erected. Marrisg**
The men of this country are allowed a plurality of‘
women ; but excepting one, who is a wife by contract,
the others are only concubines, and their children deem¬
ed incapable of any legal inheritance. Previous to eve¬
ry nuptial contract, an astrologer must be consulted,
who calculates the nativity of the parties, and deter¬
mines whether their union is likely to prove fortunate
or
S I B
14
unerals.
15
rer«.
16
1 icrip-
! 1 of the
c ital.
or otherwise. When his prognostication is favourable
the lover is permitted to visit his mistress three times
at the last of which interviews the relations being pre¬
sent, the marriage portion is paid, when, without any
religious ceremony performed, the nuptials are reckon¬
ed complete, and soon after consummated* A. few days
after the talapoin visits the married couple, sprinkles
them with water, and repeats a prayer for their pro¬
sperity.
The practice in Siam respecting funerals, is both to
burn and bury the dead. The corpse being laid upon
the pile, it is suffered to burn till a considerable part is
consumed, when the remainder is interred in aburying-
place contiguous to some temple. The reason which
they give for not burning it entirely to ashes is, that
they suppose the deceased to be happy when part of
his remains escapes the fire. Instead of a tombstone,
they erect a pyramid over the grave. It was formerly
the custom to bury treasure with the corpse 5 hut long¬
er experience evincing, that the sacrilegious light in
which robbing the graves was considered did not pre¬
vent the crime, they now discontinue the ancient prac¬
tice, and instead of treasure bury only painted papers
and other trifles.
The two principal rivers are the Menan and the Me-
con, which rise in the mountains of Tartary, and run
to the south $ the former passing by the city of Siam,
falls into the bay of the same name, in the 13th de¬
gree of north latitude $ and die latter running through
Laos and Cambodia, discharges itself into the Indian
ocean in the 9th degree of north latitude.
# The capital of the country is Siam, called by the na¬
tives Siyothoya, situated in the icist degree of east lon¬
gitude, and in the 14th degree of north latitude, being
almost encompassed by the branches of the river Me¬
nan. It is about 10 miles in circumference within the
walls, hut not a sixth part of the ground is occupied by
buildings. In the vacant spaces there are near 300 pa¬
godas or temples, round which are scattered the con¬
vents of the priests and their burying-places. The
Streets of the city are spacious, and some have canals
running through them, over which is a great number of
bridges. 1 he houses stand on pillars of the bamboo
cane, and are built of the same materials : the commu-
®ication between different families, during the winter
season, being carried on as in other tropical countries
by means of boats. The grounds belonging to the seve¬
ral tenements are separated by a palisado, within which
the cattle are housed in barns, erected likewise upon
pillars, to preserve them from the annual inundation.
SIBB.1LDIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class, of pentandria, and to the order of pentagynia j
and in the natural system arranged under the 35th or¬
der, Senticosce. See Botany Index.
SfBENICO, or Sebenico, the name of a city and
province of Dalmatia. The province of Sibenico runs
along the sea for more than 30 miles ; reaches in some
places above 20 miles within land, and comprehends
above 70 islands. The city of Sibenico is situated near
the mouth of the river Cherca, in the gulf of Venice,
SJ miles north of Spalatto, and 25 south-east of Zara.
E. Long. 160 46', N. Lat. 44° 17'. It belongs to the
Venetians. It is defended on one side by a castle, which
held out against repeated attacks of the Turks, and to¬
wards the sea by a fort.
^ OL. XIX. Part L j-
f 329 ]
S I B
SIBERIA, a large country, comprehending the most siUna.
northerly parts of the Russian empire in Asia. It is —v—
bounded on the east by the eastern ocean ; on the south 1
by Great Tartary j on the west by Russia; and on theBo"nd!4,ies
north by the Frozen ocean. It is about 2000 miles in CXleU''
length from east to west, and 750 miles in breadth from
north to south.
At what time this country was first inhabited, or Conquered
by whom it was peopled, we are entirely ignorant 5 hy the
but writings have been found in it when it was discover-^uss,ans*
ed, winch shows that it must have been early known to
a civilized people *. The Russians, from whom we have * Bed's
received our knowledge, knew nothing of it before the
middle of the 16th century. In the reign of John Basi-
lowitz I. indeed, an incursion had been made into Sibe-
n.i, and some lartar tribes subdued; but these conquests
were not permanent; and we hear of no further com¬
munication between Russia and Siberia till the time of
John Basilowitz II. It was opened again at that time
by means of one Amka Strogonoff, a Russian merchant,
who had established some salt-works at a town in the
government of Archangel. This man carried on a
trade with the inhabitants of the north-west parts of
Siberia, who brought every year to the town above-
mentioned large quantities of the finest furs. Thus
he acquired a very considerable fortune in a short time -r
when at last the czar, perceiving the advantages which
would accrue to his subjects from having a regular in¬
tercourse with Siberia, determined to enlarge the com¬
munication which was already opened. With this view
he sent into Siberia a body of troops, which crossed the
A ugorian mountains, that form part of the north-eastern
boundary of Europe. They seem, however, not to have
passed the Irtish, or to have penetrated farther than the
western branch of the river Oby. Some Tartar tribes
were laid under contribution, and a chief named Ycdi-
Ser consented to pay an annual tribute of 1000 sables.
But tins produced no lasting advantage to Russia; for,
soon after, Yediger was defeated and taken prisoner
by Kutchum Khan, a descendant of the great Jenghiz,
Khan : and thus the allegiance of this country to Rus¬
sia was dissolved.
For some time we hear of no further attempts made
by the Russians on Siberia ; but in I 977 the founda¬
tion of a permanent conquest was laid by one Yermac
1 emofeelf, a Cossack of the Don. This man was at
first the head of a party of banditti who infested the
Russians in the province of Casan; but being defeated
by the troops of the czar, he retired with 6000 of his
followers into the interior parts of that province. Con¬
tinuing his course still eastward, he came to Orel, the
most easterly of all the Russian settlements. Here he
took up his winter-quarters : but his restless genius
did not suffer him to continue for any length of time,
in a state of inactivity ; and from the intelligence he
procured concerning the situation of the neighbouring
Tartars of Siberia, he turned his arms towards that
quarter.
Siberia was at that time partly divided among a num-state^of
her of separate princes, and partly inhabited by the vari- Siberia at
ous tribes of independent Tartars. Of the former Kilt-1'16 t^,ie
chum Khan was the most powerful sovereign. His do-of t,ie Bu5~
minions consisted of that tract of country which now slan.con'
forms the south-western part of the province of Tobolsk ;
and stretched from the banks of the Irtish aad Oby to
I t tlibse
SIB
Siberia.
[ 33° 3
SIB
those of the Tobol and Tura. His principal residence
' Was at Sibir, a small fortress upon the river Irtish, not
far from the present town ot Tobolsk, and of which
some ruins are still to be seen. After a course of unre¬
mitted fatigue, and a series of victories which almost ex¬
ceed belief, but of which we have not room to give the
detail, our intrepid adventurer dispossessed this princeof
liis dominions, and seated himself on the throne ol Sibir.
The number of his followers, however, being greatly re¬
duced, and perceiving he could not depend on the affec¬
tion of his new subjects, he had recourse to the czar of
Muscovy, and made a tender of his new acquisitions to
that monarch, upon condition of receiving immediate and
effectual support. This proposal was receivetl with the
greatest satisfaction by the czar, who granted him a par¬
don for all former offences, and sent him the required
succours. Yermac, however, being soon after drowned
in an unsucessful excursion, the Russians began to lose
their footing in the country. But fresh reinforcements —
being seasonably sent, they not only recovered their
ground, but pushed their conquests far and wide j wbere-
ever they appeared, the Tartars were either reduced or
exterminated. New towns were built, and colonies were
planted on all sides. Before a century bad well elapsed,
all that vast tract of country now called Siberia, which
stretches from the confines of Europe to the I.astern
ocean, and from the i rozen sea to the present frontiers
of China, was annexed to the Russian dominions.
The air of Siberia is, in general, extremely piercing, C1
the cold there being more severe than in any other part
of the Russian dominions. The Siberian rivers are
frozen very early, and it is late in the spring before the
ice is thawed (a). If the corn does notripen in August,
there is little hope of a harvest in this country j and in
the
Siberia,
iraate,
(a) M. Gmelin, M. Muller, and two other philosophers, set out in the year 1733 to explore the dreary regions
of Siberia, by desire of the empress Anne of Russia. After spending nine years and a halt in observing every
thing that was remarkable, they returned to Petersburg!! ; and an account ot this journey was publisher y .
Gmelin. In order to examine how far the frost had penetrated into the ground, M. Gmelin, on the 1 10
June, at a place called Jacutia, ordered the earth to be dug in high ground; they found mould to the depth ot
11 inches, under which they met with loose sand to two feet and a halt further, after which it grew harder, and
at half a foot deeper so hard as scarcely to give way to the topis } so that the ground still remained unthawe at
not less than the depth of four feet. He made the same experiment in a lower situation ; the soil was 10 inches
deep after that a loose sand for two feet and ten inches, below which all was frozen and hard. At Jacutia the
inhabitants preserve in cellars several sorts of berries, which they reckon among the,r dainties, perfectly good and
fresh the whole vear, though these cellars are scarcely a fathom deep. At the fortress of Argun in 1 t e more
than co degrees of latitude, the inhabitants relate that the earth in many places is never thawed above a yard and
a half, and that the internal cold of the earth will scarcely permit a well to be dug, of which they bring an instance
that happened not long before the author’s arrival at that place. They designed to sink a well near a house at
some distance from the river Argun, for which purpose they thawed the earth by degrees, and dug some fathoms
till they had penetrated a fathom and half below the level of the river, but found no spring. Hence perhaps we
may venture to assert, that besides the great elevation of the earth in these countries, there is another cause, per¬
haps latent in the earth itself, of this extraordinary cold, naturally suggested to us by considering the cavi y
of an old silver mine at Argun, which being exhausted of its ore, now serves the inhabitants in summer time tor
a cellar to keep their provisions : this place is so extremely cold as to preserve flesh meats from putrefaction in the
hottest summers, and to sink the mercury in De Lisle’s thermometer to 146 and 147. I he author travelling
from Nerschoi towards Argun, to visit the works of the silver mines in that place, August 1735, came to the river
Orkiia. near Solonischaia, on July the first, from whence he arrived a little before dark at the village of beventua,
distant from the river 27 leagues. In this journey he and his fellow travellers for more than four leagues felt 1
vastly cold ; soon after they came into a warm air, which continued some leagues ; after which the cold returned j
and thus are travellers subjected to perpetual vicissitudes of warmth and cold. But it is observed in general, tlia
the eastern parts are colder than the western, though situated in the same latitude ; for as in those eastern regions
some tracts of land are much colder than the rest, their effects must be felt by the neighbouring parts. And n»
conjecture is favoured by the thermometrical observations made with M. de LTsle’s instrument in all parts 0
Siberia, in which the mercury was depressed to the 226th degree, even in those parts that lie very much towar s
the south, as in the territory of Selinga, which said degree answers in Fahrenheit’s thermometer to about 55.5
below o, but the same thermometer sometimes indicated a much greater cold. At the fort ot JVinnga, 01
February 10. 1738, at Sin the morning, the mercury stood at 240, which answers nearly to 72 below om
Fahrenheit’s. On the 23d of the same month it was a degree lower. At the same place, December 11. at three
in the afternoon, if stood at 254 in De Lisle’s thermometer, and very near 90 in Fahrenheit’s ; on December 29.
at four in the afternoon, at 263 •, on November 27. at noon, at 270 ; January 9. at 275, which several c epiession
answer in Fahrenheit’s to 99.44, 107.73, and 113.65 *, on January 5. at five in the morning, at 262-, an hour alter
at 281 but at eight o’clock it returned to 250, and there remained till six in the afternoon, and then lose y
degrees till an hour before midnight, when it stood at 202. So that the greatest depression of the mercury answers
in Fahrenheit’s thermometer to 120.76 degrees below o, which is indeed very surprising, and what nobody eve
imagined before. While this cold lasted at Jenisea, the sparrows and magpies fell to the ground, struck 1 ea ,
it were, with the frost, but revived if they were soon brought into a warm room. 'Hie author was told a so
numbers of wild beasts were found in the woods dead and stiff with the frost, and several travellers had their
and juices quite frozen in their vessels. The air itself at that time was so dismal, that you would think ll change
to. ice, as it was a thick fog, which was not dissipable by any exhalations, as in the spring and autumn, am
author could scarcely stand three minutes in the porch of his house for the cold.
ffH
ibcrk
5
Scund
pnuce.
Wild
taasfii
s i Jo L 3
thfi province of Jemseisk. it is soinetimes covered with
-i snow before the peasants can reap it. To defend the
inhabitants against this extreme severity of the climate
Providence seems more liberally to have dealt out to
them wood for fuel and furs for clothing. As the win¬
ter days in the north parts of Siberia last hut a few
hours, and the storms and flakes of snow darken the
an so much, that the inhabitants, even at noon, cannot
see to do any thing without artificial lights, they sleep
away the greatest part of that season.
These severe winters are rapidly succeeded by sum-
tners, in which the heat is so intense that the Tungu-
sians, who live in the province of Jakutsk, go almost
naked. Here is scarcely any night during that season ;
and towards the frozen ocean the sun appears conti¬
nually above the horizon. I he vegetables and fruits of
the earth are here extremely quick in their growth.
The whole tract of land beyond the 6oth degree of
north latitude is a barren waste ; for the north part of
Siberia yields neither corn nor fruits ; though barley is
known frequently to come to perfection in Jakutsk. 
f oi this leason, the inhabitants of the northern parts
are obliged to live on fish and flesh, but the Russians are
supplied with corn from the southern parts of Siberia,
where the soil is surprisingly fertile. The countries be¬
yond the lake of Baikal, especially towards the east, as
far as the river Argun, are remarkably fruitful and plea¬
sant.j but such is the indolence of the inhabitants, that
seveial fine tracts of land, which would make ample
returns to the peasant for cultivating them, lie neglect¬
ed. The pastures are excellent in this country, which
abounds in fine horned cattle, horses, goats, &c. on
which the Tartars chiefly depend for subsistence. How¬
ever, there are several steppes, or barren wastes, and
unimproved tracts in these parts j and not a single
fruit tree is to be seen. Jbere is great variety of ve¬
getables, and in several places, particularly near Kras-
noia Sloboda, the ground is in a manner overrun with
asparagus of an extraordinary height and delicious fla¬
vour. Jbe bulbs of the Turkish bundes, and other
sorts of lilies, are much used by the Tartars instead of
bread. This want of fruit and corn is richly compen¬
sated by the great quantities of wild and tame beasts
and fowls, and the infinite variety of fine fish which the
country affords (b).
In that part of Siberia which lies near the Icy seaj
as well as in several other places, are woods of pine,
larch, and other trees ; besides which, a considerable
quantity of wood is thrown ashore by the waves of
the Icy sea j but whence it comes is not yet ascer¬
tained.
Besides the wild fowl with which Siberia abounds,
there is a prodigious number of quadrupeds, some of
] SIB
which are eatable, and others valuable for their skins Siberia
or furs.
The animals most valued for their skins are the black,
fox, the sable, the hyena, the ermine, the squirrel, the
beaver, and the lynx. The skin of a real black fox
is more esteemed than even that of a sable. In the
country near the Frozen ocean are also blue and white
foxes. The finest sables come from Nertshinsk and Ja¬
kutsk, the inhabitants of which places catch them in
the mountains of Stannowoi Krebet. The tributary
nations were formerly obliged to pay their taxes in the
skins of foxes and sables only4 But now the skins of
squirrels, bears, rein-deer, &c. and sometimes money,
are received by way of tribute ; and this not only from
those who live near the Lena, but also in the govern¬
ments of Ilinsk, Irkutzk, Selenginsk, and Nertshinski
When the Tartars first became tributary to Russia, they
brought their furs indiscriminately as they caught them,
and among them were often sables of extraordinary''
value j and formerly, if any trader brought with him
an iron kettle, they gave him in exchange for it as
many sables as it would hold. But they are now better
acquainted with their value* They sell their sables to
smugglers at a very high price, and pay only a ruble
instead of a skin to the revenue officers, who now re¬
ceive more ready money than sables by way of tribute.
The subjects plead the scarcity of furs, and indeed not
without some appearance of truth.
Siberia has still other and more valuable treasures than Minerals
those we have yet mentioned. The silver mines of Ar¬
gun are extremely rich ; the silver they produce yields
some gold, and both of these are found among the cop¬
per ore of Koliwan. This country is also particularly
rich in copper and iron ore. The former lies even up¬
on the surface of the earth: and considerable mines of
it are found in the mountains of Pictow, Koliwan, Plo-
skau, Woskeresensk, Kuswi, Alepaik, and several others,
and in the government of Krasnoiarsk (c). Iron is still
more plentiful in all these places, and very good 3 hut
that of Kamenski is reckoned the best. Several hun¬
dred thousand puds of these metals are annually ex¬
ported from the smelting houses, which belong partly
to the crown, and partly to private persons. Most of
them lie in the government of Catharinenburg. The
Tartars also extract a great quantity of iron from the
ore.
The topazes of Siberia have a fine lustre 3 and in prccjout
open sandy places, near the river Argun, as well as on stones,
the banks of other rivers and lakes, are found single
small pieces of agate. Here are also cornelians and
green jasper with red veins. The latter is chiefly met
With in the deserts of Gobiskoi.
The famous marienglas, or lapis specularis, great ^jarien-
Tt2 quantities glas.
bant- c ?!0a a’ 110U* 1 r®(luent ir> Russia, it is said, is not to be found through this vast region nearer than the
_ S ° 11,e R"11'1 anc mur, in the dominions of China. The white poplar, the aspen, the black poplar, the
S,a ow’ :incl several species of the willow, are very common. The Norwav and silver fir form great fo-
h"\ former does not grow beyond the 6oth degree of north latitude, and the latter not beyond 58 de-
rjVvy .* j° tllS f!^ary reSlon.°f Liberia, Europe is indebted for that excellent species of oats called Avena Sibi-
aq,. 0l,r gaitens are enlivened with the gay and brilliant flowrers brought from the same country.
Tlio '] 10 c.°PPer r^*nes Koliwan, from which gold and silver are extracted, employ above 40,000 people.
thf«pS1 '•Cr mineS °1. ertS*lJls^’ bey°nd Lake Baikal, employ above 14,000. The whole revenue arising from
these mines, accord,ng to Mr Coxe, is not less than 679,182!. 13s.
Siberia.
11
Salt lakes
ititdspnng
SIB [33
quantities of which are dug up in Siberia, is by some
called Muscovy or Russian glass. It is a particular
species of transparent stone, lying in strata like so many
sheets of paper. The matrix or stone in which it is
found, is partly a light yellow quartz, or marcassia, and
partly a brown indurated fluid ; and this stone contains
in it all the species of the marienglas. To render the
marienglas fit for use, it is split with a thin two-edged
knife 5 but care is taken that the laminae be not too
thin. It is used for windows and lanterns all over Si¬
beria, and indeed in every part of the Russian empire,
and looks very beautiful *, its lustre and clearness sur¬
passing that of the finest glass, to which it is particu¬
larly preferable for windows and lanterns of ships, as it
will stand the explosion of cannon. It is found in the
io greatest plenty near the river Witim.
Magnets. Siberia affords magnets of an extraordinary size, and
even whole mountains of loadstone. Pit-coal is also
dug up in the northern parts of this country. rlhe
kamennoe maslo, a yellowish kind of alum, unctuous
and smooth to the touch, like tophus, is found in the
mountains of Krasnoiarsk, Ural, Altaish, Jenisea, Bai¬
kal, Bargusik, Lena, and several others in Siberia.
In this country are not only a great number ol fresh
water lakes, but likewise several whose waters are salt j
and these reciprocally change their nature, the salt some¬
times becoming fresh, ami the fresh changing into saline.
Some lakes also dry up, and others appear where none
■were ever seen before. The salt lake of Yamusha, in
the province of Tobolsk, is the most remarkable of all,
for it contains a salt as white as snow, consisting entire¬
ly of cubic crystals. One finds also in Siberia saline
springs, salt water brooks, and a hill of salt.
Siberia affords many other things which deserve notice.
That useful root called rhubarb grows in vast quantities
near the city of Seleginsk. The curious mammuth’s bones
and horns, as they are called, which are found along the
banks of the Oby, Jenesei, Lena, and Irtish, are unques¬
tionably the teeth and bones of elephants. But whether
these elephants teeth and hones were conveyed to these
northern regions by the general deluge, or by any other
inundation, and were by degrees covered with earth, is
a point which might lead us into long and very fruitless
disquisitions *, we shall therefore only observe, that such
bones have likewise been found in Russia, and even in
several parts of Germany. A kind of bones of a still
larger size than these have also been dug up in Siberia,
and seem to have belonged to an animal of the ox kind.
The horn of the whale called narwhal has been found
in the earth near the rivers Indigirka and Anadir •, and
the teeth of another species of whales, called wolross,
about Anadirskoi. The latter are larger than the com¬
mon sort, which are brought from Greenland, Archan¬
gel, and Kola.
The chain of Siberian mountains reaches from that
of Werchoturie towards the south as far as the neigh¬
bourhood of the city of Orienburg, in a continued ridge,
under the name of the Uralian mountains ; hut from
thence it alters its direction westivard. These mountains
are a kind of boundary between Russia Proper and Si¬
beria. Another chain of hills divides Siberia from the
country of the Calmucks and Mongolians.— 1 hese moun¬
tains, between the rivers Irtish and Oby, are called the
Altaic or Golden Mountains, which name they after¬
wards lose, particularly between tire river Jenesei and
Cariosities.
13 .
M-oku tains.
M
Inhabit,
2] SIB
the Baikal lake, where they are called the Sayahian
mountains.
The inhabitants of Siberia consist of the aborigines
or ancient inhabitants, the Tartars, and Russians, and
of state criminals.
Some of these nations have no other religion hut that ants,
of nature ; others are Pagans or Mahometans, and some
of them have been converted to Christianity, or rather
only baptised by the Russian missionaries.
SIBTHORPIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of didynamia, and to the order of angiospermia j
and in the natural system classed with those the order
of which is doubtiul. See Botany Index.
SIBYLS, in pagan antiquity, certain women said
to have been endowe d with a prophetic spirit, and to
have delivered oracles, showing the fates and revolu¬
tions of kingdoms. Their number is unknown. Plato
speaks of one, others of two, Pliny of three, iElian of^rimV
four, and Varro of ten ; an opinion which is universally
adopted by the learned. These ten Sibyls generally re-m^'
sided in the following places, Persia, Libya, Delphi,
Cumae in Italy, Erythrsea, Samos, Cumae in ./Eolia,
Marpessa on the Hellespont, Aneyra in Phrygia, and
Tiburtis. The most celebrated of the Sibyls is that of
Cumae in Italy, whom some have called by the different
names of Amaltbaea, Demiphile, Herophile, Daphne,
Manto, Phemonoe, and Deiphobe. It is said, that
Apollo became enamoured of her, and that to make her
sensible of his passion he offered to give her whatever
she should ask. The Sibyl demanded to live as many
years as she had grains of sand in her hand, but unfor¬
tunately forgot to ask for the enjoyment of the health,
vigour, and bloom, of which she was then in possession.
The god granted her request, but she refused to gra¬
tify the passion of her lover though he oflered her per¬
petual youth and beauty. Some time after she became
old and decrepit, her form decayed, melancholy paleness
and haggard looks succeeded to bloom and cheerfulness.
She had already lived about yco years when ./Eneas
came to Italy, and as some have imagined, she had three
centuries more to live before her years were as numerous
as the crains of sand which she had in her hand. She
gave jEneas instructions how to find his father in the
infernal regions, and even conducted him to the en¬
trance of hell. It was usual for the Sibyl to write her
prophecies on leaves, which she placed at the entrance of
her cave ; and it required particular care in such as con¬
sulted her to take up these leaves before they were dis¬
persed by the wind, as their meaning then became in¬
comprehensible. According to the most authentic hi¬
storians of the Roman republic, one of the Sibyls came
to the palace of Tarquin the Second, with nine volumes,
which she oflered to sell for a very high price. The mo¬
narch disregarded her, and she immediately disappeared,
and soon after returned, when she had burned tl;ree of
the volumes. She asked the same price for the remain¬
ing six books j and when Tarquin refused to buy theip,
she burned three more, and still persisted in demanding
the same sum ofimoney for the three that were left.-
This extraordinary behaviour astonished Tarquin } be
bought the books, and the Sibyl instantly vanished, and
never after appeared to the world. These books were
preserved with great care by the monarch, and called
the Sibylline verses. A college of priests was appomte
to have the care of them ; and such reverence did the
Romans
i!y.
S I c
yls Romans entertain for these prophetic books, that they
' were consulted with the greatest solemnity, and only
when the state seemed to be in danger. When the ca-
pitol was burnt in the troubles of Sylla, the Sibylline
verses which were deposited there perished in the con¬
flagration j and to repair the loss which the republic
seemed to have sustained, commissioners were imme¬
diately sent to diflerent parts of Greece to collect what¬
ever verses could be found of the inspired writings of
the Sibyls. I he fate of these Sibylline verses which
were collected after the conflagration of the capitol is
unknown. There are now many Sibylline verses ex¬
tant, but they are reckoned universally spurious 5 and
it is evident that they were composed in the second cen¬
tury by some of the followers of Christianity, who wish¬
ed to convince the heathens of their error, by assisting
the cause of truth with the arms of pious artifice.
S1CRRA, a name given to any inebriating liquor by
the Hellenistic Jews. St Chrysostom, Theodoret, and
Iheophilus of Antioch, who were Syrians, and who
therefore ought to know the signification and nature of
“ sicera,” assure us, that it properly signifies palm-wine.
Pliny acknowledges, that the wine of the palm-tree was
very well known through all the east, and that it was
made by taking a bushel of the dates of the palm-tree,
and throwing them into three gallons of water; then
squeezing out the juice, it would intoxicate like wine.
Ihe wine of the palm free is white: when it is drunk
new, it has the taste of the cocoa, and is sweet as ho¬
ney. When it is kept longer, it grows stronger, and
intoxicates. After long keeping, it becomes vinegar.
SICILIAN, in Music, denotes a kind of gay spright¬
ly air,or dance,probably invented in Sicily, somewhat of
the nature of an English jig; usually marked with the
characters g, or —. It consists of two strains ; the first
of four, and the second of eight, bars or measures.
SICILY, is a large island in the Mediterranean sea,
adjoining to the southern extremity of Italy, and ex¬
tends from latitude 36° 25' to latitude 38° 23', and
from longitude \2° $0' to longitude 160 5' east from
London. Its greatest length 210 miles, breadth J33,
circumference 600; its form triangular, the three an¬
gles being the promontories of Pelorum, Pachynum, and
Lilyboeum, or, as they are now called, the Faro, Capo
Passaro, and Capo Boco. It is divided from Italy by
the straits of Messina, reaching from the tower of Fa¬
ro, which is the most northerly part of the island, to
the Capo dell'' Armt, or the Cape of Arms, the most south¬
ern part of Calabria. These straits, by the Latins cal¬
led Frctum Siculum, by the Italians II Faro di Messina,
and by us the Faro oj Messina, are between 12 and 13
miles over in the broadest places, and in the narrowest
about a mile and a half; insomuch that when Messina
was taken by the Carthaginians, many of the inhabi¬
tants are said to have saved themselves by swimming to
the opposite coast of Italy. Hence has arisen an opi¬
nion that the island of Sicily was originally joined to
the continent, but afterwards separated by an earth¬
quake or some other natural cause. This separation,
however, is reckoned by the most judicious among the
ancients to be fabulous ; and they content themselves
with speaking of it as a thing said to have happened.
Anciently this island was called Sicania, Sicilia, and
Trinacriu or Triquetral the two former it had from the
Hounciliies
and ex:at
History ij.
ri“gtltejL
bulous
ages.
[ 333 ] SIC
Sicani and Siculi, who peopled a considerable part of
the country ; the two latter from its triangular figure.»
Its first inhabitants, according to the most respectable
ancient authors, were the Cyclopes and Lsestrigones,
who are said to have settled in the countries adjoining
to Mount Etna; but of their origin we know nothing,
except what is related by the poets. After them came’
the SicanJ, who called themselves the original inhabi¬
tants of the country ; but several ancient historians in¬
forms us that they came from a country in Spain wa¬
tered by the river Siconus. Diodorus, however, is of
opinion, that the Sicani were the most ancient inhabi¬
tants of this island. He tells us that they were in pos¬
session of the whole, and applied themselves to cultivate
and improve the ground in the neighbourhood of Etna,
which was the most fruitful part of the island : they
built several small towns and villages on the hills to se¬
cure themselves against thieves and robbers ; and were
governed, not by one prince, but each city and district
by its own king. Thus they lived till Etna began to
throw out flames, and forced them to retire to the west¬
ern parts of the island, which they continued to inhabit
in the time of rIhucydides. Some Trojans, after the
destruction of their city, landed in the island, settled
among the Sicani, and built the cities of Eryx and E-
gesta, uniting themselves with them, and taking the
general name of Elymi or Elymsei. They were after¬
wards joined by some Plmcenses, who settled here om
their return from the siege of Troy.
After the Sicani had for many ages enjoyed an un¬
disturbed possession of the whole of Sicily, or such parts
of it as they chose to inhabit, they were visited by the,
Siculi, who were the ancient inhabitants of Ausonia
properly so called ; but being driven out from thence
by the Opici, they tuok refuge in the island of Sicily.
Not being contented with the narrow, bounds allowed
them by the Sicani, they began to encroach upon there
neighbours; upon which a war ensuing, the Sicani were
utterly defeated, and confined to a corner of the island,
the name of which was now changed from Sicania into
that of Sicilia.
About 300 years after the arrival of the Siculi, the
island first began to be known to the Greeks, who esta¬
blished various colonies, and built many cities in diffe¬
rent parts of the island ; and it is only from the time
of their arrival that we have any history of the island.
The fiist of the G reeks that came into Sicily were the
Chaleidians of Euboea, under the conduct of Thucles,
who built Naxus, and a famous altar of Apollo, which,
as Thucydides tells us, was still standing in his time
without the city. The year after, which was, accord¬
ing to Dionysius HaJicarnassensis, the third of the 17th
Olympiad, Archias the Corinthian, one of the Hera-
clidre, laid the foundations of Syracuse,. Seven years
after, a new colony of Chalcidians founded Leontini.
and Catana, after having driven out the Siculi, who in¬
habited that tract. About the same time Lamis, with
a colony from Megara, a city of Achaia, settled on the
river Pantacius, at a place called Trotilum, where his
adventurers lived some time in common with the Chal¬
cidians of Leontini ; hut being driven from thence by
the Leontines, he built the city of Tliapsus, where he
died. Upon his death, the colony left Thapsus ; and
under the conduct of Hyblon king of the Siculi, found¬
ed- Megara Hyblsea, where they resided 245 years, till
they
SiciN
Sicily.
Swin¬
burne's
Travels in
the Two Si
cities,vol.ii
p. 175.
3
Grecian
colonies in
Sicily.
SIC [3
they Were driven out by Gelon tyrant of Syracuse. Du¬
ring their abode at Megara, they sent one Pamilus, yho
■was come from Megara in Achaia, their original city,
to build Selinus. This city was founded about 100
years after the foundation of Megara. Antiphemus
and Entimus, the former a Khodian, the other a Cie-
tan, led each a colony of their countrymen, and jointly
built the city of Gela on a river of the same name, esta¬
blishing in their new settlement the Doric customs,
about 45 years after the founding of Syracuse. I he
inhabitants of Gela founded Agrigentum 108 years al¬
ter their arrival in Sicily, and introduced the same cus¬
toms there. A few years after, Zancle was built by
the pirates of Cumae in Italy 5 but chiefly peopled by
the Chalcidians, Samians, and lonians, who chose rather
to seek new settlements than live under the I ersian
yoke. Some time after, Anaxales, tyrant of Rhegium,
drove out the ancient proprietors •, and, dividing his
lands amongst his followers, called the city Messctna or
Messe?ie, which was the name of his native city in Pelo¬
ponnesus. The city of Ilimera was founded by the
Zancleans under the direction of Eucleides, Simus, and
Sacon j but peopled by the Chalcidians and some Syra¬
cusan exiles, who had been driven out by the contrary
faction.
The Syracusans built Acrae, Chasmense, and Cania-
rina $ the first 70 years, the second 90, and the third
13j, after the foundation of their own city. T.his is
the account which Thucydides, a most judicious and
exact writer, gives us of the various nations, whether
Greeks or Barbarians, who settled in Sicily. Strabo
counts among the ancient inhabitants of Sicily the Mor-
getes, who being driven out of Italy by the Oenotrians,
settled in that part of the island where the ancient city
of Morgantium stood. The Campani, who assumed the
name of Mamertini, that is, invincible warriors, and the
Carthaginians, who settled very early in Sicily, ought
likewise to be counted among the ancient inhabitants of
the island.
Before this period the history of Sicily is blended
with fables, like the early history of almost every other
country. After the settlement of the Greeks in the
island, its various revolutions have been traced from
their several sources by many Writers j but by none with
greater accuracy than Mr Swinburne. From his ac¬
count of his Travels in the Two Sicilies, we have there¬
fore taken the following concise history of this king¬
dom, which will at once gratify such of our readers as
interest themselves in the fate of a generous people
who long struggled in vain for freedom 5 and at the
same time afford them a specimen of the entertainment
they may receive from the very elegant work of the
author.
“ Aristocracy prevailed at first in the Greek settle¬
ments, but soon made way for tyranny j which in its
turn was expelled by democracy. One of the earliest
destroyers of common liberty was Phalaris of Agrigen¬
tum, who reigned 600 years before Christ: his example
was contagious 5 a legion of tyrants sprung up, and not
a commonwealth in the island escaped the lash of an
usurper. Syracuse was most oppressed and torn to
pieces by dissension j as its wealth and preponderance
in the general scale held out a greater temptation than
other cities to the ambition of wicked men. It requires
the combined testimony of historians to enforce our be-
34 1 SIC
lief of its wonderful prosperity, and the no less extract- Sicily, 1
dinary tyranny of some of its sovereigns. These Gre- 1 v—.
cian colonies attained to such excellence in arts and
sciences as emboldened them frequently to vie with the
learned and ingenious in the mother country; nay, often
enabled them to bear away the palm of victory: there
needs no stronger proof of their literary merits than a
bare recital of the names of Archimedes, iheocritus,
Gorgias, and Charondas. _ .
“ But the Sicilian Greeks were not destined to en-Carthagi.
joy the sweets of their situation without molestation, nians con.
Very soon after their arrival* the inhabitants of the qu"^a
neighbouring coast of Africa began to aspire to a shared
of Sicily. Carthage sent large bodies of forces at dif¬
ferent times to establish their power in the island, and
about yco years before the Christian era had made
themselves masters of all the western parts of it. ^ he
Siculi retained possession of the midland country, and
the southern and eastern coasts were inhabited by the
Greeks. _ 5
“ About that time Gelo was chosen prince of Syra-Gdo cbo-
cuse on account of his virtues, which grew still more sen king,
conspicuous after his exaltation : had the example he
set been followed by his successors, the advantages of
freedom w’ould never have been known or wished for by
the Syracusans. The Carthaginians found in him a vi¬
gorous opponent to their project of enslaving Sicily, a
uroject invariably pursued but never accomplished. g
“ Hiero succeeded his brother Gelo, and, contrary Is succeed-
to the usual progression, began his reign by a display
of bad qualities. Sensible of his error, and improved
by experience, he afterwards adopted more equitable
measures. At his death the Syracusans threw' oft the
yoke, and for sixty years revelled in all the joys of
freedom. Their peace was, however, disturbed by the
Athenians and the Carthaginians. The latter plunder¬
ed Agrigentum, and threatened ruin to the rest of the
Grecian states; but a treaty of peace averted that storm.
The Athepians, under pretence of supporting their al¬
lies the people of Segesta, but in reality from a thirst
of dominion, invested Syracuse with a formidable land
and naval armament under the command of Nicias; in
consequence of a rash indigested plan, ill conducted at¬
tacks, and inadequate supplies, their whole host was cut
to pieces or led away into captivity. # 7
“ Syracuse had scarcely time to breathe after her vie-Dionysius
tory ere intestine wars broke out, and raised Dionysius the elder
to supreme command. Avarice, despotism, and crue^‘l0UI1ger.
ty, marked every day of his reign ; but his military en¬
terprises were crowned with constant success. He died
in peace, and bequeathed a powerful sovereignty to a
son of his name tainted with the same and worse vices,
but not endowed with equal capacity and martial abili¬
ty : in such hands the rod of tyranny ceased to be for¬
midable, and the tyrant was driven out of Sicily by the
patriotic party ; but matters were not sufficiently settled
for popular government, and Dionysius resumed the
sceptre for a while, till Timoleon forced him into per- ^
petual exile.” _
Liberty seemed now to be established on a permanen tjrant.
basis ; but in Syracuse such prospects always proved il¬
lusory. Agathocles, a tyrant more inhuman than any
preceding usurper, seized the throne, and deluged tie
country with blood. He was involved in a peri ous
contest with the Carthaginians, who obtained many a
vantages
t
sic
Sicily.
] Thus
igof
1 rus de-
c res the
S linns.
vantages over him, drove his troops from post to post,
J and at last blocked up his capital. In this desperate*
situation, when all foreign helps were precluded, and
hardly a resource remained at home, the genius of A-
gathocles compassed his deliverance by a plan that was
imitated among the ancients by Hannibal, and among
the moderns by the famous Cortes. He embarked with
the flower of his army ; forced his way through innu¬
merable obstacles; landed in Africa; and, having burnt
his fleet, routed the Carthaginians in a pitched battle,
and laid their territory waste. Carthage seemed to be*
on the brink of ruin, and that hour might have marked
her downfal had the Sicilian host been composed of pa¬
triotic soldiers, and not of ungovernable assassins ; dis¬
cord pervaded the victorious camp, murder and riot en¬
sued ; and the tyrant, after beholding his children and
friends butchered before his face, escaped to Sicily, to
meet a death as tragical as his crimes deserved.
Anarchy now raged throughout the island, and every
t 335 1
S I C
Sicily.
His grandson Hieronymus, forsaking this happy line
of politics, and contracting an alliance with Carthage,
fell an early victim to the troubles which his own folly
had excited. Once more, and for the last time, the Sy¬
racusans found themselves in possession of their indepen¬
dence : but the times were no longer suited to such a
system; dissensions gained head, and distracted the pub¬
lic councils. Carthage could not support them, or pre¬
vent Marcellas from undertaking the siege of Syracuse,
immortalized by the mechanical efforts of Archimedes,
and the immensity of the plunder. See Syracuse.
Ihe Sicilians after this relinquished all martial ideas, Sicily con-
and during a long series of generations turned their at- (luercd by
tention solely to the arts of peace and the labours of^^™]
agriculture. Their position in the centre of the Ilo-afterwards
man empire preserved them both from civil and foreign by the Nor-
foes, except in two instances of a servile war. The ra-mans-
pacity of their governors was a more constant and in¬
supportable evil. In this state of apathy and opulence
x* ,. ' , v , i ° -  cvu. xu tins siate or anainy arm opulence
faction wsuj reduced to the necessity of calling in the as- ' Sicily remained down to the 7th century of our era,
Slbtance or rnTOicrn tiowppg • o * i r K s-v TJ,, 1 *   I. i .    '
to
T Ma¬
in
pi
si 1 and
sistance of foreign powers ; among whom Pyrrhus king
of Epirus took the lead, and reduced all parties to some
degree of order and obedience. But ambition'soon
prompted him to invade those rights which he came to
defend ; he cast off the mask, and made Sicily feel un¬
der his sway as heavy a hand as that of its former op¬
pressors ; but the Sicilians soon assumed courage and
strength enough to drive him out of the island.
About this period the Mamertini, whom Mr Swin-
M|lMesU-r’burne-iadignantlv StyIes acrew of miscreants, surprised
ii and Messina, and, after a general massacre of the citizens,
'ssisted established a republican form of government. Their
b.vie Ro-commonwealth became so troublesome a neighbour to
“ the Greeks, that Hiero II. who had been raised to the
chief command at Syracuse in consideration of his supe¬
rior wisdom and warlike talents, found himself necessi¬
tated to form a league with Carthage, in order to de-
stroy this nest of villains. In their distress the Mamer¬
tini implored the assistance of Home, though the senate
had recently punished with exemplary severity one of
their own legions for a similar outrage committed at
-Rliegium. The virtue of the Romans gave way to the
temptation, and the desire of extending their empire be¬
yond the limits of Italy cast a veil over every odious
circumstance attending this alliance. A Roman army
crossed the Faro, relieved Messina, defeated the Car¬
thaginians, and humbled Hiero into an ally of the re¬
public.
s^flrise J!,us begun the first Punic war, which was carried
to* lirst on ^or many years in Sicily with various success. The
Pub. war. genius of Hamilcar Barcas supported the African cause
under numberless disappointments and the repeated
overthrows of his colleagues; at last, finding his exer¬
tions ineffectual, he advised the Carthaginian rulers to
purchase peace at the price of Sicily. Such a treaty
was not likely to be observed longer than want of strength
should curb the animosity of the vanquished party:
when their vigour was recruited, Hannibal son of Ha-
The j p Car easi'y Persuaded them to resume the contest, and
Puni ^?" • ^ years wagetl war in the heart of the Roman ter¬
ritories. Meanwhile Hiero conducted himself with so
much prudence, that he retained the friendship of both
parties, and preserved his portion of Sicily in perfect
tranquillity. He died in extreme old age, beloved and
respected both at home and abroad.
a.
wh
givi
when the Saracens began to disturb its tranquillity.
The barbarous nations of the north had before invaded
and ravaged its coasts, but had not long kept possession.
'Ihe Saracens were more fortunate. In 827 they avail¬
ed themselves of quarrels among the Sicilians to subdue
the country, Palermo was chosen for their capital, and
the standard of Mahomet triumphed about 200 years.
In 1038 George Maniaces was sent by the Greek em¬
peror with a great army to attack Sicily. He made
good his landing, and pushed his conquests with vigour:
his success arose from the valour of some Norman troops,
which were at that time unemployed and ready to sell
their services to the best bidder. Maniaces repaid them
with ingratitude ; and by his absurd conduct gave the
Mussulmans time to breathe, and the Normans a pretext
and opportunity of invading the Imperial dominions in
Italyi Robert and Roger of Hauteville afterwards
conquered Sicily on their own account, not as mercena¬
ries ; for having substantially settled their power on the
continent, they turned their arms against this island in
obedience tb the dictates of zeal and ambition. After
ten years struggle, the Saracens yielded up the rich
prize, and Robert ceded it to his brother Roger, who
assumed the title of Great Earl of Sicily, ruled the state
with wisdom, and ranks deservedly among the greatest
characters in history. He raised himself from the
humble station of a poor younger son of a private gen¬
tleman, to the exalted dignity of a powerful monarch,
by the sole force of his own genius and courage ; he go¬
verned a nation of strangers with vigour and justice,
and transmitted his possessions undisputed to his poste¬
rity. Such an assemblage of great qualities is well in-
titled to our admiration.
He was succeeded by his son Simon, whose reign was Under the
short, and made way for a second son called Roger. In dominion
1127 this prince joined to his Sicilian possessions the o( different
whole inheritance of Robert Guiscard (see Naples, moniUc^*'
N° 23.), and assumed tbe regal style. The greatest
part of his reign was taken up in quelling revolts in Ita¬
ly, but Sicily enjoyed profound peace. In 1154 his
son William ascended the throne, and passed his life in
war and confusion. William II. succeeded his father,
and died without issue. Tancred, though basely born,
was elected his successor, and after him his son William
III. who Was vanquished by Henry of Swabia. During
the-
S I c
Sicily, the troubles that agitated the reign of his son the em-
v-—- peror Frederic, peace appears to have been the lot of
Sicily. A short-lived sedition, and a revolt of the Sa¬
racens, are the only commotions of which we read. I or
greater security, the Saracens were removed to Puglia
400 years after the conquest of Sicily by their ancestors.
Under Conrad and Manfred Sicily remained quiet •, and
from that time the history oi Sicily is related under the
15 article Naples, N° 20, &c.
ts at length At the death of Charles II. of Spain, his spoils be-
eotiquered came an object of furious contention } and at the peace
ulardf ^ l of Utrecht, Sicily was ceded to Victor duke ot Savoy,
who, not many years after, was forced by the emperor
Charles VI. to relinquish that fine island, and take Sar¬
dinia as an equivalent. But as the Spaniards had no
concern in these bargains, they made a sudden attempt
to recover Sicily, in which they failed through the vi¬
gilance of the English admiral Byng. He destroyed
their fleet in 1718, and compelled them to drop their
scheme for a time. In 1734 the Spanish- court resumed
their design with success. The infant Hon Carlos drove
the Germans out, and was crowned king of the two Si¬
cilies at Palermo. When he passed into Spain to take
possession of that crown, he transferred the Sicilian dia¬
dem to his son Ferdinand III. of Sicily, and IV. of
Naples, and it has ever since remained in the posses-
I(j sion of the same family.
Account of Sicily is separated, as we have already observed, from
tlie straits Italy by a narrow strait called theForo of Messina. *1 his
ot Messina. s(rajt stjjj remarkable for the rapidity of its currents
and the irregular ebbing and flowing of the sea, which
sometimes rushes in with such violence as to endanger
ships riding at anchor. Anciently it tvas much more
remarkable for Scylla and Charybdis^ the one a rock,
and the other a whirlpool, between which it was very
dangerous to steer, and concerning which so many tables
have been related by the ancients. Scylla is a rock on
the Italian side, opposite to Cape Pylorus, which runs
out into the sea on the Sicilian side. Mr Brydone in¬
forms us, that the navigation of the straits is not even
yet performed without danger. He also informs us, that
the noise of the current which sets through the straits
may be heard for several miles, like the roaring of some
large impetuous river confined between narrow banks.
In many places the water rose into whirlpools and ed¬
dies, which are dangerous to shipping. The current set
exactly for the rock of Scylla, and would certainly have
carried any thing thrown into it against that point. Our
author, however, is by no means of opinion that the
strait is so dangerous as the ancients have represented
it; though he thinks that the strait is now probably
much wider than formerly, which may have diminished
the danger. There are many small rocks, which show
their heads near the base of the large ones. These are
probably the dogs described by the ancient poets as
howling round Scylla. The rock is near 200 feet high,
and has a kind of a castle or fort built on its summit
with a town called Scylla or Sciglio, containing 300 or
400 inhabitants on its south side, which gives the title
of prince to a Calabrese iamily.
The following account ot these rocks and whirlpools
is given by the celebrated naturalist Spallanzani. He in-
dorms us, that Scylla is a lofty rock, 12 miles Irom Mes-
*sina, rising almost perpendicular from the sea on the
SIC
shore of Calabria, beyond which is the small city of the Sicily
same name. Though there was scarcely any wind, Spal- y—
lanzani heard, about two miles distant from the rock, a
noise like a confused barking of dogs, and on a nearer
approach he discovered the cause. This rock contains
a number of caverns, one of the largest of which is call¬
ed by the people Dragara. The waves, when in the
least agitated, rushing into these caverns, break, dash,
throw up frothy bubble®, and thus occasion these vari¬
ous and multiplied sounds. He then perceived with
how much truth and resemblance of nature Homer and
Virgil, in their personifications ot Scylla, had pourtray-.
ed this scene, by describing the monster they drew as
lurking in the darkness of a vast cavern, surrounded by
ravenous barking mastiffs, together with wolves, to in¬
crease the horror.
Though the tide is almost imperceptible in the open
parts of the Mediterranean, it is very strong in the strait
of Messina, owing to the narrowness of the channel, and
regulated by the periodical elevations and depressions
of the water. Where the current is accompanied by a
wind blowing the same way, vessels have nothing to
fear, since they either do not enter the strait, both the
wind and stream opposing them j or, if both are favour¬
able, enter on full sail, and pass with such rapidity that
they seem to fly over the water. When the current
runs from south to north, and the north wind blows hard
at the same time, the ship is resisted by the opposite cur¬
rent, and impelled by two forces in contrary directions,
is dashed on the rock of Scylla, or driven on the neigh¬
bouring sands. The current, where it is strongest, does
not extend over the whole strait, but winds through it
in intricate meanders, with the course of which the sai¬
lors stationed to give strangers assistance are well ac¬
quainted, and thus able to guide the ship in such a man¬
ner as to avoid it. Should the pilot, however, confid¬
ing in his own skill, neglect such assistance, he would
run the most imminent risk of being shipwrecked. In
this conflict of the waters, it is useless to throw the line
to discover the depth of the bottom, the violence of the
current frequently carrying the lead almost on the sur¬
face of the water. The strongest cables, though some
feet in circumference, break like small cords. Every
expedient afforded by the art of navigation, is useless
here. The only means of avoiding being dashed against
the rocks, or driven upon the sands in the midst ot this
perilous contest of the winds and waves, is to have re¬
course to the skill and courage of the Messinese sta¬
men.
Charybdis is distant from the shore of Messina about
750 feet, and is called by the people of the country Ctf-
lofaro, not from the agitation of the waves, but horn
TcxXo; and <r*ces, beautiful tower, from the lighthouse
erected near it for the guidance of vessels. \\ ben the cur¬
rent sets in from the north, the pilots call it the descend¬
ing rerna, o^ current j and when it runs from the south,
the ascending rema. The current ascends or descends
at the rising or setting of the moon, and continues for
six hours. In the interval between each ascent or de¬
scent, there is a calm which lasts at least 15 minutes,
but not longer than an hour. Afterwards, at the rising
or setting of the moon, the current enters from the
north, making various angles of incidence with the shore,
and at last reaches the C’alofaro. This delay sometimes
continues
[ 336 ]
S 1 C t 337 1
continues two hours ; sometimes it immediately falls in- among them
tn rlip Iva ntarn * und flion ovr  i • .°
v~J to the Calofaro ; and then experience regards it as a
certain indication of had weather.
When Spallanzani observed Charybdis from the shore
it appeared like a group of tumultuous waters, which
group as he approached became more extensive and
more agitated. He was carried to the edge, where he
stopped some time to make the requisite observations;
and was then convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt’
that what he saw was by no means a vortex or whirl¬
pool.
Though he was convinced that there was no gulf
undei the Calofaro, as otherwise there would have been
a whirlpool, which would have carried down into it the
floating substances ; he determined to sound the bottom
with a plummet, and found its greatest depth did not
exceed 500 feet. He was also informed, to his great
surprise, that beyond the Calofaro, towards the middle
of the straight, the depth was double.
C\ lien, the wind and current are contrary to each
other, and both in their greatest violence, the swelling
and dashing of the waves within the Calofaro is much
stronger, more impetuous, and more extensive. It then
contains three or four small whirlpools, or even more
according to the greatness of its extent and violence. If
at this time small vessels are driven into the Calofaro by
the current or the wind, they are seen to whirl round,
rock, and plunge, but are never drawn down into the
vortex. They only sink when filled with water, by
the waves beating over them. When vessels of a larger
size are forced into it, whatever wind they have they
cannot extricate themselves ; their sails are useless ; and
after haying been for some time tossed about by the
waves, if they are not assisted by the pilots of the coun¬
try, who know how to bring them out of the course of
the current, they are furiously driven upon the neigh¬
bouring shore of the Lanterna, where they are wrecked,
and the greater part of their crews perish in the waves!
If a ship be extricated from the fury of Charybdis,
and carried by a strong southerly wind along the strait
towards the northern entrance, it will indeed pass out
safely ; but should it meet with a wind in a nearly op¬
posite direction, it would become the sport of both these
winds, and unable to advance or recede, be driven in
a middle Course between their two directions, that is to
say, lull upon the rock of Scylla, if it be not immediately
assisted by the pilots. It is likewise observed, that in
these hurricanes a land wind frequently rises, which de¬
scends from a narrow pass in Calabria, "and increases the
force with which the ship is impelled towards the rock.
Thus, the saying which became proverbial among the
ancients;—that “ he who endeavours to avoid Charyb¬
dis, dashes upon Scylla,” is, in a great measure, true.
. I’1 ^ie straits, Mr Brydone informs us, a most surpri¬
sing phenomenon is to be observed. In the heat of sum¬
mer, after the sea and air have been much agitated,
there appears in the heavens over the straits a great va¬
riety of singular forms, some at rest and others moving
with great velocity. These forms, in proportion as the
light increases, seem to become more aerial, till at last,
some time before sunrise, they totally disappear. The
Sicilians represent this as the most beautiful sight in na¬
ture. Leonti, one of the best Sicilian writers, says,
that the heavens appear crowded with a variety of ob¬
jects, such as palaces, woods, gardens, &c. besides the
figures of men and other animals that are seen in motion
Vol. XIX. Part I. |
Sieih
S I C
. Some treatises have been written con¬
cerning this phenomenon ; but nothing satisfactory has
been delivered concerning its cause.
Though Sicily lies in a warm climate, the air is’/
healthful, be.ng refreshed with sea-breezes on every side. Sd pra.
it has at all times been remarkably fertile ; but the eraduce,
of its greatest prosperity was from the siege of Syracuse
by the Athenians to the Carthaginian conquests. Then W'atkiu’s
and long after it supplied with grain, in years of scar-
City, all the countries upon the Mediterranean except stS-
Lgypt and the coasts of Asia, and Rome and Carthage tend, Italy
continually. Even now, under all the impediments 0fS*%, 4>c.
superstition and bad government, its productions are
m quantity and quality, the best in Europe. Of the
Vegetable are grain, wines, oil, fruits, tobacco, mulber¬
ry trees for the silkworm, cotton, medicinal roots and
sugar canes. The last of these flourish near Avola and
1 w ' hey are of an inferior quality to those of
the West Indies, but their sugar is sweeter than any
other. The animal production is similar to that of
Italy, but the horned cattle are a smaller breed. The
coasts abound with fish, particularly with tunney and
anchovies; the export of which forms a very lucrative
branch of commerce. There are mines of silver, copper
and lead, but none are worked. Near Palma are beds
of the best sulphur; at the mouth of the river Giaretta
is found a yellow amber, preferable to that of the Bal¬
tic : and in every part of the island quarries of marbles,
that have furnished materials for all the noble edifices of
Tlie most beautiful are in the neighbourhood
of 1 alermo, particularly the yellow, and those that re¬
semble the verde antique, porphyry, and lapis lazuli.
J he population of the island in 1815, amounted to
1 >655,000 souls ; not as much again as the single city
of Syracuse formerly contained. ^ if.
Here are several rivers and good springs ; but few of Rive?* and
the rivers are navigable, having but a short course, and
descending precipitately from the mountains. The chief
are the Bantera, the Jaretta, and the Salso ; of which,
the two former run from west to east, and the third from
north (,0 south.
Of the mountains in this island the most noted is
Mount Etna, now called Monte Gibelfo, or Mon gibe!lo,
a volcano whose eruptions have often proved fatal to the’
neighbouring country. See Etna.
Were the Sicilians a cultivated people, among whom c r-9
those arts were encouraged which not only promotetionandoe-
the wealth and comfort of a nation, but also exercise the verninent.
nooler faculties and extend the views of mankind, the
circumstances of their government are such, that "it Mem?ir*
might gradually be improved into a free ‘ relat™* to
. - r .   constitution : Naples and
but to this the ignorance, superstition, and poverty, oiSicily.
the people seem to be invincible obstacles. The mo¬
narchical power in Sicily is fiir from being absolute;
and the parliament claims a share of public authority
independently of the will of the king, deduced from a
compact made between Roger and the Norman barons
after the expulsion of the Saracens. This claim is de¬
nied by the king, who wishes the nobles to consider
their privileges as derived solely from his favour. Hence
the government is in a situation which greatly resembles
that of our own and the other kingdoms of Europe in
the feudal times; there are continual jealousies and op¬
positions between the king and the barons, of which an
enlightened people might easily take advantage, and ob¬
tain that share in the constitution which might secure
U u them
Sicily.
geon.
y
to
Inquisition.
SIC [ 338 ]
them from future oppression. In these disputes, the Caraecioli.
king has the advantage at least of power, if not ot right j
and several works, in which the claims of the Sicilian
barons have been asserted, were publicly burned not
many years ago.
As the sovereign holds his court at Naples, Sicily is
governed by a viceroy, who is appointed only for three
ears, though at the end of that term his commission is
sometimes renewed. He lives in great state, and, as
the representative of the king, his power is very consi¬
derable. He presides in all the courts and departments
of government, and is commander in chief ot all the
forces : he calls or dissolves the parliament when he
pleases 5 and by him all orders, laws, and sentences, must
be signed ; and bis office is far from being desirable, as
it generally renders him the object either ot the jealousy
of the court of Naples, or of the hatred of the Sicilians.
The parliament consists of the nobles, the bishops,
and abbots, and the representatives ol 43 cities, which
are immediately subject to the crown. Those cities
which are subject to any of the nobles send no members
to the parliament ; in these the king has not much au¬
thority, and derives little advantage from them. Ac¬
cording to the laws, the parliament ought to be assem¬
bled at the end of every three years : but the govern¬
ment pays little attention to this rule. The common
people are in general very much attached to the nobles,
and are inclined to take their part in all their differen¬
ces with the court: but the magistrates and principal
inhabitants of the cities which belong to these feudal
lords, wish to get rid of their authority, and imagine
that they should be less oppressed, if immediately sub¬
ject to the king : these inclinations are not disagreeable
to the court, and are encouraged by most of the law¬
yers, who are of great service to government in contest¬
ing the privileges of the nobles. Many of these privi¬
leges are now abridged ; and the power of the barons,
with respect to the administration of justice in their do¬
mains, was very properly limited by the viceroy Ca-
raccioli, in the year 1785. The government of this
nobleman was very beneficial to Sicily, as he, in a great
measure, cleared the island of the banditti that used to
infest it, and made several excellent regulations tor the
establishment of social order and personal security. He
deserves the thanks of every well-wisher to mankind lor
having abolished the court of inquisition, which had
been established in this country by Ferdinand the Ca¬
tholic, and made dependent on the authority ot the
grand inquisitor of Spain. Its last auto da fe was held
in the year 1724, when two persons were burned. At
length Charles III. rendered it independent of the Spa¬
nish inquisitor, and abridged its power, by forbidding it
to make use of the torture, and to inflict public punish¬
ments. The Marchese Squillace, and his successor the
Marchese Tanucci, were both enemies to the hierarchy j
and, during their viceroyalties, took care to appoint sen¬
sible and liberal men to the office of inquisitor : the last
of whom was Ventimiglia, a man of a most humane and
amiable character, who heartily wished for the abolition
of this diabolical court, and readily contributed toward
it. While he held the office of inquisitor, he always
endeavoured to procure the acquittal of the accused; and
when he could succeed no other way, would pretend
some informality in the trial, The total annihilation of
this instrument of the worst of tyranny was reserved tor
Sicily
S
Sida.
S I D
A priest being accused to the inquisition,
dragged out of his house ami thrown into the dun-
was condemned ; hut, on account of infor¬
mality, and a violation of justice in the trial, he appeal-' '
ed to the viceroy, who appointed a committee of jurists
to examine the process. The inquisitor refused to ac¬
knowledge the authority of this commission j pretending
that to expose the secrets of the holy office, and to sub¬
mit its decisions to the examination of lay judges, would
be so inconsistent with his duty, that he would see the Jt
inquisition abolished rather than consent to it. Caracci-abolished
oli took him at his word, and procured a royal mandate^ 9arae*
by which the holy office was at once annihilated. He110'1"
assembled all the nobility, judges, and bishops, on the
27th of March 1782, in the palace of the inquisition,
and commanded the king’s order to he read; after
which he took possession of the archives, and caused alt
the prisons to he set open : in these were at that time
only two prisoners, who had been condemned to per¬
petual confinement for witchcraft. The papers rela¬
ting to the finances were preserved ; hut all the rest
were publicly burned. The possessions of the holy office
were assigned to the use of churches and charitable in¬
stitutions : but the officers then belonging to it retained
their salaries during their lives. The palace itself is
converted into a customhouse, and the place where he- \
reties were formerly roasted alive for the honour of the
Catholic faith, is now changed into a public garden.
The cognizance of offences against orthodoxy is com¬
mitted to the bishops : hut they cannot cite any one
to appear before them without permission from the vice¬
roy ; neither can they confine any person to a solitary
prison, nor deny him the privilege of writing to his
friends, and conversing freely with his advocate. The
nobility are so numerous in this island, that Labat says
it is paved with noblemen. The general assembly of
parliament is composed of 66 archbishops, bishops, ab¬
bots, and priors, which form the Bracchio ecclesiastico.
Fifty-eight princes, 27 dukes, 37 marquisses, 27 counts,
one viscount, and 79 barons, form the militaire j and
the demaniale consists of 43 representatives of free towns.
Out of each bracchio four deputies are chosen to con¬
duct public business. The government was new-model¬
led while the British forces occupied the island 5 but
the alterations introduced have since fallen to the
ground. The government has resumed its old course,
and the noblemen who supported the reform have been
banished. See Bussell’s Tour, 1817.
SICINIUS Dentatus, a tribune of the people,
lived a little after the expulsion of the kings from Rome.
He was in 1 20 battles and skirmishes,besides single com¬
bats, in all of which he came off conqueror. He served
under nine generals, all of whom triumphed by hi&
means. In these battles he received 45 wounds in the
forepart of his body, and not one in his back. The se¬
nate made him great presents, and he was honoured with
the name of the Roman Achilles.
SICYOS, a genus of plants belonging to the class of
monoecia, and to the order of syngenesia ) and in the
natural system arranged under the 34th order, Cucur-
bitacece. See Botany Index.
SI DA, Yellow or Indian Mallow, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of monadelpbia, and to the order
of polyandria ; and in the natural system ranging under
the 37th order, Cohnnniferce. See Botany Index.
SIDDEJW
8 1 D [3
SI13I3EE, 01 Sedee, an Arabic title, by wliicii the
Abyssinians or Habashys are always distinguished in tiie
courts of Hindostan ; where, being in great repute for
firmness and fidelity, they are generally employed as
commanders of forts or in posts of great trust. 1
SIDEREAL year. See Astronomy Index.
SIBERIA, in Naturalnistory,\\K old name of a genus
of crystals, used to express those altered in their figure
by particles of iron. These are of a rhomboidal figure
and composed only of six planes. Of this genus there
are four known species, i. A colourless, pellucid, and
thin one ; found in considerable quantities among the
iron ores of the forest of Dean in Gloucestershire, and
m several other places. 2. A dull, thick, and brown
one; not uncommon in the same places with the for,
mer. And, 3. A black and very glossy kind, a fossil of
great beauty ; found in the same place with the others,
as also in Leicestershire and Sussex.
SIDERII E, a substance supposed by Meyer to be
a new metal ; but according to Bergman and Kirwan
it is nothing else than a natural combination of phos¬
phoric acid with iron.
. SIDERITIS, Iron-wort j a genus of plants belong-
ing to the class of didynamia, and to the order of gym-
nospermia ; and in the natural system ranging under the
42d order, Vcrticillatce. See Botany Index.
SIDEROXYLON, Iron-wood j a genus of plants
belonging to the class of pentandria, and to the order of
monogynia ; and in the natural system ranging under
the 53d order, Dumosce. See Botany Index.
SIDNEY, Sir Philip, was born, as is supposed, at
1 enshurst in Kent in the year 1554 : His father was
Sir Henry Sidney, an Irish gentleman, and his mother
Mary the eldest daughter of John Dudley duke of Nor¬
thumberland. He was sent when very young to Christ¬
church college at Oxford, but left the university at 17
to set out on his travels. After visiting France, Ger¬
many, Hungary, and Italy, he returned to England in
1575, and was next year sent by Queen Elizabeth as
her ambassador to Rodolph emperor of Germany. On
his return he visited Don John of Austria, governor of
the Netherlands by whom he was received with ^reat
respect. In 1579, when Queen Elizabeth seemed on
the point of concluding her long projected marriage
with the duke of Anjou, Sir Philip wrote her a letter,
in which he dissuaded her from the match with unusual
elegance of expression, as well as force of reasoning.
About this time a quarrel with the earl of Oxford oc¬
casioned his withdrawing from court j during which re¬
tirement he is supposed to have written his celebrated
romance called Arcadia.
*n i585, after the queen’s treaty with the United
States, he was made governor of Flushing and master of
the horse. Here he distinguished himself so much both
>y his courage and conduct, that his reputation rose to
the highest pitch. He was named, it is pretended, by
t ie republic ot Poland as one of the competitors for that
crown, and might even have been elected had it not
been for the interference of the queen. But his illustri¬
ous career was soon terminated ; for in 1586 he was
wounded at the battle of Zutphen, and carried to Arn-
beim, where he soon after died. His body was brought
to London, and buried in St Paul’s cathedral. He is
described by the writers of that age as the most perfect
model of an accomplished gentleman that .could be forni-
59 ]
S I D
ed even by the wanton imagination of poetry or fic¬
tion. Virtuous conduct, polite conversation, heroic va¬
lour, and elegant erudition, all concurred to render him
the ornament and delight of the English court: and as
the credit which he enjoyed with the queen and the
earl of Leicester was wholly employed in the encourage¬
ment of genius and literature, his praises have been trans¬
mitted with advantage to posterity. No person was so
Jow as not to become an object of his humanity. After
the battle of Zutphen, while he was lying on the field
mangled with wounds, a bottle of water was brought
bim to relieve bis thirst ; but observing a soldier near
him in a like miserable condition, he said, This man's
necessity is still greater than mine ; and resigned to him
the bottle of water. Besides bis Arcadia, be wrote se¬
veral smaller pieces both in prose and verse, which have
been published.
Sidney, Algernon, was the second son of Robert
earl of Leicester, and of Dorothy eldest daughter of tb-e
earl of Northumberland. He was born about the year
1617. During the civil wars he took part against the
king, and distinguished himself as a colonel in the army
of the parliament. He was afterwards appointed one
r* tv" • f , j 1 ^ • 1 * visa u icu U11U
oi King Charles s judges, but declined appearing in that
court. During the usurpation of Cromwell, Sidney
who was a violent republican, retired to the country’
and spent bis time in writing those discourses on govern¬
ment which have been so deservedly celebrated. After
the death of the Protector, he again took part in the
public transactions of bis country, and was abroad on an
embassy to Denmark when King Charles was restored.
Cpon this he retired to Hamburgh, and afterwards to
rranefort, where be resided till 1677, when he return¬
ed to England and obtained from the king a pardon.
It has been affirmed, but the story deserves no credit,
that during bis residence abroad King Charles hired ruf¬
fians to assassinate him. After his return he made re¬
peated attempts to procure a seat in parliament, but all
of them proved unsuccessful. After the intention of the
commons to seclude the duke of York from the throne
bad been defeated by the sudden dissolution of parlia¬
ment,^ Sidney joined with eagerness the councils of Rus¬
sel, Essex, and Monmouth, who had resolved to oppose
the duke’s succession by force of arms. Frequent meet¬
ings were held at London ; while, at the same time, a
set of subordinate conspirators, who were not, however,
admitted into their confidence, met and embraced the
most desperate resolutions. Keiling, one of these men,
discovered the whole conspiracy j and Algernon Sidney,
together with his noble associates, was immediately
thrown into prison, and no art was left unattempted in
oulei to involve them in the guilt ol the meaner conspi¬
rators. 1
Howard, an abandoned nobleman, witliout a single
spark of virtue or honour, was the only witness against
Sidney; but as the law required two, bis discourses on
government, found unpublished in bis closet, were con¬
strued into treason, and declared equivalent to another
wdtness. It was in vain for Sidney to plead that pa¬
pers were no legal evidence ; that it could not be pro¬
ved they were written by him ; and that if they were
they contained nothing treasonable. The defence was
overruled ; be was declared guilty, condemned, and exe¬
cuted ! His attainder was reversed in the first year of
King William.
U u 2 He
S I D
[ 340 ]
S I E
He was a man of extraordinary courage 5 steady even
to obstinacy } of a sincere but rough and boisterous tem¬
per. Though he professed his belief in the Christian
religion, he was an enemy to an established church, and
even, according to Burnet, to every kind of public wor¬
ship. In his principles he was a zealous republican :
government was always his favourite study; and his es¬
says on that subject are a proof of the progress which
he made.
SI DON, in Ancient Geography, a city of Phoenicia
in Asia, famous in Scripture for its riches, arising from
the extensive commerce carried on by its inhabitants.
Heavy judgments were denounced against the Sido-
nians on account of their wickedness, which were ac¬
complished in the time of Ochus king of Persia : for
that monarch having come against them with an army
on account of their rebellion, the city was betrayed by
its king ; upon which the wretched inhabitants were
seized with despair; they set fire to their houses, and
40,000 with their w'ives and children, perished in the
flames.
This city is now called Saicle, and, according to Mr
Bruce’s account, not only its harbour is filled up with
sand, but the pavement of the ancient city stood feet
lou'er than the ground on which the present city stands.
Yolney describes it as an ill-built dirty city. Its length
along the sea-shore is about 600 paces, and its breadth
150. At the north-west side of the town is the castle,
which is built in the sea itself, 80 paces from the main
land, to which it is joined by arches. To the west of
this castle is a shoal 15 feet high above the sea, and
about 200 paces long. The space between this shoal
and the castle forms the road, but vessels are not safe
there in bad weather. The shoal, which extends along
the town, has a bason inclosed by a decayed pier. This
was the ancient port; but it is so choked up by sand,
that boats alone can enter its mouth near the castle.
Fakr-el-din, emir of the Druses, destroyed all these lit¬
tle ports from Bairout to Acre, by sinking boats and
stones to prevent the Turkish ships from entering them.
The bason of Saide, if it w’ere emptied, might contain
20 or 25 small vessels. On the side of the sea, the town
is absolutely without any wall; and that which encloses
it on the land side is no better than a prison-wall. The
whole, artillery does not exceed six cannons, and these
are without carriages and gunners. The garrison scarce¬
ly amounts to 100 men. The water comes from the ri¬
ver Aoula, through open canals, from which it is fetch¬
ed by the women. These canals serve also to water the
orchards of mulberry and lemon trees.
Saide is a considerable trading town, and is the chief
emporium of Damascus and the interior country. The
French, who are the only Europeans to be found there,
have a consul, and five or six commercial houses. Their
exports consist in silks, and particularly in raw and spun
cottons. The manufacture of this cotton is the princi¬
pal art of the inhabitants, the number of whom may be
estimated at about 5000. It is 45 miles west from Da¬
mascus. E. Long. 36. 5- Lat. 37.
SIDES Georgium, in Astronomy, a new primary
planet, discovered by Dr Herschel in the year 1781.
By most foreign, and even by some British philosophers,
it is known by the name of Herschel, in honour ot the
discoverer. As the- other planets are distinguished by
marks or characters, the planet Herschel is distinguish¬
ed by an H, the initial letter of the discoverer’s name,
and a cross to show that it is a Christian planet. See
Astronomy Index.
SIEGE, in the art of war, is to surround a fortified
place with an army, and approach it by passages made
in the ground, so as to be covered against the fire of the
place.
SIEGEN, a town of Germany in Wetteravia, with
a castle and the title of a principality, which it gives
to a branch of the house of Nassau. It is seated on a
river of the same name, in E. Long. 8. 5. N. Lat. 50.
53-
SIENNA, a large, ancient, and celebrated city of
Tuscany in Italy ; capital of the Siennese, with an
archbishop’s see, a famous university, and a citadel. It
is about four miles in circumference, and surrounded
with an old wall. The metropolitan church is much
esteemed by travellers; and though it is a Gothic struc¬
ture, the architecture is admirable. It is built with
black and white marble, and the pavement is of mosaia
work. The town is adorned with a great number of
palaces, fountains, and superb churches, as also a mag¬
nificent hospital. The great area is round, and the
houses about it are of the same height, supported by
piazzas, under which people may walk in hot or rainy
weather ; in the middle is a bason, which can be filled
rvith water at any time, to represent a sea fight with
small vessels. The Italian language is taught here with
such purity, that a great many foreigners frequent it on
that account. It is seated on three eminences, in a fer¬
tile soil, in E. Long. 11. II. N. Lat. 43. 10.
SIENNESE, a duchy in Italy ; bounded on the
north by the Florentino, on the south by the Mediter-
ranenn sea and the duchy of Castro, on the east by the
Perugino and Orvietano, and on the west by the Flo¬
rentino and the Tuscan sea ; being about 55 miles in
length, and as much in breadth. The soil is pretty fer¬
tile, especially in mulberry trees, which feed a great
number of silk-worms ; and there are several mineral
springs. Sienna is the capital town.
SIERllA LEONA, a large country on the west coast
of Africa, which some extend fiom the Grain Coast
on the south-east to Cape Verga or Vega on the north¬
west, i. e. between 70 and io° N. Lat. Others, how¬
ever, confine the country betwreen Cape Verga and Cape
Tagrin. There runs through it a great river of the
same name, of which the source is unknown but the
mouth is in longitude 12. 30. west, lat. 8. 5. north, and
is nine miles wide. The climate and soil of this tract of
country appear to be, on both sides of the river, among
the best in Africa, or at least the most favourable to
European constitutions. The heat is much the same as
that of the West Indies ; but on the higher ground?
there is a cool sea breeze, and in the mountainous parts
the air is very temperate. According to Lieutenant
Matthew, “ Sierra Leona, if properly cleared and cul¬
tivated, would be equal insalubrity and superior in pro¬
duce to any of the islands in the West Indies;” and
others have affirmed, that “ the air is better for a man’s
health than in many places of Europe.” These advan¬
tages of climate induced the English to establish a facto¬
ry at Sierra Leona ; but they chose not the most health¬
ful situation. For the benefit of a spring of good water
they fixed their residence in a low valley, which is often
overspread with mists and noisome vapours, while the
Sidus
Sierra.
air
S 1 E [ .
air is clear and serene on the summits of the hills, to
-J which water trom the well might easily be carried.
Within the district occupied by this colony are the
Foulahs, who are in general of a tawney complexion,
though many of them are entirely hlack. They lead a
wandering life, and roam about the country with large
droves of cows, sheep, goats, and horses. They are
much praised by travellers for their hospitality; nor is
their humanity in other respects, less commendable j for,
if one of their countrymen have the misfortune to fall
into slavery, the rest join stock to redeem him. Ele¬
phants are so numerous in the country of the Foulahs,
that they are frequently seen in droves of 200 together.
The people are very dexterous at hunting them, and
other wild beasts ; from which they derive their princi¬
pal articles of trade.
The animal productions of Sierra Leona are lions,
from which it has its name} leopards, hyaenas, musk
cats, and many kinds of weasels } the japanzee or chim¬
panzee, a species of simia, which has a still more stri¬
king resemblance to the human figure than even the
ouran outang; porcupines, wild hogs, squirrels, and
antelopes. Besides these, which are natives of the
country, oxen thrive in it, and even grow fat} asses
too are employed in labour, and do not suffer by the
climate ; but sheep suffer much from the heat, change
their wool into hair, grow lean and increase very little :
while the hardy goat is here as prolific and large as in
any other country. Of the birds which frequent the
woods ol Sierra Leona we can give no perfect account.
A species of crane is mentioned as easily tamed ; com¬
mon poultry multiply fast} ducks thrive well, but geese
and turkeys seem not to agree with the climate. Tur¬
tles of all kinds are very common, and sometimes of a
large size. Crocodiles or alligators of a non-descript
species have been found ten or twelve feet in length, and
lizards of six difi'erent species. Snakes, which are al¬
most innumerable, haunt the houses in the night in
search of poultry; and one was observed which mea¬
sured 18 feet, but was happily found not to be venom¬
ous. fishes are in great variety both in the sea and in
the rivers. Besides the whale, the shark, stinging ray,
and porpoise, there are eels, horse-mackarel, tarpoons,
cavillos, mullets, snappers, yellow-tails, old-maids, ten-
pounders, and some other fishes } all of which, except
the eels and ten-pounders, are esteemed fine eating. Oy¬
sters are found in great abundance, and another shell¬
fish, which the natives eat. Among the zoophytes,
none is more worthy of notice than the common sponge,
which covers all the sandy beaches of the river, parti¬
cularly on the Bui lorn shore, and would fetch a high
pice in Great Britain.
Of the numerous vegetable productions of Sierra
Leona, our limits will permit us only to mention the
following. Rice, which is the plant chiefly cultivated,
as the natives subsist almost entirely upon it, grows both
»n the high and low grounds. It prospers indeed best
m swamps, though the grain is better in a drier soil.
jNext to rice the cassada constitutes the chief food of the
inhabitants, and is cultivated with great care. The
country likewise produces yams, various kinds of po¬
tatoes, eddoes, or the arum esculentum. Oil-palm, plan¬
tains, and bananas ; papaw, guava, oranges and limes}
pompions, melons, and cucumbers 5 pine-apples, pigeon-
peas, which dressed like English peas are a good pulse}
1 ] S I E
maize or Indian corn ; millet, cocoa-nut trees; ockra;
the tallow-tree } a great variety of tamarinds } different
kinds of fig-trees and plums ; a kind of fruit resembling
gi apes, but moie acid and acrid } cherries resembling a
fine nectarine in taste ; a species of the bread fruit-tree}
the cream fruit, so called because when wounded it
yields a fine white juice resembling sugar or the best
milk, of which the natives are very fond ; the mala-
guetta pepper, or grains of paradise ; a new species of
nutmeg, but whether so good as the common sort has
not yet been ascertained; a new species of the Peruvian
bark, which it is hoped will prove as useful as the other }
and cola, a fruit highly esteemed by the natives for tb#
same virtues with that bark } the riemus, cassia, dye¬
stuffs, and gums, of great value; cotton, tobacco, and
sugai-canes, which, it is thought, would thrive exceed¬
ingly tvell under proper cultivation.
Considering the ardour of the •maritime nations of Eu-
lope for settling colonies in distant regions of the globe,
it is somewhat surprising that a climate so temperat*
and a soil so productive as that of Sierra Leona did not
long ago attract their notice. But it was left to he co¬
lonized for a better purpose than that which first drew
the natives ot Europe to the West Indies and the Ame¬
rican continent. Being thinly inhabited, Sierra Leona
appeared to some benevolent gentlemen in England a
place where, without incommoding the natives, a suffi¬
cient quantity of ground might be bought on which to
settle a great number of free negroes, who in 1786
swarmed in London in idleness and want. About 400
of these wretches, together with 60 whites, mostly wo¬
men of had character and in ill health, were accordingly
sent out, at the charge of government, to Sierra Leona.,
Necessity, it was hoped, would make them industrious
and oideily; and Captain Ihomson of the navy, who
conducted them, obtained, for their use, a grant of land
to his majesty from King lorn, the neighbouring chief,
and afterwards irom Naimbanna, the king of the coun¬
try. Ihe colony, however, soon went to ruin ; but the
land which they occupied, being about 20 miles square,
his majesty was enabled to grant by act of parliament
to another colony founded on better principles and for a
still nobler purpose.
The most intelligent members of that society, which
laboured so strenuously to procure an abolition of the
slave-trade, justly concluded that the natives of Guinea
would reap very little benefit from the attainment of
their object, unless they should be taught the principles
of religion and the arts of civil life, which alone can
render them really free, conceived the plan of a colony
at Sierra Leona to be settled lor the truly generous pur¬
pose of civilizing the Africans, by maintaining with
them a friendly intercourse, and a commerce in every
thing but men. Ibis plan could not be carried into
effect but at a very great expence. Subscriptions were
therefore opened upon rational and equitable terms, and
a sum deemed sufficient was speedily raised. An act of
parliament was passed in favour of the subscribers, by
which they were incorporated by the denomination of
the Sierra Leoria Company; and in pursuance of that
act they held their first meeting at London in October
J791*
The directors having stated the natural advantages
of Sierra Leona, and its present miserable condition,
observed, that they had not merely to establish a eom-
mejscia!
S I E [ 342 ] S I E
Sierra, mercial Factory, but that, to introduce civilization, cul-
-—v—tivation, and a sate trade, the company must provide
For the security of the persons and property of the co¬
lonists. The directors therefore resolved, that three or
Four vessels should sail at once, with such a number oF
people as would be able to protect and assist each other j
with goods both For trade and For the supply of the co¬
lony. Accordingly several vessels sailed, having on
board a council For the government oF the colony and
the management of the company’s affairs ; a number of
artificers and other servants of the company ; some sol¬
diers, and a very few English settlers. The directors
were laudably cautious in the choice of colonists. They
admitted into the society no white man of bad charac¬
ter, or who was not a declared enemy to the slave-trade;
and as the chief object of their enterprise was the civili¬
zation of the natives, it was with great propriety that
they chose more than three-fourths of their settlers from
the free negroes in Nova Scotia, who had borne arms
for the British government during the American war.
The superihtendant and council were particularly in¬
structed to secure to all blacks and people of colour, at
Sierra Leona, equal rights and equal treatment, in all
respects, with whites. They were to be tried by jury,
as well as others; and the council was desired to allot to
the blacks employments suited to their present abilities,
and to afford them every opportunity of cultivating their
talents. All practicable means of maintaining subordi¬
nation were directed to be used ; and the council was
especially instructed to promote religion and morals, by
supporting public worship and the due observance of
the Sabbath, and by the instruction of the people, and
the education of children. But no person was to be
prevented from performing or attending religious wor¬
ship in whatever place, time, or manner, he might think
fit, or from peaceably inculcating his own religious opi¬
nions. Old ers were given in choosing the scite of a
town, to consider health as the first object; and the
first town was directed to be called Free Town. Arti¬
cles for building and cultivation were sent out, besides
the cargoes for prosecuting the company’s commerce ;
and schools for reading, writing, and accounts, were
ordered to be set up for the purpose of instructing the
children of such natives as should be willing to put them
under the company’s care.
The leading object of the company was to substitute,
for that disgraceful traffic which has too long subsisted,
a fair commerce with Africa, and all the blessings which
might be expected to attend it. Considerable advan¬
tages appeared hereby likely to result to Great Britain,
not only from our obtaining several commodities cheap¬
er, but also for opening a market for British manu¬
factures, to the increasing demands of which it is diffi¬
cult to assign a limit. From this connection, Africa
was likely to derive the still more important benefits of
religion, morality, and civilization. To accomplish
these purposes, it was necessary for the company to
possess a tract of land, as a repository for their goods,
and which the Africans might cultivate in peace, secure
from the ravages of the slave-trade. Tt had been ascer¬
tained, beyond a doubt, that the climate and soil of
Africa were admirably suited to the growth of sugar,
spices, coffee, cotton, indigo, rice, and every other spe¬
cies of tropical produce. The company proposed to
.instruct the natives to raise these articles, and to set them
the example, by a spirited cultivation, on its own ac¬
count. Directions were given to the company’s com¬
mercial agent to push forward a trade, in a mode pre¬
scribed, in the present produce of Africa. Measures
were taken for cultivating, on the company’s account,
the most profitable tropical produce; and in particular,
a person of long experience in the West Indies was or¬
dered to begin a sugar plantation. A mineralogist and
botanist were likewise engaged to go out and explore
the country for new articles of commerce.
Every thing being thus settled upon the most equita¬
ble and benevolent principles, the ships sailed with the
British colonists, to whom, in March 1792, were added
1x31 Blacks from Nova Scotia. The native chiefs
being reconciled to the plan, and made to understand
its beneficent tendency towards their people, the colony
proceeded to build Free-Town, on a dry and rather ele¬
vated spot on the south side of the river. It occupied
between 70 and 80 acres, its length being about one-
third of a mile, and its breadth nearly the same ; and it
contained near 400 houses, each having one-twelfth of
an acre annexed, on which a few vegetables were raised.
There were nine streets running from north-west to
south-east, and three cross streets, all 80 feet wide, ex¬
cept one of 160 feet, in the middle of which were all the
public buildings. These consisted of a governor’s bouse
and offices; a large store-house ; a large hospital ; six
or eight other houses, offices, and shops, occupied by the
company’s servants ; and a church capable of contain¬
ing 800 people. The colonists at first suffered much
from the rainy season, against which it was not in their
power to provide sufficient protection ; but at the end
of it they recovered in a great measure their health and
spirits, and proceeded with alacrity to execute the va¬
rious purposes of their settlement. To excite emulation
in culture, the government gave premiums to those co¬
lonists who raised the gx-eatest quantities of rice, yams,
eddoes, cabbages, Indian corn, and cotton, respectively.
To limit the excesses of the slave-tiade, and gain the
favour of the neighbouring chiefs, the directors instruct¬
ed the governor and council to redeem any native from
the neighbourhood, who should be unjustly sold either
to or by a British subject. The servants of the compa¬
ny conducted themselves with the utmost propriety, be¬
ing sober, moral, and exemplary; and from the labours
of the clergymen were derived services highly important
in every point .of viexv. Before the end of two years
from the institution of the colony, older and industry
had begun to show their effects in an increasing prospe¬
rity. The woods had been cut down to the distance of
about three English miles all round the town. By these
means the climate had become healthier, and sickness
had diminished. The fame of the colony spread not
only along the whole western coast of Africa, but also to
parts far distant from the coast; embassies had been re¬
ceived of the most friendly nature from kings and prin¬
ces several hundred miles distant; and the native chiefs
had begun to send their children to the colony, with
full confidence, to be taught reading, writing, and ac¬
counts, and to be brought up in the Christian religion.
In a word, it was not without grounds that the direc¬
tors looked fonvard to that joyful period when, by the
influence of the company’s measures, the continent of
Afi’ica should be rescued from her present state of dark¬
ness and misery, and exhibit a delightful scene of light
S 1 E r 343 ] s r E
»,.d knowledge of evil,^eion and order, of peaceful They killed all the ea«ele and animals they found in the
£, 1J   i. i i , J
industry and domestic comfort. On their beneficent
exertions they hoped with confidence for the blessing of
Providence; they were countenanced and supported by
the British government *, and upon the breaking out of
the present war, the French Convention authorised one
of their agents to write to the directors, requesting a
full account of the design of the institution, and the
names of the ships employed in their service, and assur
IVaorom
part.
p. i!.i
ing them of the good wishes of the 1‘rench government
to so noble an undertaking. How completely that
government fufilled its promise is very generally known.
Having vindicated the rights of man in Europe by the
violation of every principle of truth and justice, they de¬
termined by the same means to give light and liberty to
the Alncans; and that they have fully carried their de-
termination into effect will be seen by the following ex-
tract of a letter from Mr Afzeiius, the company’s bota¬
nist, dated Sierra Leona, 15th November 1794. “ The
French have been here and have ruined us. They ar¬
rived on the 28th of September last, early in the morn¬
ing, with a fleet consisting of one large ship, two fri¬
gates, two armed brigs, and one cutter, together with
two large armed merchant ships, taken by them at the
Isles de Loss, an English slave factory to the north of
our colony, and which they have also destroyed and
burnt. So well had they concealed their nation, that
we took them at first for English. They had English-
built vessels, which were rigged in the English way.
They showed the English flag, and had their sailors, at
least those we saw on deck, dressed like English. In short,
we did not perceive our mistake till we observed them
pointing their guns. We had not strength sufficient to
resist, and therefore our governor gave orders, that as
Soon as they should begin to fire, the British flag should
he struck, and a flag of truce hoisted. Accordingly
this was done, hut still they continued firing, and did
much damage, both within and without the town.
They killed two people and wounded three or four. But
as we did not understand the meaning of this proceed-
ing, we asked them for an explanation 5 and they an¬
swered us, that we should display the flag of liberty7, as
a proof of our submission. We assured them that it
should already have been done, if we had bad any,
which terminated the hostilities from the ships. In the
mean time, most of the inhabitants had fled from the
town, having taken with them as much of their pro¬
perty as they conveniently could in such a hurry. I
was with the governor, together with a number of
others 5 hut as soon as I was certain they were enemies,
I went towards my oyvn house with a view to save as
much as possible of my property and natural collections;
but was received in such a manner, that I could not
venture to proceed. My house was situated near the
shoi e, and unfortunately just opposite the frigate which
fired. I saw the balls passing through the house, and
heard them whizzing about my ears. I saw that I
should lose all my property ; but life was dearer to me,
and I hastened to the woods.
“ In the afternoon the enemy landed, finding the town
almost destitute of people, hut rich in provisions, cloth¬
ing and other stores. They began immediately to break
open the houses and to plunder. What they did not
want, they destroyed, burnt, or threw into the river.
fields or streets, yards or elsewhere, not sparing even
asaes, dogs, and cats. Ihese proceedings they conti¬
nued the whole succeeding week, till they had entirely
ruined our beautiful and prospering colony ; and when
they found nothing more worth plundering, they set
file to the public buildings and all the houses belong¬
ing to the Europeans ; and burnt, as they said, by mis¬
take nine or ten houses of the colonists. In the mean
time, they were not less active on the water. They
sent three of their vessels to Bance island, an English
slave factory higher up the river, which they plundered
and bin nt, together with some slave ships lying there.
They took besides about 10 or 12 prizes, including
the company’s vessels. Most of these they unloaded
and burnt. They took along with them also two of
our armed vessels, one of which was a large ship, laden
with pi ©visions, anti which had been long expected;
but she unfortunately arrived a few days too soon, and
was taken with her whole cargo. We expected at least,
to receive our private letters, but even this was refused,
and they were thrown overboard. At last, after in¬
flicting on us every hardship we could suffer, only spar¬
ing our lives and the houses of the colonists, they sailed
on the 13^ October last, at noon, proceeding down¬
wards to the Gold Coast,.and left us in the most dread¬
ful situation, without provisions, medicines, clothes,
houses, or furniture, &c. &c. and I i'ear much, that most
of us should have perished, had not our friends in the
neighbourhood, both native and Europeans, who were
so happy as to escape the enemy, been so kind as to
send us what they could spare. In the mean time, most
of us have either been, or still are, very sick, and many
have died for want ol proper food and medicine. The
worst, however, is now past. At least we are not in
any want ol' provision, although of the coarsest kind,
but are destitute of the most necessary articles and
utensils for the house, the table, and the kitchen.
It was thus that the Convention executed their pur¬
pose of .spread/ng light and liberty through the world.
'J he Sierra Leona colony was established for no other
end than to abolish the slave-trade, to enlighten the Afri¬
cans, and to render them virtuous, rational, free, and
happy; and those powerful patrons of the rights of
man destroyed that colony with many circumstances of
the most wanton cruelty.. I hough Mr Alzelius is a
Swede, and ought therefore to have been protected by
the laws of neutrality, they burnt his house with the
rest; deprived him of his trunks, his clothes, and his
bed; destroyed the natural curiosities which he had col¬
lected at the hazard of his life ; and carried away the
instruments by means of which only he could collect
more.
In 1798, Free-Town consisted of about 300 bouses,
and a number of public buildings, together with three
wharfs. Ihe government-house, so situated as to com¬
mand the town and harbour, was protected by a pali¬
sade, and six pieces of cannon. The inhabitants of this
colony were then computed at 1200, of whom 15 were
shopkeepers, 25 fishermen, 1 o tradingsbipmasters, owners
of small vessels, 15 seamen, 20 labourers employed by the
company, 4 schoolmasters ; about one half of the whole
population petty farmers, and the rest mechanics. The
number of Europeans resident at that time in the colony
Was
Sierra.
s I E [ 344 J S I F
was about 30, and nearly 400 free natives wrought as
labourers for wages, on the farms in the colony.
A charter of justice was obtained in 1800, to con-
troul the turbulence of the blacks from Nova Scotia, and
a small military force from Goree was stationed at Si¬
erra Leona. Parliament allowed the company 7000I.
for the purpose of erecting a fort, with a promise of
8000I. more for the same undertaking. The company
also received xo,oool. for their expence in settling the
blacks from Nova Scotia, and a vote of parliament a-
greed to pay 4000I. for supporting the civil government
of the colony.
The Maroons arrived in Sierra Leona in the month
of October 1800, and greatly assisted in suppressing an
insurrection of the Nova Scotia blacks, who had at¬
tempted to seLe on the government of the colony. A
body of natives of the Timmaney, headed by two of the
fugitive blacks, made an attack on the unfinished fort
on the 18th of November, about day-break, but they
were repulsed with loss. A truce was concluded ; but
it was supposed that the Timmanee chiefs would make
use of this interval to form alliances with the natives
against the British, in order to exterminate them from
this part of Africa. Soldiers to the amount of 65 were
brought from Goree, and a ship of war was stationed in
the river, to defend the settlement.
In 1802, parliament again voted io,oool. to the
company, for the annual expence of the settlement 5
and in February 1803, the directors were informed by
Lord Hobart, that it would be for the interest of the
colony to transfer the civil and military power from the
company to the British government.
When Captain Hallovvell arrived at Sierra Leona on
the 12th of January 1803, he found the colony in a
wretched condition, reporting to government on his re¬
turn, that the Maroons were not satisfied with their con¬
dition, regarding it as one in which they could not find
subsistence ; that provisions of every description were
both scarce and dear 5 that its inhabitants lived in
hourly danger from the natives j and that the whole co¬
lonists lived in a state of despondency. Government,
however, was afterwards satisfied, from the explana¬
tions of the directors and their servants, that the ac¬
count of Captain Hallowell was by much too unfavour¬
able. Expectations are indulged that, since the entire
abolition of the slave-trade, the colony will soon obtain
a flourishing trade with the natives, in the exchange of
British manufactures for the x-aw produce of the inte¬
rior parts of Africa.
A committee of the house of commons has had a most
satisfactory proof of the progressive improvement of the
internal administration of the colony, arising from the
additional powers conferi'ed on the company by the
charter of justice, and the increased vigilance and exer¬
tion of the Company’s servants. The Maroons have, in
a great measure, abandoned some pernicious habits they
bad long indulged, and by their attachment to the co¬
lony, and peaceable demeanour, have merited the ap¬
probation of government. The progress made in the
erection of works has been considerable, and the colony
may be regarded in a state of sufficient security against
the attack of any native power. A body of volunteers
has been raised within the colony, whose fidelity and at¬
tachment have been tried by experience. The sickness
and mortality which for some time existed, have in a
great degree subsided ; and there is reason to believe, g;ei,ri
that it rather originated with the troops when they en- ||
tered the colony, and their habits of intemperance, than Si-Fans,
from any disorder connected with their residence in that
situation. The number of births, which has for some
time, exceeded that of the deaths in the colony, is a sa¬
tisfactory proof that it is not unfriendly to population.
Siei’ra Leona is already rendered secure against the
only enemies whose hostilities it has immediately to ap¬
prehend} its resources are increased } its cultivation re¬
viving } and it is in the possession of every advantage
that can arise from the enjoyment of intenial tranquil¬
lity and order. It is sufficiently manifest, from the in¬
conveniences already experienced in the colony, that
during its continuance, it will be essentially necessary
to support a local government capable of maintaining
order among its inhabitants, and affording them pro¬
tection. The expence of the civil establishment for
some years to come cannot be estimated at less than
10,000k per annum that of completing the proposed* Tkctx-
works has been estimated at 8000I. It also appears thatFfn"0/
the defence of the colony will require the present volun-^
J pCstablnh-
teer force to be permanently kept up, the expence or„^n<y0r
which has been estimated at 4000I. per annum; or ifxScjw-
that establishment should be discontinued, a regular gar-
risen must be maintained at the constant establishment J7>°co*'
of IOO effective men, exclusive of about 20 artillery
men, which, considering the numerous casualties in that
climate, and great expence of supporting them, would
exceed the sum already mentioned.
SIEKRA MORENA, a considerable ildge of moun¬
tains of Andalusia in Spain. See Spain.
SIEUR, a title of respect among the French, like
that of master among us. It is much used by lawyers,
as also bv superiors in their letters to inferiors.
SIFANTO, or SiPHANTO, an island of the Archi¬
pelago, to the west of Paros, to the north-east of
Milo, and to the south-west of Serphanto. The air is
so good here, that many of the inhabitants live to the
age of 120; and their water, fruits, wild fowl, and
poultry, are excellent, but more especially the grapes.
It abounds with marble and granite, and is one of the
most fertile and best cultivated of these islands. The
inhabitants employ themselves in cultivating olive-trees
and capers ; and they have very good silk. They trade
in figs, onions, w^ax, honev, and straw-hats ; and may
be about 8000 in all. E. Long. 25. 15. N. Lab
37. 9.
SI-FANS, or Tou-FANS, a people inhabiting thebWm.’
country on the west of China. Their country is only^,^^
a continued ridge of mountains, inclosed by the rivers
Hoang-ho on the north, Ya-long on the west, andv0]. j,
Yang-tse-kiang on the east^ between the 30th and 35th p. 203.
degrees of north latitude^
The Si-fans are divided into two kinds of people;
the one are called by the Chinese Black Si-fans, the
other Yellow; names which are given them from the
different colours of their tents. The black are the roost
clownish and wretched ; they live in small bodies, and
are governed by petty chiefs, who all depend upon a
greater.
The yellow Si-fans are subject to families, the oldest
of which becomes a lama, and assumes the y ellow dress.
These lama princes, who command in their respective
districts, have the power of trying causes, and punish¬
ing
S I G
Sng criminals •, but their government is by no means
burdensome ; provided certain honours are paid them
and they receive punctually the dues of the god Fo’
which amount to very little, they molest none "of their
subjects. The greater part of the Si-fans live in tents ;
but some of them have houses built of earth, and even
brick. Their habitations are not contiguous j they
foim at most but some small hamlets, consisting of five
or six families. They feed a great number of flocks,
and are in no want of any of the necessaries of life. The
principal article of their trade is rhubarb, which their
country produces in great abundance. Their horses
are small $ hut they are well shaped, lively and robust.
These people are of a proud and independent spirit,
and acknowledge with reluctancy the superiority of the
Chinese government, to which they have been subject¬
ed : when they are summoned by the mandarins, they
rarely appear ; hut the government, for political reasons,
winks at this contempt, and endeavours to keep these
intractable subjects under by mildness and moderation i
it would, besides, be difficult to employ rigorous means
in order to reduce them to perfect obedience; their
wild and frightful mountains (the tops of which are al¬
ways covered with snow, even in the mouth of July)
would afford them places of shelter, from which they
could never he driven by force.
The customs of these mountaineers are totally differ¬
ent from those of the Chinese. It is, for example, an
act of great politeness among them to present a w’hite
handkerchief of taffety or linen, when they accost any
person whom they are desirous of honouring. All their
religion consists in their adoration of the god Fo, to
whom they have a singular attachment ; their supersti¬
tious veneration extends even to his ministers, on whom
they have considered it as their duty to confer supreme
power and the government of the nation.
SIGAULTIAN OPERATION, a method of delivery
in cases of difficult labour, first practised by M. Sigault.
It consists in enlarging the dimensions of the pelvis, in
order to procure a safe passage to the child without’in-
juring the mother.
SIGESBECKI A, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of syngenesia, and to the order of polygamia super-
flua ; and in the natural system ranging under the 49th
order, Composite. See Botany Index.
SIGE FH, a town of Lower Hungary, and capital
of a, county of the same name. It is seated in a morass,
and has a triple Wall, with ditches full of water ; and'
is defended by a citadel, being one of the strongest pla¬
ces in Hungary. It now belongs to the house of Au¬
stria, and was retaken from the Turks in 1669, after it
had been blocked up two years. In some maps it is
called Zigat. E. Long. 18. 58. N. Lat. 46. 17.
SIGHING, an effort of nature, by which the lungs
are put into greater motion, and more dilated, so that
the blood passes more freely, and in greater quantity,
to the left auricle, and thence to the ventricle. Hence
we learn, says Hr Hales, how sighing increases the
force of the blood, and consequently proportionably
cheers and relieves nature, when oppressed by its too
slow motion, which is the case of those who are dejected
and sad. J
SIGHT, or Vision. See Anatomy* N° 142. and
Index subjoined to Optics.
V ol. XIX. Part I.
[ 345 ]
S I G
f
Imperfection of Sight with regard to Colours. Under
the article Colours, is given an instance of a strancre
deficiency ol sight in some people, who could not distin¬
guish between the different colours. In the Phil. Trans,
vol. Ixviii. p. 611. we have an account of a gentleman
who could not distinguish a claret colour from black.
Ihese imperfections are totally unaccountable from
any thing we yet know concerning the nature of this
sense.
Second Sight. See Second Sight.
SIGN, in general, the mark ov character of some¬
thing absent or invisible. See Character.
Among physicians, the term denotes some ap¬
pearance in the human body which serves to indicate
or point out the condition of the patient with regard t©
health or disease.
Sign, in Algebra. See Algebra.
Sign, in Astronomy, a constellation containing a I2tk
part of the zodiac. See Astronomy Index.
SIGNALS. When we read at our fire¬
side the account of an engagement, or other interesting
operation of an army, our attention is generally so much
engaged by the results, that we give but little to the
movements which led to them, and produced them ; and
we seldom form to ourselves any distinct notion of the
conduct ol the day. But a professional man, or one ac¬
customed to reflection, and who is not satisfied with the
mere indulgence of eager curiosity, follows every regi¬
ment in its movements, endeavours to see their connec¬
tion, and the influence which they have had on the fate
of the day, and even to form to himself a general notion
ol the whole scene of action, at its different interesting
periods. He looks with the eye of the general, and sees
Ins orders succeed or fail.
. But lew trouble themselves farther about the narra¬
tion. The movement is ordered ; it is performed ; and
the fortune of the day is determined. Few think how
all this is brought about; and when they are told that
during the whole of the battle of Custrin, Frederic the
Gieat was in the upper room of a country inn, from
whence he could view the whole field, while his aids
de camp, on horseback, waited his orders in the yard
below, they are struck with wonder, and can hardly
conceive h@w it can be done : but, on rt flection, they
see the possibility of the thing. Their imagination ac¬
companies the messenger from the inn yard to the scene
ol action; they hear the general’s orders delivered,
and they expect its execution.
But when we think for a moment on the situation
of the commander of a fleet, confined on board one
ship, and this ship as much, or more closely, engaged,
than any other ol the fleet; and when we reflect that
here are no messengers ready to carry his orders to
ships of the squadron at the distance ol miles from him,
and to deliver them with precision and distinctness, and
that even if this were possible by sending small ships or
boats, the vicissitudes of wind and weather may render
the communication so tedious that the favourable mo¬
ment may be irretrievably lost before the order can be
conveyed.—When we think of all these circumstances,
our thoughts are bewildered, and we are ready to ima¬
gine that a sea battle is nothing but the unconnected
struggle of individual ships; and that when the admiral
has once “ cried havoc, and let slip the dogs of war,”
Xx
Sight
11
Naval
Signals.
Nayal
Signals,
Signals a
language
the eye.
3
Used in
ancient
times,
S 1 G [346
he has done all that his situation empowers him to do,
. and he must leave the fate of the day to the bravery and
skill of his captains and sailors.
Yet it is in this situation, apparently the most unfa-
l0vourable, that the orders of the commander can he
conveyed, with a dispatch that is not attainable in the
operations of a land army. The scene of action is un¬
incumbered, so that the eye ot the general can behold
the whole without interruption. The movements which
it is possible to execute are few, and they are piccise.
A few words are sufficient to order them, and then
the mere fighting the ships must always be left to then-
respective commanders. I his simplicity in ihe duty to
be performed has enabled us to frame a language 1 Lilly
adequate to the business in hand, by which a correspon¬
dence can be kept up as far as the e\e can sec. Ibis is
the language of signals, a language by writing, addres¬
sed to the eye, and which he that runneth may read. As
in common writing certain arbitrary marks are agreed
on to express certain sounds used in speech, or rather,
as in hieroglyphics certain arbitrary marks are agreed
on to express certain thoughts, cr the subjects of these
thoughts*, so here certain exhibitions are made, which
are agreed on to express certain movements to be exe¬
cuted by the commander to w'hom they are addressed,
and all are enjoined to keep their eyes fixed on the ship
of the conductor of the fleet, that they may learn his
will.
It is scarcely possible for any number ot ships to act
in concert, without some such mode of communication
between the general and the commanders of private
ships. We have no direct information ot this cir¬
cumstance in the naval tactics of the ancient nations,
the Greeks and Romans ; yet the necessity of the thing
is so apparent, that we cannot suppose it to have been
omitted by the most ingenious and the most cultivated
people who have appeared on the great theatre of the
world: and we are persuaded that Themistocles, Conon,
and other renowned sea commanders of Athens, had
signals by which they directed the movements of their
fleets. We read, that when iEgeus sent his son Theseus
to Crete, it was agreed on, that it the ship should bring
the young prince hack in safety, a ivlute flag should be
displayed. But those on board, in their joy for revisit¬
ing their country after their perilous voyage, forgot to
J10ist the concerted signal. Ihe anxious fathei was every
dav expecting the ship which should bring back his
darling son, and had gone to the shore to look out for
her. "He saw her, hut without the signal agreed on.
On which the old man threw himself into the sea. We
find, too, 111 the history of the Punic wars by Poly¬
bius, frequent allusions to such a mode of communica-
tion } and Ammianus Marcellinus speaks of the sptcu-
latores and cexillarii, who weie on hoard the ships
in the Adriatic. The coins both of Greece and Rome
exhibit both flags and streamers. In short, we cannot
doubt of the ancients having practised this hieroglyphi-
cal language. It is somewhat surprising that Lord Dud¬
ley, in his Arcano del Mare, in which he makes an os¬
tentatious display ot his knowledge of every thing con¬
nected with the sea service, makes no express mention
of this very essentia! piece of knowledge, although he
must, by his long residence in Italy, have known the
marine discipline of the Venetians and Genoese, the
greatest maritime powers then in Europe.
] S I G
In the naval occurrences of modern Europe, men¬
tion is frequently made of signals. Indeed, as we have
already observed, it seems impossible for a number of
ships to act in -any kind ol concert, without some me-
Navul
Signals.
thod of communication. Numberless situations musf in ulC(jail
occur, when it would be impossible to convey orders or
information by messengers from one ship to another,
and coast and alarm signals had long been practised by
every nation. Ihe idea, therefore, was familiar. \Ve
find, in particular, that Queen Elizabeth, on occasion
of the expedition to Cadiz, ordered her secretanes to
draw up instructions, which were to he communicated
to the admiral, the general, and the five counsellors of
war, and by them to be copied and transmitted to the
several ships of the navy, not to be opened till they
should arrive in a certain latitude. It was on this oc¬
casion (says our historian Guthrie), “ that we meet
with the first regular sets of signals and orders to the
commanders ot the English fleet.” Lut till the move¬
ments of a fleet have attained some sort ol uniformity,
regulated and connected by some principles of proprie¬
ty, and agreed on by persons in the habit ot directing a
number of ships, we may with confidence affirm that
signals would be nothing- hut a parcel of arbitrary
marks, appropriated to particular pieces of naval ser¬
vice, such as attacking the enemy, landing the soldiers,
&c. -, and that they would he considered merely as re¬
ferring to the final result, but by no means pointing out
the mode of execution, or directing the movements
which were necessary for performing it. 4
It was James II. when duke of York, who first1)ntfirsl.
considered this practice as capable of being reduced into
  r  1 w to a system
system, and who saw the importance ot such a coni-^j,jn„)(;g[ji
position. He, as Well as the king his brother, had at-when duke
ways showed a great predilection lor the sea service ; of York,
and when appointed admiral of England, he turned
his whole attention to its improvement. He had stu¬
died the art of war under Turenne, not as a pastime,
but as a science, and was a favourite pupil of that
most accomplished general. Turenne one day pointed
him out, saying, “Behold one who will be one of the
first princes and greatest generals of Europe.” V hen
admiral of England, he endeavoured to introduce into
the maritime service all those principles of concert and
arrangement which made a number of individual regi¬
ments and squadrons compose a great army. When he
commanded in the Dutch war, he found a fleet to be
little better than a collection of ships, on board of each
of which the commander and his ship’s company did
their best to annoy the enemy, but with very little de¬
pendence on each other, or on the orders ot the gene¬
ral: and in the different actions which the English fleet
had with the Dutch, every thing was confusion as soon
as the battle began. It is remarkable that the famous
pensionary De Witt, who from a statesman became a
navigator and a great sea commander in a lew weeks,
made the same representation to the States General on
his return from his first campaign.
In the memoirs of James II. written by himself, we
have the following passage: “ 1665. On the 15^’ 0
March, the duke of York went to Gunfleet, the gene¬
ral rendezvous of the fleet, and hastened their equip¬
ment. He ordered all the flag officers on board with
him every morning, to agree on the order ol battle an
rank. In former battles, no order was kept, and t ns
under
S I G
under the duke of York, was the first in which fighting
in a line and regular form of a battle was observed.”
This must be considered as full authority for giving
the duke of York the honour of the invention. For
whatever faults may be laid to the charge of this unfor¬
tunate prince, his word and honour stand unimpeached.
And we are anxious to vindicate his claim to it, because
our neighbours the French, as usual, would take the me¬
rit of this invention, and of the whole of naval tactics,
to themselves. True it is, that Colbert, the great and
justly celebrated minister of Louis XIV. created a navy
for his ambitious and vain-glorious master, and gave it
a constitution which may be a model for other nations
to copy. By his encouragement, men of the greatest
scientific eminence were engaged to contribute to its
improvement; and they gave us the first treatises of
naval evolutions. But it must ever be remembered, that
our accomplished, though misguided sovereign, was then
residing at the court of Louis ; that he had formerly
acted in concert with the French as a commander and
flag officer, and was at this very time aiding them with
his knowledge ot sea affairs. In the memorable day at
La Hogue, the gallant Russel, observing one of Tour-
ville’s movements, exclaimed, “ There ! they have got
£ pys Pepys * among them.” This anecdote we give on the
wt ecre- authority of a friend, who heard an old and respectable
du oV0 °®cer (Admiral Clinton) say, that he had it from a
Yi gentleman who was in the action, and heard the words
spoken ; and we trust that our readers will not be dis¬
pleased at having this matter of general opinion esta-
| ||. blished on some good grounds.
It was on this occasion, then, that the duke of York
made the movements and evolutions of a fleet the ob¬
ject ot his particular study, reduced them to a system,
and composed that “ System of Sailing and Fighting
Instructions,” which has ever since been considered as
the code ot discipline for the British navy, and which
has been adopted by our rivals and neighbours as the
toundation of their naval tactics. It does great honour
to its author, although its merit will not appear very
eminent to a careless surveyor, on account of that very
• simplicity which constitutes its chief excellence. It is
unquestionably the result of much sagacious reflection
and painful combination of innumerable circumstances,
all ot which have their influence ; and it is remarkable,
that although succeeding cbmmanders have improved
the subject by several subordinate additions, no change
has to this day been made in its general principles or
maxims of evolution.
Till some such code be established, it is evident that
signals can be nothing but arbitrary and unconnected
hieroglyphics, to be learned by rote, and retained by me-
mory, without any exercise of the judgment; and the
acquisition of this branch of nautical skill must be a
more irksome task than that of learning the Chinese
Writing. But such a code being once settled, the cha¬
racter in which it may be expressed becomes a matter
ot rational discussion.
Accordingly, the sailing and fighting instructions of
the duke of York were accompanied by a set of signals
for directing the chief or most frequent movements of
the fleet. These also were contrived with so much
judgment, and such attention to distinctness, simplicity,
and propriety, that there has hardly been any change
found necessary; and they are still retained in the Bri-
[ .347 ]
S I G
W dwful
sin;.! city
of
sy.
..vjk, ui./wuuo i.w uiuveincnis ii om
Notwithstanding this acknowledged merit i
of York’s signals, it must be admitted tha’
tish navy as the usual signals in .all cases when we are Xavaf
not anxious to conceal our movements from an enemy. Signals.
of the duke v--—
that great im- 6
provements have been made on this subject, considered ^
as an art. The art military has, in the course of a since his
century past, become almost an appropriate calling,lime recei
and has therefore been made the peculiar study of its 'cd
professors. Our rivals the French were sooner and ^‘“7°
more formally placed in this situation; and the ministers nTeut'^'
of Louis XIV. took infinite and most judicious pains
to make their military men superior to all others by
their academical education. A more scientific turn was
given to their education, and the assistance of scientific
men was liberally given them; and all the nations of
Furope must acknowledge some obligations to them lor
information on every thing connected with the art of
war. 1 hey have attended very much to this subject,
have greatly improved it, and have even introduced a
new principle into the art; and by this means have re¬
duced it to the most simple form of reference to the
code of sailing and fighting instructions, by making the
signals immediately expressive, not of orders, but of
simple numbers. Ibese numbers being prefixed to the
various articles of the code of instructions, the officer
who sees a signal thrown out by the admiral reads the
number, and reports it to his captain, perhaps without
knowing to what it relates. Thus simplicity and se¬
crecy, with an unlimited power of variation, are com¬
bined. We believe that M. de la Bourdonnais, a brave
and intelligent oflieer, during the war 1758, was the
author of this ingenious thought.
We do not propose to give a system of British sig¬
nals. This would evidently be improper. But we shall
show our readers the practicability of this curious lan-
guage, the extent to which it may be carried, and the
methods which may he practised in accomplishing this
purpose. This may make it an object of attention to
scientific men, who can improve it; and the young offi¬
cer will not only be able to read the orders of the com¬
mander in chief, but will not be at a loss, should cir¬
cumstances place him in a situation where he must issue
orders to others.
Signals may be divided into,
I. Day Signals.
II. Night Signals ; and,
III. Signals in a Fog.
They must also he distinguished into, 1. Signals of
Evolution, addressed to the whole Fleet, or to
Squadrons of the fleet, or to Divisions of these
squadrons. 2. Signals of Movements to be made bv
particular ships ; and, 3. Signals of Service, which
may be either general or particular.
The great extent of a large fleet, the smoke in time During an
of battle, and the situation of the commander in chief, ei]gJ*ge-
who is commonly in the midst of the greatest confusion n!ent t,5c
and hottest fire, frequently makes it very difficult foi'the^dni^
the officers of distant ships to 2ierceive his signals with ml are re¬
distinctness. Frigates, therefore, are stationed out ofpeated by
the line, to windward or to leeward, whose sole office it^^tes8ta“
is to observe the admiral’s signals, and instantly to repeat t'on,ed ?lll:
.. 1   nm ..  c ,.n : 1 n*  • _ A of the line.
them. The eyes of all the signal officers in the private
ships of war are directed to the repeating frigates, as
well as to the admiral; and the officers of the repeating
frigate, having no other duty, observe the admiral inces-
x 2 santly,
s i a
Naval
Siimals.
Evolution
fcigual.
Answered
by the
to the movements of the whole fleet, those of a single
division, or those of certain private ships, the Execu¬
tive Signal, which dictates the particular move¬
ment, is accompanied by a Directive Signal, by
which these ships are pointed out, to which the order
is addressed.
The commander of the ship to which any signal is
addressed, is generally required to signify by a signal
And if
S I G [ 348
santly, and, being unembarrassed by the action, can dis¬
play the signal with deliberation, so that it may be very
distinctly seen. Being minutely acquainted with the
substitutions which must be made on board the admiral
when his masts and rigging are in disorder, his (perhaps
imperfect) signal is exhibited by the repeating frigate
in its proper form, so as to be easily understood. And
to facilitate this communication, the commanders of the
different squadrons repeat the signals of the commander
in chief, and the commanders of division repeat the sig¬
nals of the commanders of their squadron.
Every evolution signal is preceded by a signal of AD-
si^nnls are VERTISEMENT and PREPARATION, which is general,
preceded ant} frequently by a gun, to call attention } and when
by assignat ajj t]ie signals have been made which direct the differ-
tbemcm ent Parts evolution, another signal is made, which
and accom-marks the close of the complex signal, and divides it
panied with from others which may immediately follow it: and as
a directive ^|ie ortlers of the commander in chief may relate either
T/ie following Signals
Main topgallant staysail
hoisted
Fore topsail loose
Main topsail loose
Main topsail sheets haul¬
ed home
Main topsail sheets clew¬
ed up, and the yard
hoisted
Topgallant sails loose, and
the sheets flying
Main-topgallant sail loose
and hoisted. Topsail-
yard down '
Mizen topsail hoisted, and
the sheets clewed up
usually signify
Naval
Signals,.
Officers and men belong¬
ing to the ship to come
on hoard.
To prepare for sailing.
To unmoor.
To weigh.
Annul the former signal,
and the ship to come to
an anchor.
Discovering strange sails.
Recal ships in chase.
Moor.
commainder js general) that he has observed it.
they are ^oes not thoroughly understand its meaning, he in-
addressed. timates this by another general signal. And here it is
to be observed, that as soon as the signal is answered
by the ships to which it is addressed, it is usual to haul
it down, to avoid the confusion which might arise from
others being hoisted in the same place. The order re¬
mains till executed, notwithstanding that the signal is
10 hauled down.
Annulling Jt may happen that the commander who throws out
signal. sjgHa[ for any piece of service, sees reasons for al¬
tering his plan. He intimates this by a general An¬
nulling signal, accompanying the signal already gi¬
ven. This will frequently be more simple than to
make the signals for the movements which would be
required for re-establishing the ships in their former si¬
tuation.
All these things are of very easy comprehension, and
require little thought for their contrivance. But when
we come to the particular evolutions and movements,
and to combine these with the circumstances of situation
in which the fleet may be at the time, it is evident,
that much reflection is necessary for framing a body of
signals which may be easily exhibited, distinctly per¬
ceived, and well understood, with little risk of being
mistaken one for another. We shall take notice of the
circumstances which chiefly contribute to give them
these qualities as we proceed in describing their difl'er-
ent classes.
I. O/Day Signals.
These are made by means of the ship’s sails, or by
colours of various kinds.
Those made with sails are but few in number, and
are almost necessarily limited to the situation of a fleet
af anchor. Thus,
Before we proceed to the description of the signals by
means of colours, such as FLAGS, Banners (or triangu¬
lar flags), PENDANTS or VANES, we must take notice of
the ostensible distinctions of the various divisions and
subdivisions of a fleet, so that we may understand how
the same signal may be addressed to a squadron, divi¬
sion, or single ship or ships. We suppose it known that
a fleet of ships of war is distributed into three grand di¬
visions (which we shall term squadrons'), called the
van, centre, and rear. These denominations have not
always a relation to the one being more advanced than
the other, either towards the enemy, or in the direction
of their course. rr
In a land army, the position of every part is concei-Meaning
ved from its reference to the enemy ; and the reader, oftheternu
conceiving himself as facing the enemy, easily under-van’centre’
stands the terms van, centre, and rear, the right and lefi^ ijne of
wing, &c. But the movements of a sea army having battle at
a necessary dependence on the wind, they cannot be com-sea.
piehended unless expressed in a language which keeps
this circumstance continually in view. The simplest
and most easily conceived disposition of a fleet, is that
in which it is almost indispensably obliged to form in
order to engage an enemy. This is a straight line, each
ship directly ahead of its neighbour, and close hauled.
This is therefore called the line oj battle. In this posi¬
tion, the two extremities of the fleet correspond to the
right and left wings of an army. Suppose this line to
be in the direction east and west, the wind blowing
from the north-north-west, and therefore the fleet on the
starboard tack •, the ships heads are to the west, and the
westermost division is undoubtedly the van of the fleet,
and the eastermost division is the rear. And it is in
conformity to this arrangement and situation that the
LIST OF the FLEET is drawn up. But the ships may
be on the same east and w7est line, close hauled, with
their heads to the west, but the wind blowing from the
south-south-west. They must therefore be on the lar¬
board tack. The same ships, and the same division, are
still, in fact, the van of the fleet. But suppose the ships
heads to be to the eastward, and that they are close
hauled,
S I G
Naval
12
J! v sij(-
n are a-l
d s,ed to
e i of
tlie divi-
C 3
tallied, having the wind from the south-south-east or
the north-north-east, the ships which were the real van
' on both tacks in the former situation are now, in fact
the rear on both tacks; yet they retain the denomina¬
tion of the van squadron of this fleet, and are under the
immediate direction of the officer of the second rank,
while the other extremity is under the direction of the
third officer. This subordination therefore is rather an
arrangement of rank and precedence than of evolution.
It is, however, considered as the natural ordkr to
which the general signals must be accommodated. For
this reason, the division which is denominated van in
the list of this fleet, is generally made to lead the fleet
when in the line of battle on the starboard tack, and to
foim the tearficmost column in the onler oj sailnig in
columns; and, in general, it occupies that station from
which it can most easily pass into the place of the lead¬
ing division on the starboard line of battle ahead. Al¬
though this is a technical nicety of language, and may
frequently puzzle a landsman in reading an account of
naval operations, the reflecting and intelligent reader
will see the propriety of retaining this mode of concei¬
ving the subordinate arrangement of a fleet, and will
comprehend the employment of the signals which are
necessary for re-establishing this arrangement, or direct¬
ing the movements while another arrangement is re¬
tained.
This being understood, it is easy to contrive various
methods of distinguishing every ship by the place which
she occupies in the fleet, both with respect to the whole
line, with respect to the particular squadron, the parti¬
cular division of that squadron, and the particular place
in that division. This may be done by a combination
of the position and colour of the pendants and vanes of
each ship. Thus the colour of the pendants may indi¬
cate the squadron, their position or mast on which they
are hoisted may mark the division of that squadron,
and a distinguishing vane may mark the place of the pri¬
vate ship in her own division. The advantages attend¬
ing this method are many. In a large fleet it would
hardly be possible for the commander in chief to find a
sufficient variety of single signals to mark the ship to
which an order is addressed^ by hoisting it along with
the signal appropriated to the intended movement.
But by this contrivance one-third part of these signals of
address is sufficient. It also enables the commander in
chief to order a general change of position by a single
signal, which otherwise would require several. Thus,
suppose that the fore, main, and mizen masts, are ap¬
propriated (with the proper modifications) for exhibit¬
ing the signal.' addressed to the van, the centre, and the
rear squadrons of the fleet, and that a red, a white, and
a blue flag, are chosen for the distinguishing flags of the
officers commanding these squadrons ; then, if the com¬
mander in chief shall hoist a red flag at his mizen top¬
gallant mast head, it mu<t direct the van squadron to
take the position then occupied by the rear squadron,
the evolution necessary for accomplishing this end being
supposed known by the commander of the squadron,
who will immediately make the necessary signals to the
squadron under his particular direction. In the same
manner, the distinguishing signal for the leading ship of
a squadron being hoisted a’ong with the signal of address
to the whole fleet, and the signal for any "particular ser-
49 ]
S I G
Naval
Signals,
vice, will cause the three or the nine leading ships to
execute that order, &c, &c.
All that has been said hitherto may be considered as »
so many preparations for the real issuing of orders by
the commander in chief. The most difficult part of
the language remains, viz. to invent a number of sig¬
nals which shall correspond to that almost infinite va¬
riety of movements and services which must be per¬
formed.
Distinctness, simplicity, and propriety, are the three Essential
essential qualities of all signals. A signal must be some q»»hties
object easily seen, strongly marked, so that it may be°t si*flals
readily understood, with little risk of its being mistaken u^Jie'ss
for another. When made by flags, banners, or pen- *
dants, they must be of the fullest colours, and strongest
contrasts. The ships are frequently at a very great di¬
stance, so that the intervening air occasions a great de¬
gradation of colour. They are seen between the eye
and a very variable sky ; and in this situation, especially
m the morning or evening, or a dark day, it is not easy
to distinguish one full colour from another, all of them
approaching to the appearance of a black. At the di¬
stance of a very few miles hardly any full colours can
he distinguished but a scarlet and a blue. Red, blue,
yellow, and white, are the colours which can be distin¬
guished at greater distances than any others, and are
therefore the only colours admitted as signals. Even
these are sometimes distinguished with difficulty. A- ^ ‘
yellow is often confounded with a dirty white, and a
blue with a red. All other dark colours are found to¬
tally unfit. But as these afford but a small variety, we
must combine them in one flag, by making it striped,
spotted, or chequered, taking care that the opposition
of colour may be as great as possible, and that the pieces
ol which the flags are made up may not be too minute.
Red must never be striped nor spotted with blue ; and
the stripes, spots, or chequers, should never be less than
one third of the breadth of the flag. Pi. CCCCXCVL
is a selection by an officer of experience, as a set very
easily recognised, and little liable to be confounded.
Their colours are represented by hatching, in the same
manner as in heraldry (see Heraldry).
Difference of shape, as flags, banners, or pendants,
is another distinction by which the expression may be
varied. And in doing this, we must recollect, that in
light winds it may be difficult to distinguish a flag from
a banner, as neither are fully displayed for want of wind
to detach the fly from the staff.
And, lastly, signals may be varied by their position,
which may be on any lofty and well detached part of
the masts, yards, or rigging.
Simplicity is an eminent property in all signals. They simplicity,
are addressed to persons not much accustomed to com¬
binations, a id who are probably much occupied by
other pressing duties. It were to be wished that every
piece of service could be indicated by a single flag.
rl his is peculiarly desirable with respect to the signals
used in time of battle. The ra.pid succession of events
on this occasion call for a multitude of orders from the
commander in chief, and his ship is frequently clad over
with flags and pendants, so that it is exceedingly diffi¬
cult for the signal officer of a private ship to distinguish
the different groups, each of which make a particular
signal.
These
T
Naval
Signal?.
S I G
These considerations are the foundation
propriety in signals, which directs us to a choice among
and pro¬
priety.
i5
By what
means sig¬
nals are
distinctly
conveyed.
marks which appear altogether arbitrary. Signals which
run any risk of being confounded, on account ot some
resemblance, or because their position hinders us from
immediately perceiving their difi'erence, should be ap¬
propriated to pieces of service which are hardly possible
to be executed, or can hardly be wanted, in the ‘same
situation. No bad consequence could easily result though
the signal for coming to closer action should resemble that
for unmooring, because the present situation-of the ships
makes the last operation impossible or absurd. Such
considerations direct us to select for battle signals, those
which are of easiest exhibition, are the most simple, and
have the least dependence on the circumstance of posi¬
tion ; so that their signification may not be affected by
the damages sustained in the masts or rigging of the
flag ship. Such signals as are less easily seen at a
distance, should he appropriated to orders which can
occur only in the middle of the fleet, &c. &c. Signals
which are made to the admiral by private ships may be
the same with signals of command from the flag ship,
which will considerably diminish the number of signals
perfectly diflerent from each other.
With all these attentions and precautions a system of
signals is at last made up, fitted to the code of sailing
and fighting instructions. It is accompanied by another
small set for the duty of convoys. It must he engrossed
in two books; one for the officer of the flag-ship, who
is to make the signals, and the other is delivered to
everv private ship. In the first, the evolutions, move¬
ments, and other operations of service, are set down in
one column, and their coi’responding signals in another.
The -first column is arranged, either alphabetically, by
the distinguishing phrase, or systematically, according
to the arrangement of the sailing and fighting instruc¬
tions. The officer whose duty it is to make the signals
turns to this column for the order which he is to com¬
municate, and in the other column he finds the appro¬
priated signal.
In the other book, which is consulted for the inter¬
pretation of the signals, they are arranged in the lead¬
ing column, either by the flags, or by the places of
their exhibition. The first is the best method, because
the derangement of the flag-ship’s masts and rigging in
time of action may occasion a change in the place of the
signal.
The Tactique Navale of the Chevalier de Morognes
contains a very full and elaborate treatise on signals.
We recommend this work to every sea-officer, as full of
instruction. The art of signals has been greatly simplified
publication s5nce ^ publication of this work, but we cannot hut
of tile Tac- ascribe much of the improvements to it. We believe
tique Na- that the author is the inventor of that systematic man-
v-afc. Jier 0f addressing the order or effective signal to the dif¬
ferent squadrons and divisions of the fleet, by which the
art of signals is made more concise, the execution of or¬
ders is rendered more systematic, and the commanders
of private ships are accustomed to consider themselves as
parts of an army, with a mutual dependence and con¬
nection. We are ready enough to acknowledge the su¬
periority of the French in manoeuvring, but we aflect to
consider this as an imputation on their courage. Nothing
can be more unjust and dear-bought experience sljoulcl
long ere now have taught us the value of this superiority.
S
t 35® ] S I G
of a certain What avails that courage which we would willingly ai‘-'
rogate to ourselves, if we cannot come to action with
our enemy, or must do it in a situation in which it is al-'
most impossible to succeed, and which needlessly throws
away the lives of our gallant crews ? Yet this must
happen, if our admirals do not make evolutions their
careful study, and our captains do not habituate them¬
selves, from the first hoisting a pendant, to consider
their own ship as connected with the most remote ship
in the line. We cannot think that this view of their
situation would in the least lessen the character which
they have so justly acquired, of fighting their ship with
a courage and firmness unequalled by those of any other
nation. And we may add, that it is only by such a ra¬
tional study of their profession, that the gentleman can
be distinguished from the mercenary commander of a
privateer.
Naval
Signals.
17
stud under-
stood.
18
The art of
signals
much im¬
proved
since the
II. Night Signals.
It is evident, that the communication of orders by
night must be more difficult and more imperfect than by
day. We must, in general, content ourselves with
such orders as are necessary for keeping the fleet toge¬
ther, by directing the more general movements and evo¬
lutions which any change of circumstances may render
necessary. And here the division and subordinate ar¬
rangement of the fleet is of indispensable necessity, it be¬
ing hardly possible to particularise everyship by a signal
of address, or to see her situation. The orders are there¬
fore addressed to the commanders of the different divi-
each of whom is distinguished by his poop and
top-lights, and is in the midst of, and not very remote
from, the ships under his more particular charge. Yet
even in this unfavourable situation, it is frequently ne¬
cessary to order the movements of particular ships.
Actions during the night are not uncommon. Pur¬
suits and rallyings are still oftener carried on at this
time. The common dangers of the sea are as frequent
and more disastrous. The system of signals therefore
is very incomplete till this part be accomplished.
Night signals must be made by guns, or by lights, or
by both combined. *9
Gvn-signuls are susceptible of variety both in number
and iu disposition. The only distinct variation which
can he made in this disposition, is by means of the time
elapsed between the discharges. This will easily admit
of three varieties, slow, moderate, and quick.—-Half-
minute guns are as slow as can easily be listened to as ap¬
pertaining to one signal. Quarter-minute guns are much
better, and admit of two very distinct subdivisions. When
the gunners, therefore, are well trained to this service
(especially since the employment of firelocks for can¬
non), intervals of 15 or 12 seconds may be taken for
slow firing, 8 or 10 seconds for moderate, and 4 or 5
seconds for quick firing. If these could be reduced one
half, and made with certainty and precision, the expres¬
sion would be incomparably more distinct. A very
small number of firings varied in this way will give a
considerable number of signals. Thus five guns, with
the variety of only quick and moderate, will give 20
very distinguishable signals. The same principle must
be attended to here as in the flag signals. The most
simple must be appropriated to the most important or¬
ders, such as occur in the worst weather, or such as are
most
IY
)!C«
most
S. 1 G [ 35
ial>le to be mistaken. Quick firing should not
S I G
23!
Si a!s by
lijji.
make part of a signal to a very distant ship, because
the noise of a gun at a great distance is a lengthened
sound, and two of them, with a very short interval, are
apt to coalesce into one long-continued sound. This
mode of varying gun-signals by the time must therefore
be employed with great caution, and we must be very
certain of the steady performance of the gunners.
Note, that a preparatory signal or advertisement that
an effective signal is to be made, is a very necessary
circumstance. It is usual (at least in hard weather)
to make this by a double discharge, with an interval of
half a second, or at most a second.
Gun-signals are seldom made alone, except in ordina¬
ry situations and moderate weather j because accident
may derange them, and inattention may cause them to
escape notice, and, once made, they are over, and their
repetition would change their meaning. They are also
improper on an enemy’s coast, or where an enemy’s
cruisers or fleets may be expected.
Signals by lights are either made with LIGHTS simply
so called, i. e. lanthorns shown in different parts of the
ship, or by rockets. Lights may differ by number, and
by position, and also by figure. For tbe flag ship al¬
ways carrying poop or top-lights, or both, presents an
object in the darkest night, so that we can tell whether
the additional lights are exhibited about the mainmast,
the foremast, the mizenmast, &c. And if the lights
shown from any of these situations are arranged in cer¬
tain distinguishable situations in respect to each other,
the number of signals may be greatly increased. Thus
three lights may be in a vertical line, or in a horizontal
line, or in a triangle ; and the point of this triangle may
be up, or down, or forward, or aft, and thus may have
many significations.
Lights are also exhibited by false fires or rockets:
These can be varied by number, and by such differen¬
ces of appearance as to make them very distinguishable.
Rockets may be with stars, with rain fire, or simple
squibs.
Ry varying and combining these, a very great num-
of ber of signals may be produced, fully sufficient to direct
signs may every general movement or evolution, or any ordinary
bin! U antl important service. The Chevalier de Morogues
has given a specimen of such a system of night signals,
into which he has even introduced signals of address or
direction to every ship of a large fleet 5 and has also gi¬
ven signals of number, by which depths of soundings,
points of the compass, and other things of this kind,
may be expressed both easily and distinctly. He has
made the signals by rockets perfectly similar in point of
number to those by lanthorns, so that the commander
can take either ; a choice which may have its use, be¬
cause the signals by rockets may cause the presence of
a fleet to be more extensively known than may be con-
I venient.
Gen'lob. commander in chief will inform the fleet by sig-
5 jSins na^’ Rtat gur>s5 or perhaps rockets, are not to be used
conq.iiHg that night. This signal, at the same time, directs the
Hak lg ^eet to c^ose R5e '‘ne or columns, that the light signals
may be better observed.
It is indeed a general rule to show as few lights as
possible j and the commander frequently puts out his
own poop and top-lights, only showing them from time
to time, that his ships may keep around him.
The signal lanthorns on board the flag ship, and a
Lint horn kept in readiness on board of every private
ship, to answer or acknowledge signals from the com¬
mander 111 chief, are all kept in hags, to conceal their
lights till the moment they are fixed in their places, and
the preparatory or advertising signal has been made.
The commander in chief sometimes orders by signal
every ship to show a light for a minute or two, that he
may judge of the position of the fleet; and the admiral’s
sigaial must always be acknowledged by those to whom
it is addressed.
It is of particular importance that the fleet he kept
together. Therefore the leading ships of the fleet, on
either tack, are enjoined to acknowledge the signals of
the commander in chief by a signal peculiar to their
station. Unis the commander in chief learns the posi¬
tion of the extremities of his {leet.
In framing a set of night signals, great attention must
be given to their position, that they be not obscured by
the sails. I he nature of the order to be given will fre¬
quently determine this. Thus, an order for the rear
ships to make more sail, will naturally direct us to
exhibit the signal at the mizen peek j and so of other
pieces of service. Lanthorns exposed in groups, such
as triangles, lozenges, &c. are commonly suspended at
the corners of large frames of laths, at the distance of a
fathom at least from each other. Attempts have been
made to show lights of different colours j but the risk of
mistake or failure in the composition at the laboratory,
makes tins rather hazardous. Coloured lanthorns are
more certain j but when the glasses are made of a colour
sufficiently intense, the vivacity of the light (which at
no time is very great) is too much diminished. Be¬
sides, the very distance changes the colour exceedingly
and unaccountably.
Naval
Signals.
Th
spe
two
III. 0/’Signals in a Fog.
These can be made only by noises, such as the firing
of cannon and muskets, the beating of drums and ring¬
ing of bells, &c. Fog signals are the most difficult to
contrive of any, and are susceptible of the least variety.
Ihe commander in chief is principally concerned to
keep his fleet together j and unless somethinif very ur¬
gent requires it, he will make no change in his course
or rate of sailing. But a shift of wind or other causes
may make this necessary. ■ The changes which he will
order, it will be prudent to regulate by some fixed rule,
which is in general convenient. Thus, when a fleet is
in the order of sailing upon a wind, and a fog comes on,
the fleet will hold on the same course. If the wind
should come a little more on the beam, the fleet will 2,
still keep dose to the wind. Certain general rules of By observ-
this kind being agreed on, no signals are necessary for,n£cer-
keeping the fleet together; and the ships can separate
run foul of each other only by difference in their rate ofsjgn™se*[ur_
sailing, or by inaccurate steerage. To prevent this, the ing a fog
commander in chief fires a gun from time to time, and are ,n nmny
the ships of the fleet judge of his situation, and distance cases ,innc*
by the sound. The commanders of divisions fire guns, Cessary‘
with some distinction from those of the commander in
chief. This both informs the commander in chief
of the position of his squadrons, and enables the pri¬
vate ships of each division to keep in the neighbour¬
hood of their own flag ship. On board of every private
ship the drum is beaten, or the bell is chimed, every
qu alter r
l^aval
Signals.
24
How they
are given
when ne
sessary.
S I- G [ 352
quarter of an liour, according as the ship is on the star¬
board or larboard tack. By such contrivances, it is ne¬
ver difficult to keep a fleet in very good order when
sailing on a wind. The wind is almost always mode¬
rate, and the ships keep under a very easy sail. It is
much more difficult when going large, and separation
can be prevented only by the most unwearied attention.
The greatest risk is the falling in with strange ships
steering another course.
But evolutions and other movements are frequently
indispensable. The course must be changed by tacking
or wearing, and other services must be performed. None,
however, are admitted but the most probable, the most
simple, and the most necessary.
The commander in chief first informs the fleet by the
preparatory fog signal, that he is about order an evo¬
lution, and that he is to direct it by fog signals. This
precaution is indispensable to prevent mistakes. Along
with this advertising signal he makes the signal of the
movement intended. This not only calls the attention
of the fleet, but makes the ships prepare for the precise
execution of that movement. The commanders of divi¬
sions repeat the advertising signal, which informs their
ships of their situation, and the private ships beat their
drums or chime their hells. Thus the whole ships of
the fleet close a little, and become a little better ac¬
quainted with their mutual position. It is now under¬
stood that a movement is to he made precisely a quarter
ol an hour after the advertisement. At the expiration
of this time, the effective signal for this movement is
made by the commander in chief, and must be instantly
repeated by the commanders of divisions, and then the
movement must he made by each ship, according to the
sailing and fighting instructions. This must be done
with the utmost attention and precision, because it pro¬
duces a prodigious change in the relative position of the
ships ; and even although the good sense of the com¬
mander in chief will select such movements for accom¬
plishing his purpose as produce the smallest alterations,
and the least risk of separation or running foul of each
other } it is still extremely difficult to avoid these mis¬
fortunes. To prevent this as much as possible, each
ship which has executed the movement, or which has
come on a course thwarting that of the fleet, intimates
this by a signal properly adapted, often adding the sig¬
nal of the tack on which it is now standing, and even
its particular signal of recognizance. This is particular¬
ly incumbent on the flag ships and the leading ships of
each division.
After a reasonable interval, the commander in chief
will make proper signals for bringing the fleet to a
knowledge of their reunion in this new position.
This must serve for a general account of the circum-
to publish stances which must be attended to in framing a code of
a particular signals. The arbitrary characters in which the lan-
a-C nab.1 °f 8,,age 13 wr'ttei1 ir‘ust be left to the sagacity of the gen-
£lS ’ tlemen of the profession. It must he observed, that the
stratagems of war make secrecy very necessary. It may
he of immense hazard if the enemy should understand
our signals. In time of battle it might frequently frus¬
trate our attempts to destroy them, and at all times
would enable them to escape, or to throw us into dis¬
order. Every commander of a squadron, therefore, is¬
sues private signals, suited to his particular destination;
^nd therefore it is necessary that our cede of signals be
1
]
S I G
This is exceedingly
The com-
Improper
susceptible of endless variations,
easy, without any increase of their number,
mander needs only intimate that such and such a signal
is so and so changed in its meaning during his com¬
mand. 1 J(j
We cannot leave this article without returning to an Signals®,
observation which we made almost in the beginning,be
viz. that the system of signals, or, to speak more Pr0-^t*"ime'
pcrly, the manner of framing this system, has received j laiSi0I1S(j
much improvement from the gentlemen of the French numbers,
navy, and particularly from the most ingenious thought
of M. de la Bourdonnais, of making the signals the im¬
mediate expressions of numbers only, which numbers
may be afterwards used to indicate any order whatever.
We shall present our readers with a scheme or two of
the manner in which this may be done for all signals,
both day, night, and fog. This alone may be consider¬
ed as a system of signals, and is equally applicable to
every kind of information at a distance. Without de¬
tracting in the smallest degree from the praise due to
M. de la Bourdonnais, we must observe, that this prin¬
ciple of notation is of much older date. Bishop Wil¬
kins, in his Secret and Swift Messenger, expressly re¬
commends it, and yives specimens of the mariner of ex¬
ecution •, so does Dr Hooke in some of his proposals to
the Royal Society. Caspar Schottus also mentions it in
his Ttchnica Curiosa; and Kircber, among others ofhis
Cuvinus Projects. ^
M. de la Bourdonnais’s method is as follows : m. dels
He chooses pendants for his effective signals, because Bourdon,
they are the most easily displayed in the proper order,
Several pendants, making part of one signal, may be , • ^
hoisted by one hallvard, being stopped on it at the di¬
stance of four or six feet from each other. If it be
found proper to throw out another signal at the same
time and place, they are separated by a red pendant
without a point. His colours are chosen with judge¬
ment, being very distinctly recognised, and not liable
to he confounded with the addressing signals appropri¬
ated to the different ships of the fleet. They are,
For N° 1. Red. For N° 6. Red,, with blue tail.
Wffiite.
Blue.
Yellow.
Red, with
white tail.
7-
8.
9-
10.
W hite, with blue tail.
White, with red tail.
Blue, with yellow tail.
Yellow, with blue tail.
Three sets of such pendants will express every number
under a thousand, by hoisting one above the other, and
reckoning the uppermost hundreds, the next below it
tens, and the lowest units. Thus the number 643 will
be expressed by a pendant red with blue tail, a yellow
pendant below it, and a blue one below the last.
This method has great advantages. The signals may
he hoisted in any place where best seen, and therefore
the signification is not affected by the derangement of
the flag-ship’s marts and rigging. And by appropriat¬
ing the smaller numbers to the battle signals, they are
more simple, requiring fewer pendants. *8
As this method requires a particular set of colours,inisj11'?
it has its inconveniences. An admiral is often obliged
to shift his flag, even in time of action. He cannot ,erty
easily take the colours along with him. It is therefore u;)jng fei^
better to make use of such colours as every private shipcoluiu'*
is provided with. One set of 11 will do, with the ad¬
dition
. s 1 G t 3S3 ] SI
dition of three, at most of four pendants, of singular they express the number 23.
a
Anojr
metht of
f*pre: ng
nuu4 * by
fewer
lours.
which
be alsim'
proved
make, to mark 100, 200, 300, 400. Two of these
flags, one above the other, will express any number un¬
der IOO, by using the nth as a substitute for any flag
that should be repeated. Thus the nth flag, along
with the flag for eight or for six, will express the num¬
ber 88 01 60, &c. Thus we are able to express every
number below 500, and this is sufficient for a very large
code of signals.
And in order to diminish as much as possible the
number of these compound signals, it will he proper
that a number of single flag signals be preserved, and
even varied by circumstances of position, for orders
which are of very frequent occurrence, and which can
hardly occur in situations where any obstructions are
occasioned by loss of masts, &c. And farther, to
avoid all chance ot mistake, a particular signal can be
added, intimating that the signals now exhibited are
immerary signals ; or, which is still better, all signals
may he considered as numerary signals; and those which
we have just now called single flag signals may be set
down opposite to, or as expressing, the largest numbers
of the code.
Ibis method requires the signal of advertisement, the
annulling signal, the signal of address to the particular
ship or division, the signal of acknowledgment, the sig¬
nal of indistinctness, of distress, of danger, and one or
two more which, in every method must be employed*
Another method of expressing numbers with fewer
colours is as follows: Let the flags be A, B, C, D, E,
F, and arrange them as follows:
A
B
C
1)
E
F
7
J3
J9
25
31
37
B
2
8
20
26
32
38
C
3
9
*5
21
27
33
39
D
4
10
16
22
28
34
40
E
5
11
*7
23
29
35
41
F
6
12
18
24
3°
36
42
The number expressed by any pair of flags is found in
the intersection of the horizontal and perpendicular co¬
lumns. I bus the flag D, hoisted along with and above
the flag F, expresses the number 40, &c. In order to
express a greater number (but not exceeding 84) sup¬
pose 75, hoist the flag which expresses 33, or 73
Wanting 42, and above them a flag or signal G, which
alone expresses 42.
I his method may he still farther improved by ar-
ranging the flags thus :
A
B
C
I)
E
F
B
2
8
C
3
9
14
18
D
4
10
lS
J9
22
E
5
11
16
20
23
25
12
J7
21
24
26
In this last method the signification of the signal is to¬
tally independent of the position of the flags. In
whatever parts of the ship the flags D and E are seen,
Vol. XIX. Part I. I
_ ^ This would suit battle
signals.
Another method still may be taken. Flags hoisted
anywhere on the foremast may be accounted units, those
on tne mainmast tens, and those on the nnzenmast hun¬
dreds. Thus numeral signals may be made by a ship
dismasted, or having only poles in their place.
Many other ways may be contrived for expressing
numbers by colours, and there is great room for ex¬
ercising the judgment of the contriver. For it must
always be remembered, that these signals must be ac¬
companied with a signal by which it is addressed to
some particular ship or division of the fleet, and it may
be difficult to connect the one with the other, which is
perhaps shown in another place, and along with other
executive signals.
One great advantage of these numeral signals is, that
they may he changed in their signification at pleasure.
Thus, in the first method, it can be settled, that on
Sundays the colours A, B, C, I), &c. express the cv-
phers l, 2, 3, 4, &c. but that on Mondays thev ex¬
press the cyphers o, I, 2, 3, &c. and on Tuesdays the
cyphers 9, o, I, 2, &c.; and so on through all the days
ol the week. This mean of secrecy is mentioned by
Or Hooke for the coast and alarm signals, where, by
the by, he shews a method for conveying intelligence
oyer land very similar to what is now practised by the
.trench with their telegraph.
It is equally easy to express numbers by night sig¬
nals. Thus M. de la Bourdonnais proposes that one
discharge of a great gun shall express 7, and that 1, 2,
3> 4> 5> 6, shall be expressed by lights. Therefore to
express 24, we must fire three guns, and show three
lights. This is the most perfect of all forms of night
and fog signals. For both the manner of firing guns
and of exhibiting lights may be varied to a sufficient
extent with very few guns or lights, and with great
distinctness.
Ihus, for guns. Let F mark the firing of a siny'e
gun at moderate intervals, and //a double gun, that
is, two discharged at the interval of a second. We may
express numbers thus :
1 ‘ F.
2 F, F.
3 F, F, F.
4 F, F, F, F.
5 F,//:
6 F, YJf.
7 F,//, F.
8 F*/y» F, F.
I09 fffJ’r,//-
100, &c. fj'ff, or///.
It might be done with fewer guns if the ff were ad¬
mitted as the first firing. But it seems better to begin
always with the single gun, and thus the double gun
beginning a signal distinguishes the tens, &c.
In like manner, a small number of lights will admit
of a great variety of very distinct positions, which may
serve for all signals to ships not very remote from the
commander in chief. For orders to be understood at
a very great distance, it will he proper to appropriate
the numbers which are indicated by signals made with
Y y rocke ts.
Nava!
Signals.
3r
A third
method.
3*
Advantages
of numeral
aignal?.
33
Numbers
may be alss
expressed
by night
signals,
S I G
[ 354 ]
S I L
Naval
Signals
li
Signature.
34.
Concluding
remarks.
rockets. These can he varied in number and kind to a
sufficient extent, so as to be very easily distinguished
and understood. It is sufficient to have shown how the
whole, or nearly the whole, notation of signals may be
limited to the expression of numbers.
We have taken little notice of the signals made by
private ships to the commander in chief. This is a very
easy business, because there is little risk of confound¬
ing them with other signals. Nor have we spoken of
signals from the flag ships whose ultimate interpretation
is number, as when ships are directed to change their
course so many points. Those also are easily contri¬
ved in any of the methods already described: also when
a private ship wishes to inform the commander in chief
that soundings are found at so many fathoms. In like
manner, by numbering the points of the compass, the
admiral can direct to chace to any one of them, or may
be informed of strange ships being seen in any quarter,
and what is their number.
Signals by the Urum, made use of, in the exercise
of the army, instead of the wrord of command, viz..
Signals.
A short roll.
A flam,
To arms,
The march,
The quick march,
The point of war,
The retreat,
Drum ceasing,
Two short rolls,
The dragoon march,
The grenadier march.
The troop,
The long roll,
The grenadier march,
The preparative,
The general,
Two long rolls,
Operations.
To caution.
To perform any distinct thing.
To form the line or battalion.
To advance, except when in-
j tended for a salute.
To advance quick.
To march and charge.
To retreat.
To halt.
To perform the flank firing.
To open the battalion.
To form the column.
To double divisions.
To form the square.
7 To reduce the square to the
column.
To make ready and fire.
To cease firing.
To bring or lodge the colours.
SIGNATURE, a sign or mark impressed upon any
thing, whether by nature or art. Such is the general
signification of the word; but in the plural number it
has been used, in a particular sense, to denote those ex¬
ternal marks by which physiognomists and other dabblers
in the occult sciences pretend to discover the nature and
internal qualities of every thing on which they are found.
According to Lavater, every corporeal object is charac¬
terised by signatures peculiar to itself.
The doctrine of signatures, like alchemy and astrolo¬
gy, was very prevalent during the 15th and 16th cen¬
turies 5 and was considered as oneo* the occult sciences
which conferred no small degree of honour on their re¬
spective prolessors. Some of these philosophers, as they
thought fit to style themselves, maintained that plants,
minerals, and animals, but particularly plants, had sig¬
natures impressed on them by the hand of nature, indi¬
cating to the adept the therapeutic uses to which they
might be applied. Others, such as the mystic theoso-
phists and chemists of that day, proceeded much farther
in absurdity, maintaining that every substance in nature
had either external signatures immediately discernible,
or internal signatures, which, when brought into view
by fire or menstrua, denoted its connection with some Signature
sidereal or celestial archetype. Of the doctrine of sig- jj
natures, as it relates merely to the therapeutic uses of Silesia,
plants and minerals, traces are to be found in the works ^“Y'—J
of some of the greatest authors of antiquity ; but the
celestial signatures, we believe, were discovered only by
the moonlight of the monkish ages. Pliny informs us *, * Hist Rut
that the marble called ophites, from its being spotted lib. 34,
like a serpent, was discovered by those spots to be a so¬
vereign remedy for the bite of that animal 5 and that
the colour of the or blood-stone intimated that
it was fit to be employed to stop an hemorrhagy ; but
we do not recollect his attributing the virtues of these
minerals to a sidereal or celestial influence.
Signature, a signing of a person’s name at the bot¬
tom of an act or deed written by his own hand.
Signature, in Printing, is a letter put at the bot¬
tom of the first page at least, in each sheet, as a direc¬
tion to the binder in folding, gathering, and collating
them. The signatures consist of the capital letters of
the alphabet, which change in every sheet; if there be
more sheets than letters in the alphabet, to the capital
letter is added a small one of the same sort, as A a, Bb;
which are repeated as often as necessary. In large vo¬
lumes it is easy to distinguish the number of alphabets,
after the first three or four, by placing a figure before
the signature, as 5 B, 6 B, &c.
SIGNET, one of the king’s seals, made use of in’
sealing his private letters, and all grants that pass by
bill signed under his majesty’s hand : it is always in the
custody of the secretaries of state.
Signet, in Scots Law. See Law, Part III. § 17.
SfLENE, Catchfly, or Viscous Campion, a genus
of plants belonging to the class decandria, and order
trigynia ; and in the natural system arranged under the
22d order, Caryophyllece. See Botany Index.
SILESIA, a duchy of Germany, bounded on the
east by Poland ; on the west, by Bohemia and Lower
Lu satia ; on the south, by a chain of mountains,
and a thicket of considerable extent which separates it
from Hungary; and to the north by the marquisate of
Brandenburg and Poland. From north-west to south¬
east it is about 274 miles, and about 100 where broad¬
est : but it is much contracted at both ends. Upon the
frontiers of this country, to the west and south, are ve¬
ry high mountains, and some likewise in other parts of
it. One of the ridges upon the frontiers is styled the
Piphcean Mountains, another t he Moravian, another the
Pohemian, and another the Hungarian, Crapack, or Car¬
pathian. A branch of the Bohemian is called the Giant
Mountains. The winter on these hilly tracts is more
severe, sets in sooner, and lasts longer than in the low
lands. The inhabitants use a kind of skates when the
snow is deep, as they do in Carniola. Little or no
grain is raised in the mountains and some sandy tracts;
but the rest of the country is abundantly fruitful, not
only ingrain, but fruits, roots, pasture, flax, hops, mad¬
der, tobacco, and hemp, yielding also some wine, with
considerable quantities of silk and honey. In many
places are great woods of pines, fir, beech, larch, and
other trees, affording tar, pitch, rosin, turpentine, lamp¬
black, and timber for all uses. In this country also is
found marble of several sorts, some precious stones, lime¬
stone, millstone, pitcoal, turf, vitriol, some silver ore,
capper, lead, iron, and mineral springs, Great num¬
bers
S I L [ -
iiesia. ^ers of black cattle and hoi'ses are brought hither from
»bind and Hungary for sale, those bred in the coun¬
try not being sufficient 5 but of sheep, goats, game, and
venison, they have great plenty. As for wild beasts,
here are lynxes, foxes, weasels, otters, and beavers. The
rivers, lakes, and ponds, yield fish of several sorts, parti-
cularly sturgeons several ells in length, and salmon. Be¬
sides a number of smaller streams to water this country,
there is the Oder, which traverses it almost from one
end to the other; and the \ istula, which after a pretty
long course through it enters Poland. The inhabitants
are a mixture of Germans, Poles, and Moravians. The
language generally spoken is German j but in some pla¬
ces the vulgar tongue is a dialect of the Sclavonic. The
states consist of the princes and dukes, and those called
state-lords, with the nobility, who are immediately sub¬
ject to the sovereign, and the representatives of the chief
citiesj but since the country fell under the dominion of
the king of Prussia, no diets have been held. The
. however, when he took possession of the country,
confirmed all the other privileges of the inhabitants.
. th respect to religion, not only Protestants, but Pa¬
pists, Jews, and Greeks, enjoy full liberty of con-
science. The greatest part of Silesia lies in the diocese
| of Breslaw, but some part of it in the Polish dioceses of
o^n and Cracow. I he bishop of Breslaw stands im¬
mediately under the pope with regard to spirituals; but
all ecclesiastical benefices, not excepting the see of Bre¬
slaw, are in the king’s gilt. Besides Latin schools, col-
leges, and seminaries, at Breslaw is an university, and
at Lignitz an academy for martial exercises. The prin¬
cipal manufactures here are woollens, linens, and cot¬
tons of several sorts, with hats, glass-ware, gunpowder,
and iron manufactures. Of these there is a considerable
exportation. Accounts are generally kept in rix-dollars,
silver groschens, and ducats. With respect to its revo¬
lutions and present government, it was long a part of the
kingdom of Poland; afterwards it had several dukes and
petty princes for its sovereigns, who by degrees became
subject to the kings of Bohemia, until at last King
CharlesIV. incorporated the whole duchy with Bohe¬
mia; and thus it continued in the possession of the house
of Austria, until the king of Prussia in 1742, taking ad¬
vantage of the troubles that ensued upon the death of
the emperor Charles VI. and pretending a kind of claim,
I wrested a great part of it, together with the county of
Glatz, from his daughter and heiress Maria Theresa,
I the late empress dowager ; so that now only a small
part of it is possessed by the house of Austria, and con¬
nected wit!) the empire, the rest being governed by
the king of Prussia, without acknowledging any sort of
dependence on the crown of Bohemia or the empire.
101 tue administration of justice in all civil, crimi¬
nal, and feudal cases, and such as relate to the reve¬
nue, ihe tvmg of Prussia has established three supreme
judicatories, to which an appeal lies from all the infe¬
rior ones, and from which, when the sum exceeds 500
rix-dollars, causes may be moved, to Berlin. The
; Lutheran churches and schools are under the inspec-
tmn of the upper consistories, and those of the Pa¬
pists under that of the bishop’s court at Breslaw; but
fiom both an appeal lies to the tribunal at Berlin.
As to the revenue, the excise here is levied only in
the walled towns, being on the same footing as in the
marquisate of Brandenburg; but in the rest of the coun-
5 ] S I L
tiy the contributions are fixed, and the same both in
peace and war. Ihe several branches of the revenue
aie under the management of the war and domain of-
hces of Breslaw and Glogau. The whole revenue ari-
smg to the king of Prussia from Silesia and the county
of Glatz amounts to about 134 millions of florins per
annum. 1
Silesia is divided into Upper and Lower, and each of
these again into principalities and lordships; of some of
which both the property and jurisdiction belong imme¬
diately to the sovereign, but of others to his subjects and
vassals. Silesia is the most industrious province in the
I russian dominions, and the seat of the principal manu-
factnres. Its exports in 1804 amounted to 21 millions
of florins. It is rich in mines, and furnishes annually
405,000 centners of iron. Its population in 1818
amounted to 2,017,058, and has doubled itself since the
year 1746. In short, Silesia may now he considered
as the most valuable province belonging to the Prussian
monarchy.
SILESIAN EARTH, in the Materia Medico, a fine
astringent hole. It is very heavy, of a firm compact
texture, and in colour of a brownish yellow. It breaks
easily between the fingers, and does not stain the hands-
is naturally of a smooth surface, is readily diffusible in
water, and melts freely into a butter-like substance in
the mouth. It leaves no grittiness between the teeth
and does not ferment with acids. It is found in the
perpendicular fissures of rocks near the gold mines in
Hungary.
SILICEKNIUM, among the Homans, was a feast
of a private nature, provided for the dead some time af
ter the funeral. It consisted of beans, lettuces, bread
eggs, &c. These were laid upon the tomb, and they
foolishly believed that the dead would come out for the
repast. What was left was generally burnt on the
stone. Ihe word silicernium is derived from silex and
cccm, i. e. “ a supper upon a stone.” Eating what had
thus been provided for the dead, was esteemed a mark of
the most miserable poverty. A similar entertainment
was made by the Greeks at the tombs of the deceased •
but it was usual among them to treat the ghosts with
the fragments from the feast of the living-. See Ftivi¬
ral and Infer 1 0
SILEX. See Flint.
SILICEOUS earths.- See Silica, Chemistry
index.
SILIUS Italicws, Caius, an ancient Roman poet
and author of an epic poem in 17 books, which con¬
tains an history of the second Punic war, so famous for
having decided the empire of the world in favour of the
Romans. He was born in the reign of Tiberius, and
is supposed to have derived the name oi Italicus irom
the place of his birth ; but whether he was born atlta-
fica in Spain, or at Corfinium in Italy, which, accord¬
ing to Strabo, had the name ol Italico given it durimr
the Social war, is a point which cannot he known^
though, if his birth had happened at either of these
places, the grammarians would tell us, that he should have
been caned Italicctisis, and not Itahcus. TV hen he came
to Rome, he applied himself to the bar; and, by a close
imitation of Cicero, succeeded so well, that he became
a celebrated advocate and most accomplished orator.
His merit and character recommended him to the high¬
est offices in the republic, even to the consulship, of
Y72 which
Siloski
.11
Silks.,
T
S I L
[ 356 1
S I L
Stilus,
Silk.
which he was possessed when Nero died. He is said to
have been aiding and assisting in accusing persons of
^ high rank and Fortune, whom that wicked emperor had
devoted to destruction : but he retrieved his character
afterwards by a long and uniform course of virtuous be¬
haviour. Vespasian sent him as proconsul into Asia,
where he behaved with clean hands and unblemished re¬
putation. After having thus spent the best part of his
life in the service of his country, he bade adieu to pub¬
lic affairs, resolving to consecrate the remainder to po¬
lite retirement and the muses. He had several fine villas
in the country : one atTusculum, celebrated for having
been Cicero’s j and a farm near Naples, said to have
been Virgil’s, at which was his tomb, which Silius often
visited. Thus Martial compliments him on both these
accounts :
Silius hive magni celebrat monumenta Maronis,
Jugcra facundi qui Ciceronis habet.
Hceredem Dominumque sui tnmuliqve larisquc
Non alium mallet nec Maro nec Cicero.
Epigr. 49. lib. xi.
Of Tolly’s seat my Silius is possess’d,
And his the tomb where Virgil’s ashes rest.
Could those great shades return to choose their heir,
The present owner they would both prefer.
In these retirements he applied himself to poetry : led
not so much by any great force of genius, which would
certainly not have suffered him to stay till life was in
the wane and his imagination growing cold, as by his
exceeding great love of Virgil, to whose memory he
paid the highest veneration. He has imitated him in
his poem ; and though he falls infinitely short of him,
yet he has discovered a great and universal genius, which
would have enabled him to succeed in some degree in
whatever he undertook.
Having been for some time afflicted with an impost-
hume, which was deemed incurable, he grew weary of
life, to which, in the language of Pliny, he put an end
with determined courage.
There have been many editions of Silius Italicus. A
neat and correct one was published at Leipsic in 1696,
in Svo, with short and useful notes by Cellarius : but the
best is that cum notis integris variorum et Arnoldi Dra-
kenhorch. Traject. ad llhen. ty1?’ 4to>
SILK, a very soft, fine, bright thread, the work of
an insect called bomby.v, or the silk worm.
As the silk worm is a native of China, the culture of
silk in ancient times was entirely confined to that coun¬
try. We are told, that the empresses, surrounded by
their women, spent their leisure hours in hatching and
rearing silk worms, and in weaving tissues and silk veils.
That this example was soon imitated by persons of all
ranks, we have reason to conclude j for we are informed
that, the Chinese, who were formerly clothed in skins,
in a short time after were dressed in vestments of silk.
'Pill the reign of Justinian, the silk worm was unknown
beyond the territories of China, but silk was introduced
into Persia long before that period. After the conquest
of the Persian empire by Alexander the Great, this va-
1 .luabte commodity was brought into Greece, and thence
^amCntsconveyed to Roine. The first of the Roman writers
concerning extant by whom silk is mentioned, are Virgil and Ho-
thc nature race ; but it is probable that neither of them knew
•fsiik. from what country it was obtained, nor how it was
produced. By some of the ancients it was supposed to 5;^
be a fine down adhering to the leaves of certain trees or c—
flowers. Others imagined it to be a delicate species of
wool or cotton •, and even those who had learned that
it w'as the work of an insect, show by their descriptions
that they had no distinct idea of the manner in which it
was formed. Among the Romans, silk was deemed a
dress too expensive and too delicate for men, and was
appropriated wholly to women of eminent rank and opu¬
lence. Elagabulus is said to have been the first man
among the Romans who wTore a garment of fine silk :
Aurelian complained that a pound of silk w'as sold at
Rome for 12 ounces of gold , and it is said he refused
to give his wife permission to wear it on account of
its exorbitant price. j
For several centuries the Persians supplied the Roman Brought
empire with the silks of China. Caravans tra versed the from Chin*
whole latitude of Asia, in 243 days, from the Chinese
ocean to the sea-coast of Syria, carrying this commodity. timeofJll|.
Sometimes it was conveyed to the ports of Gnzerat and tinian.
Malabar, and thence transported by sea to the Persian
gulf. The Persians, with the usual rapacity of mono-
polists, raised the price of silk to such an exoi bitant
height, that Justinian eager not only to obtain a fulRro» co»-
and certain supply of a commodity which was become^“2
of indispensable use, but solicitous to deliver the com- ,p'
merce of his subjects from the exactions of his enemies,
endeavoured, by means of his ally, the Christian mo¬
narch of Abyssinia, to wrest some portion of the silk
trade from the Persians. In this attempt hefailedj but
when he least expected it, he, by an unforeseen event,
attained, in some measure, the object which he had in 3
view. Two Persian monks having been employed as Silk worn
missionaries in some of the Christian churches, which
were established (as we are informed by Cosmas) in dif-by two
ferent parts of India, had penetrated into the country ofm0n]tg,
the Seres, or China. There they observed the labours
of the silk worm, and became acquainted with all tha
arts of man in working up its productions into such a
variety of elegant fabrics. The prospect of gain, or per¬
haps an indignant zeal, excited by seeing this lucrative
branch of commerce engrossed by unbelieving nations,
prompted them to repair to Constantinople. There
they explained to the emperor the origin of silk, as well
as the various modes of preparing and manufacturing it,
mysteries hitherto unknown, or very imperfectly under¬
stood in Europe j and encouraged by his liberal promises,
they undertook to bring to the capital a sufficient num¬
ber of those wonderful insects, to whose labours man is
so much indebted. rIhis they accomplished, by convey¬
ing the eggs of the silk worm in a hollow cane. Ihey
were hatched by the heat of a dunghill, fed with the
leaves of a wild mulberry tree, and they multiplied an
worked in the same manner as in those climates where
they first became objects of human attention and care.
Vast numbers of these insects were soon reared in differ¬
ent parts of Greece, particularly in the Peloponnesus.
Sicily afterwards undertook to breed silk worms wit
equal success, and was imitated, from time to time, in
several towns of Italy. In all these places extensive
manufactures were established and carried on with silk 0
domestic production. The demand for silk from the east
diminished of course, the subjects of the Greek emperors
were no longer obliged to have recourse to the Persians
for a supply of it, and a considerable change took p
S I L
silk.
W* 18 111
(ik;i
ill the nature of the commercial intercourse
Europe and India.
As silk is the production of a worm, it will he first
necessary to give a description of its nature and mode
ot manufacturing. Eut before we give any account of
the most approved methods of managing silk worms in
Europe, it will be proper to present a short description
of the methods practised in China, the original country
ot the silk worm. These are two : they either permit
them to remain at liberty on mulberry trees, or keep
them in rooms. A_s the finest silk is produced bv worms
confined in rooms, and as the first method is very sim-
4 pie, it will suffice to describe the second.
M iod of To begin with the eggs, which are laid on large sheets
'fe!lk°f paper, to which they firmly adhere. The sheets are
hung up on a beam of the room, with the eggs inward,
and the windows are opened in the front to admit the
wind ; but no hempen ropes must ever come near the
worms or their eggs. After some days the sheets are
taken down, rolled up loosely with the eggs inward,
and then hung up again, during the summer and autumn.
At the end of December, or the beginning of January,
the eggs are put into cold water, with a little salt dis¬
solved in it. I wo days after they take them out, hang
them up again, and when dry roll them a little tighter,
and enclose each separately, standing on one end in an
earthen vessel. Some put them into a lye made of mul¬
berry tree ashes, and then lay them some moments in
snow-water, or else hang them up three nights on a
mulberry tree to receive the snow or rain, if not too
violent. I he time ot hatching them is when the leaves
of the mulberry trees begin to open, for they ai'e has¬
tened or impeded according to the difierent degrees of
beat or cold to which they are exposed. When they
are ready to come forth, the eggs swell, and become a
little pointed.
The third day before they are hatched, the rolls of
paper are taken out of the vessel, stretched out, and
hung up with their backs toward the sun, till they re¬
ceive a kindly warmth ; and then being rolled up close,
they are set upright in a vessel in a warm place. This
is repeated the next day, and the eggs change to an
ash-gray. They then put two sheets together, and roll¬
ing them close tie the ends.
The tiiird day, towards night, the sheets are unroll¬
ed and stretched on a fine mat, when the eggs appear
blackish. They then roll three sheets together, and
carry them into a pretty warm place, sheltered from the
south wind. The next day the people taking out the
rolls, and opening them, find them full of worms like
small black ants.
The apartment chosen for silk worms is on a dry
ground, in a pure air, and free from noise. The rooms
are square, and very close, for the sake of warmth 5 the
door faces the south, and is covered with a double
mat, to keep out the cold ; yet there should be a win¬
dow on every side, that when it is thought necessary the
air may have a free passage. In opening a window to
let in a refreshing breeze, care must be taken to keep
out the gnats and flies. The room must be furnished
with nine or ten rows of frames, about nine inches one
above the other. On these they place rush hurdles, up¬
on which the worms are fed till they are ready to spin;
and, to preserve a regular heat, stove fires are placed at
the corners of the room, or else a warming pan is carried
Siltr.
[ 357 ] S I L
between up and down it; but it must not have the least flame or
smoke. Cow-dung dried in the sun is esteemed the - v 
most proper fuel.
The worms eat equally day and night. The Chinese
give them on the first day forty-eight meals, that is, one
every half hour ; the next thirty; the third day they
have still less. As cloudy and rainy weather takes away
their stomach, just before their repast a wisp of very dry
straw, the flame of which must be all alike, is held over
the worms to free them from the cold and moisture that
benumbs them, or else the blinds are taken from the
windows to let in the full day-light.
Eating so often hastens their growth, on which the
chief profit of the silk worm depends. If they come to
maturity in 23 or 25 days, a large sheet of paper cover¬
ed with worms, which at their first coming from the
eggs weigh little more than a drachm, will produce 25
ounces of silk ; but if not till 28 days, they then yield
only 20 ounces ; and if they are a month or 40 days in
growing, they then produce but ten.
They are kept extremely clean, and are often remo¬
ved ; and when they are pretty well grown, the worms
belonging to one hurdle are divided into three, after¬
wards they are placed on six, and so on to the number
of 20 or more ; for being full of humours, they must be
kept at a due distance from eacli other. The critical
moment for removing them is when they are of a bright
yellow and ready to spin ; they must be surrounded with
mats at a small distance, which must cover the top of
the place to keep oft the outward air ; and because they
love to work in the dark. However, after the third
day’s labour, the mats are taken away from one o’clock;
till three, but the rays of the situ must not shine upon
them. They are at this time covered with the sheets
of paper that were used on the hurdles.
The cocoons are completed in seven days, after which
the worm is metamorphosed into a chrysalis ; the co¬
coons are then gathered, and laid in heaps, having first
set apai’t those designed for propagation upon a hurdle,
in a cool airy place. The next care is to kill the moths
in those cones which are not to be bored. The best
way of doing it is to fill large earthen vessels with
cones in layers of ten pounds each, throwing in four
ounces of salt with every layer, and covering it with
large dry leaves like those of the water-lily, and closely
stopping the mouth of the vessels. But in laying the
cones into the vessels, they separate the long, white,
and glittering ones, which yield a very fine silk, from
those that are thick, dark, arid of the colour of the skin
of an onion, which produce a coarser silk.
The silk worm is a species of caterpillar, which, like
all others of the same class, undergoes a variety ofaml history
changes, that, to persons who are not acquainted with of the silk
little
sur-
objects of this kind, will appear to be not a
prising.
It is produced from a yellowish-coloured egg, about
the size of a small pin head, which has been laid by & Tjie
kind of grayish-coloured moth, which the vulgar con-No. 72,
found with the butterfly.
These eggs, in the temperature of this climate, if
kept beyond the reach of the fire and sunshine, may be
preserved during the whole of the winter and spring
months without danger of hatching: and even in sum¬
mer they may easily be prevented from hatching if they
be kept in a cool place; but in warmer climates it i/j'-
scatcely.
s I L [ 353 ] S I L
scarcely possible to preserve them from hatching, even
' for a few days, or from drying so much as to destroy
them. Hence it is easy for a native of Britain to keep
the eggs till the food on which the worm is to feed be
ready for that purpose. When this food is in pertec-
tion, the eggs need only be exposed to the sun for a day
or two, when they will be hatched with great facility..
When the animal is first protruded from the egg, it
is a small black worm, which is active, and naturally as¬
cends to the top of the heap in search of food. At this
stage of his growth the silk worm requires to be fed
with the youngest and most tender leaves. On these
leaves, if good, he will feed very freely for about eight
davs, during which period he increases in size to about
a quarter of an inch in length. He is then attacked
with his first sickness, which consists in a kind of le¬
thargic sleep for about three days continuance 5 during
which time he refuses to eat, and changes his skin, pre¬
serving the same hulk. This sleep being over, he begins
to eat again, during five days, at which term he is
grown to the size of full half an inch in length 5 after
which follows a second sickness, in every respect like
the former.
He then feeds for other five days 5 during which time
he will have increased to about three quarters of an inch
in length, when he is attacked with his third sickness.
This being over, he begins to eat again, and continues
to do so for five days more, when he is attacked by his
■fourth sickness, at which time he is arrived at his full
growth. When he recovers this sickness, he reeds once
more during five days with a most voracious appetite ;
after which°he disdains his food, becomes transparent,
a little on the yellowish cast, and leaves his silky traces
'on the leaves where he passes. These signs denote that
he is ready to begin his cocoon, and will eat no more.
Thus it" appears that the whole duration of the life of
the worm, in this state of its existence, in our climate,
is usually about 46 days ; 28 of which days he takes
food, and remains in his sick or torpid state 18 } hut it
is to he observed, that during warm weather the periods
of sickness are shortened, and in cold weather lengthen¬
ed, above the terms here specified. In very hot cli¬
mates it maybe said to live laster, and sooner to attain
maturity, than in those that are colder. l)r Anderson
informs* us, that at Madras the worm undergoes its
whole evolutions in the space ol 22 days. It appears,
however, that it feeds fully as many days in India as in
Europe, the difference being entirely occasioned by
shortening the period of sickness. Hie longest sickness
lie had seen them experience there did not exceed two
days •, and during summer it only lasts a few hours.
When the worm has attained its full growth, it
searches about for a convenient place for forming its co¬
coon, and mounts upon any branches or twigs that are
put in its way for that purpose. After about two days
spent in this manner, it settles in its place, and forms
the cocoon, by winding the silk which it draws from silt
its bowls round itself into an oblong roundish ball. v—
During this operation it gradually loses the appear¬
ance of a worm $ its length is much contracted, and its
thickness augmented. By the time tiie web is finished,
it is found to be transformed into an oblong roundish
hall, covered with a smooth shelly skin, and appears to
be perfectly dead. In this state of existence it is called
an durelio. Many animals in this state may be often
seen sticking on the walls of out-houses, somewhat re¬
sembling a small beam.
in this state it remains for several days entirely mo¬
tionless in the heart of the cocoon, after which it hursts
like an egg hatching, and from that comes forth a
heavy dull-looking moth with wings; but these wings
it never uses for flying; it only crawls slowly about in
the place it has been hatched. This creatux-e forces its
way through the silk covering which the worm had
woven, goes immediately in quest of its mate, after
which the female lays her eggs ; and both male and fe¬
male, without tasting food in this stage of their exist¬
ence, die in a very short time.
The silk worm, when at its full size, is from an
inch and a quarter to an inch and a half in length, and
about half an inch in circumference. He is either of a
milk or pearl colour, or blackish ; these last are esteem¬
ed the best. His body is divided into seven rings, to
each of wh’ch are joined two very short feet. He has
a small point like a thorn exactly above the anus. Tire
substance which forms the silk is in his stomach, which
is very long, wound up, as it were, upon two spindles,
as some say, and surrounded with a gum, commonly yel¬
lowish, sometimes white, but seldom greenish. M hen
the worm spins his cocoon, he winds oft" a thread from
each of his spindles, and joins them afterwards by
means of two hooks which are placed in his mouth, so
that the cocoon is formed of a double thread. Having
opened a silk worm, you may take out the spindles,
which are folded up in three plaits, and, on stretching
them out, and drawing each extremity, you may extend
them to near two ells in length. If you then scrape the
thread so stretched out with your nail, you scrape oil"
the gum, which is very like bees wax, and performs the
same office to the silk it covers as gold leaf does to tire
ingot of silver it surrounds, when drawn out by the
wire drawer. This thread which is extremely strong
and even, is about the thickness of a middling pin. 6
Of silk worms, as of most other animals, there is a
considerable variety of breeds, some of which are much ^A\0 i,e
more hardy, and possess qualities considerably different [)ai(] ^ the
from othex-s. This is a particular of much importance breed of
to be adverted to at the time of beginning to breed silk worm*
these creatures in any place ; for it will make a great
difference in the profit on the whole to the undeitaker
if he rears a good or a had sort (a). This is a department
in respect to the economy of animals that has been in
every
(a) As the success of the silk manufacture must depend on the breed of worms, it is of great consequence
to bring them from those countries where they are reckoned best.
Mr Andrew Wright, an ingenious silk manufacturer of Paisley, has given the following directions for conveying
the eggs of the silk worm from distant countries by sea : As soon as the moth has laid her eggs, dry them imme¬
diately, and put them into glass phials ; seal them so close that damp air or water will not penetrate into them. Put
tliese phials that contain the eggs into earthen pots filled with cold water ; and as often as the water becomes
1 warm
S I L
every case much less adverted to than it deserves; and in
■ -v particular with regard to the silk worm it has been al¬
most entirely overlooked. A few eggs of the silk worm
can be easily transported by post in a letter from any
part of Europe to another, especially during the winter
season. It would therefore be an easy matter for any
patriotic society, such as the Society of Arts in Lon¬
don, to obtain a specimen of the eggs from every coun¬
try in which silk is now reared, to put these under the
care of a person who could be depended upon, and who
understood the management of them, with orders to
keep each kind distinct from another, and advert to every
particular that occurred in their management, so as to
make a fair estimate of their respective merits. By these
means the best might be selected, and those of inferior
value rejected. Forty or fifty of each sort might be
enough for the experiment ; but it ought to be repeat¬
ed several times before conclusions could be drawn from
it that might be altogether relied upon ; for it is well
known that a variation of circumstances will make a
change in the result; and it is by no means certain that
the same particular would affect those of one breed ex¬
actly in the same manner as it would do those of a dif¬
ferent breed. One may be more hardy with regard to
cold, another more delicate in respect to food, and so
on. It is experience alone that can ascertain the cir¬
cumstances here inquired for.
From the above-mentioned particulars, it is evi¬
dent, that the management of silk worms must be very
different in hot climates from what is required in those
that are colder. At Madras, it appears from Dr An¬
derson’s experiments that it is very difficult to prevent
the eggs from hatching for a very few days, so that
many generations of them must he propagated in one
year. “ In this hottest season,” says he, in a letter to
Sir Joseph Banks, dated July 6. 1791, “ the shortest
time I have been able to remark for the whole evolu¬
tions of the silk worm is 40 days ; that is to say, six
days an egg, 22 a worm, 11 a grub in the cocoon,
and one a moth or butterfly.” Fortunately, where the
climate forces forward their production so rapidly, na¬
ture hath been equally provident of food for their sub¬
sistence ; for in these regions the mulberry continues to
grow and push out leaves throughout the whole year.
. 1 hough the silk worm he a native of China, there
is no doubt but it might easily be progagated perhaps
in. most parts of the temperate zones. The eggs of
this insect, indeed, require a considerable degree of
Warmth to hatch them, but they can also endure a se¬
vere frost. No less than 540olbs. of silk were raised in
1789 in the cold, sandy territories of Prussia. In the
province of Pekin, in China, where great quantities of
silk are fabricated, the winter is much colder than even
in Scotland. From the information of some Russians
who were sent thither to learn the Chinese language, we
find that lieaumur’s thermometer was observed from 10
m ^ 15; and even 20 degrees below the freezing point.
01 it difficult to rear the food of the silk worm in
a temperate clime. '1 he mulberry-tree is a hardy vege-
C .359 ]
S I L
Thc.ia-
nag.ent
of s|.
wor
nmsl.e
dl rent
slim i is •
tut mb b«
® isilyiiiar-
tii injija.
perait,
oiimef
table, which hears, without injury, the winters of Sweden, si!k
and even of Siberia. Of the seven species of the mill her-
ry (see Morus) enumerated by Linnaeus, four of these
(viz. the white, red, black, andTartarian), there is every
reason to believe could be reared both in Britain and
Ireland. The w/i/te grows.in Sweden ; the red is abun¬
dant round Quebec ; the black delights in bleak situa¬
tions, exposed to wind, on the sea shore ; and the Tar¬
tarian mulberry is represented as growing in the chilly
regions of Siberia.
As to the superior qualities of the different species, mJLr
probably there is very little to be pointed out amongst any specie*
the lour just mentioned with regard to nourishment, ex-°^ nmlker-
cept what may be drawn from the following fact: that17 tree kc
if the first three are laid down together, the silk wormt0
will.first eat the white, then the red, and next the black
in the order of the tenderness of the leaves. The Tar¬
tarian seems to hold as high a place in its esteem as ei¬
ther the red or black ; but all must yield to the white
which seems to be its natural food.
In Calabria the red mulberry is used ; in Valencia
the white ; and in Granada, where excellent silk is pro¬
duced, the mulberries are all black. The white seems
to prosper very well in a moist stiff soil: the black agrees
well with a dry, sandy, or gravelly soil ; and the white
is most luxuriant in a moist rich loam.
It may justly be asserted, that Britain possesses someBritfri,,,,,
advantages tn the raismg of raw silk which are not en-seis l e'
joyed by warmer countries. Even in the south ofadvantagc4
I ranee, Mr Arthur Young informs us, the mulberry0V,|U warru'
leaves are often nipped by frost in the bud ; and thfi i^r e0l!lltrics
scarcely ever the case with us. It is well known thaUi™1^
tiiunder and lightning are hurtful to the silk worm
Now our climate can boast that it is almost wholly ex¬
empted from those dreadful storms of thunder and light¬
ning which prevail so much in hot climates. Nature
has then furnished us with every thing requisite for the
silk manufacture; it remains only for us to improve the
advantages which we possess. Let mulberry trees be
planted by proprietors of lands, and let a few persons
ot skill and attention devote their lime to the raising of
silk worms. This is an employment that will not in¬
terfere with any manufacture already established; on the
contrary, it would afford a respectable, a lucrative, and
agreeable employment to ladies, or to females in gene¬
ral, who have at present too few professions to which
they can apply. The society instituted at London for
the encouragement of arts, manufactures, and com¬
merce, much to their honour, have offered premiums
to those who shall plant a certain number of mulberry
trees. ^
The following method of raising mulberry trees from Method of
seed is practised in the south of France, and has been rais'nS
repeated with success in the East Indies by Dr Antler muIberry
son of Madras. “ Take the ripe berries of the mulber-Xh ^ ^
ry when it is full of juice and of seeds. Next take a France
rough horse-hair line or rope, such as we dry linen on, Letters oh
and with a good, handful of ripe mulberries run your t/ie Culture
hand along the line, bruising the berries and mashing^Iicno
them 071 the
^0^ 1 it tIlf eartIllcn ivesscIs in the coldest place of the ship, and let them remain until the end of
laia 1.1 itemoiuhs’of June ‘h* Ship cb0"" ^ tb“ >>url,ose 0"Sht t0 be °"e tllat «rme in Bri.
Coast of Co-
romandel.
S I L
t 360 ]
S I L
Silk.
.Bw, N° 7c.
12
Miss
Rhodes fed
silk worms
oft lettuce
for some
time.
(Seaeral
Mordaunt
still more
sucoessfal.
theiti as much as possible as your hand runs along, so
that the pulp and seeds of the berries may adhere in
great abundance to the rope or hair line. Next dig a
trench in the ground where you wish to plant them,
much like what is practised in kitchen gardens in Eng-
gland tor crops of various kinds* Next'cut the rope or
hair line into lengths according to the length of the
trench you think fit to make, and plunge the line full
of mashed berries into the trench, and then cover it over
well with earth, always remembering afterwards to wa¬
ter it well, which is essential to the success. The seeds
of the berries thus sown will grow, and soon shoot out
young suckers, which will bear young leaves, which are
the best food for the silk worm.
“ The facility and rapidity with which youtig leaves
may by this means be produced is evident, for as many
rows of trenches may thus be filled as can be wished j
and it can never be necessary to have mulberry trees
higher than our raspberries, currants, or gooseberry
bushes. Whenever they get beyond tuat, they lose their
value ; and if these trenches succeed, you may have a
supply coming fresh up day after day, or any quantity
you please.” Thus abundance of these trees might be
reared. But as mulberry trees are not yet found in abun¬
dance in this country, it were to be wished that some
other food could be substituted in their place : attempts
have accordingly been made by those who have reared
silk worms, and it has been found possible to support
the silk worm upon lettuce (b).
Miss Henrietta Rhodes, a lady who has made some
successful experiments on raising silk worms in England,
had found that the silk worm could with safety be kept
on lettuce for some time. This is pretty generally
known by ladies who have turned their attention to this
subject; but she found that in general they could not
with safety be kept upon that food above three weeks*
If longer fed upon that plant, the worms for the most
part die without spinning a web at all. She found,
however, that they did not always die, but that in some
cases they produced very good cocoons, even when fed
entirely on lettuce. She therefore with reason suspect¬
ed that the death of the animal must be occasioned by
some extraneous circumstance, and not from the poi¬
sonous quality of the food itself: the circumstance she
suspected, from some incidental observations, was the
coldness of that food ; and therefore she thought it was
not impossible, but if they were kept in a very warm
place, while fed on lettuce, they might attain, in all
cases, a due perfection.
General Mordaunt having been informed of this con¬
jecture, resolved to try the experiment. He got some
silk worm eggs, had them hatched in his hot-house, and
caused them to be all fed upon lettuce and nothing else.
They prospered as well as any worms could do, few or
none of them died *, and they afforded as fine cocoons
as if they had been fed upon mulberry leaves. As tal¬
as one experiment can go, this affords a very exhilara¬
ting prospect in many points of view. If one kind of
food has been noxious, merely on account of an impro- Silk*
per temperature, others may be found which have been l——
hurtful only from a similar cause •, so that it is not im¬
possible but we may at last find that this delicate crea¬
ture may be supported by a variety of kinds of food.
Few, however, could be more easily obtained than let¬
tuce ; and this plant, when cabbaged (the coss or ice
lettuce especially), would possess one quality that the
mulberry leaf never can possess, from the want of which
many millions of worms die in those countries where
silk is now- reared ; for it is observed, that when the
leaves are gathered wet, it is scarcely possible to pre¬
serve the worms alive for any length of time j so that
during a continuance of rainy weather many of them
are unavoidably cut off; but a lettuce, when cabbaged,
resists moisture. If gathered, even during rain, the
heart of it is dry; so that if the outer leaves be thrown
aside at that time, the worms would be continued in
perfect health. The expence, too, of cultivating and
gathering lettuce, Would be so much less than that of
gathering mulberry leaves, as to occasion a saving that
would be much more than sufficieut to counterbalance
the expence of heating the conservatory, as a little re¬
flection will show*
But the great point to be now ascertained is, whe¬
ther it is a fact that worms fed on lettuce, if kept in a
due temperature, will continue in good health, in gene¬
ral, till they shall have perfected their cocoon ? One
experiment is too little to establish this fact with perfect
certainty. It would therefore be necessary that more
experiments should be made on this subject.
It is said that Hr Lodovico Bellardi, a learned and Silk womi
ingenious botanist of Turin, has, after a number of ex-sa*dt0^,
periments, discovered a new method of feeding silk
worms, when they are hatched before the mulberry leavcs,'
trees have produced leaves, or when it happens that
the frost destroys the tender branches. This new me¬
thod consists in giving the worms dried leaves of the
mulberry-tree. One would think that this dry nourish¬
ment would not be much relished by these insects; but
repeated experiments made by our author, prove that
they prefer it to any other, and eat it with the greatest
avidity. The mulberry leaves must be gathered about
the end of autumn, before the frosts commence, in dry
weather, and at times when the heat is greatest. They
must be dried afterwards in the sun, by spreading them
upon large cloths, and laid up in a dry place after they
have been reduced to powder. \\ hen it is necessary to
give this powder to the worms, it should be gently moi¬
stened with a little water, and a thin coat of it must be
placed around the young worms, Which will immediate¬
ly begin to feed upon it. JS
We have mentioned all the different kinds of food, Proper
which, as far as we have heard, have been tried "’ithi*
any success to nourish the silk worm; not, however,oB
with great confidence, but as experiments which it might va,jousTS'
be worth while carefully to consider and perform. Megetables
must not omit to mention that one person, who has had
(b) It is not improbable, says Dr Anderson, to whose valuable work entitled the Bee, we have been muci
indebted in drawing up this article, that other kinds of food may he found which will answer the same pur
pose. The cichorium intybus and common endive might be tried, as they have the same lactescent quality wi 1
>the lettuce.
$iL
l5
Mr
» .. * ,Sk 1 L t 36
feiUcii experience in the managing of silk worms, as.ures
us, that the silk produced irom any other food than
mulberry leaves is of an inferior quality, and that the
worms are sickly. We think, however, that there is
reason to suspect that the experiment has not been skil¬
fully performed j and therefore, before every other food
except mulberry leaves is discarded, the experiment
ought to be performed with more attention and care.
We know that many animals in a domestic state can live
upon food very different from that which supported
them when running wild in the fields. Certain it is
however, that every animal, in its state of nature, par¬
takes of a food peculiar to itself, which is rejected by
other animals as it it were of a poisonous quality : and
it may be mentioned as a curious fact, as well as an ad¬
mirable instance of the care of that Being who feeds
the fowls of heaven, that notwithstanding the number¬
less insects that prey upon animals and vegetables, the
mulberry tree is left untouched by them all, as the ex¬
clusive property of the silk worm, the chief of the insect
tribe, which toils and spins for the use of man.
If and' Havi"g "°,W co»s“fered the food proper for the silk
a| tments "orm» we shall next consider what situation is mostfa-
pi or for voiirable to them. In the opinion of some persons in
thorn- this country who have been in the practice of rearing
W s,lk worms, they ought always to be kept in a dry placed
well sheltered, and possessing a considerable degree of
warmth, and which is not exposed to sudden transitions
from heat to cold. If the weather he too cold, a small
fire must be made j this is of most importance when the
worms are ready for spinning. A southern exposure
13 therefore preferable. Some think light is of great
utility to silk worms, others think that they thrive^bet-
ter in the dark. As to what apartments are best ac¬
commodated for promoting the health of silk worms
and most convenient for those who have the care of them’
they may he various according to the extent of the ma¬
nufacture or the wealth of the proprietors. Silk worms
may be kept in boxes or in shelves. When shelves are
to be used, they may be constructed in the following
manner: The shelves may lie of wicker, ranged at the
j distance of a foot and a half, and fixed in the middle of
tue room : their breadth ought to be such, that any per¬
son can easily reach to the middle from either side. This
is perhaps the simplest and cheapest apparatus for rear¬
ing silk worms • but there is another apparatus which
may e lecommended to those who are anxious to unite
some degree of elegance with convenience. This appa-
ratus ,8 the invention of the Rev. George Svvayne of
•ruckle-church, a gentleman who has studied this sub¬
ject much, in order to find out the way for promoting
the culture of silk among the poor. This apparatus,
with the description of it, may he found in the Trans¬
actions nf fl.O    • 1
Silk.
. M  J LUC ilitllS-
acttons ot the Society for encouraging Arts, Manufac-
Commerce, vol. vii. p. 148. The apparatus
Saji’s Ure?’ commerce, voL vu- ?■ The apparatus
appals consists of a wooden frame four feet two inches high
descr ,,. each side 16 indies and a half wide, divided into eight
partitions by small pieces of wood which form grooves,
into which the slides run, and are thus easily thrust into
or drawn out of the frame. The upper slide in the mo¬
re sent to the Society by Mr Swayne is of paper only,
am designed to receive the worms as soon as hatched ;
ie two next are ot catgut, the threads about one-tenth
V mtrtStT f) nm each othcr : tl,ese are for the
v ol. AIA. Bart I. ^
1 ] S X L
insects when a little advanced in size: the five lower
oncs are ot wicker work ; but, as Mr Swayne afterwards v  
found, netting may be substituted with advantage in¬
stead of wicker bottoms. Under each of these, as well
as under those of catgut, are sliders made of paper, to
prevent the dung of the worms from falling on those
reeding below them.
I he management of silk worms is next to be attend-
to. I he proper time for hatching them is when the for Ltcli-
leaves of the mulberry are full grown, or nearly so ;mg silk
that as soon as these insects are capable of receivin'o- food wo,‘ms*
they may obtain it in abundance. To attempt toliatch
them sooner would be hurtful, as the weather would not
be sufficiently warm. Besides, as leaves are necessary
0 the life ot a vegetable, if the young leaves of the
mulberry tree are cropped as soon as they are unfolded,
the tree vyill be so much weakened as to be incapable
ot producing so many leaves as it would otherwise have
done j and if this practice be frequently repeated, will
inevitably be destroyed,
1 IV'?’ .t'!e lJ,0l)fcy season is arrived, the eggs may beHowIhey
latched either by the heat of the sun, when it happens ought to
to he strong enough, or by placing them in a smalll,e batched
room moderately heated by a stove or fire 5 and afterandfed'
being exposed lor six or seven days to a gentle heat, the
silk worm issues from the egg in the form of a small
black hairy caterpillar. When Mr Swayne’s apparatus
is used the worms are to he kept on the drawers with
paper bottoms till they are grown so large as not rea¬
dily to creep through the gauze-bottomed drawers:
they are then to be placed on those drawers, where they
are to remain till their excrements are so large as not
readily to fall through 5 when this is the case they must
be removed to the drawers with the wicker or netting
bottoms, and fed thereon, till they show symptoms of be¬
ing about to spin. It is scarcely necessary to mention,
that the paper Slides beneath the gauze and wicker
drawers are intended to receive the dung, which should
be emptied as often as the worms are fed, at least once
a-day 5 or to direct, that when the worms are fed, the
s ides are to be first drawn out a considerable way, and
the drawers to rest upon them.
It has been already mentioned, that wet or dampWet5°
food ,s exceedingly prejudicial to those insects. It pro- da,™ tood
uces contagious and fatal diseases. To prevent the produces
necessity of giving them wet or damp food, attention conta£ious
ought to be paid to the weather, so that when there ig discases-
an immediate prospect of rain, a sufficient quantity of
leaves may he gathered to serve the worms two or three
days. In this country, the leaves of the black or red
mulberry tree may be preserved good for food, although
kept lour or five days, by the following method : When
new gathered, lay them loosely in glazed earthen vessels,
place these m a cold place, well aired, not exposed to
drought.
The utmost attention must be paid to preserve the
p ace where silk worms are kept as clean as possible: be kept as
the house or room must be well ventilated, that no noxious cieilu as
vapours be accumulated. By some experiments of M. possible,
la^jas de St Fond, which are recorded in his history of
.Languedoc, it ajipears that the silk worm is much injur¬
ed by foul air. All decayed leaves must be removed
from them, as it is now well known that they emit bad
air in great abundance.
^ z s One
T
S I L
[ 362 ]
S I L
22
How they
may be
cleaned
without
bruising
them.
One of the most difficult branches of the management
of silk worms has hitherto been the cleaning without
■ bruising them. To avoid this inconvenience, the pea¬
sants in France and Italy frequently allow the whole lit¬
ter to remain without ever cleaning them, which is the
cause of that unwholesome stench that has been so often
remarked by tho.se who visit the places foi rearing si
worms in these countries. This difficulty may be ef¬
fectually removed by providing a net, or, what would
be still better, a wire-bottomed frame, wrought into
large meshes like a riddle. Have that made of a size
exactly sufficient to cover the wooden box in which the
worms are kept. When you mean to shift them, spread
fresh leaves into the wire basket •, and let it down gent¬
ly over the worms till it comes within their reach.
They no sooner perceive the fresh food than they aban¬
don the rubbish below, and creep through the meshes,
so as to fix themselves upon the leaves ; then by gently
raising the fresh basket, and drawing out the board be¬
low (which ought to be made to slip out like the slip-
bottom of a bird’s cage), you get off all the excrements
and decayed leaves, without incommoding the worms in
the smallest degree j and along with the litter you wil
draw off an inch or two in depth of the foulest mephitic
vapours. To get entirely rid of these, the board, when
thus taken out, should be carried without doors, and
there cleaned 5 and the slip-board immediately replaced
to receive all the excrements and offals. After it is re¬
placed, the wire frame that had been elevated a little,
may be allowed to descend to a convenient distance
above the board without touching it. _ Thus will there
be left a vacant space for the mephitic air to fall below
the worms, so as to allow them to inhabit a wholesome
region of the atmosphere. . . „
When a fresh supply of food is to be given before
cleaning, the wire frame ought to be let down as close
to the board as can be safely done, and another wire-
bottomed frame put over it, with fresh leaves, as before
described. When the worms have abandoned that in
their turn, let the slip-board, together with the lower
wire frame, be drawn out and removed, and so on as
often as necessary. To admit of this alternate change,
every table, consisting of one slip-board, ought to have
two sets of wire bottomed frames of the same size ; the
slip-board to be always put into its place immediately
after it is cleaned, and the wire frames reserved to be
afterwards placed over the other. By this mode of ma-
23
nagement, it is probable that the worms would be saved
from the diseases engendered by the mephitic air, and
the numerous deaths that are the consequence of it a-
voided. .
Dr Anderson, to whom we have already acknowled-Quicklime
ged our obligations, and to whom this country has been™jb-
much indebted for valuable works on agriculture, theba(jajr
fisheries, &c. advises those who have the management which sur.
of silk worms to strew a thin stratum of fresh slaked rounds
quicklime upon the slip-hoard each time it is cleanedthem*
immediately before it is put into its place. This would
absorb the mephitic gas, for as soon as it is generated it
would descend upon the surface of the quicklime, f hus
would the worms be kept continually in an atmosphere
of pure air (c). Were the walls of the apartments to
be frequently washed with quicklime and water, it would
tend much to promote cleanliness at a small expence,
and augment the healthiness of the worms as well as
that of the persons who attend them. 24
When the silkworm refuses its food, and leaves silky J ^
traces on the leaves over which it passes, it is a P1'00*
that it is ready to begin its cocoon. It is now necessa-fort]je
ry to form a new receptacle, which is commonly done worms,
by pinning together papers in the shape ofinverted
with broad bases. “ Ibis method (says Mi Svaynej,Transa{_
where there are many worms, is exceedingly tedious, ^
wastes much paper, and uses a large number of pins; Society for
besides, as the silk worm always weaves an outer cover-
ing or defensive web before it begins the cocoon ot 0f
oval ball, I apprehended that it caused a needless waste U3.
of silk in forming the broad web at the top. The me¬
thod I make use of is, to roll a small piece of paper (an
uncut octavo leaf, such as that of an old magazine, is
sufficient for three), round my fore-finger, and to give
it a twist at the bottom j which is done with the utmost
expedition, and gives no occasion for the use of pins.
These rolled paper-cases being likewise of a form more
nearly resembling that of a cocoon, with a much nar¬
rower opening on the top than the others, takes away
the necessity of wasting much silk in the outer web,
and consequently leaves more to be employed in forming
the ball. The silk is readily taken out of these cases
by untwisting the bottom ; and if this be done with mo¬
derate care, and the papers are preserved, they will serve ^
several times for the like purpose.” . offers re-
Others advise, that when the silk worms are preparingconimenj
to spin, little hushes of heath, broom, or twigs, sll0U1l)“1]JueJ
(c)T:rti™sc:^
themou'th with cork stoppers. After which 1 placed in each of them, in their second life (so
aLT which means the tage between the different sicknesses), twelve silk worms, which were fed four times a
day ’ Ind wS I confined in this kind of prison all their life, without taking away either their dead comp
nioVs or their ordure or litter. I sprinkled with chalk the worms of only two of these jars, and kept
0tl« I^thosT ClffioTtfimeTi never obtained either more or less than three small and imperfect cocoons (c/^
o« bLffard), and in the two that were sprinkled with lime, I had very olten twelve, and never less than
fU ThiTexperiment affords the most satisfactory proof of the utility of tins process. From a number of
found, that even when the worms were covered with a large proportion of lime, they never were in any J
commoded by it.
STL
Silk.
26
uw silk
27
T Ferent
U Js of
oiDons.
be stuck upright neat the shelf or box in which they
are inclosed : the worms mount these, and attach their
web to them.
When the worms are ready to mount, in order to
irms may Sp;n? Jf the weather be hot, attended with thunder, you
tenTf- wii* See t,iem a languislling condition; your care must
.ted by then be to revive them, which is effected thus: Take
mder. a few eggs and onions, and fry them in a pan with some
onsac- stale hog’s lard, the ranker the better, and make pan-
cake 5 done* cariT it smoaking hot into the room
l ilosophi- where they are kept, and go round the chamber with
1 Society, it. You will be surprised to see how the smell revives
1 them, excites those to eat who have not done feeding,
and makes the others that are ready to spin climb up
the twigs.
In about ten or twelve days, according to the ac¬
counts which we have received from Mr Andrew Wright
of Paisley, it maybe safely concluded, that if the worms
have finished their work, the cocoons may be collected.
We shall now distinguish the cocoons from one ano¬
ther according to their value or their use, and consider
the method of managing each. They may he distin¬
guished into the good and bad. The good cocoons may
be known by these marks: they are little, strong, and
firm ; have a fine grain, both ends are round, and they
are free from spots. Among the good cocoons also may¬
be arranged those which are called calcined cocoons, in
which the worm, in consequence of sickness, is petrified
or reduced to a fine powder. These cocoons produce
more silk than others, and are sold in Piedmont at half
as much again. They may be distinguished by the noise
which the worm makes when the cocoon is shaken. Of
the bad cocoons there are six species : 1. The pointed
cocoons, one extremity of which ends in a point ; the
silk which covers the point is weak, and soon breaks or
tears. 2. The cocalons, which are bigger, but the con¬
texture is weak. 3. The dupions, or double cocoons,
which have been formed by the joint labour of two and
sometimes of three worms. 4. The sonjjlons, which have
a loose contexture, sometimes so loose that they" are
transparent. 5. The perforated cocoons, which have a
hole at one end. 6. The bad chocjuette, which is com¬
posed of defective cocoons, spotted or rotten. Besides
these there is the good choquette, which does not pro¬
perly belong to either of these two classes : it is formed
of those cocoons in which the worm dies before the silk
is brought to perfection. The worms adhere to one
side of the cocoon, and therefore when the cocoon is
shaken will not rattle : the silk is as fine, but is not of
so bright a colour, nor is so strong and nervous, as that
which is obtained from good cocoons.
The cocoons which are kept for breeding are called
ttions roya^ cocoons. For selecting and preserving these, we
ecu have been favoured with some valuable instructions by
Mr Wright of Paisley, which we shall present to our
readers.—The largest and best cocoons ought to be
kept for breed, about an equal number of males and
females; the cocoons that contain the former are sharp¬
er pointed at the ends than those that contain the lat¬
ter. Although it should happen that there are more
females than males, little inconvenience or ill conse¬
quences can arise from it, as one male will serve two or
three females, if the time of their coming out of the
cocoons answer. About 12 or 15 days after they be¬
gin to spin, the cocoons for breed may be laid on sheets
[ 353 ]
S I L
Sift.
Mr
\V£
inst
for
'“g | J
pres,,-Jug
the -al
cocos.
oi white paper; about this time the moth opens for it¬
self a passage through the end of its cocoon, and issues
out. When the female has laid her eggs, which on an
average may amount to 25a, they are spread upon sheets
of paper, and hung up to dry in some place where they
may not be exposed to the heat of the sun : after being
dried they must be kept in a cool well-aired place,
where neither vapours nor moisture can reach them.
I hat they may be preserved from external accidents, as
insects of different kinds will destroy them, and mice is
their enemy in all the stages of their existence, they
should be kept in stone pots or glass bottles with their
mouths stopped, and there remain until brought out
next season to be hatched.
The cocoons from which the silk is to be immediate-How^o
ly wound must be exposed to the heat of an oven, in or-prepare the
der to kill the chrysalis or aurelia, which would other-co.coonsfor
wise eat its way through the cocoon, and render it use-^und
less. The following directions are given for managingW0Un ’
this process by one of the first silk manufacturers in Italy.
Put your cocoons in long shallow baskets, and fill Transae-
them within an inch of the top. You then co\zrtions °fthe
them up with paper, and put a wrapper over that. These •
baskets are to be disposed in an oven, whose heat is ascalSoncty,
near as can be that of an oven from which the bread is vol. ii.
just drawn after being baked. When your cocoons have
remained therein near an hour, you must draw them
out; and to see whether all the worms are dead, draw
out a dupion from the middle of your basket and open
it: if the worm be dead, you may conclude all the rest
are so ; because the contexture of the dupion being
stronger than that of the other cocoons, it is consequent^
ly less easy to be penetrated by the heat. You must
observe to take it from the middle of the basket, be¬
cause in that part the heat is least perceptible. After
you have drawn your baskets from the oven, you must
first cover each of them with a woollen blanket or ru^,
leaving the wrapper besides, and then you pile them
above one another. If your baking has succeeded, your
woollen cover will be all over wet with a kind of dew,
the thickness of your little finger. If there be less, it
is a sign your cocoons have been too much or too little
baked. If too much baked, the worm, being over-dried,
cannot transpire a humour he no longer contains, and
your cocoon is then burnt. If not enough baked, the
worm has not been sufficiently penetrated by the heat
to distil the liquor he contains, and in that case is not
dead.
You must let your baskets stand thus covered five or
six hours if possible, in order to keep in the heat, as this
makes an end of stifling those worms which might have
avoided the first impression of the fire. You are like¬
wise to take great care to let your cocoons stand in the
oven the time that is necessary ; for if they do not stand
long enough, your worms are only stunned for a time,
and will afterwards be revived. If, on the other hand,
you leave them too long in the oven, you burn them :
many instances of these two cases are frequently to be
met with. It is a good sign when you see some of the
butterflies spring out from the cocoons which have been
baked, because you may be certain they are not burnt.
For if you would kill them all to the last worm, you
would burn many cocoons which might be more expo¬
sed to the heat than that particular worm.
The next operation is the winding of the silk. Be-
Z z a fore
Silk.
S I L
[
S I t
fore you begin to wind, you must prepare your cocoons
as follows :
In stripping them of that waste silk that surrounds
them, and which served to fasten them to the twigs.
This burr is proper to stuff’quilts, or other such uses *,
you may likewise spin it to make stockings, but they
will be coarse and ordinary.
2. You must sort your eocoons, separating them into
different classes in order to wind them apart. These
classes are, the good white cocoons j the good co¬
coons of all the other colours ; the dupions ; the co-
calons, among which are included the weak cocoons j
the good choquette and, lastly, the bad choquette.
In sorting the cocoons, you will always find some per¬
forated cocoons amongst them, whose rvorm is already
horn y those you must set apart for fleuret. You will
likewise find some soufflons, but very few ; for which
reason you may put them among the bad choquette, and
they run up into waste.
The good cocoons, as well white as yellow, are the
easiest to wind j those which require the greatest care
and pains are the cocalons 5 you must wind them in
cooler water than the others, and if you take care to
give them to a good windster, you will have as good
silk from them as the rest. You must likewise have
careful windsters for the dupions and choquettes. These
two species require hotter water than the common co¬
coons.
The good cocoons are to be wound in the following
manner : First, choose an open convenient place for your
filature, the longer the better, if you intend to have
many furnaces and coppers. The building should be
high and open on one side, and walled on the other, as
well to screen you from the cold winds and receive the
sun, as to give a free passage to the steam of your ba¬
sons or coppers.
These coppers or basons are to be disposed (when the
building will admit of it) in a row on each side of the
filature, as being the most convenient method of pla¬
cing them, for by that means in walking up and down
you see what every one is about. And these basons
should be two and two together, with a chimney be¬
tween every couple.
Having prepared your reels (which are turned by
hand, and requite a quick eye), and your fire being a
light one under every bason, your windster must stay
till the water is as hot as it can be without boiling.
When every thing is ready, you throw into your ba¬
sons two or three handfuls of cocoons, which you
gently brush over with a wisk about six incites long,
cut stumpy like a broom worn out: by these means the
threads of the cocoons stick to the wisk. You must
disengage these threads from the wisk, and purge them
by drawing these ends with your fingers till they
come off entirely clean. This operation is called la
Battue.
When the threads are quite clear, you must pass four
of them (if you will wind fine silk) through each of the
holes in a thin iron bar, that is placed horizontally at
the edge of your bason j afterwards you twist the two
ends (which consist of four cocoons each) twenty or
twenty-five times, that the four ends in each thread
may the better join together in crossing each other, and
that your silk may be plump, which otherwise would
fee Hat.
364 ]
Your windster must always have a bowl of cold wa¬
ter by her, to dip her fingers in, and to sprinkle very v
often the said bar, that the heat may not burn the
thread.
Your threads, when thus twisted, go upon two iron
hooks called rampins, which are placed higher, and
from thence they go upon the reel. At one end of
the axis of the reel is a cog-wheel, which catching
in the teeth of the post-rampin, moves it from the right
to the left, and consequently the thread that is upon
it "y so that your silk is wound on the reel crossways,
Silk.
and your threads form two hanks of about four fingers
broad.
As often as the cocoons you wind are done, or break
or diminish only, you must join fresh ones to keep up
the number requisite, or the proportion 5 because, as
the cocoons wind off, the thread being finer, you must
join two cocoons half wound to replace a new one :
Thus you may wind three new ones and two half wound,
and your silk is from four to five cocoons.
When you would join a fresh thread, you must lay
ore end on your finger, which you throw lightly on the
other threads that are winding, and it joins them im¬
mediately, and continues to go up with the rest. ou
must not wind off your cocoons too hare or to the last,
because when they are near at an end, the bairrey that
is, the husk, joins in with the other threads, and makes
the silk foul and gouty.
When you have finished your firfet parcel, you must
clean your basons, taking out all the striped worms, as
well as the cocoons, on which there is a little silk,
which you first open and take out the worm, and then
throw them into a basket by you, into which you like¬
wise cast the loose silk that comes off iu making the
battue.
You then proceed as before with other two or three
handfuls of cocoons 5 you make a new battue } you
purge them, and continue to wind the same number of
cocoons or their equivalent, and so to the end.
As was already mentioned, the windster must always
have a howl of cold water by her, to sprinkle the bar,
to cool her fingers every time she dips them in the hot
water, and to pour into her bason when necessary, that
is, when her water begins to boil. You must he very
careful to twist your threads a sufficient number of
times, about 25, otherwise your silk remains flat, in¬
stead of being round and full 5 besides, when the silk is
not well crossed, it never can be clean, because a gout
or nub that comes from a cocoon will pass through a
small number of these twists, though a greater will
stop it. Your thread then breaks, and you pass what
foulness there may he in the middle of your reel be¬
tween the two hanks, which serves for a head-hand to
tie them.
You must observe that your water be just in a proper
degree of heat. When it is too cold, the thread is dead,
and has no body } when it is too hot, the ends which
form the thread do not join well, and form a harsh ill-
qualified silk.
You must change the water in your bason four times
a day for your dupions and choquette, and twice only
for good cocoons when you wind fine silk ; but if you
wind coarse silk, it is necessary tc change it three or
four times. For if you were not to change the water, the
silk would not be so bright and glossy, because the worm
contained
k::
V-
[ 365 ] SIM
,ilk, contained in tlie cocoons foul it very considerably,
•ilia. You must endeavour to wind as much as possible with
' v ' clear water, for if there are too many worms in it, vour
silk is covered with a kind of dust which attracts the
moth, and destroys your silk.
You may wind your silk of what size you please, from
one cocoon to 1000; but it is difficult to wind more
than 30 in a thread. The nicety, and that in which
consists the greatest difficulty, is to wind even ; because
as the cocoon winds off the end is finer, and you must
then join other cocoons to keep up the same size. This
difficulty of keeping the silk always even is so great,
that (excepting a thread of two cocoons, which we call
such) we do not say a silk of three, of four, or six co¬
coons *, but a silk of three to four, of four to five, of six
to seven cocoons. If you proceed to a coarser silk,
you cannot calculate so nicely as to one cocoon more or
less. We say, for example, from 12 to 15, from 15 to
20, and so on.
W t mini- What number of worms are necessary to produce a
tokf certain quantity of silk has not been ascertained. And
dZi eer- as <^erent persons who wished to determine this point
tai man- *,ave different results, the truth seems to be, that
tit;jf silk, from various circumstances the same number of woririS
may produce more silk at one time than at another. It
is related in the second volume of the Transactions of
the Society for encouraging Arts, &c. that Mrs Wil¬
liams obtained nearly an ounce and a half of silk from
244 cocoons. Mr Swayne from 50 cocoons procured
100 grains. Miss Rhodes obtained from 2<;o of the
largest cocoons, three quarters of an ounce and a dram.
From a paper in the second volume of the American
Transactions, which we have before referred to in the
course of this article, we are informed that 150 ounces
of good cocoons yield about 11 ounces of silk from five
to six cocoons: if you wind coarser, something more.
But what appears astonishing, Mr Salvatore Bertezen,
an Italian, to whom the Society for encouraging Arts,
&c. adjudged their gold medal, raised five pounds of
| J excellent silk from 1 2,000 worms.
Leik of Tire cocoons produce a thread of very unequal
the Heads Jength j you may meet with some that yield 1200 ells,
whilst others will scarcely afford 200 ells. In general,
you may calculate the production of a cocoon from 500
to 600 ells in length.
SiLK-Loom. See Weaving.
Silk-Worm. See Silk.
SILLA, a large town on the Niger, by which the
travels ot Mr Park were bounded towards the east. He
gives no particular description of the place, which his
health and spirits permitted him not to survey, but as¬
signs the reasons by which he was induced to proceed
no farther. On his arrival, he was allowed to remain un¬
der a tree, till it was quite dark, surrounded by hun¬
dreds of people. But their language was extremely dif¬
ferent from the other parts of Bambarra; and he was
given to understand, that in his progress eastward, the
Bambarra tongue was very little understood; and that,
on his reaching Jenne, he would find the greater part of
the inhabitants accustomed to speak a difl’erent language.
He had now become the prey of sickness, exhausted
with hunger and fatigue, half naked, and without any
article of value, to procure for himself provisions,
clothes, or lodging, on which account he resolved to re¬
turn, finding that to prosecute his journey further in
that direction was wholly impracticable. Silla, accord- silJa
ing to the latest map of Africa, is in 140 48' N. Lat
and i°24/ W\ Long. Simancas.
SILPHA, Carrion-Beetle, a genus of insects v
belonging to the order coleopterce. See Entomology
Index.
SILPHIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of syngenesia, and to the order of polygamia necessaria j
and in the natural system arranged under the 49th or¬
der, Compcsitce. See Botany Index.
SILVER, a well known metallic substance. For an
account of its properties, see Chemistry Index.
Silver, Ores of. See Mineralogy Index.
She/l-Silver, is prepared of the shreds of silver leaf,
or of the leaves themselves, for the use of painters, after
the same manner as shell-gold. See S/ie//-GoLD.
SILVERING, the covering of any thing with silver.
It is usual to silver metals, wood, paper, &c. which is
performed either with fire, oil, or size. Metal-gilders
silver by the fire} painter gilders all the other ways.
See Gilding.
To silver copper or brass. 1. Cleanse the metal with
aquafortis, by washing it lightly, and immediately
throwing it into pure water; or by heating it red hot,
and scouring it with salt and tartar, and pure water,
with a small wire brush 2. Dissolve some silver in
aquafortis, in a broad-bottomed glass vessel, or of gla¬
zed earth ; then evaporate away the aquafortis over a
chaffing dish ot coals. 3. Put five or six times its
quantity ol water, or as much as will be necessary to
dissolve it perlectlv, on the remaining dry calx ; evapo¬
rate this water with the like heat; then put more fresh
water, and evaporate again ; and, if need be, the third
time, making the fire towards the latter end so strong as
to leave the calx perfectly dry, which, if your silver is
good, will be of a pure white. 4. Take of this calx,
common salt, crystals of tartar, of each a like quantity
or bulk, and mixing well the whole composition, put
the metal into pure water, and take of the said powder
with your wet fingers, and rub it well on, till you find
every little cavity of the metal sufficiently silvered
over. 5. If you would have it richly done, you must
rub on more of the powder; and, in the last place, wash
the silvered metal in pure water, and rub it hard with a
dry cloth.
Silvering of Glasses. See Foliating of Looking-
glasses.
SILURIS, a genus of fishes belonging to the order
abdomimales. See Ichthyology Index.
SIMANCAS, a village on the eastern boundary of
the kingdom of Leon in Spain, six miles below Valla¬
dolid, on the river Gisnerga. Dr Robertson, in the in¬
troduction to his History of America, makes mention of
it, and it is remarkable for the archives of the kingdoms
of Leon and Castile, kept in the castle. This collec¬
tion was begun when the kings often resided at Valla¬
dolid, in which city is still the civil and military tribu¬
nal for almost the whole of Spain to the north of the
Tagus. It was thought proper to have those papers
kept in the vicinity of that court, for which purpose this
castle was peculiarly fitted, being entirely erected of
stone. At one period there were two large halls in this
office filled with papers respecting the first settlement of
the Spaniards in South America. There was likewise
in the room called the ancient royal patronage, a box
containing
1
SIM
[ 366 ]
S I M
Simancas
‘ .11
Simon.
'Enfield's
History of
Philosophy,
rol. ii. p.
i6r.
containing treatises with England, in which are many
letters and treaties between the kings of England and
Spain, from the year 1400 to 1600. There was also a
strong box in the same archives, with five locks, which,
we are told, has not been opened since the time of Phi¬
lip II. and it is supposed that it contains the process a-
gainst Philip’s son Prince Charles. But it appears that
some of the state papers have been removed to Madrid.
SIMEON of Durham, the cotemporary of William
of Malmsbury, took great pains in collecting the mo¬
numents of our history, especially in the north of Eng¬
land, after they had been scattered by the Danes. From
these he composed a history of the kings of England,
from A. D. 616 to 1130 ; with some smaller historical
pieces. Simeon both studied and taught the sciences,
and particularly the mathematics at Oxford; and be¬
came precentor of the church at Durham, where he
died, probably soon after the conclusion of his history,
which was continued by John, prior of Hexham, to
A. D. 1156.
SIM I A, the Monkey, a genus of quadrupeds be¬
longing to the class of mammalia, and order of primates,
in the Linncean system, but by Mr Pennant arranged
under the digitated quadrupeds. See Mammalia In¬
dex.
SIMILE, or Similitude, in Rhetoric, a compa¬
rison of two things, which though different in other
respects, yet agree in some one. The difference be¬
tween a simile and comparison is said to consist in this,
that the simile properly belongs to whatever we call
the quality of a thing; and the comparison to the quan¬
tity. See Comparison; and Oratory, N° 118.
SIM1LOR, a name given to an alloy of red con-
per and zinc, made in the best proportions, to imitate
silver and gold.
SIMON Maccabeus, a celebrated leader and high-
priest of the Jew's, who, after rendering the most im¬
portant services to his country, was at last treacherous¬
ly slain by his son-in-law. See the llistoi'i/ of the
Jews, N° 15.
Simon Magus, or the Sorcerer, was a native of Git-
ton, a village of Samaria. According to the usual prac¬
tice of the Asiatics of that age, he visited Egypt, and
there probably became acquainted with the sublime
mysteries taught in the Alexandrian school, and learned
those theurgic or magical operations, by means of wdiich
it was believed that men might be delivered from the
power of evil demons. Upon bis return into his own
country, the author of the Clementine Recognitions
relates, that he imposed upon his countrymen by high
pretensions to supernatural powers. And St Luke at¬
tests, that this artful fanatic, using sorcery, had be¬
witched the people of Samaria, giving out that he wras
some great one; and that he obtained such general at¬
tention and reverence in Samaria, that the people all
gave heed to him from the least to the greatest, saving
“ This man is the great pow’er of God.”
By the preaching of Philip the DeaCon, he was with
other Samaritans converted to the Christian faith, and
admitted into the infant church by the ordinance of
baptism. His conversion, however, seems not to have
been real; for, upon seeing the miraculous effects of
the laying on of the apostle’s hands, he offered them mo¬
ney, saying, “ Give me also this power, that on whom¬
soever I lay hands he may receive the Holy Ghost.”
He probably thought Peter and John magicians like ,
himself, hut better skilled in the art of deceiving the
multitude.
Being sharply reproved for this impiety, he seems by
his answer to have been made sensible of his sin ; hut
his repentance, if sincere, was of short duration. Re¬
turning to his former practices of imposture, he travel¬
led through various provinces of the empire, opposing
the progress of the gospel ; and arriving at Rome, he
led astray vast numbers of people by his pretended mi¬
racles. How long he lived in that metropolis of the
world, or in what manner he died, we have no accounts
that can be fully depended on. The Christian writers
tell us, that being raised in the air by two daemons, he
was deprived of their support by the prayers of St Pe¬
ter and St Paul, and falling, broke his legs. By some
he is thought to have been the person mentioned by
Suetonius, who, undertaking to fly in the presence of
Nero, fell to the ground with such violence, that his
blood spurted up to the gallery where the emperor W'as
sitting.
The sum of this impostor’s doctrine, divested of al¬
legory, w'as, that from the Divine Being, as a fountain
of light, flow various orders of reons, or eternal na¬
tures, subsisting within the plenitude of the divine es¬
sence ; that beyond these, in the order of emanation,
are different classes of intelligences, among the lowest
of which are human souls ; that matter is the most re¬
mote production of the emanative power, which, on ac¬
count of its infinite distance from the Fountain of
Light, possesses sluggish and malignant qualities, which
oppose the divine operations, and are the cause of evil;
that it is the great design of philosophy to deliver the
soul from its imprisonment in matter, and restore it to
that divine light from which it was derived : and that
for this purpose God had sent him one of the first scons
among men. To his wife Helena he also ascribed a si¬
milar kind of divine nature, pretending that a female
aeon inhabited the body of this woman, to whom lie
gave the name of Ew<«, Wisdom; whence some Chri¬
stian fathers have said, that he called her the Holy Spi¬
rit. He also taught the transmigration of souls, and
denied the resurrection of the body.
Simon, Richard, was born at Dieppe the 15th May
1638. He began his studies among the priests of
the Oratory in that city, but quitted their society in
a short time. From Dieppe he went to Paris, where
he made great progress in the study of the oriental lan¬
guages. Some time afterwards he joined the society
of the Oratory again, and became a priest of it in
1660. In 1670 be published some pieces of a smaller
kind. In 1678 his Critical History of the Old Testa¬
ment appeared, but was immediately suppressed by the
intrigues of Messieurs du Port Royal. It was reprint¬
ed tbe year after, and its excellence soon drew the at¬
tention of foreigners; an edition of it was accordingly
published at Amsterdam in Latin, and at London in
English.
He died at Dieppe in 1712, at the age of 74.
He certainly possessed a vast deal of learning: his
criticism is exact, but not always moderate ; and there
reigns in his writings a spirit of novelty and singularity
which raised him a great many adversaries. The most
celebrated of these were Le Clerc, Vossius, Jurieu, Du
Pin, and Bossuet. Simon wrote an answer to most ot
the
Simon.
jimon
I).
nonides.
STM [ 367 j s
the books that were published against him, and displays more he meditated upon
a pride and obstinacy in his controversial writings which being able to solve it
do him little honour.
He was the author of a great many books. The fol¬
lowing are the principal: 1. The Ceremonies of the
Jews, translated from the Italian of Leo of Modena
with a supplement concerning the sects of the Carraites
and Samaritans. 2. VHistoire Critique du Vieux Te¬
stament, “ The Critical History of the Old Testament.”
This is a very important work, and deserves the atten¬
tion of every clergyman. He sometimes, however, de¬
viates from the road of integrity, to serve the cause of
the church of Rome, particularly in his endeavours to
prove the uncertainty of the Hebrew language. These
passages have been very justly exposed and confuted by
Dr Campbell, in his ingenious Preliminary Dissertations
to his new Translation of the Gospels. 3. Critical His¬
tory of the Text of the New Testament. 4. Critical
History of the Versions of the New Testament. 5.
Critical History of the principal Commentators on the
New Testament. 6. Inspiration of the Sacred Books.
7. A translation of the New Testament. This book
was censured by Cardinal Noailles and Bossuet. 8.
The History of the rise and progress of Ecclesiastical
Revenues, which is commended by Voltaire, as is his
Critical History of the Old Testament. It resulted
from a quarrel with a community of Benedictines. 9.
A new select Library, which points out the good books
in various kinds of literature, and the use to be made of
them. 10. Critical History of the Belief and Customs
of the Nations on the Levant. 11. Cxdtical Letters,
Sec.
SIMONICAL, is applied to any person guilty of
simony. See Simony.
SIMONIDES, the name of several poets celebrated
in antiquity j but by the Marbles it appears that the
eldest and most illustrious of them was born in the 3 ^th
Olympiad, 538 years B. C. and that he died in his 90th
year j which nearly agrees with the chronology of Eu¬
sebius. He was a native of Ceos, one of the Cyclades,
m the neighbourhood of Attica, and the preceptor of
Pindar. Both Plato and Cicero give him the charac¬
ter not only of a good poet and musician, but speak
of him as a person of great virtue and wisdom. Such
longevity gave him an opportunity of knowing a great
number of the first characters in antiquity with whom
be was in some measure connected. It appears in Fa-
bricius, from ancient authority, that Simonides was
cotemporary and in friendship with Pittacus of Mity-
lene, Hipparchus tyrant of Athens, Pausanias king of
Sparta, Hiero tyrant of Syracuse, with Themistocles,
and with Alevades king of Thessaly. Pie is mentioned
by Herodotus 5 and Xenophon, in his Dialogue upon
Tyranny, makes him one of the interlocutors with
Hiero king of Syracuse. Cicero alleges, what has of¬
ten been quoted in proof of the modesty and wisdom
of Simonides, that when Hiero asked him for a defini¬
tion of God, the poet required a whole day to medi¬
tate on so important a question : at the end of which,
upon the prince putting the same question to him a
second time, he asked two days respite j and in this
manner always doubled the delay each time he was re¬
quired to answer it; till at length, to avoiding offending
his patron by more disappointments, he frankly con¬
fessed that he found the question so difficult, that the
I M
, the less was his hope of Smonide*,.
In his old age, perhaps from seeing the respect which
money procured to such as had lost the charms of youth
and the power of attaching mankind by other means,
he became somewhat mercenary and avaricious. He*
was frequently employed by the'victors at the games to
write panegyrics and odes in their praise, before his pu-
pil Pindar had exercised his talents fn their behalf: but
Simonides would never gratify their vanity in this par¬
ticular, till he had first tied them down to a stipulated
sum for his trouble j and upon being upbraided for his
meanness, he said, that he had two coders, in one of
which he had for many years put his pecuniary re¬
wards ; the other was for honours, verbal thanks' and
promises j that the first was pretty well filled, but the
last remained always empty. And he made no scruple
to confess in his old age, that of all the enjoyments of
life, the love of money was the only one of which time
had not deprived him.
He was frequently reproached for his vice 5 however,
he always defended himself with good humour. Upon
being asked by Hiero’s queen, Whether it was most de¬
sirable to be learned or rich ? he answered, that it was
far better to be rich 5 for the learned were always de¬
pendent on the rich, and waiting at their doors ; where¬
as, he never saw rich men at the doors of the learned.
W hen he was accused of being so sordid as to sell part
of the provisions with which his table was furnished by
Hiero, he said he had done it in order “ to display to the
world the magnificence of that prince and his own fru¬
gality.” To others he said, that his reason for accu¬
mulating wealth was, that “ he would rather leave mo¬
ney to his enemies after death, than be troublesome to
his friends while living.”
He obtained the prize in poetry at the public games
when he was fourscore years of age. According to Sui-
das, he added four letters to the Greek alphabet; and
Pliny assigns to him the eighth string of the lyre j but
these claims are disputed by the learned.
His poetry was so tender and plaintive, that he ac¬
quired the cognomen of Melicej'tes, “ sweet as honey
and the tearful eye of his muse was proverbial. Dio¬
nysius places him among those polished writers who ex¬
cel in a smooth volubility, and flow on like plenteous
and perennial rivers, in a course of even and uninterrupt¬
ed harmony.
It is to Dionysius that we are indebted for the pre¬
servation of the following fragment of this poet. Da-
nae being by her merciless father inclosed in a chest, and
thrown into the sea with her child, when night comes
on, and a storm arises which threatens to overset the
chest, she, weeping and embracing the young Perseus,
cries out:
Sweet child ! what anguish does thy mother know,
Ere cruel grief has taught thy tears to flow !
Amidst the roaring wind’s tremendous sound,
Which threats destruction as it howls around ;
In balmy sleep thou liest, as at the breast,
Without one bitter thought to break thy rest.—-——
The glimm’ring moon in pity hides her light,
And shrinks with horror at the ghastly sight.
Didst thou but know', sweet innocent ! our woes,
Not opiate’s pow’r thy eyelids now could close.
Sleep.
1
S I M
[ 368 ]
S I M
ShiVHiides
. II
Simoom.
Bruce's
Travels.
vol. iv.
P- 559-
Sleep on, sweet babe ! ye waves in silence roll $
And lull, O lull, to rest my tortur’d soul !
There is a second great poet of the name of Simon¬
ides recorded on the Marbles, supposed to have been
his grandson, and who gained, in 478 B. C. the prize
in the games at Athens.
SIMONY, is the corrupt presentation of any one to
an ecclesiastical benefice for money, gift, or reward. It
is so called from the resemblance it is said to bear to
the sin of Simon Magus, though the purchasing of holy
orders seems to approach nearer to his offence. It was
by the canon law a very grievous crime : and is so much
the more odious, because, as Sir Edward Coke observes,
it is ever accompanied with perjury } for the presentee
is sworn to have committed no simony. However, it
was not an offence punishable in a criminal way at the
common law: it being thought sufficient to leave the
clerk to ecclesiastical censures. But as these did not
affect the simoniacal patron, nor were efficacious enough
to repel the notorious practice of the thing, divers acts
of parliament have been made to restrain it by means of
civil forfeitures 5 which the modern prevailing usage,
with regard to spiritual preferments, calls aloud to be
put in execution. The statute 31 Eliz. c. 6. enacts,
that if any patron, for money or any other corrupt con¬
sideration or promise, directly or indirectly given, shall
present, admit, institute, induct, install, or collate any
person to an ecclesiastical benefice or dignity, both the
giver and taker shall forfeit two years value of the be¬
nefice or dignity ; one moiety to the king, and the other
to any one who will sue for the same. If persons also
corruptly resign or exchange their benefices, both the
giver and taker shall in like manner forfeit double the
value of the money or other corrupt consideration.
And persons who shall corruptly ordain or license any
minister, or procure him to be ordained or licensed
(which is the true idea of simony), shall incur a like
forfeiture of forty pounds j and the minister himself of
ten pounds, besides an incapacity to hold any ecclesias¬
tical preferment for seven years afterwards. Corrupt
elections and resignations in colleges, hospitals, and
other eleemosynary corporations, are also punished, by
the same statute, with forfeiture of the double value,
vacating the place or office, and a devolution of the
right of election, for that turn, to the crown.
SIMOOM, a hot wind which blows occasionally in
the deserts of Africa, and probably in other widely ex¬
tended countries parched in the same manner by a ver¬
tical sub. Its effects on the human body are dreadful.
If inhaled in any quantity, it produces instant suffoca¬
tion, or at least leaves the unhappy sufferer oppressed
with asthma and lowness of spirits. The approach of
this awful scourge of God is indicated by a redness in
the air, well understood by those who are accustomed
to journey through the desert 5 and the only refuge
which they have from it, is to fall down with their
faces close to the ground, and to continue as long as
possible without drawing in their breath.
Mr Bruce, who, in his journey through the desert,
suffered from the simoom, gives of it the following gra¬
phical description : “ At eleven o’clock, while we con¬
templated with great pleasure the rugged top of Chig-
gre, to which we were fast approaching, and where we
were to solace ourselves with plenty cf good water,
5
Idris our guide cried out, with a loud voice, Fall upon Siraoos
your faces, for here is the simoom. I saw from the ||
south-east a haze come, in colour like the purple part Simplicj
of the rainbow, but not so compressed or thick. ’ It ^
did not occupy twenty yards in breadth, and was about
twelve feet high from the ground. It was a kind of
blush upon the air, and it moved very rapidly ; for I
scarce could turn to fall upon the ground with my
head to the northward, w'hen I felt the heat of its cur¬
rent plainly upon my face. We all lay flat on the
ground as if dead, till Idris told us it was blown over.
The meteor or purple haze which I saw was indeed
passed, but the light air that still blew was of heat to
threaten suffocation. For my part, I found distinctly in
my breast that I had imbibed a part of it, nor was I
free of an asthmatic sensation till I had been some
months in Italy, at the baths of Poretta, near two
years afterwards.” Though the severity of this blast
seems to have passed over them almost instantaneously,
it continued to blow so as to exhaust them till twenty
minutes before five in the afternoon, lasting through
all its stages very near six hours, and leaving them in
a state of the utmost despondency.
SIMPLE, something not mixed or compounded j in
which sense it stands opposed to compound.
Simple, in the Materia Medico, a general name for
all herbs or plants, as having each its particular vh’tue,
whereby it becomes a simple remedy.
SIMPLICITY IN WRITING. If we examine the
writers whose compositions have stood the test of ages,
and obtained that highest honour, “ the concurrent ap¬
probation of distant times and nations,” we shall find
that the character of simplicity is the unvarying circum¬
stance which alone hath been able to gain this universal
homage from mankind. Among the Greeks, whose
writers in general are of the simple kind, the divinest
poet, the most commanding orator, the finest historian,
and deepest philosopher, are, above the rest, conspicu¬
ously eminent in this great quality. The Roman wri¬
ters rise towards perfection according to that measure
of simplicity which they mingle in their works ■, indeed
they are all inferior to the Greek models. But who
will deny that Lucretius, Horace, Virgil, Livy, Te¬
rence, Tully, are at once the simplest and best of Ro¬
man writers ? unless we add the noble annalist who ap¬
peared in after-times 5 who, notwithstanding the politi¬
cal turn of his genius, which sometimes interferes, is ad¬
mirable in this great quality, and by it far superior to
bis contemporaries. It is this one circumstance that
hath raised the venerable Dante, the father of modern
poetry, above the succeeding poets of his country, who
could never long maintain the local and temporary ho¬
nours bestowed upon them ; but have fallen under that
just neglect which time will ever decree to those who
desert a just simplicity lor the florid colourings of style,
contrasted phrases, affected conceits, the mere trappings
of composition and Gothic minutiae. It is this which has
given to Boileau the most lasting wreath in France, and
to Shakespeare and Milton in England ; especially to
the former, whose writings contain specimens of per¬
haps the purest and simplest English that is anywhere
to be found, except in the Bible or Bock of Common
Prayer. As it appears from these instances, that sim¬
plicity is the only universal characteristic of just wri¬
ting, so the superior eminence of the sacred Scriptures
in
Tipi! of ty
fl
npson.
SIM
in this quality hath been   
One of the greatest critics in antiquity, himself con-
, spicuous^ in the sublime and simple manner, hath borne
this testimony to the writings of Moses and St Paul;
and by parity of reason we must conclude, that had be
been conversant with the other sacred writers, his taste
and candour would have allowed them the same en¬
comium.
It hath been often observed, even by writers of no
mean rank, that the “ Scriptures suffer in their credit
by the disadvantage of a literal version, while other an¬
cient writings enjoy the advantage of a free and embel¬
lished translation.” Put in reality these gentlemen’scon-
cern is ill placed and groundless: for the truth is, “ that
most other writings are impaired by a literal translation j
whereas giving only a due regard to the idiom of diffe¬
rent languages, the sacred writings, when literally trans¬
lated, are then in their full perfection.”
Now this is an internal proof, that in all other wri¬
tings there is a mixture ot local, relative, exterior
ornament, which is often lost in the transfusion from
One language to another. But the internal beauties,
which depend not on the particular construction of
tongues, no change of tongue can destroy. Hence the
Bible preserves its native beauty and strength alike
in every language, by the sole energy of unadorned
phrase, natural images, weight of sentiment, and great
simplicity.
It is in this respect like a rich vein of gold, which,
under the severest trials of heat, cold, and moisture, re¬
tains its original weight and splendour, without either
loss or alloy ; while baser metals are corrupted by earth,
air, water, lire, and assimilated to the various elements
through which they pass.
riiis circumstance, then, may be justly regarded as
sufficient to vindicate the composition of the sacred
bcriptures, as it is at once their chief excellence and
greatest security. It is their excellence, as it renders
them intelligible and useful to all; it is their security,
as it prevents their being disguised by the false and ca¬
pricious ornaments of vain or weak translators. We
may safely appeal to experience and fact for the confir¬
mation of these remarks on the superior simplicity,
utility, and excellence, of the style of the Holy Scrip¬
ture. Is there any book in the world so perfectly a-
dapted to all capacities? that contains such sublime and
exalted precepts, conveyed in such an artless and in¬
telligible strain, that can be read with such pleasure
Hinl advantage by the lettered sage and the unlettered
peasant ?
r 369 i s 1 m
generally acknowledged. As Ills scholars increased. Ins abilities became better
known, and he published his Treatise on Fluxions, by
subscription, in 1737 : in 1740, he published his Trea¬
tise on the Nature and Laws of Chance ^ and Essays
in Speculative and Mixed Mathematics. After these
appeared his Doctrine of Annuities and Reversions j
Mathematical Dissertations ; Treatise on Algebra; E-
lements of Geometry; Trigonometry, Plane and Sphe¬
rical ; Select Exercises; and his Doctrine and Appli¬
cation of Fluxions, which he professes to be rather a
new work, than a second edition of his former publica¬
tion on fluxions. In 1743, he obtained the mathema¬
tical professorship at Woolwich academy; and soon af¬
ter was chosen a member of the Royal Society, when
the president and council, in consideration of his mode¬
rate circumstancs, were pleased to excuse his admission-
fees, and his giving bonds for the settled future pay¬
ments. At the academy he exerted all his abilities in
instructing the pupils who were the immediate objects
of bis duty, as well as others whom the superior officers
of the ordnance permitted to be boarded and lodged in
his house. In his manner of teaching he had a peculiar
and happy address, a certain dignity and perspicuity,
tempered with such a degree of mildness, as engaged,
the attention, esteem, and friendship of his scholars.
He therefore acquired great applause from his superiors
m the discharge of his duty. His application and close
confinement, however, injured his health. Exercise and
a proper regimen were prescribed to him, but to little
purpose : for his spirits sunk gradually, till he became
incapable of performing his duty, or even of reading
the letters of his friends. The effects of this decay of
nature were greatly increased by vexation of mind, ow¬
ing to the haughty and insulting behaviour of his supe¬
rior the first professor of mathematics. This person,
greatly his inferior in mathematical accomplishments,
did what he could to make his situation uneasy, and even
to depreciate him in the public opinion : but it was a
vain endeavour, and only served to depress himself. At
length his physicians advised his native air for his reco¬
very, and he set out in February 1761 ; but was so fa-
SJmp'fin,
Simson.
SIMPLOCE. See Oratory, N° 72.
SIMPSON, Thomas, professor of mathematics at
the royal academy at Woolwich, fellow of the Royal
; 0c*ety, and member of tbe Royal Academy at Stock¬
holm, was born at Market Bosworth in Leicestershire
m 1710. His father, a stuff-weaver, taught him only
to read English, and brought him up to his own busi¬
ness ; but meeting with a scientific pedlar, who like¬
wise practised fortune-telling, young Simpson by his as¬
sistance and advice left off weaving, and professed astro-
ogy. As he improved in knowledge, however, he grew
isgusted with this pretended art; and renouncing it,
was driven to such difficulties for the subsistence of his
family, that he came up to London, where he worked
as a weaver, and taught mathematics at his spare hours.
Vol. XIX. Part I. * |
tigued by his journey, that upon bis arrival at Bosworth,
he betook himself to his chamber, and grew continually
worse till the day of his death, which happened on the
14th of May in the 51st year of his age.
SIMSON, Dr Robert, professor of mathematics in.
the university of Glasgow, was born in the year 1687
of a respectable family, which had held a small estate in
the county of Lanark for some generations. He was,
"we think, the second son of the family. A younger
brother was professor of medicine in the university of
St Andrew’s, and is known by some works of reputa¬
tion, particularly a Dissertation on the Nervous System,
occasioned by the Dissection of a Brain completely Os¬
sified.
Dr Simson was educated in the university of Glas¬
gow under the eye of some of his relations who were
professors. Eager after knowledge, he made great pro¬
gress in all his studies ; and, as his mind did not, at
the very first openings of science, strike into that path
which afterwards so strongly attracted him, and in
which he proceeded so far almost without a companion,
he acquired in every walk of science a stock of informa¬
tion, which, though it had never been much augmented
afterwards, would have done credit to a professional man
3 ^ i*
T
SIM [ 370 ] SIM
Simson. in any of his studies. He became, at a very early pe-
 ' riod, an adept in the philosophy and theology ot the
schools, was able to supply the place of a sick relation
in the class of oriental languages, was noted lor histori¬
cal knowledge, and one of the most knowing botanists
of his time.
It was during his theological studies, as preparatory
for his entering into orders, that mathematics took hold
of his fancy. He used to tell in his convivial moments
how he amused himself when preparing his exercises
for the divinity hall. When tired with vague specula¬
tion, in which he did not meet with certainty to re¬
ward his labours, he turned up a hook of oriental phi¬
lology, in which he found something which he could
discover to be true or to he false, without going out of
the line of study which was to he of ultimate use to
him. Sometimes even this could not relieve his fatigue.
He then had recourse to mathematics, which never fail¬
ed to satisfy and refresh him. lor a long while he re¬
stricted himself to a very moderate use of the cordial,
fearing that he would soon exhawst the small stock
which so limited and abstract a science could yield $
till at last he found, that the more he learned, a
wider field opened to his view, and scenes that were
inexhaustible. Becoming acquainted with subjects far
beyond the elements of the science, and with num¬
bers of names celebrated during that period of ardent
research all over Europe, he found it to be a manly and
important study, by which he was as likely to acquire
reputation as by any other. About this time, too,
a prospect began to open of making mathematics his
profession for life. He then gave himself up to it with¬
out reserve.
His original incitement to this study as a treat, as
something to please and refresh his mind in the midst of
severer tasks, gave a particular turn to his mathematical
studies, from which he never could afterwards deviate.
Perspicuity and elegance are more attainable, and more
discernible, in pure geometry, than in any other parts of
the science of measure. To this therefore he chiefly
devoted himself. For the same reason he preferred the
ancient method of studying pure geometry, and even
felt a dislike to the Cartesian method of substituting
symbols for operations of the mind, and still more was
lie disgusted with the substitution of symbols for the
very objects of discussion, for lines, surfaces, solids, and
their affections. He was rather disposed in the so¬
lution of an algebraical problem, where quantity alone
was considered, to substitute figure and its affections
for the algebraical symbols, and to convert the algebraic
formula into an analogous geometrical theorem. And
he came at last to consider algebraic analysis as little
better than a kind of mechanical knack, in which we
proceed without ideas of any kind, and obtain a result
without meaning, and without being conscious of any
process of reasoning, and therefore without any convic¬
tion of its truth. And there is no denying, that if ge- Simso*.
nuine unsophisticated taste alone is to be consulted, Hr y-i
Simsnn was in the right: for though it must also be
acknowledged, that the reasoning in algebra is as strict
as in the purest geometry of Euclid or Apollonius, the
expert analyst has little perception of it as he goes on,
and his final equation is not felt by himself as the result
of ratiocination, any more than if he had obtained it by
Pascal’s arithmetical mill. This does not in the least
diminish our admiration of the algebraic analysis j for
its almost boundless grasp, its rapid and certain proce¬
dure, and the delicate metaphysics and great address
which may be displayed in conducting it. Such, how¬
ever, was the ground of the strong bias of Dr Simson’s
mind to the analysis of the ancient geometers. It in¬
creased as he went forward j and his veneration (we
may call it his love or affection) for the ancient geometry
was carried to a degree of idolatry. His chief labour's
were exerted in efforts to restore the works of the an¬
cient geometers } and he has nowhere bestowed much
pains in advancing the modern discoveries in mathema¬
tics. The noble inventions, for example, of fluxions
and of logarithms, by which our progress in mathema¬
tical knowledge, and in the useful application of this
knowledge, is so much promoted, attracted the notice
of Dr Simson j but he has contented himself with de¬
monstrating their truth on the genuine principles of
the ancient geometry. Yet was he very thoroughly
acquainted with all the modern discoveries 5 and there
are to be seen among his papers discussions and inves¬
tigations in the Cartesian method, which show him tho¬
roughly acquainted with all the principles, and even
expert in the tours de main, of the most refined symbo¬
lical analysis (a).
About ’the age of 25 Dr Simson was chosen pro¬
fessor of mathematics in the university of Glasgow. He
went to London immediately after his appointment,
and there formed an acquaintance with the most eminent
men of that bright era of British science. Among
these he always mentioned Captain Halley (the celebra¬
ted Dr Edmund Halley) with particular respect; say¬
ing, that he had the most acute penetration, and the
most just taste in that science, of any man he had ever
known. And, indeed, Dr Halley has strongly exem¬
plified both of these in his divination of the work of
Apollonius de Sectione Spatii, and the 8th book of his
Conics, and in some of the most beautiful theorems in
Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia. Dr Simson also admired
the wide and masterly steps which Newton was accus¬
tomed to take in his investigations, and his manner of
substituting geometrical figures for the quantities which
are observed in the phenomena of nature. It was from
Dr Simson that the writer of this article had the ie-
mark which has been oftener than once repeated in the
course of this Work, “ That the 39th proposition of the
first book of the Principia was the most important pin*
position
(a) In 1752 the writer of this article being then his scholar, requested him to examine an account which ie
gave him of what he thought a new curve (a conchoid having a circle for its base). Dr Simson returned it next
day with a regular list of its leading properties, and the investigation of such as he thought his scholar wou
not so easily trace. In this hasty scrawl the lines related to the circle were familiarly considered as arithmetic
fractions of the radius considered as unity. This was before Euler published his Arithmetic of the Sines an
Tangents, now in universal use.
V ^
, SI M - t 3
rnson. t,0Sltl°n had ever been exhibited to the pliysico-ma-
-y—j thematieal philosopher j” and he used always to illu¬
strate to his more advanced scholars the superiority of
the geometrical over the algebraic analysis, by compar¬
ing the solution given by Newton of the inverse pro¬
blem of centripetal forces, in the 43d proposition of that
book, with the one given by John Bernoulli in the Me¬
moirs of the Academy of Sciences at Paris for 1713.
We have heard him say, that to his own knowledge
Newton frequently investigated his propositions in the
symbolical way, and that it was owing chiefly to Dr
Halley that they did not finally appear in that dress.
But if Dr Simson was well informed, we think it a
great argument in favour of the symbolic analysis, when
this most successful practical artist (for so we must call
Newton when engaged in a task of discovery) found it
conducive either to dispatch or perhaps to his very pro¬
gress. . .
Returning to his academical chair, Dr Simson dischar¬
ged the duties of a professor for more than 50 years with
great honour to the university and to himself.
It is almost needless to say, that in his prelections he
followed strictly the Euclidian method in elementary
geometry. Pie made use of Theodosius as an introduc¬
tion to spherical trigonometry. In the higher geome¬
try he prelected from his own Conics; and he gave a
small specimen of the linear problems of the ancients,
by explaining the properties, sometimes of the conchoid,
sometimes of the cissoid, with their application to the
solution of such problems. In the more advanced class
he was accustomed to give Napier’s mode of conceiving
logarithms, i. e. quantities as generated by motion ; and
Mr Cotes’s view of them, as the sums of ratiunculae ;
and to demonstrate Newton’s lemmas concerning the
limits of ratios; and then to give the elements of the
fluxionary calculus ; and to finish his course with a se¬
lect set of propositions in optics, gnomnnics, and central
forces. His method of teaching was simple and perspi¬
cuous, his elocution clear, and his manner easy and im¬
pressive. He had the respect, and still more the aflec-
tion, of his scholars.
With respect to his studies, we have already inform¬
ed the reader that they got an early bias to pure geo¬
metry, and to the elegant but scrupulous methods of the
ancients.
We have heard Dr Simson say, that it was in a great
measure owing to Dr Halley that he so early directed
his efforts to the restoration of the ancient geometers.
He had recommended this to him, as the most certain
way for him, then a very young man, both to acquire
reputation, and toimprove his own knowledge and taste;
and he presented him with a copy of Pappus’s Mathe¬
matical Collections, enriched with some of his own notes.
I he perspicuity of the ancient geometrical analysis, and
a certain elegance in the nature of the solutions which
it affords, especially by means of the local theorems,
soon took firm hold of his fancy, and made him, with
the sanguine expectation of a young man, direct his very
first efforts to the recovery of this in toto ; and the resto¬
ration of Euclid’s Porisms was the first task which he
set himself. The accomplished geometer knows what a
desperate task this was, from the scanty and mutilated
account which we have of this work in a single passage
of Pappus.. It was an ambition which nothing but suc¬
cess could justify in so young an adventurer. He sue-
7l ] SIM
f ceeded ; and so early as 1718 seemed to have been in sii
complete possession of this method of investigation, ''—-"
which was considered by the eminent geometers of an¬
tiquity as their surest guide through the labyrinths of
the higher geometry. Dr Simson gave a specimen of
his discovery in 1723 in the Philosophical Transactions.
And after this time he ceased not from his endeavours
to recover that choice collection of Porisms which Eu¬
clid had collected, as of the most general use in the so¬
lution of difficult questions. What some of these must
have been was pointed out to Dr Simson by the very
nature of the general proposition of Pappus, which he
has restored. Others were pointed out by the lemmas
which Pappus has given as helps to the young mathe¬
matician towards their demonstration. And, being thus
in possession of a considerable number, their mutual re¬
lations pointed out a sort of system, of which these made
a part, and of which the blanks now remained to be
filled up.
Dr Simson, having thus gained his favourite point,
had leisure to turn his attention to the other works of
the ancient geometers ; and the porisms of Euclid now
had only an occasional share. The loci plani of Apol¬
lonius was another task which he very early engaged in,
and completed about the year 1738. But, after it was
piloted, he imagined that he had not given the ipsisswue
propositiones of Apollonius, and in the precise spirit and
order of that author. The impression lay by him for
some years; and it vvas with great reluctance that he
yielded to the intreaties of his mathematical friends, and
published the work, in 1746, with some emendations,
where he thought he had deviated farthest from his au¬
thor. He quickly repented of this scanty concession,
and recalled what he could of the small number of co¬
pies which he had given to the booksellers, and the im-
piession again lay by him for years. He afterwards re¬
corrected the work, and still with some reluctance al¬
lowed it. to come abroad as the Restitution of Apollo¬
nius. The public, however, had not been so fastidious
as Dr Simson, and the work had acquired great cele¬
brity, and he was now considered as one of the first and
the most elegant geometers of the age : for, in the mean
time, he had published his Conic Sections, a work of
uncommon merit, whether we consider it as equivalent
to a complete restitution of the celebrated work of A-
pollonius Pergaeus, or as an excellent system of this im¬
portant part of mathematics. It is marked with the
same features as the loci plani, the most anxious solici¬
tude to exhibit the very text of Apollonius, even in the
propositions belonging to the books which had been
completely lost. These could be recovered in no other
way but by a thorough knowledge of the precise plan
proposed by the author, and by taking it for granted
that the author had accurately accomplished this plan.
In this manner did \iviani proceed in the first attempt
which was made to restore the conics of Apollonius;
and he has given us a detail of the process of his conjec¬
tures, by which we may form an opinion of its justness,
and of the probability how far he has attained the de¬
sired object. Dr Simson’s view in his performance was
something different, deviating a little in this one case
from his general track. He was not altogether pleased
with the work of Yiviani, even as augmented by the
eighth book added by Halley, and his wish was to re¬
store the ancient original. But, in the mean time, an
3^2 academical
Simson.
S I M [ 37
academical text book for conic sections was much want¬
ed. He was much dissatisfied with those in common
use ; and he was not insensible of the advantage result¬
ing from the consideration of these sections, independent
of the cone fii st introduced by Dr Wallis. He there¬
fore composed this excellent treatise as an elementary
book, not to supersede, but to prepare for the study of
Apollonius-, and accordingly accommodates it to tins
purpose, and gives several important propositions in
their proper places, expressly as restitutions oj Apollo¬
nius, whom he keeps constantly in view through the
whole work.
Much about this time Dr Simson seriously began to
prepare a perfect edition of Duchd’s Elements. I he
intimate acquaintance which he had by this time ac¬
quired with all the original works of the ancient geome¬
ters, and their ancient commentators and critics, encou¬
raged him to hope that he could restore to his original
lustre this leader in mathematical science-, and theerrors
which had crept into this celebrated work, and which
still remained in it, appeared of magnitude sufficient to
merit the most careful efforts for their removal. The
j)j\TA also, which were in like manner the introduction
to the whole art of geometrical investigation, seemed to
call more loudly for his amending hand. For it appears
that the Saracens, who have preserved to us the writings
of the ancients, have contented themselves with admir¬
ing these celebrated works, and have availed themselves
of the knowledge which they contain ; hut they have
shown no inclination to add to the stock, or to promote
the sciences which they had received. i hey could not
do any thing without the synthetical books of the geo¬
meters 5 but, not meaning to go beyond the discoveries
which they had made, they neglected all the books
which related to the analytic ait alone, and the greatest
part of them (about 25 out of 30) have irrecoverably
perished. The data of Euclid have fortunately been
preserved, hut the book was neglected, asd the. only
ancient copies, which are but three or four, are misera¬
bly erroneous and mutilated, b ortunately, it is no veiy
arduous matter to reinstate this work in its original per¬
fection. The plan is precise, both in its extent and its
method. It had been restored, therefore, with success
by more than one author. But Dr Simson s compre¬
hensive view of the whole analytical system pointed out
to him many occasions for amendment. He therefore
made its restitution a joint task with that of the elements.
All the lovers of true geometry will acknowledge their
obligations to him for the edition of the Elements and
Data which he published about 1758. The text is cor¬
rected with the most judicious and scrupulous care, and
the notes are inestimable, both for their information,
and for the tendency which they must have to form the
mind of the student to a true judgment and taste in
mathematical subjects. The more accomplished reader
will perhaps be sometimes disposed to smile at the axiom
which seems to pervade the notes, “ that a work of Eu¬
clid must be supposed without error or defect.” If this
was not the case, Euclid has been obliged to his editor
in more instances than one. Nor should his greatest ad¬
mirers think it impossible that in the progress of human
improvement, a geometrical truth should ocrur to one
of these latter days, which escaped the notice of even
the Lincean Euclid. Such merit, however, Dr Sim-
soa nowhere claims, but lays every blame ol error,
2 1 SIM
omission, or obscurity, to the charge of Proclus, Theon,
and other editors and commentators of the renowned -
Grecian.
There is another work of Apollonius on which Dr
Simson has bestowed great pains, and has restored, as
we imagine, omnibus numeris perfectum, viz. the St Clio
DETERMINATA} one of those performances which are of
indispensable use 111 the application of tne ancient ana¬
lysis. This also seems to have been an early task,
though we do not know the date oi his labours on it.
It did not appear till after his death, being then pub¬
lished along with the great work, the Forisms of Eu¬
clid, at the expence of the late Earl Stanhope, a no¬
bleman intimately conversant with the ancient geonietiy,
and zealous for its reception among the mathematicians
of the present age. He had kept up a constant corre-
spomlence with Dr Simson on mathematical subjects j
and at his death in 1768, engaged Mr Clow professor
of logic in the university of Glasgow, to whose care the
Doctor had left all his valuable papers, to make a selec¬
tion of such as would serve to support and increase his
well-earned reputation as the Eestorer of ancient
Geometry. .
\ye have been thus particular in our account of Dr
Simson’s labours in these works, because his mannei of
execution, while it does honour to Ins inventive powers,
and shows his just taste in mathematical composition, al¬
so confirms our former assertion, that he caiiied his re¬
spect for the ancient geometers to a degree of supersti¬
tious idolatry, and that his fancy, unchecked, viewed
them as incapable of error or imperfection. This is di¬
stinctly to he seen in the emendations which he has gi¬
ven of the texts, particularly in his editions of Euclid.
Not only every imperfection of the reading is ascribed to
the ignorance of copyists, and every indistinctness in
the conception, inconclusiveness in the reasoning, and
defect in the method, is ascribed to the ignorance or
mistake of the commentators ; but it is all along assum¬
ed that the work was perfect in its kind ; and that .by
exhibiting a perfect work, we restore the genuine origi¬
nal. This is surely gratuitous j and it is very possible
that it has, in some instances, made Dr Simson fail of
his anxious purpose, and give us even a better than the
original. It has undoubtedly made him fail in what
should have been his great purpose, viz. to give the
world a connected system of the ancient geometrical ana¬
lysis j such as would, in the first place, exhibit it in its
most engaging form, elegant, perspicuous, and compre-
hensive -, and, in the next place, such as should engage
the mathematicians of the present age to adopt it as the
most certain and successful conductor in those laborious
and difficult researches in which the demands of modern
science continually engage them. And this might have
been expected, in the province of speculative geometry
at least, from a person of such extensive knowledge of
the properties of figure, and who had so eminently suc¬
ceeded in the many trials which lie had made of its
powers. We might have expected that he would at
least have exhibited in one systematic point of view,
what the ancients had done in several detached branches
of the science, and how far they had proceeded in tie
solution of the several successive classes of problems 5 and
we might have hoped, that he would have instructed us
in what manner we should apply that method to the jo
lution of problems of a more elevated kind, dany P!c
^ sentea
Slnuojr,
S I M
F 373
slfon. sented to us In the questions of physlco-mathematica! sci-
—ence. By this he would have acquired distinguished ho¬
nour, and science would have received the most valuable
improvement. But Dr Simson has done little of all
this ; and we cannot say that great helps have been de¬
rived from his labours by the eminent mathematicians of
this age, who are successfully occupied in advancing our
knowledge of nature, or in improving the arts of life.
He has indeed contributed greatly to the entertainment
of the speculative mathematician, who is more delighted
with the conscious exercise of his own reasoning powers,
than with the final result of his researches. Yet we are
not even certain that Dr Simson has done this to the ex¬
tent he wished and hoped. He has not engaged the lik¬
ing of mathematicians to this analysis, by presenting it
in the most agreeable form. His own extreme anxiety
to tread in the very footsteps of the original authors, has,
in a thousand instances, precluded him from using his
own extensive knowledge, that he might not employ
principles which were not of a class inferior to that of
the question in hand. Thus, of necessity, did the me¬
thod appear trammelled. We are deterred from employ¬
ing a process which appears to restrain us in the applica¬
tion of the knowledge which we have already acquired ,
and, disgusted with the tedious, and perhaps indirect
path, by which we must arrive at an object which we
see clearly over the hedge, and which w'e could reach
hy a few steps, of the security of which wre are other¬
wise perfectly assured. These prepossessions are indeed
founded on mistake ; but the mistake is such, that all
fall into it, till experience has enlarged their views.
This circumstance alone has hitherto prevented mathe¬
maticians from acquiring that knowledge of the ancient
analysis which would enable them to proceed in their
researches with certainty, dispatch, and delight. It is
therefore deeply to he regretted, that this eminent ge¬
nius has occupied, in this superstitious palreology, a long
and busy life, which might have been employed in ori¬
ginal works of infinite advantage to the world, and ho¬
nour to himself.
Our readers will, it is hoped, consider these observa¬
tions as of general scientific importance, and as intimate¬
ly connected with the history of mathematics j and there¬
fore as not improperly introduced in the biographical ac¬
count of one of the most eminent writers on this science.
Dr Si mson claimed our notice as a mathematician ; and
his affectionate admiration of the ancient analysis is the
prominent feature of his literary character. By this lie
is known all over Europe ; and his name is never men¬
tioned by any foreign author without some very honour,
able allusion to his distinguished geometrical elegance
and skill. Dr James Moor, professor of Greek in the
university of Glasgow, no less eminent for his knowledge
in ancient geometry than for his professional talents, put
the following apposite inscription below a portrait of Dr
Simson :
} S I M
was completely master of it, as has been already observed, simson.
and frequently employed it. In his academical lectures
to tlie students of his upper classes, he used to point out
its proper province (which he by no means limited by a
scanty boundary), and in what cases if might be applied
witli safety and advantage even to questions ofpure eeo-
metry. He once honoured the writer of this article with
the siyht of a very short dissertation on this subject (per¬
haps the one referred to in the preface to his Conic See- '
tions). In this piece he was perhaps more liberal than,
the most zealous partizans of the symbolical analysis could
desire, admitting as a sufficient equation of the Conic
Sections L—, where L is the latus rectum, x is the
Geometriam, sub Tyranno BARBARO S3EVA
Servitute diu squalentem, in Libertatem
Et decus antiquum vindicavit
Unus.
Yet it must not be understood that Dr Simson’s pre¬
dilection for the geometrical analysis of the ancients did
sp far mislead him as to make him neglect the symbo¬
lical analysis of the present times; on the contrary, he
distance of any point of the curve from the focus, p is
the perpendicular drawn from the focus to the tangent
in the given point, and c is the chord of the equicurve
circle drawn through the focus. Unfortunately lliisdisser-
tation was not found among his papers. He spoke in
high terms of the Analytical Works of Mr Cotes, and
of the two Bernoullis. He was consulted by Mr M‘Lau-
rin during the progress of his inestimable Treatise of
l luxions, and contributed not a little to the reputation
of that work. J he spirit of that most ingenious algebraic
demonstration of the fluxions of a rectangle, and the very
process of the argument, is the same with Dr Simson’s in
his dissertation on the limits of quantities. It was there¬
fore from a thorough acquaintance with the subject, and
by a just taste, that he was induced to prefer his favourite
analysis, or, to speak more properly, to exhort mathema¬
ticians to employ it in its own sphere, and not to become
ignorant of geometry, while he successfully employed
the symbolical analysis in cases which did not require it,
and which suffered by its admission. It must be acknow¬
ledged, however, that in his lateryears, the disgust which
he felt at the artificial and slovenly employment on sub¬
jects of pure geometry, sometimes hindered him from
even looking at the most refined and ingenious improve¬
ments of the algebraic analysis which occur in the wri¬
tings of Euler, D’Alembert, and other eminent masters.
But, when properly informed of them, he never failed to
give them their due praise j and we remember him speak¬
ing, in terms of great satisfaction, of an improvement of •
the infinitesimal calculus, by D’Alembert and De la
Grange, in their researches concerning the propagation
of sound, and the vibration of musical cords.
And that Dr Simson not only was master of this cal¬
culus and the symbolical calculus in general, but held
them in proper esteem, appears from two valuable disser¬
tations to be found in his posthumous works ; the one on
logarithms, and the other on the limits of ratios. The
last, in particular, shows how completely he was satis¬
fied with respect to the solid foundation of the method
of fluxions \ and it contains an elegant and strict de¬
monstration of all the applications which have been
made of the method by its illustrious author to the ob¬
jects of pure geometry.
We hoped to have given a much more complete and
instructive account of this eminent geometer and his
works, by the aid of a person fully acquainted with
both, and able to appreciate their value; but an acci¬
dent has deprived us of this assistance, when it was too
late to procure an equivalent : and we must request our
readers to accept of this very imperfect account, since
we cannot do justice to Dr Simson’s merit, unless almost
equally
SIM t 374 I SIN
Simson. equally conversant in all the geometry of the ancient
——^ - J Greeks.
The life of a literary man rarely teems with anecdote ;
and a mathematician, devoted to his studies, is perhaps
more abstracted than any other person from the ordina¬
ry occurtences of life, and even the ordinary topics of
conversation. Dr Simson was of this class ; and, hav¬
ing never married, lived entirely a college life. Having
no occasion for the commodious house to which his place
' in the university entitled him, he contented himself with
chambers, good indeed, and spacious enough for his
sober accommodation, and for receiving his choice col¬
lection of mathematical writers, but without any deco¬
ration or commodious furniture. His official servant
sufficed for valet, footman, and chambermaid. As this
retirement was entirely devoted to study, he entertain¬
ed no company in his chambers, but in a neighbouring
house, where his apartment was sacred to him and his
guests.
Having in early life devoted himself to the restoration
of the works of the ancient geometers, he studied them
with unremitting attention j and, retiring from the pro¬
miscuous intercourse of the world, he contented himself
with a small society of intimate friends, with whom he
could lay aside every restraint of ceremony or reserve,
and indulge in all the innocent frivolities of life. Every
Friday evening was spent in a party at whist, in which
he excelled, and took delight in instructing others, till
increasing years made him less patient with the dulness
of a scholar. The card-party was followed by an hour
or two dedicated solely to playful conversation. In like
manner, every Saturday he had a less select party to
dinner at a house about a mile from town. The Doc¬
tor’s long life gave him occasion to see the dramatis
personce of this little theatre several times completely
changed, while he continued to give it a personal iden¬
tity : so that, without any design or wish of his own, it
became, as it were, his own house and his own family,
and went by his name. In this state did the present
writer first see it, with Dr Simson as its father and
bead, respected and beloved by every branch ; for, as it
was for relaxation, and not for the enjoyment of his ac¬
knowledged superiority, that he continued this habit of
his early youth •, and as his notions “ of a fine talk” did
not consist in the pleasure of having “ tossed and gored
a good many to-day,” his companions were as much at
their ease as he wished to be himself j and it was no
small part of their entertainment (and of his too), to
smile at those innocent deviations from common forms,
and those mistakes with respect to life and manners,
which an almost total retirement from the world, and
incessant occupation in an abstract science, caused this
venerable president frequently to exhibit. These are
remembered with a more affecting regret, that they are
now “ with the days that are past,” than the most
pithy apophthegms, ushered in with an emphatieal
“ Why, Sir !” or “ No, Sir !” which precludes all re¬
ply. Dr Simson never exerted his prosidial authority,
unless it were to check some infringment of good breed¬
ing, or any thing that appeared unfriendly to religion or
purity of manners ; for these he had the highest rever¬
ence. We have twice heard him sing (he had a fine
voice and most accurate ear) some lines of a Latin hymn
to the Divine Geometer, and each time the rapturous
tear stood in his eye.
But we ask the reader’s pardon for tins digression; 5;^ Kg
it is not however useless, since it paints the man as much || !i
as any recital of his studies ; and to his acquaintances Sinai, i"'1'
we are certain that it will be an acceptable memoran-''““Y-*'
dum. To them it was often matter of regret, that a
person of such eminent talents, which should have made
him shine equally in any line of life, should have allowed
himself to be so completely devoted to a study which
abstracted him from the ordinary pursuits of men, un¬
fitted him for the active enjoyment of life, and kept him
out of those walks which they frequented, and where
they would have rejoiced to meet him*
Dr Simson was of an advantageous stature, with a
fine countenance ; and even in his old age had a grace¬
ful carriage and manner, and always, except tvhen in
mourning, dressed in white cloth. He was of a cheer¬
ful disposition ; and though he did not make the first
advances to acquaintance, had the most affable manner,
and strangers were at perfect ease in his company. He
enjoyed a long course of uninterrupted health ; but to¬
wards the close of life suffered from an acute disease,
and was obliged to employ an assistant in his profes¬
sional labours for a few years preceding his death,
which happened in 1768, at the age of 81. He left to
the university his valuable library, which is now ar¬
ranged apart from the rest of the books, and the public
use of it is limited by particular rules. It is considered
as the most choice collection of mathematical books and
manuscripts in the kingdom, and many of them are ren¬
dered doubly valuable by Dr Simson’s notes.
SIN, a breach or transgression of some divine law or
command.
SINAI, or Sina, a famous mountain of Arabia Pe-
trsea, upon which God gave the law to Moses. It
stands in a kind of peninsula, formed by the two arms
of the Red sea, one of which stretches out towards the
north, and is called i\ie gulf of Kolsum ; the other ex¬
tends towards the east, and is called the gulf of Elan,
or the Elanitish sea. At this day the Arabians call
Mount Sinai by the name of Tor, that is, the “ moun¬
tain,” by way of excellence; or Gibel or Jibel Mousa,
“ the mountain of Moses.” It is 260 miles from Cairo,
and generally it requires a journey of ten days to travel
thither. The wilderness of Sinai, where the Israelites
continued encamped for almost a year, and where Moses
erected the tabernacle of the covenant, is considerably
elevated above the rest of the country; and the ascent
to it is by a very craggy way, the greatest part of which
is cut out of the rock ; then one comes to a large space
of ground, which is a plain surrounded on all sides by
rocks and eminences, whose length is nearly 12 miles.
Towards the extremity of this plain, on the north side,
two high mountains show themselves, the highest of
which is called Sinai and the other Horeb. The tops
of Horeb and Sinai have a very steep ascent, and do
not stand upon much ground, in comparison to their ex¬
traordinary height: that of Sinai is at least one-third
part higher than the other, and its ascent is more up¬
right and difficult.
Two German miles and a half up the mountain stands
the convent of St Catharine. The body of this mona-^j j
stery is a building 120 feet in length and almost as^
many in breadth. Before it stands another small
building, in which is the only gate of the convent,
which remains always shut, except when the bishop is
here.
2
SIN [ c
<< ai here. At other times, -whatever is introduced within
the convent, whether men or provisions, is drawn up by
sg]y- , the roif in a basket, and with a cord and a pulley. The
whole building is of hewn stone ; which, in such a de¬
sert, must have cost prodigious expense and pains. Near
this chapel issues a fountain of very good fresh water ;
it. is looked upon as miraculous by some who cannot con¬
ceive how water can flow from the brow of so high and
barren a mountain. Five or six paces from it they
show a stone, the height of which is four or five feet, and
breadth about three, which, they say, is the very stone
whence Moses causer! the water to gush out. Its co¬
lour is of a spotted gray, and it is, as it were, set in a
kind of earth where no other rock appears. This stone
has twelve holes or channels, which are about a foot
wide, whence it is thought the water came forth for
the Israelites to drink.
Much has been said of the writings to be seen at Si¬
nai and in the plain about it; and such were the hopes
of discoveries respecting the wanderings of the Israelites
from these writings, that Dr Clayton, bishop of Clogher,
offered 500!. sterling to defray the expences of journey
to any man of letters who would undertake to copy
them. No man, we believe, undertook this task : and
the accurate Danish traveller Niebuhr found no writings
there, but the names of persons who had visited the
place from curiosity, and of Egyptians who had chosen
to be buried in that region.
SINAPIS, Mustard, a genus of plants belonging
to the class tetradynamia, and to the order siliquosa; and
in the natural system ranged under the 39th order, Si/i-
quosie. See Botany Index.
SINAPISM, in Pharmacy, an external medicine, in
form of a cataplasm, composed chiefly of mustard seed
pulverised, and other ingredients mentioned in the pre¬
ceding article.
SINCERITY, honesty of intention, freedom from
hypocrisy. See Moral Philosophy, N° /jy.
SINCIPUT, in Anatomy, the forepart of the head,
reaching from the forehead to the coronal suture.
SINDY, a province of Hindostan Proper, bounded
on the w'est by Makran, a province of Persia ; on the
north by the territories of the king of Candahar ; on
the north-east by those of the Seiks ; on the east by a
sandy desert ; and on the south-east by Cutch. It ex¬
tends along the course of the river Sinde or Indus from
its mouth to Behker or Bhakor, on the frontiers of
Moultan. Reckoned that way, it is 300 miles long ;
and its breadth, in its widest part, is about 160. In
many particulars of soil and climate, and in the general
appearance of the surface, Sindy resembles Egypt; the
lower part of it being composed of rich vegetable mould,
and extended into a wide dell ; while the upper part of
; it is a narrow slip of country, confined on one side by a
; ridge of mountains, and on the other by a sandy desert,
1 the river Indus, equal at least to the Nile, winding
through the midst of this level valley, and annually
overflowing it. During great part of the south-west
monsoon, or at least in the months of July, August,
and part of September, which is the rainy season in most
other parts ot India, the atmosphere is here generally
clouded ; but no rain falls except very near the sea. In-
| deed, very few' show'ers fall during the whole year ;
owing to which, and the neighbourhood of the sandy
deserts, which bound it on the east and on the north-
75 1 SIN.
west, the heats are so violent, and the winds from those Sindy
quarters so pernicious, that the houses are contrived so ||
as to be occasionally ventilated by means of apertures Singin?.
011 the tops of them, resembling tbe funnels of small ' v ~
chimneys. When the hot winds prevail, the windows
are closely shut; and the lower part of the current
of air, which is always the hottest, being thus exclu¬
ded, a cooler, because more elevated part, descends in¬
to the house through the funnels. By this contrivance
also vast clouds of dust are excluded : the entrance of
which would alone be sufficient to render the houses un¬
inhabitable. The roofs are composed of thick layers
of earth instead of terraces. Few countries are more
unwholesome to European constitutions, particularly
the lower part of the Delta. The prince of this pro¬
vince is a Mahometan, tributary to the king of Canda¬
har. He resides at Hydrabad, although Tatta is the
capital. fI he Hindoos, who were the original inhabi¬
tants of Sindy, are by their Mahometan governors treat¬
ed with great rigour, and denied the public exercise of
their religion ; and this severity drives vast numbers of
them into other countries. The inland parts of Sindy
produce saltpetre, sal-ammoniac, borax, bezoar, lapis la¬
zuli, and raw silk. They have also manufactories of
cotton and silk of various kinds ; and they make fine
cabinets, inlaid with ivory, and finely lackered. They
also export great quantities of butter, clarified and wrapt
up in duppas, made of the hides of cattle. The ladies
wear hoops of ivory on both their arms and legs, which
when they die are burnt with them. They have large
black cattle, excellent mutton, and small hardy horses.
I heir wild game are deer, hares, antelopes, and foxes,
which they hunt with dogs, leopards, and a small fierce
creature called a shiahgush.
SINE, or Right Sine of an Arch, in Trigonometry,
is a right line drawn from one end of that arch, perpen¬
dicular to the radius drawn to tbe other end of the arch;
being always equal to half the cord of twice the arch.
See Trigonometry and Geometry.
SINECURE, a nominal office, which has a revenue
without any employment.
SINEW, a tendon, that which unites the muscles to
the bones.
SINGING, the action of making divers inflections
of the voice, agreeable to the ear, and correspondent
to the notes of a song or piece of melody. See Me¬
lody.
The first thing to be done in learning to sing, is to
raise a scale of notes by tones and semitones to an octave,
and descend by the- same notes ; and then to rise and
fall by greater intervals, as a third, fourth, fifth, &c.
and to do all this by notes of different pitch. Then
these notes are represented by lines and spaces, to which
the syllables fa, sol, la, mi, are applied, and the pupil
taught to name each line and space thereby ; whence
this practise is called sol-faing, the nature, reason, ef¬
fects, &c. whereof, see under the article Solfaing.
Singing of Birds. It is worthy of observation, that
the female of no species of birds ever sings: with birds
it is the reverse of what occurs in human kind. Among
the feathered tribe, all the cares of life fall to the lot of
the tender sex ; theirs is the fatigue of incubation ; and
the principal share in nursing the helpless brood : to al¬
leviate these fatigues, and to support her under them,
nature hath given to the male the song, with all the
little;**
o 1 IN
L 3/
Singing little blandishments and soothing arts j these he fondly
II exerts (even after courtship) on some spray contiguous
, Sinking. ()ie nest5 during the time his mate is performing her
""”~v parental duties. But that she should be silent is also
another •wise prpvision of nature, for her song would
discover her nest j as would a gaudiness of plumage,
which, ior the same reason, seems to have been denied
her.
On the song of birds several curious experiments and
observations have been made by the Hon. Haines Bar¬
rington See Phil. Trans, vol. Ixiii.
SINGULAR NUMBER, in Grammar, that number of
nouns and verbs which stands opposed to plural. See
Gr mmar, N° 14.
SINISTER, something on or towards the left hand.
H ence some denVethe word sinister a sinendo; because
the gods, by ouch auguries, permit us to proceed in our
designs.
Sinister, is ordinarily used among us for unlucky 5
though, in the sacred rites of divination, the Romans
used it in an opposite sense. Thus avis sinistra, or a bird
on the left hand, was esteemed a happy omen : whence,
in the law of the 12 tables, Are sinistra populimagister
esto.
Sinister, in Heraldry. The sinister side of an es¬
cutcheon is the left-hand side j the sinister chief, the left
angle of the chief j the sinister base, the left-hand part
of the base.
Sinister Aspect, among astrologers, is an appear¬
ance of two planets happening according to the succes¬
sion of the signs •, as Saturn in Aries, and Mars in the
same degree of Gemini.
SIN1STRI, a set of ancient heretics, thus called
because they held the left hand in abhorrence, and
made it a point of religion not to receive any thing
therewith.
SINKING FUND, a provision made by parliament,
consisting of the surplusage of other funds, intended to
be appropriated to the payment of the national debt; on
the credit of which very large sums have been borrowed
for public uses.
As the funding system had been adopted in other
countries long before it was resorted to in Great Bri¬
tain, a provision of this kind had appeared necessary at
a much earlier period, and had been established in Hol¬
land in 1655, and in the Ecclesiastical States in 1685.
These funds were both formed by the reduction of the
interest on the public debts, and by appropriating the
annual sum thus saved to the gradual discharge of the
principal.
In the reign of King William, when the mode of pro¬
viding for extraordinary expences was first adopted in
this country, the particular tax on which money was
borrowed, generally produced much more than was suf¬
ficient to pay the annual interest, and the surplus was
applied in sinking the principal, which was generally
effected in a few years. Had this plan been pursued,
there never could have been any great accumulation of
public debts; but, as the expenditure increased, and the
necessity of loans of still greater amount became more
frequent, it was found difficult to provide for the annual
interest of the sums thus borrowed ; and the repayment
of the principal was either put off to a distant period,
or left without any provision to the chance of more flou¬
rishing times.
J
Some of the effects of an accumulating public debt Sinkin-
soon became evident in the discount at which all govern-l—““v—
ment securities sold, and in the difficulties experienced
in providing for the annual expenditure; the propriety
of reducing, and even of wholly discharging, the debt,
Was generally acknowledged ; and the plan ol a sinking
fund was recommended in a pamphlet published in i^oi.
In 1713 Mr Archibald Hutchison presented to George I.
a plan for payment of the public debts. In ly^ dif¬
ferent projects for this purpose were published by Ed¬
ward Leigh, Mr Asgill, and others. And in 1717 a
plan for the gradual discharge ol the debt was actually
adopted, which was afterwards generally known by the
name of the sinking fund.
For a few years the fund was strictly applied to the
purposes for which it was established; and so well were
its nature and importance then understood, that money
was at the same time borrowed for extraordinary ex¬
pences. In 1724, the sum of 15,144!. 19s. was taken
from the fund, to make good the loss to the treasury
from the reduction of the value of gold coin ; and with¬
in 12 years from its establishment it was charged with
the interest of new loans. In 1733, the gross sum of
half a million was taken from it towards the supplies,
at which time the medium annual produce ol the fund
for five years had been 1,212,ccol. This amount would
have fully discharged the debt which then existed, but
the alienation of it was continued.
This was succeeded by the consolidated fund, one ob¬
ject of which was, to lay the foundation of a new sink¬
ing fund, snd consisting, like the old one, in the appli¬
cation of the principle of compound interest. On this
occasion Mr Pitt consulted the late Ur Price, who com¬
municated three plans, one of which was afterwards
adopted, but with such alterations as greatly affected its
efficacy, and which it had been since found necessary to
correct. By the act passed for carrying this scheme in¬
to execution, the annual sum ol i,000,00ol. was placed
in the hands of commissioners, to be issued in four equal
quarterly payments, and to be applied either in paying
oft’ such redeemable annuities as were at or above par,
or in the purchase of annuities below' par, at the market-
price.
On the 17th of February, 1792, Mr Pitt proposed
that the sum of 400,000!. should be issued in addition
to the million, for the purpose of accelerating the ope¬
ration of the fund : and stated that it might be expect¬
ed that 25 millions of 3 per cents would be paid off
by the y ear 1800; and that in the year 1808, the lund
would amount to 4,000,000!. per annum, the sum to
which it was then restricted. The injudicious restric¬
tion of the fund to 4,000,000!. per annum, was done
away by an act passed in 1802, which directed that the
produce of the two funds should continue to accumulate,
without any limitation as to its amount, and be Irom
time to time applied, according to the former provisions,
in the redemption or purchase of stock, until the whole
of the perpetual redeemable annuities, existing at the
time of passing the act, shall have been completely paid
off'. At the same time, the annual grant ot 2CO,ocol.
in aid of the fund, w'as made a permanent charge, to
be issued in quarterly payments from the consolidated
fund, in the same manner as the original million per
annum. In consequence of these improvements, the in¬
crease of the fund has been much greater than it was
originally
SIN [ 3
Sinking originally estimated ; and on the 1st of February, 1806,
|] was as follows :
Sinn*.
1 Annual charge by act of 26 Geo.
III. - - L
t)itto 42 Geo. III.
Annuities for 99 and 96 years, ex¬
pired 1792
Short annuities, expired 1787
Life annuities, unclaimed and ex¬
pired - _ _
Dividend on 98,386,402!. at 3 per
cent. - -
Ditto on 2,617,400!. at 4 per cent.
Ditto on 142,000!. at 5 per cent.
One per cent, on capitals erected
since 1723
. 1,000,000
200,000
54,880
25,000
50>3°8
2>95M92
104,696
7,100
3,202,672
o o
o o
14 6
o o
5. 7
1 2
o o
o o
I 10
Total, L. 7,596,249 3 1
This sum is exclusive of the fund for the reduction
of the public debt of Ireland, which at the above pe¬
riod amounted to 479,537!. 8s. and of the fund for re¬
duction of the imperial debt, which amounted to 56,960!.
9s- 4(1-
The progress of the fund from the commencement of
its operation on 1st August 1786, to the 1st February
1806, will appear from the following statement of the
total amount of the stock redeemed by the commission¬
ers up to the latter period.
Consolidated 3 per cent, annuities
Reduced 3 per cent, annuities
Old South sea annuities
New South sea annuities
Three per cents 17^1
Consolidated 4 per cent, annuities
Navy 5 per cent, annuities
L. 39,922,421
5t,493,981
3,492,000
2,783,000
695,000
2,617,400
142,000
Total, L. 101,145,802
The total sum which had been paid for this amount
of stock was, 62,842,782k 7s. lod. the consolidated 3
per cents having been bought up on an average at 6lh
per cent, and the reduced at somewhat less.
The progress already made by the fund, and the im¬
portant effect it has had in supporting the value of the
government securities at a time when it has been neces¬
sary to borrow unprecedented sums in almost every year,
sufficiently demonstrate the great utility of this measure.
As its increase will be continually augmenting, it will,
if steadily persevered in, and faithfully applied, become
ultimately capable of discharging a debt of any amount
with which it is possible to suppose the country will
ever be encumbered.
SINOPLE, in Heraldry, denotes vert, or green
colour in armories.—Sinople is used to signify love,
youth, beauty, rejoicing, and liberty ; whence it is
that letters of grace, ambition, legitimation, &c. are
always sealed with green wax.
SINUOSITY, a series of bends and turns in arches
<*• other irregular figures, sometimes jutting out and
sometimes falling in.
SINUS, in Anatomy, denotes a cavity in certain bones
Vol. XIX. Part I.
77 1 SIR
and other parts, the entrance whereof is very narrow, Sinus
and the bottom wider and more spacious. jj
Sinus,, in Surgery, a little cavity or sacculus, fre- Sirens,
quently formed by a wound or ulcer, wherein pus is
collected.
SIPHON. See Hydrodyamics.
SIPHONANTHUS, a genus of plants belonging
to the class of tetrandna and order of monogyma. See
Botany Index.
SIPONTUM, Sepuntum, or SiPUS, in Ancient Geo¬
graphy, a town of Apulia, so denominated (according to
Strabo) from the great quantity of scpice or cuttlefish
that are thrown npon the coast. Diomede is supposed by
the same author to have been the founder of this place ;
which appears from Livy to have become a colony of
Roman citizens. In the early ages of Christian hierar¬
chy, a bishop was fixed in this church 5 hut, under the
Lombards, his see was united to that of Benevenfum.
Being again separated, Sipontum became an archiepis-
copal diocese in 1094, about which time it was so ill
treated by the Barbarians, that it never recovered its
splendour, but sunk into such misery, that in 1260 it
was a mere desert, from the want of inhabitants, the
decay of commerce, and the insalubrity of the air.
Manfred having taken these circumstances into consi¬
deration, began in 1261 to build a new city on the sea¬
shore, to which he removed the few remaining Sipon-
tines. (See the article Manfredonia). Sipontum
rvas situated at the distance of a mile from the shore.
Excepting a part of its Gothic cathedral, scarce one
stone of the ancient city now remains upon another.
SIPUNCULUS, in Natural History, a genus of
the class of vermes, and order intestina. See Hel¬
minthology Index,
SIR, the title of a knight or baronet, which, for dis¬
tinction’s sake, as it is now given indiscriminately to all
men, is always prefixed to the knight’s Christian name,
either in speaking or writing to them.
SIRCAR, any office under the government in Hin-
dostan. It is sometimes used for the state of govern¬
ment itself. Likewise a province, or any number of
pergunnahs placed under one head in the government
books, for conveniency in keeping accounts. In com¬
mon usage in Bengal, the under banyans of European
gentlemen are called sircars.
SIRE, a title of honour formerly given to the king
of France as a mark of sovereignty.
Sire, was likewise anciently used in the same sense
with sieur and seigneur, and applied to barons, gentle¬
men, and citizens.
SIRENS, in fabulous history, certain celebrated song¬
stresses who were ranked among the demigods of anti¬
quity. Hyginus places their birth among the conse¬
quences of the rape of Proserpine. Others make them
daughters of the river Acheloiis and one of the muses*. *Ovid Met.
The number of the Sirens was three, and their names^.iv.
were Parthcnope, Lygea, and Leucosia. Some make
them half women and half fish ; others half women
and half birds. There are antique representations of
them still subsisting under both these forms. Pausanias
tells us, that the Sirens, by the persuasion of Juno, chal¬
lenged the Muses to a trial of skill in singing 5 and these
having vanquished them, plucked the golden feathers
from the wings of the Sirens, and formed them into
t J R crowns,
SIR [ 378 ] SIS
Siren*, crowns, with which they adorned their own heads. The
—"'v Argonauts are said to have been diverted from the en¬
chantment of their songs by the superior strains of Or¬
pheus : Ulysses, however, had great difficulty in secur¬
ing himself from seduction. See Odys. lib. xii.
Pope, in his notes to the twelfth book of the Odys¬
sey, observes, the critics have greatly laboured to explain
what was the foundation of this fiction of the Sirens,
w e are told by some, that the Sirens ivere queens of
certain small islands named Siremiste, that lie near Ca-
prsea in Italy, and chiefly inhabited the promontory of
Minerva, upon the top of which that goddess had a
temple, as some affirm, built by UlysSes. Here there
was a renowned academy, in the reign of the Sirens,
famous for eloquence and the liberal sciences, which
gave occasion to the invention of this fable of the sweet¬
ness of the voice and attracting songs of the Sirens. But
why then are they fabled to be destroyers, and painted
in such dreadful colours ? We are told, that at last the
students abused their knowledge, to the colouring of
wronsr, the corruption of manners, and the subversion of
government: that is, in the language of poetry, they were
feigned to be transformed into monsters, and with their
music to have enticed passengers to their ruin, who there
consumed their patrimonies, and poisoned their virtues
with riot and effeminacy. The place is now called
Mussa. Some writers tell us of a certain bay, contract¬
ed within winding straits and broken clilfs, which, by
the singing of the winds and beating of the waters, re¬
turns a delightful harmony, that allures the passenger
to approach, who is immediately thrown against the
rocks, and swallowed up by the violent eddies. Thus
Horace, moralising, calls idleness a Siren.
. — Vitamin est improba Siren
Desiclia. 
But the fable may be applied to all pleasures in ge¬
neral, which, if too eagerly pursued, betray the incau¬
tious into ruin *, while wise men, like Ulysses, making
use of their reason, stop their ears against their insinu¬
ations.
The learned Mr Bryant says, that the Sirens were
Cuthite and Canaanitish priests, who had founded tem¬
ples in Sicily, which were rendered infamous on account
of the women who officiated. They were much ad¬
dicted to cruel rites, so that the shores upon which they
resided are described as covered with the bones of men
destroyed by their artifice. Virgil. JEneid. lib. v.
ver. 864.
All ancient authors agree in telling us, that Sirens in¬
habited the coast of Sicily. The name, according to
Bochart, who derives it from the Phoenician language,
implies a songstress. Hence it is probable, says Dr Bur¬
ney, that in ancient times there may have been excellent
sino-ers, but of corrupt morals, on the coast of Sicily,
who, by seducing voyagers, gave rise to this fable. And
if this conjecture be well founded, he observes, the
Muses are not the only pagan divinities who preserved
their influence over mankind in modern times ; for
every age has its Sirens, and every Siren her votaries j
when beauty and talents, both powerful in themselves,
are united, they become still more attractive.
Siren, in '/.oology, a genus of animals belonging to
the class 0$ amphibia and the order of mcantes. It is
ml biped, naked, and furnished with a tail} the feet are
brachiated with claws. This animal was discovered by j,;
Dr Garden in Carolina; it is found in swampy and y
muddy places, by the sides of pools, under the trunks Sisyphus,
of old trees that hang over the water. The natives '——-
call it by the name of mud-iguana. Linnaeus first
prehended, that it was the larva of a kind of lizard 5p.
but as its fingers are furnished with claws, and it makes
a croaking noise, he concluded from these properties,
as w'ell as from the situation of the anus, that it could
not be the larva of the lizard, and therefore formed of
it a new genus under the name of siren. He was also
obliged to establish for this uncommon animal a new or¬
der called meantes or gliders ; the animals of which are
amphibious, breathing by means of gills and lungs, and
furnished with arms and claws.
SIREX, a genus of insects belonging to the order of
hymenoptcrce. See Entomology Index.
SIR1UM, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of tetrandria and order of monogynia. See Botany
Index.
SIRIUS, in Astronomy, a bright star in the constel¬
lation Canis. See Astronomy, N0 403, &c.
SIRLET, Flavius, an eminent Roman engraver
on precious stones : his Laocoon, and representations
in miniature of antique statues at Rome, are very va¬
luable and scarce. He died in 1737.
SIROCCO, a periodical wind which generally blows
in Italy and Dalmatia every year about Easter. It
blows from the south east by south: it is attended with
heat, but not rain ; its ordinary period is twenty days, Porfa'*
and it usually ceases at sunset. When the sirocco does
not blow in this manner, the summer is almost free fromffW<(0
westerly winds, whirlwinds, and storms. This wind isp,
prejudicial to plants, drying and burning up the buds }
though it hurts not men any otherwise than by causing
an extraordinary weakness and lassitude ; ineonvenien-
cies that are fully compensated by a plentiful fishing,
and a good crop of corn on the mountains. In the sum¬
mer time, when the westerly wind ceases for a day, it
is a sign that the sirocco will blow the day following,
which usually begins with a sort of whirlwind.
SISKIN. See Fringilla, Ornithology Index.
SiSON, Bastard Stone Parsley, a genus of
plants belonging to the class of pentandria, and to the
order of digynia ; and in the natural system arranged
under the 45th order, Umbcllutcr. See Botany Index.
SISTRUJVi, or Cistrum, a kind of ancient musi¬
cal instrument used by the priests of Isis and Osiris.
It is described by Spon as of an oval form, in manner
of a racket, with three sticks traversing it breadthwise ;
which playing freely by the agitation of the whole in¬
strument, yielded a kind of sound which to them seem¬
ed melodious. Mr Malcom takes the sistrum to be no
better than a kind of rattle. Oiselius observes, that the
sistrnm is found represented on several medals, and on
talismans.
SISYMBRIUM, Water-cresses, a genus of plant*
belonging to the class of telradynamia, and to the order
of siHynosce; and in the natural system ranged under
the 39th order, Siliqvoser. See Botany Index.
SISF PHUS, in fabulous history, one of the descend¬
ants of Eolus, married Merope, one of the Pleiades,
who bore him Glaucus. He resided at Epyra in Pelo¬
ponnesus, and was a very crafty man. Others say, that
he was a Trojan secretary, who was punished for dico-
vering
S I u [ 379
i!svp!ia$ secrets of state j and others again, that he was a
It notorious robber, killed by Theseus. However, all the
Siuin- , poets agree that he was punished in Tartarus for his
crimes, by rolling a great stone to the top of a hill, which
constantly recoiled, and rolling down incessantly, re¬
newed his labour.
SlblRINCHJUM, a genus of plants belonging to
the class o£gi/nandria, and order of triandria ; and in
the natural system ranged under the 5th order Ensata;.
See Botany Index.
SITE, denotesthe situationof an house, &c.and some¬
times the ground plot or spot of earth on which it stands.
bll I A, Nuthatch, a genus ot birds belonging to
the order aipiece. See Ornithology Index.
SirOPHYEAX, formed from m«s,
“ corn,” and <pv\oi%y “ keeper,” in antiquity, an Athe¬
nian magistrate, who had the superintendence of the
corn, and was to take care that nobody bought more
than was necessary lor the provision of his family. By
the Attic laws, particular persons were prohibited from
buying more than fifty measures of wheat a man; and
that such persons might not purchase more, the sitophy-
lax was appointed to see the laws projierly executed. It
was a capital crime to prevaricate in it. There were
15 of these sitophylaces, ten for the city, and five for the
Piraeus.
SITUS, in Algebra and Geo?netry, denotes the situa¬
tion of lines, surfaces, &c. Worfius delivers some things
in geometry, which are not deduced from common ana¬
lysis, particularly matters depending on the of lines
and figures. Leibnitz, has even founded a particular
kind of analysis upon it, called calculus situs.
SIVA, a name given by the Hindoos to the Supreme
Being, when considered as the avenger or destroyer. Sir
William Jones has shown that in several respects the cha¬
racter of Jupiter and Siva are the same. As Jupiter
flu-overthrew the litans and giants, so did Siva overthrow
""'ict. the Daityas, or children of Uiti, who frequently rebel¬
led against Heaven ; and as during the contest the god
of Olympus was furnished with lightning and thunder¬
bolts by an eagle, so Brahma, who is sometimes repre-
•ented riding on the Garuda, or eagle, presented the
god of destruction with fiery shafts. Siva al so corre¬
sponds with the Stygian Jove, or Pluto ; for, if we can
rely on the Persian translation of the Bhagavat, the sove*
reign of Palala, or the infernal regions, is the king of
serpents, named Seshana£a, who is exhibited in painting
and sculpture, with a diadem and sceptre, in the same
manner as Pluto. There is yet another attribute of
Siva, or Alahadeva, by which he is visibly distinguished
in the drawings and temples of Bengal. To destroy,
according to the Vedantis of India, the Sufis of Persia’
and many philosophers of our European schools, is only
to generate and reproduce in another form. Hence the
god of destruction is holden in this country to preside
over generation, as a symbol of which he rides on a white
bull. Can we doubt that the loves and feats of Jupiter
Genitctr (not forgetting the white bull of Europa), and
us extraordinary title of Lapis, for which no satisfac¬
tory reason is commonly given, have a connection with
the Indian philosophy and mythology ?
SIUM, Water Parsnep, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the classoipentajuhda, and order of digynia, and
in the natural system ranging under the 44th order,
bcllatce. See Botany Index.
] s 1 w
SIWrA, or Siwah, a town in Egypt to the west¬
ward of Alexandria, built on a small fertile spot, sur¬
rounded on all sides by desert land. A considerable
portion of this space is filled with date trees, but there
are also plantains, pomegranates, figs, apricots, and
olives; and the gardens are in a very flourishing condi¬
tion. Ihe people cultivate rice, which is of a reddish
colour, and different from that of the Delta. The rest
of the land furnishes abundance of wheat for the con¬
sumption of the inhabitants.
The greatest curiosity about Siwa is a ruin of un¬
doubted antiquity, measuring 32 feet in length, 18 in
height, and 15 in breadth, which does not appear ever
to have been much larger. Mr Horneman estimates
the dimensions of it at 36 feet long, 24 feet wide, and
27 high, which agrees with no other traveller whatever ;
and indeed Mr Horneman himself allows that the jea¬
lousy of the natives prevented him from pursuing any
plan of accurate examination or admeasurement. The
people of Siwa have no tradition respecting this edifice,
nor attribute any quality to it, but that of concealing
treasures, and as the haunt of demons. It has, however,
been supposed, that Siwa is the Siropmn of Pliny, and
that this building was coeval with the temple of Jupiter
Ammon, and a dependency on it ; yet neither the na¬
tives of Siwa, nor the various tribes of Arabs who fre¬
quent that place, know any thing of the ruins of that
temple, about which Air Browne made every possible
enquiry.
Ihe complexion of the people of Siwa is generally
darker than that of the Egyptians, and their dialect is
also different. I hey do not habitually make use of
snuff or tobacco. Their sect is that of Alalik. The
dress of the lower class is very simple, as they are almost
naked ; among those whose costume was discernible, it
approaches nearer to that of the Arabs of the desert
than the Egyptians or Aloors. Their clothing consist#
of a shirt of white cotton, w'ith large sleeves reaching to
the feet, a red cap without a turban, and shoes of the
same colour. Some earthen ware made by themselves,
and a few mats, form the chief part of their household
furniture, none but the higher ranks being possessed of
copper utensils. I hey sometimes purchase a few' slaves
from the Alourzouk caravan. The rest of their wants
are supplied from Cairo or Alexandria, whither their
dates are transported, both in a dry state, and beaten
into mash, which, when cood, greatly resembles a sweet
meat. They do not eat large quantities of animal food,
and bread known to us is uncommon. They drink
plentifully of the liquor extracted from the date tree,
which they call date-tree water, though it has frequent¬
ly the power of inebriating in the state in wdiich they
drink it. I heir animals are the hairy sheep and goat
of Egypt, the ass, and a very small number of oxen and
camels. The women wear veils as in Egypt. After
the rains, the ground in the vicinity of Siwa is covered
with salt for many weeks.
Siwa has sometimes been compared to a bee hive,
which it very much resembles, whether in respect to the
general appearance of the eminence covered with build¬
ings, the swarm of its people crowded together, or the
confused noise, or hum and buz from its narrow’ passages
and streets, and which reach the car at a considerable
distance. North-west of the town there is a stratum of
salt extending a full mile, and near it salt is found on
3^2 th*
Siwa.
SIX [3
Shva the surface. There are numerous springs, and frequently
!! a spring of water perfectly sweet is found within a few
Sixtus, of one that is salt. The people, according to
"—'v Horneman, are obtrusive and thievish. Siwa is situated
in 29° 12' N. Lat. and 440 54' E. Long.
SIX-Clekks, officers in chancery of great account,
next in degree below the twelve masters, whose business
it is to enrol commissions, pardons, patents, warrants,
gcc. which pass the great seal, and to transact and file
all proceedings by bill, answer, &c. They were an¬
ciently clerici, and forfeited their places, if they mar¬
ried ; but when the constitution of the court began to
alter, a law was made to permit them to marry, Stat
14 and 15 Hen. VIIL cap. 8. They are also solici¬
tors for parties in suits depending in the court of chan-
eery. Under them are six deputies and 60 clerks, who,
with the under clerks, do the business of the office.
SIX Nations. See Niagara.
SIXTH, in Music, one of the simple original con¬
cords, or harmonical intervals. See Interval.
SIXTUS V. Pope, rvas born the 13th December,
1521, in La Marca, a village in the seigniory ofMont-
alto. His father, Francis Peretti, was a gardener, and
his mother a servant maid. He was their eldest child,
and was called Felix. At the age of nine he was
hired out to an inhabitant of the village to keep
sheep ; but disobliging his master, he was soon after-
degraded to be keeper of the hogs. He was en¬
gaged in this employment when Father Michael An¬
gelo Seller!, a Franciscan friar, asked the road to As-
coii, vdiere he was going to preach. Aoung Felix
conducted him thither, and struck the father so much
with his conversation and eagerness for knowledge, that
he recommended him to the fraternity to which he had
come. Accordingly he was received among them, in¬
vested with the habit of a lay brother, and placed un¬
der the sacristan, to assist in sweeping the church, light¬
ing the candles, and other offices of that nature ; for
which he was to be taught the responses, and the rudi¬
ments of grammar. His progress in learning was so sui'-
prising, that at the age of 14 he was thought qualified
to begin his noviciate, and was admitted the year follow¬
ing to make his profession.
He pursued his studies wdth such unwearied assiduity,
that he was soon reckoned equal to the best disputants.
He was ordained priest in 1545, when he assumed the
name of Father Montalto; soon after he took his doc¬
tor’s degree, and was appointed professor of theology
at Sienna. It was then that he so effectually recom¬
mended himself to Cardinal di Carpi, and his secretary
Bossius, that they ever remained his steady friends.
Meanwhile the severity and obstinacy of his temper
incessantly engaged him in disputes with his monastic
brethren. His reputation for eloquence, which was
now spread over Italy, about this time gained him
some new friends. Among these were the Colonna
family, and Father Ghisilieri, by whose recommenda¬
tion he was appointed inquisitor-general at Venice:
but he exercised that office with so much severity,
that he was obliged to flee precipitately from that
city. Upon this he went to Rome, where he was made
procurator-general of his order, and soon after accom¬
panied Cardinal Buon Compagnon into Spain, as a
chaplain and consultor to the inquisition. rIbere he
) ] SIX
w-as treated with great respect, and liberal offers were Siatai. ;
made him to induce him to continue in Spain, which, —v— u
however, he could not be prevailed on to accept.
In the mean time, news were brought to Madrid that
Pius IV. was dead, and that Father Ghisilieri, who
had been made Cardinal Alexandrine by Paul IV. had
succeeded him under the name of Pius V. rI hese
tidings filled Montalto with joy, and not without rea¬
son, for he was immediately invested by the pontifi with
new7 dignities. He was made general of his order, bi¬
shop of St Agatha, was soon after raised to the digni¬
ty of cardinal, and received a pension. About this
time he was employed by the pope to draw up the bill
of excommunication against Queen Elizabeth.
He began now to cast bis eyes upon the papacy ;
and, in order to obtain it, formed and executed a plan
of hypocrisy with unparalleled constancy and success.
He became humble, patient, and affable. He changed
bis dress, his air, bis words, and bis actions, so com¬
pletely, that bis most intimate friends declared him a
new man. Never was there such an absolute vic¬
tory gained over the passions 5 never was a fictitious
character so long maintained, nor the foibles of human
nature so artfully concealed. He courted the ambassa¬
dors of every foreign power, but attached himself to
the interests of none j nor did he accept a single favour
that would have laid him under any peculiar obligation.
He had formerly treated his relations with the greatest
tenderness, but he now changed his behaviour altoge¬
ther. 'When his brother Anthony came to visit him,
he lodged him in an inn, and sent him home next day,
charging him to inform his family that he was now dead
to his relations and the world.
When Pius V. died in 1572, he entered the conclave
with the other cardinals, hut seemed altogether indiffe¬
rent about the election, and never left his apartment ex¬
cept to his devotion. When solicited to join any party,
he declined it, declaring that he was of no consequence,
and that he would leave the choice of a pope entirely
to persons of greater knowledge and experience. When
Cardinal Buon Compagnon, who assumed the name of
Gregory XIII. was elected, Montalto assured him that
be never wished lor any thing so much in his life, and
that he would always remember his goodness, and the
favours he had conferred on him in Spain. But the
new pope treated him with the greatest contempt, and
deprived him of his pension. The cardinals also, de¬
ceived by his artifices, paid him no greater respect, and
used to call him, by way of ridicule, the Roman beast;
the ass of La Marca.
He now assumed all the infirmities of old age ; his
bead hung down upon bis shoulders ; he tottered as be
walked, and supported himself on a staff. His voice
became feeble, and rvas often interrupted by a cough so
exceedingly severe, that it seemed every moment to
threaten his dissolution. He interfered in no public
transactions, but spent his whole time in acts of devo¬
tion and benevolence. Mean time be constantly em¬
ployed the ablest spies, who brought him intelligence
of every particular.
When Gregory XIII. died in I5^5> entere(^ ^ie
conclave with the greatest reluctance, and immediately
shut himself up in his chamber, and was no more
thought of than if be had not existed. When he went
A
six r 38
to mass, for winch purpose alone he left his apartment,
he appeared perfectly indifferent about the event of the*
election. He joined no party, yet flattered all.
He knew early that there would be great divisions
in the conclave, and he was aware that when the leaders
of the different parties were disappointed in their own
views, they all frequently agreed in the election of some
old and infirm cardinal, the length of whose life would
merely enable them to prepare themselves sufficiently
for the next vacancy. These views directed his conduct,
nor was he mistaken in his hopes of success.
Three cardinals, the leaders of opposite factions, be¬
ing unable to procure the election which each of them
wished, unanimously agreed to make choice of Mont-
alto. When they came to acquaint him with their in¬
tention, he fell into such a violent fit of coughing that
every person thought he would expire on the spot. He
told them that his reign would last but a few days ;
that, besides a continual difficulty of breathing, he
wanted strength to support such a weight, and that his
small experience rendered him very unfit for so impor¬
tant a charge. He conjured them all three not to
abandon him, hut to take the whole weight of affairs
upon their own shoulders 5 and declared that he would
never accept the mitre upon any other terms : “ If yon
are resolved,” added he, “ to make me pope, it will
only be placing yourselves on the throne. For my part,
I shall he satisfied with the bare title. Let the world
call me pope, and I make you heartily welcome to the
power and authority.” The cardinals swallowed the bait,
and exerted themselves so effectually that Montalto was
elected. He now pulled off the mask which he had
worn for 14 years. No sooner was his election secured,
than he started from his seat, flung down his staff in the
middle of the hall, and appeared almost a foot taller
than he had done for several years.
When he was asked, according to custom, if he would
accept of the papacy, he replied, “ It is trifling to ask
whether I will accept what I have already accepted.—
However, to satisfy any scruple that may arise, I tell
you that I accept it with great pleasure, and would ac¬
cept another if I could get it; for I find myself able,
by the Divine assistance, to manage two papacies.” His
former complaisance and humility disappeared, together
with his infirmities, and he now treated all around him
with reserve and haughtiness. The first care of Six¬
tus V. the name which Montalto assumed, was to cor¬
rect the abuses, and put a stop to the enormities, which
were daily committed in every part of the ecclesiastical
state. The lenity of Gregory’s government had intro¬
duced a general licentiousness of manners, which burst
forth with great violence, after that pontiff’s death.
It had been usual with former popes to release delin¬
quents on the day of their coronation, who were there¬
fore accustomed to surrender themselves voluntary pri¬
soners immediately after the election of the pope. At
present, however, they were fatally disappointed.—
When the governor of Rome and the keeper of St
Angelo waited on his Holiness, to know his intention
in tins particular, he replied, “ What have you to do
witb pardons, and releasing of prisoners ? Is it not suf¬
ficient that our predecessor has suffered the judges to
remain unemployed these 13 years ? Shall we also stain
our pontificate with the same neglect of justice ? We
have too long seen, with inexpressible concern, the pro-
I ] SIX
digious degree of wickedness that reigns in the state, to
think of granting pardons. Let the prisoners be brought -
to a speedy trial, and punished as they deserve, to show
the world that Divine Providence has called us to the
chair of St Peter, to reward the good, and chastise the
wicked : that we bear not the sword in vain, but are
the ministers of God, and a revenger to execute wrath
on them that do evil.”
He appointed commissioners to inspect the conduct
of the judges, displaced those who were inclined to leni¬
ty, and put others of severe dispositions in their room.
He^oflered rewards to any person who could convict
them of corruption or partiality. He ordered the syn¬
dics of all the towns and signiories to make out a com¬
plete list of the disorderly persons within their districts,
and threatened the strapado for the smallest omission.
In consequence of this edict, the syndic of Albino was
scourged in the market-place, because he had left his
nephew, an incorrigible libertine, out of his list.
He made very severe laws against robbers and assas¬
sins. Adulterers, when discovered, suffered death 5 and
they who willingly submitted to the prostitution of their
wives, a custom then common in Rome, received the
same punishment. He was particularly careful of the
purity of the female sex, and never forgave those who
attempted to debauch them.
Kis execution of justice was as prompt as his edicts
were rigorous. A Swiss happening to give a Spanish
gentleman a blow with his halberd, was struck by him
so rudely with a pilgrim’s staff that he expired on the
spot. Sixtus informed the governor of Rome that he
was to dine early, and that justice must be executed on
the criminal before he sat down to table. The Spanish
ambassador and four cardinals intreated him not to dis¬
grace the gentleman by suffering him to die on a gib¬
bet, hut to order him to be beheaded. “ He shall be
hanged (replied Sixtus), hut I will alleviate bis disgrace
by doing him the honour to assist personally at his death.”
He ordered a gibbet to be erected before his own win¬
dows, where be continued sitting during the whole exe¬
cution. He then called to his servants to bring in din¬
ner, declaring that the act of justice which he had just
seen had increased his appetite. When he rose from
table, he exclaimed, u God he praised for the good ap¬
petite with which I have dined !”
When Sixtus ascended the throne, the whole eccle¬
siastical state was infested with bands of robbers, who,
from their numbers and outrages, were exceedingly for¬
midable ; by his prudent and vigorous conduct, how¬
ever, he in a short time extirpated the whole of these
banditti.
Nor was the vigour ot his conduct less conspicuous
in his transactions with foreign nations. Before he had
been pope two months he quarrelled with Philip II. of
Spain, Henry III. of France, and Henry king of Na¬
varre. His intrigues indeed in some measure influ¬
enced all the councils of Furope.
After his accession to the pontificate he sent for his
family to Rome, with express orders that they should
appear in a decent and modest manner. Accordingly,
his sister Camilla came thither, accompanied by her
daughter and two grandchildren. Some cardinals, in
order to pay court to the pope, went out to meet her,
and introduced her in a very magnificent dress. Six¬
tus pretended not to know her, and asked two or three
times
Sixtus.
SIX [ 382 ] S I z
Sixtus, time who she was: Upon this one of the cardinals said,
—v——' “ It is your sister, holy father.” “ I have but one
sister (replied Sixtus with a frown), and she is a poor
woman at Le Grotte ; if you have introduced her in
this disguise, I declare I do not know her j yet I think
I would know her again, if I saw her in the clothes she
used to wear.”
Her conductors at last found it necessary to carry
her to an inn, and strip her of her finery. When Ca¬
milla was introduced a second time, Sixtus embraced
her tenderly, and said, “ Now we know indeed that it
is our sister j nobody shall make a princess ot you hut
ourselves.” He stipulated with his sister, that she
should neither ask any favour in matters of govern¬
ment, nor intercede for criminals, nor interfere in the
administration of justice ; declaring that every request
of that kind would meet with a certain refusal. These
terms being agreed to, and punctually observed, he made
the most ample provision not only for Camilla hut for
his whole relations.
This great man was also an encourager of learning.
He caused an Italian translation of the Bible to he pub¬
lished, which raised a good deal of discontent among
the Catholics. When some cardinals reproached him
for his conduct in this respect, he replied, “ It was pub¬
lished for the benefit of you cardinals who cannot read
Latin.”
Sixtus died in 1590, after having reigned little more
than five years. His death was ascribed to poison, said
to have been administered by the Spaniards j but the
story seems rather improbable.
It was to the indulgence of a disposition naturally
formed for severity, that all the defects of this wonder¬
ful man are to be ascribed. Clemency was a stranger
to his bosom 5 his punishments were often too cruel, and
seemed sometimes to border on revenge. Pasquin was
dressed one morning in a very nasty shirt, and being
asked by Marforio why he wore such dirty linen ? re¬
plied, that he could get no other, for the pope had made
his washerwoman a princess, alluding to Camilla, who
had formerly been a laundress. The pope ordered strict
search to be made for the author of this lampoon, and
offered him his life and a thousand pistoles if he would
discover himself. The author was simple enough to
make his appearance and claim the reward. “ It is
true (said the pope) we made such a promise, and we
shall keep it j your life shall be spared, and you shall re¬
ceive the money presently: but we. have reserved to
ourselves the power of cutting off your hands and bo¬
ring your tongue through, to prevent your being so
witty for the future.” It is needless to add, that the
sentence was immediately executed. This, however,
is the only instance of his resenting the many severe
satires that were published against him.
But though the conduct of Sixtus seldom excites
love, it generally commands our esteem, and sometimes
our admiration. He strenuously defended the cause of
the poor, the widow, and the orphan : he never refused
audience to the injured, however wretched or forlorn
their appearance was. He never forgave those magi¬
strates who were capable of partiality or corruption 5
nor suflered crimes to pass unpunished, whether commit¬
ted by the rich or the poor. He was frugal, tempe¬
rate, sober, and never neglected to reward the smallest
favour which had been conferred on him before his ex- s;xttl,
altation. |j
When he mounted the throne, the treasury w'as not ( Sizar,
only exhaused, but in debt: at his death it contained
five millions of gold.
Rome was indebted to him for several of her greatest
embellishments, particularly the Vatican library j it was
by him, too, that trade was first introduced into the Ec¬
clesiastical State.
SIYA-GHUSH, the caracal of Buffon, an animal of
the cat kind. See Felis, Mammalia Index.
SIZAR, or Sizer, in Latin Sizaior, an appellation
by which the lowest order of students in the universities
of Cambridge and Dublin are distinguished, is derived
from the word size, which in Cambridge, and probably
in Dublin likewise, has a peculiar meaning. To size,
in the language of the university, is to get any sort of
victuals from the kitchens, which the students may want
in their own rooms, or in addition to their commons in
the hall, and for which they pay the cooks or butchers
at the end of each quarter. A size of any thing is the
smallest quantity of that thing which can be thus
bought; two sizes, or a part of beef, being nearly equal
to what a young person will eat ol that dish to his din¬
ner ; and a size of ale or beer being equal to half an
English pint.
The sizars are divided into two classes, viz. sub-
sizatores or sizars, and sizatores or proper sizars. rIhe
former of these are supplied with commons from the
table of the fellows and fellow commoners ; and in for¬
mer times, when these were more scanty than they are
now, they were obliged to supply the deficiency by
sizing, as is sometimes the case still. The proper sizars
had formerly no commons at all, and were therefore
obliged to size the whole. In St John’s college they
have now some commons allowed them for dinner,
from a benefaction, but they are still obliged to size
their suppers : in the other colleges they are allowed a
part of the fellow-commons, but must size the rest j
and from being thus obliged to size the whole or part
of their victuals, the whole order derived the name ot
sizars.
In Oxford, the order similar to that of sizar is deno¬
minated servitor, a name evidently derived from the
menial duties which they perform. In both universities
these orders were formerly distinguished by round caps
and gowns of different materials from those ot the pen¬
sioners or commoners, the order immediately above
them. But about 30 years ago the round cap was en¬
tirely abolished in both seminaries. There is still,
how'ever, in Oxford, we believe, a distinction in the
gowns, and there is also a trifling difference in some of
the small colleges in Cambridge ; but in the largest
colleges the dress of the pensioners and sizars is entire¬
ly the same.
In Oxford, the servitors are still obliged to wait at
table on the fellows and gentlemen-commoners ; but
much to the credit of the university of Cambridge, this
most degrading and disgraceful custom wTas entirely
abolished about 10 or 12 years ago, and of course the
sizars of Cambridge are now on a much more respect¬
able footing than the servitors of Oxford.
The sizars are not upon the foundation, and there¬
fore while they continue sizars are not capable of being
} elected
S 1 2 [ 3
Sizar, elected fellows 5 but they may at any time, if they
Size. choose, become pensioners j and they generally sit for
' scholarships immediately before they take their first de¬
grees. If successful, they are then on the foundation,
and are entitled to become candidates for fellowships
when they have got that degree. In the mean time,
while they continue sizars, besides free commons they
enjoy many benefactions, which have been made at dif¬
ferent times, under the name of .sizar's prcetor, exhibi¬
tions^ &c. and the rate of tuition, the rent of rooms, and
other things of that sort within their respective colleges,
is less than to the other orders. But thousrh their eclu-
cation is thus obtained at a less ex pence, they are not
now considered as a menial orders for sizars, pensioner-
scholars, and even sometimes fellow commoners, mix to¬
gether with the utmost cordiality. It is worthy of re¬
mark, that at every period this order has supplied the
university with its most distinguished officers ; and that
many of the most illustrious members of the church,
many of the most distinguished men in the other libe¬
ral professions, have, when under-graduates, been sizars,
when that order was on a less respectable footing than it
is now.
SIZE, the name of an instrument used for finding the
bigness of fine round pearls. It consists of thin pieces
or leaves, about two inches long, and half an inch
broad, fastened together at one end by a rivet. In each
of these are round holes drilled of different diameters.
I hose in the first leaf serve for measuring pearls from
half a grain to seven grains ; those of the second, for
pearls from eight grains or two carats to fivecarats, &c. j
and those of the third, for pearls from six carats and a
half to eight carats and a half.
iSizk, is also a sort of paint, varnish, or glue, used
by painters, &c.
The shreds and parings of leather, parchment, or
vellum, being boiled in water and strained, make size.
Uiis substance is much used in many trades. The
manner of using size is to melt some of it over a gentle
fire; and scraping as much whiting into it as will just
colour it, let them be well incorporated together ; after
which you may whiten frames, &c. with it. After it
dries, melt the size again, and put more whiting and
whiten the frames, &c. seven or eight times, letting it
dry between each time : but before it is quite dry, be¬
tween each washing with size, you must smooth and wret
it over with a clean brush-pencil in fair water.
T 0 make gold-size. Take gum-anime and asphaltum,
of each one ounce ; minium, litharge of gold, and am¬
ber, of each half an ounce : reduce all into a very fine
powder, and add to them four ounces of linseed oil, and
eight ounces of drying oil : digest them over a gentle
fire that does not flame, so that the mixture may only
simmer, but not boil; lest it should run over and set the
house on fire, stir it constantly with a stick till all the in-
p’edients are dissolved and incorporated, and do not
leave off stirring till it becomes thick and ropy ; after
bemg sufficiently boiled, let it stand till it is almost cold,
and then strain it through a coarse linen cloth, and keep
it (or use,—To prepare it for working, put what quan¬
tity you please 111 a horse-muscle shell, adding as much
oil of turpentine as will dissolve it ; and making it as
thm as the bottom of your seed-lac varnish, hold it over
a candle, and then strain it through a linen-rag into ano-
shell; add to these as much vermilion as will make
Si
3 ] SKA
it of a darkish red ; if it is too thick for drawing, you
may thin it with some oil of turpentine. The chief use
of this size is for laying on metals.
r)1'he best gokl size for burnishing is made as follows :
lake fine hole, what quantity you please ; grind it fine¬
ly on a piece of marble, then scrape into it a little beef
suet ; grind all well together ; after which mix in a
small proportion of parchment size, with a double pro¬
portion of water, and it is done.
Io niake silver-size, lake tobacco-pipe clay in fine
powder, into which scrape some black-lead and a little
Genoa soap, and grind them all together with parch¬
ment size as already directed.
SKATING, an exercise on ice, both graceful and
healthy. Although the ancients were remarkable for
their dexterity in most of the athletic sports, yet ska¬
ting seems to have been unknown to them. It may
therefore he considered as a modern invention; and pro¬
bably it derived its origin in Holland, where it was
practised, not only as a graceful and elegant amusement,
but as an expeditious mode of travelling when the lakes
and canals were frozen up during winter. In Holland
long journeys are made upon skates with ease and expe¬
dition ; but in general less attention is there paid to
graceful and elegant movements, than to the expedi¬
tion and celerity of what is called journey skating. It
is only in those countries where it is considered as an
amusement, that its graceful attitudes and movements
can be studied ; and there is no exercise whatever bet¬
ter calculated to set ofl the human figure to advantage.
I be acquirement of most exercises may be attained at
an advanced period of life ; but to become an expert
skater, it is necessary to begin the practice of the art at
a very early age. It is difficult to reduce the art of
skating to a system. It is principally by the imitation
of a good skater that a young practitioner can form his
own practice. I he English, though often remarkable
for feats of agility upon skates, are very-deficient in
gracefulness ; which is partly owing to the construction
of the skates. They are too much curved in the sur¬
face which embraces the ice, consequently they involun¬
tarily bring the users of them round on the outside upon
a quick and small circle ; whereas the skater, by using
skates of a different construction, less curved, has the
command of his stroke, and can enlarge or diminish the
circle according to his own wish and desire. The me¬
tropolis of Scotland has produced more instances of ele¬
gant skaters than perhaps any other country whatever;
and the institution of a skating club about 50 years ago,
lias contributed not a little to the improvement of this
elegant amusement. We are indebted for this article
to a gentleman of that club, who has made the practice
and improvement of skating bis particular study ; and as
the nature of our work will not permit the insertion of a
full treatise on skating, we shall present our readers
with a few instructions.
! hose who wish to be proficients should begin at an
early period of life ; and should first endeavour to throw
ofl the fear which always attends the commencement of
an apparently hazardous amusement. They will soon
acquiie a facility of moving on the inside : when they
have done this, they must endeavour to acquire the
movement on the outside of the skates ; which is nothing
more than throwing themselves upon the outer edge of
the skate, and making the balance of their body tend
towards .
Size,
Skilling-.
V
S K E [ 384 ] S K U
Skating, towards that side which will necessarily enable them to
Skeleton, form a semicircle. In this, much assistance may be
1 v ' derived from placing a bag of lead-shot in the pocket
next to the foot employed in making the outside stroke,
which will produce an artificial poise of the body, which
afterwards will become natural by practice. At the
commencement of the outside stroke, the knee of the
employed limb should be a little bended, and gradually
brought to a rectilineal position when the stroke is
completed. When the practitioner becomes expert in
forming the semicircle with both feet, he is then to join
them together, and proceed progressively and alter¬
nately with both feet, which will carry him forward with
a graceful movement. Care should be taken to use
very little muscular exertion, for the impelling motion
should proceed from the mechanical impulse of the body
thrown into such a position as to regulate the stroke.
At taking the outside stroke, the body ought to be
thrown forward easily, the unemployed limb kept in a
direct line with the body, and the face and eyes direct¬
ly looking forward: the unemployed foot ought to be
stretched towards the ice, with the toes in a direct line
with the leg. In the time of making the curve, the body
-must be gradually, and almost imperceptibly, raised,
and the unemployed limb brought in the same manner
forward ; so that, at finishing the curve, the body will
bend a small degree backward, and the unemployed foot
will be about two inches before the other, ready to em¬
brace the ice and form a correspondent curve. The
muscular movement ol the whole body must correspond
with the movement of the skate, and should be regulat¬
ed so as to be almost imperceptible to the spectators.
Particular attention should be paid in carrying round
the head and eyes with a regular and imperceptible mo¬
tion ; for nothing so much diminishes the grace and ele¬
gance of skating as sudden jerks and exertions, which
are too frequently used by the generality of skaters.
The management of the arms likewise deserves atten¬
tion. There is no mode of disposing ol them more
gracefully in skating outside, than folding the hands in¬
to each other, or using a mulT.
There are various feats of activity and manoeuvres
used upon skates; but they are so various that we can¬
not pretend to detail them. Moving on the outside is
the primary object for a skater to attain ; and when he
becomes an adept in that, he will easily acquire a fa¬
cility in executing other branches ol the art. 'There
are few exercises but will afford him bints of elegant
and graceful attitudes. For example, nothing can be
more beautiful than the attitude of drawing the bow
and arrow whilst the skater is making a large circle on
the outside: the manual exercise and military salutes
have likewise a pretty effect when used by an expert
skater.
SKELETON, in Anatoimj, the dried bones of any
animal joined together by wires, or by the natural liga¬
ment dried, in such a manner as to show their position
when the creature was alive.
We have, in the Philosophical Transactions, an ac¬
count of a human skeleton, all the hones of which were
so united, as to make but one articulation Irom the back
to the os sacrum, and downwards a little way. On saw¬
ing some of them, where they were unnaturally joined,
they were found not to cohere throughout their whole
substance, but only about a sixth of an inch deep all
4
round. The figure of the trunk was crooked, the spinaj Skeleton
making the convex, and the inside of the vertebrae the ||
concave part of the segment. The whole had been Sku|i u
found in a charnel-house, and was of the size of a full' ^ !
grown person.
SKIDS, or Skeeds, in sea-language, are long com¬
passing pieces of timber, notched below so as to fit close¬
ly upon the wales, extending from the main-wale to the
top of the side, and retained in this position by bolts
or spike-nails. They are intended for preserving the
planks of the side, when any heavy body is hoisted or
lowered.
SKIE, Isle of. See Skye..
SKIFF, a small boat resembling a yawl, usually em¬
ployed for passing rivers.
SKIMMER, Black. See Khynchops, Ornitho¬
logy Index.
SKIMMIA, a genus of plants belonging to the te-
trandria class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 40th order, Per.sonatce. See Botany Index.
SKIN, in Anatomy, the general covering of the body
of any animal. See Anatomy, N° 74.
Skin, in Commerce, is particularly used for the mem¬
brane stripped off the animal to be prepared by the tan¬
ner, skinner, parchment-maker, &c. and converted in¬
to leather, &c. See TaNNING.
SKINNER, Stephen, an English antiquarian, was
horn in 1622. He travelled, and studied in several fo¬
reign universities during the civil wars 5 and in 16541
returned and settled at Lincoln, where he practised
physic with success until the year 1667, when he died
of a malignant fever. His works were collected in fo¬
lio in 1671, by Mr Henshaw, under the title oiEtymo-
logicon Linguae Anglican#, &c.
SKIPPER, or Saury, a species of fish. See Esox,
Ichthyology Index.
SKIRMISH, in War, a slight engagement between
small parties, without any regular order; and is there¬
fore easily distinguished from a battle, which is a general
engagement between two armies continued for some
time.
Skirmish Bay, the name given by Lieutenant
Broughton to a bay in an island which was discovered
by him in latitude 430 48' south, and in longitude 183*
east. The Chatham armed tender worked up into the
hay, and came to anchor about a mile from the shore.
When the captain and some of the people landed, they
found the natives so extremely inhospitable, that self-pre¬
servation made it necessary to fire upon them. Ihe land
is of considerable magnitude, whether island or conti¬
nent, and what they saw of it extended nearly 40 miles
from east to west, and the appearance of the country
they regarded as very promising. The natives resembte
those of New Zealand, from which they are distant
about 100 leagues; but their skins were destitute of any
marks, and they seemed to he cleanly in their persons.
Their dresses were of seal skin, while some had fine mats
fastened round the waist. Mr Broughton says, “ on oiu
first landing, their surprise and exclamations can hardly
be imagined ; they pointed to the sun, and then to ns,
as if to ask whether we had come from thence?” The ^
arms they made use of were clubs, spears, and a small
weapon resembling the patoo of New Zealand.
SKULL, in Anatomy, the bony case in which tlie
brain is enclosed. See Anatomy, N° it, &c.
Skijli*"
„ „ n C 3S5 ] SKY
ee .CUIZLLARIA, OTANV Index. the month, of Angnst ami Septemher, frequent]). Mast
the hopes, and disappoint the expectations, of the hus¬
bandman. Snow has been often known to lie on the
ground tor three or seven weeks ; and on the highest
h.lls, even in the middle of June, some spots of it are
to be seen. Io this various temperature of the air
and uncertainty of weather, the fevers and agues, head-
Xlalkyal
Accou. of
Ucotldfl'
to!, x -
P- 14 c;
S K Y
Skull-Cap.
SlvY, the blue expanse of air or atmosphere. For
the reason of its blue colour and concave figure see
Optics, N° 223. &
SKYE, one of the greatest of the Western islands of
Scotland, so called from Skianach, which in the Erse
dialect signifies Wwger/, because the two promontories of
Valerness and Toternish, by which it is bounded on the
north-west and north-east, are supposed to resemble
wings. The island lies between the shire of Ross and
the western part of Lewis. According to the computa¬
tion of Mr Pennant, Dr Johnson, and Dr Campbell, it
is 6d miles in length, and nearly the same in width
where broadest; according to others it is 50 miles in
length, and in some places 30 broad. The island of
Skye was formerly divided between two proprietors; the
southern part belonged to the laird of Macleod, said to
be lineally descended from Leod son to the black prince
of Man, but part of this division has fallen into other
hands; the northern district is the property of Lord
Macdonald, whose ancestor was Donald, king or lord of
the isles, and chief of the numerous clan of Macdonalds,
who are counted the most warlike of all the Highlanders.
Skye is part of the shire of Inverness, and formerly be¬
longed to the diocese of the Isles : on the south it is part¬
ed from the main land by a channel three leagues in
breadth ; though, at the ferry of Glenelg, it is so nar¬
row that a man may he heard calling for the boat from
one side to the other. Skye is well provided with a
variety of excellent bays and harbours.
The face of the country is roughened with moun¬
tains, some of whicli are so high as to be covered with
snow on the top at midsummer ; in general, their sides
are clothed with heath and grass, which afford good
pasturage for sheep and black cattle. Between the
mountains there are some fertile valleys, and the greater
part of the land towards the sea-coast is plain and
arable. 'Ihe island is well watered with a great num¬
ber of rivers, above 30 of which afford salmon ; and
some of them produce black muscles in which pearls
are bred, particularly the rivers Kilmartin and Ord :
Martin was assured by the proprietor of the former,
that a pearl hath been found in it valued at 20I. ster¬
ling. Here is also a considerable number of fresh-water
lakes well stored with trout and eels. The largest of
these lakes takes its denomination from St Columba,
to whom is dedicated a chapel that stands upon a small
isle in the middle of the lake. Skye likewise affords
seveial cataracts, that roar down the rocks with great
impetuosity. I hat the island has been formerly covered
with woods, appears from the large trunks of fir and
other tiees daily dug out of the bogs and peat-marshes
in every part of the country.
From the height of the hills, and proximity of the
sea, the air seldom continues long of the same tempera¬
ture; sometimes it is dry, oftener moist, and in the lat¬
ter end of winter and beginning of spring cold and pier
cincr*   • • -
achs, rheumatisms, colds, and dysenteries, which are the
prevailing distempers, may be ascribed. That it is far
at an average, three days in twelve throughout
« O f y xii l/III L/LI 11 L
the year scarcely free from rain, far less from clouds.
hese, attracted by the hills, sometimes break in useful
and refreshing showers; at other times suddenly hurst-
ing, pour down their contents with tremendous noise,
m impetuous torrents that deluge the plains below, and
however, from being unwholesome, is sufficiently evin¬
ced by experience ; for the inhabitants are, in gene¬
ral, as strong and healthy, and arrive at as advanced an
age, as those who live in milder climates, and under
a serener sky. The gout is scarcely known in this
island.
The soil is generally black, though it likewise affords
clay of different colours; such as white, red, and blue,
and in some places fuller’s earth. It is, however, much
less adapted for agriculture than for pasture, and sel¬
dom, unless, in very good years, supplies itself with a suf-
liciency of provisions.^ Yet, through the soil is not very
fertile or rich, it might with proper management be
made to produce more plentiful crops. But the gene¬
rality of the farmers are so prejudiced in favour of old
customs, and indeed so little inclined to industry, that
they will not easily be prevailed on to change them
or better ; especially if the alteration or amendment
proposed be attended with expence. Therefore, with
respect to improvements in agriculture, they are still
much in the same state as they were 20 or 30 years
ago. i loughs, on a new and improved model, that in
comparison to the advantages derived from them might
be had at a moderate expence, have lately been intro¬
duced into several districts around, where their good ef¬
fects are manifest in improving the crops and diminish¬
ing the labour of man and beast; but the laird of Raa-
say and one other gentleman are the only persons in
ortree that have used them. The cascroi'tn, a crooked
kind ot spade, is almost the only instrument for labour-
mg the ground used among the ordinary class of
tenants. The average crops of corn are 8000 bolls.
When Mr Knox visited this island in 1786, the
number of inhabitants amounted to 15,000; but be¬
tween 1790-98, according to the Statistical History of
Scotland, the population is only 14,470.
Various minerals are found in Skye, but none have
been wrought to any advantage. Near the village of
Sartle, the natives find black and white marcasites, and
variegated pebbles. Lhe Applesglen, in the neighbour¬
hood of Lochfallart, produces beautiful agates of dif¬
ferent colours : stones of a purple hue are, after great
rains, found in the rivulets: crystal, of different colours
and forms, abounds in several part of the island, as well
as black and white marble, free-stone, lime-stone, and
talc : small red and white coral is found on the southern
and western coasts in great abundance. The fuel con¬
sists chiefly of peat and turf, which are impregnated
with iron ore ; and coal has been discovered in several
districts; but it does not appear to be worth work¬
ing.
The wild birds of all sorts most common in the coun¬
try, are, solan geese, gulls, cormorants, cranes, wild
geese, and wild ducks; eagles, crows, ravens, rooks, cuc-
.1 . o . 1 ^ ■jwiw.v, am. geese, anu w'ua uucks; eagles, crows, ravens rooks
with ma es .ri' u et imPassable ; which, together koos, rails, woodcocks, moor-fowl, partridges plover
VofxiXnkTlS 80 C0mm0n ■" this “””‘7 wild pigeon,, and blackbird,, owl,’, Lwka.^V'Tnd
+ 3 G a
S K
Y [ 386 ] SLA
In mild seasons, tlie cuckoo men are in general very cleanly, and so excessively fond
' ~ of dress, that many maid-servants are often known to lay
a variety of small birds,
and rail appear in the latter end of April the former
disappears always before the end of June $ the latter
sometimes not till September. The woodcock comes
in October, and frequently remains till March. The
tame sorts of fowl are geese, ducks, turkeys, cocks, pul¬
lets, and tame pigeons.
The black cattle are here exposed to all the rigours
of the severe winter, without any other provender than
the tops of the heath and the alga marina j so that they
appear like mere skeletons in the spring ; though, as
the grass grows up, they soon become plump and juicy,
the beef being sweet, tender, and finely interlarded.—
The amphibious animals are seals and otters. Among
the reptiles may be reckoned vipers, asps, frogs, toads, and
three different kinds of serpents j the first spotted black
and white, and very poisonous •, the second yellow,
with brown spots 5 and the third of a brown colour, the
smallest and least poisonous.
Whales, and cairbans or sun-fish, come in sometimes
to tiie sounds after their prey, but are rarely pursued
with any success. The fishes commonly caught on the
coast are herrings, ling, cod, skate, haddock, mackerel,
lythe, sye, and dog-fish. The average price of ling at
home is" 13k 13s- per ton ; when sold, one by one, if
fresh, the price is from 3d. to yd. ; if cured, from yd.
to 7d. The barrel of herrings seldom sells under 19s.
which is owing to the great difficulty of procuring salt,
even sometimes at any price } and the same cause pre¬
vents many from taking more than are sufficient for
their own use.
The kyle of Scalpe teems with oysters, in such a man¬
ner, that after some spring-tides, 20 horse-loads of them
are left upon the sands. Near the village of Bernstil!,
the beach yields muscles sufficient to maintain 60 per¬
sons per day j this providential supply helps to support
many poor families in times of scarcity.
The people are strong, robust, healthy, arid prolific.
They generally profess the Protestant religion -r are ho¬
nest, brave, innocent, and hospitable. They speak the
language, wear the habit, and observe the customs that
are common to all the Hebrides. The meconium in
new-born infants is purged away with fresh butter: the
children are bathed every morning and evening in wa¬
ter, and grow up so strong, that a child of 10 months
is able to walk alone : they never wear shoes or stock¬
ings before the age of eight or ten, and night-caps are
hardly known j they keep their feet always wet; they
lie on beds of straw or heath, which last is an excellent
restorative : they are quick of apprehension, ingenious,
and very much addicted to music and poetry. rl hey
eat heartily of fish j hut seldom regale themselves with
fiesh-meat: their ordinary food consists of butter, cheese,
milk, potatoes, colewort, brochan, and a dish called
oon, which indeed is no other than the froth of boiled
milk or whey raised with a stick like that used in making
chocolate.
A sort of coarse woollen cloth called cloa, or cacl-
does, the manufacture of their wives, made into short
jackets and trousers is the common dress of the men.
The philibeg is rarely worn, except in summer and on
Sundays j on which days, and some other occasions, those
in better circumstances appear in tartans, a bonnet, and
short hose, and some in a hat, short coat, waistcoat, and
breeches, of Scotch or English manufacture. Ihe wo-
out their whole wages that way.
There are two fairs held annually at Portree, to
which almost every part ol Skye sends cattle. Ihe first
is held in the end of May, and the second in the end of
July. The fair commonly continues from Wednesday
till tire Saturday following. The commodities which
are sold in these are horses, cows, sheep, goats, hides,
butter, cheese, fish, and wool. The cattle sold in these
fairs swim over to the main land through a mile or half
a mile of sea. Thousands of these are yearly exported,
at from 2l. to 3I. each. Many of them are driven to
England, where they are fatted for the market, and
counted delicious eating.
In Skye appear many ruins of Danish forts, watch-
towers, beacons, temples, and sepulchral monuments.
All the forts are known by the term Dim; such as
Dun-Skudborg, Dun-Berig," Dun-Skeriness, Dun-Ba-
vid, &c.
SKY-Colour. To give this colour to glass, set in the
furnace a pot of pure metal oi Iritt from rochetta or ba¬
rilla, but the rochetta fritt does best j as soon as the
metal is well purified, take for a pot of twenty pounds
of metal six ounces of brass calcined by itself} put it by
degrees at two or three times into the metal, stirring
and mixing it well every time, and diligently skimming
the metal with a ladle : at the end of two hours the
whole will he well mixed, and a proof may he taken :
if the colour be found right, let the whole stand 24
hours longer in the furnace, and it will then he fit to
work, and will prove of a most beautiful sky colour.
SLAB, an outside sappy plank or hoard, sawed off
from the sides of a timber tree. The word is also used
for a flat piece of marble.
Slab-Line, in sea-language, a small cord passing up
behind a ship’s main-sail, or fore sail, and being reeved
through a block attached to the lower part of the yard,
is thence transmitted in two branches to the foot of the
sail, to which it is fastened. It is used to truss up the
sail as occasion requires, and more particularly lor the
convenience of the pilot or steersman, that they may
look forward beneath it as the ship advances.
SLACK-WATER, in sea-language, denotes the inter¬
val between the flux and reflux of the tide, or between
the last of the ebb and the first of the flood, during
■whic h the current is interrupted, and the water appa¬
rently remains in a state of rest.
SLACKEN, in Metallurgy, a term used by miners
to express a spongy and semivitrrfied substance which is
mixed with the ores of metals, to prevent their fusion.
11 is the scoria or scum separated from the surface 01
the former fusions of metals. Jo this is frequently
added limestone, and sometimes a kind of coarse iron
ore, in the running of the poorer gold ores.
SLATE, a stone of a compact texture and laminated
structure, splitting into fine plates, some varieties 0
which are employed for covering houses. See Clay-State,
under Mineralogy, p. 185. See also Geology.
SLAVE. See Slavery. „ 1 ,
SLAVERY is a word, of which, though generally Stawqr
understood, it is not easy to give a proper definition.
An excellent moral writer has defined it to he “ an ob¬
ligation to labour for the benefit of the master, without
the contract or consent of the servant.” But may novie
he
SLA
ilafery. ^>e properly called a slave who has given up his freedom
    to discharge a debt which he could not otherwise pay, or
who has thrown it away at a game of hazard ? in ma¬
ny nations, debts have been legally discharged in this
manner; and in some savage tribes, such is the universal
ardour for gaming, that it is no uncommon thing for a
man, after having lost at play all his other property, to
stake, on a single throw of dice, himself, his wife, and
his children (a). That persons who have thus lost their
liueity are slayes, will hardly be denied ; and surely
the infatuated gamester is a slave by his own contract.
The debtor, too, if he was aware of the law, and con¬
tracted debts larger than he could reasonably expect to
be able to pay, may justly be considered as having come
under an obligation to labour for the benefit of a master
tmi/i his own consent; for every man is answerable for
all the known consequences of his voluntary actions.
This definition of slavery seems to be defective as well
as inaccurate. A man may be under an obligation to
labour through life for the benefit of a master, and yet
that master have no right to dispose of him by sale, or
in any other way to make him the property of a third
person ; but the word slave, as used among us, always
denotes a person who may be bought, and sold like a
beast in the market (b). In its original sense, indeed,
it was of the same import with noble, illustrious; but
vast numbers of. the people among whom it had that
signification being, in the decline of the Roman empire,
sold by their countrymen to the Venetians, and by them
dispersed over all Europe, the word slave came to de¬
note a person in the lowest state of servitude, who was
considered as the absolute propertv of Iris master. See
Philology, N° 220.
In< tali ties As nothing can be more evident than that all men
° ilj ^ ^aVe’ ^ ^ie law of nature, an equal right to life, liber-
: e’ ty, and the produce of their own labour (see Right,
-N0 5')> it is not easy to conceive what can have first
led one part of them to imagine that they had a right
to enslave another. Inequalities of rank are indeed in¬
evitable in civil society ; and from them results that ser¬
vitude which is founded in contract, and is of tempo¬
rary duration. (See Moral Philosophy, N° 141.).
He who has much property has many things to attend to,
and must be disposed to hire persons to assist and serve
him ; while those who have little or no property must
be equally willing to be hired for that purpose. And
il the master be kind, and the servant faithful, they will
both be happier in this connection than they could have
been out ot it. But from a state of servitude, where the
slave is at the absolute disposal of bis master in ail things,
and may be transferred without his own consent from
t 387 f
SLA
one proprietor to another, like an ok or an ass, happi- slavery,
ness must be for ever banished. How then came a traf-'—V—/
fic so unnatural and unjust as that of slaves to be origi¬
nally introduced into the world ?
The common answer to this question is, that it took
its rise among savages, who, in their frequent wars with
each other, either massacred their captives in cold blood,
or condemned them to perpetual slavery. In support of
this opinion we have heard it observed, that the Latin
word servvs, which signifies not a hired servant, but a
slave, is derived from servare, “ to preserve and that
such men were called wrt’f, because they were captives,
whose lives were preserved on the condition of their be¬
coming the property of the victor. .
1 bat slavery had its origin from war, we think ex-Origin of
tremely probable (c), nor are we inclined to controvert slavery,
this etymology of the word servus; but the traffic in
men prevailed almost universally long before the Latin
language or Roman name was beard of; and there is
no good evidence that it began among savages. The
word TSSJ, in the Old lestament, which in our version
is rendered wmaw/, signifies literally a slave, either born
in the family or bought with money, in contradistinc¬
tion to vaeq which denotes a hired servant: and as Noah 4
makes use of the word lip in the curse which he de-Pr!°r tothe
nounoes upon Ham and Canaan immediately after thedeiuSc•
deluge, it would appear that slavery had its origin be¬
fore that event. If so, there can be little doubt but
that it began among those violent persons whom onr
translators have called giants *, though the original * Gen vi«
word ebsi literally signifies assaulters of others. Those 4-
wretches seem first to have seized upon women, whom
they forcibly compelled to minister to their pleasures;
and from this kind of violence the progress was na¬
tural to that by which they enslaved their weaker breth¬
ren among the men, obliging them to labour for their
benefit, without allowing them fee or reward. -
Alter the deluge the first dealer in slaves seems to Nimrod on.
have been Nimrod. “ He began,” we are told, “ to hes!avt;d llis
a mighty one in the earth, and was a mighty huntercaptlve**
before the Lord.” He could not, however, be the first
hunter of wild beasts ; for that species of hunting must
have been practised from the beginning; nor is it pro¬
bable that bis dexterity in the chase, which was then
the universal employment, could have been so far su¬
perior to that of all bis contemporaries, as to entitle him
to the appellation of “ the mighty hunter before the
Lord.” Hence most commentators have concluded,
that he was a hunter .of men ; an opinion which they
think receives some countenance from the import of his
name, the word Nimrod signifying a rebel. Whatever
3 C 2 be
(aj Aleam (quod mirere) sobrii inter seria exercent, tanta lucrandi perpendive temeritate, ut cum omnia de-
lecerunt, extremo ac novissimo jactu de libertate et corpore contendant. Victus voluntariam servitutem adit;
quamvis junior, quamvis robustior, alligari se ac venire patitur.—Tacitus de Mar. Germ.
Ihe savages of North America are equally addicted to gaming with the ancient Germans, and the negroes on
the Slave Coast of Guinea perhaps still more.
(b) 'Ihe Roman orator’s definition of slavery, Parad. V. is as accurate as anv that we have seen. “ Servitus
est obedientia'fracti animi et abjecti et arbitrio carentis suo;” whether the unhappy person fell into that state
with or without bis own contract or consent.
(c) In the article Society, the reader will find another account of the origin of slavery, which we think like¬
wise probable, though we have transferred it to this place; as it would, in our opinion, be wrong to give to
one writer what we know to belong to another. It may be proper, however, to observe here, that between the
two articles there is no contradiction, as barbarous ways were certainly one source of slavery.
Slavery. *n this, there can be little doubt but thatjjie became
1 v—a mighty one by violence ; for being the sixth son of
his father, and apparently much younger than the other
five, it is not likely that his inheritance exceeded theirs
either in extent or in population. He enlarged it, how¬
ever, by conquest; for it appears from Scripture, that
he invaded the territories of Ashur the son of Shem,
who had settled in Shinar ; and obliging him to remove
into xlssyria, he seized upon Babylon, and made it the
capital of the first kingdom in the world. As he had
great projects in view, it seems to be in a high degree
probable that he made bond-servants of the captives
whom he took in his wars, and employed them in build¬
ing or repairing the metropolis of his kingdom ; and
hence we think is to be dated the ox-igin of postdiluvian
slavery.
Slavery in That it began thus early can hardly be questioned ;
tr!»; days ot fm. wc ^now that it prevailed universally in the age of
Abraham. Abraham, who was born within seventy years after the
death of Nimrod. That patriarch had three hundred
and eighteen servants or slaves, born in his own house,
and trained to arms, with whom he pursued and con¬
quered the four kings who had taken captive his bro¬
ther’s son f. And it appears from the conversation
t.en. xiv. took place between him and the king of Sodom
after the battle, that both believed the conqueror had
a right to consider his prisoners as part of his spoil.
“ Give me (says the king) the persons, and take the
goods to thyself.” It is indeed evident from numberless
passages of scripture, that the domestics whom our trans¬
lators call servants were in those days universally consi¬
dered as the most valuable part of their master’s proper¬
ty, and classed with his flocks and herds. Thus when
the sacred historian describes the wealth of Abraham, he
says,that “he had sheep and oxen,and he-asses,and men-
servants, and maid servants, and she-asses, and camels.”
And when Abimelech wished to make some reparation
to the patriarch for the unintended injury that he had
done him, “ he took sheep and oxen, and men-servants,
and women-servants, and gave them unto Abraham, and
restored to him Sarah his wife.” The riches and power
of Isaac and Jacob are estimated in the very same man¬
ner. Of the former it is said, that “ the man waxed
great, and went forward and grew, until he became very
great : for be had possession of flocks, and possession of
herds, and great store of servants, rrpm of slaves j and
the Philistines envied him.” The latter, we are told,
“ increased exceedingly, and had much cattle, and maid-
f Gen. xii. servants, and men-servants, and camels, and asses J.”
16. xx. 14. That the practice of buying and selling servants thus
xxvl'r5 1 early began among the patriarchs descended to their
xxx. 43.’ posterity, is known to every attentive reader of the Bi¬
ble. It was expressly authorised by the Jewish law, in siavm
which are many directions how such servants were to be   L,
treated. They were to be bought only of the heathen ; 7
for if an Israelite grew poor and sold himself either to Aul*lor'kC(l
discharge a debt, or to procure the means of subsistence, l*!e i'io'
he was to be treated uot as a slave "psi, but as a hired
servant and restored to freedom at the year of Ju¬
bilee. “ Both thy bond-men and thy bond-maids (says
Moses) shall be of the heathen that are round about you:
of them shall ye buy bond-men and bond-maids. And
ye shall take them as an inheritance for your children
after you, to inherit them for a possession ; they shall be
your bond-men for ever ||.” Unlimited as the power ] Lev. rn.
thus given to the Hebrews over their bond-servants of39,40,44,
heathen extraction appears to have been, they were strict-46-
ly prohibited from acquiring such property by any other
means than fair purchase: “ he that steuietk a man and
selleth him,” said their great lawgiver, “shall surely be
put to death §” _ _ _ \ Ley Hi,
Whilst slavery, in a mild form, v:.s permitted among 16.
the people of God, a much worse kind of it prevailed 8
among the heathen nations of antiquity. With other
abominable customs, the traffic in men quickly spread
from Chaldea into Egypt, Arabia, and over all the east,
and by degrees found its way into every known region
under heaven (d).
Of this hateful commerce we shall not attempt to
trace the progress through every age and country, but
shall content ourselves with taking a transient view of it
among the Greeks and Homans, and a few other na¬
tions, in whose customs and manners our readers must
be interested. .
One can hardly read a book of the Iliad or Odyssey,SIavery!i-
without perceiving that in the age of Homer, all prisoners ™on8t'ie^
of war were liable to be treated as slaves, and compelled, t'rceliS 3
without regard to their rank, sex, or years, to labour
for their masters in offices of the vilest drudgery. So
universally was this cruel treatment of captives admitted
to he the right of the victor, that the poet introduces
Hector in the very act of taking a tender and perhaps
last farewell of his wife, when it was surely his business
to afford her every consolation in his power, telling her,
as a thing of course which could not be concealed, that,
on the conquest of Troy, she would be compelled
To bear the victor’s hard commands, or bring
The weight of water from Hyperia’s spring (e).
Pope.
At that early period, the Phoenicians, and probably the
Greeks themselves, had such an established commerce in
slaves, that, not .satisfied with reducing to bondage their
prisoners of war, they scrupled not to kidnap in cold
(d) If credit be due to a late account ot China, the people of that vast empire have never made merchandise of
men or women. The exception, however, is so singular, that we should be glad to see it better authenticated j
for it is apparent from works of the most undoubted credit, that over all the other eastern countries with which
we are acquainted, slavery has prevailed from time immemorial, and that some of the Indian nations make long
journeys into Africa for the sole purpose of buying slaves.
(e) In those early times drawing water was the office of the meanest slaves. This appears from Joshua’s curse
upon the Gibeonites who had deceived him.—“ Now therefore ye are cursed, and there shall none of you be heed
from being bond-men, and hewers of wood, and drawers of water, for the house of mv God.” To this state ot
bondage Homer makes Hector say, that Andromache would necessarily be brought upon the destruction of Troy?
S’ i7rmi<riT ayseyjcij,—Iliad, lib. yi.
* Jmu
lib. iii
caj,. .
f .few et
Anik,
SLA [3
Skery. persons wlio had never kindled their resentment,
- — ' in order to supply their foreign markets. In the 14th
book of the Odyssey, Ulysses repi- sents himself as ha¬
ving narrowly escaped a snare of this kind laid for him
by a false Phoenician, who had doomed the hero to Li¬
byan slavery: and as the whole narrative, in which this
circumstance is told, is an artful fiction, intended to
have the appearance of truth to an Ithacan peasant, the
practice of kidnapping slaves could not then have ap¬
peared incredible to any inhabitant of that island.
Such were the manners of the Greeks in the heroic
age; nor were they much improved in this respect at
periods of greater refinement. Philip of Macedon ha¬
ving conquered the Thebans, not only sold his captives,
but even took money for permitting the dead to he bu¬
ried*; and Alexander, who had more generosity than
Philip, afterwards razed the city of Thebes, and sold
the inhabitants, men, women, and children, for slaves !.
This cruel treatment of a brave people may indeed be
supposed to have proceeded, in the first instance, from
the avarice of the conqueror; and in the second, from the
momentary resentment of a man who was savage andgene-
rous by turns, and who had no command of his passions.
Vi/e shall not positively assign it to other causes ; but
from the manner in which the Spartans behaved to their
slaves, there is little reason' to imagine that had they re¬
ceived from the Thebans the same provocation with A-
lexander, they would have treated their captives with
greater lenity. “ At Sparta (says a humane and ele¬
gant writer) slaves were treated with a degree of ri¬
gour that is hardly conceivable ; although to them, as
their husbandmen and artificers, their proud and idle
masters were indebted for all the necessaries of life. The
Lacedaemonian youth, trained up in the practice of de¬
ceiving and butchering those poor men, were from time
to time let loose upon them, in order to show their pro¬
ficiency in stratagem and massacre. And once, without
any provocation, and merely for their own amusement,
we are told that they murdered three thousand in one
night, not only with the connivance of law, but by its
avowed permission. Such, in promoting the happiness
of one part of society and the virtue of another, are the
effects of slavery.”
It has been said, that in Athens and Rome slaves
were better treated than in Sparta : but in the former
city their treatment cannot have been good, or their
lives comfortable, when the Athenians relished that tra¬
gedy of Euripides in which Hecuba, the wife of Priam,
is introduced as lamenting that she was chained like a
dog at Agamemnon’s gate P Of the estimation in which
slaves were held in Rome, we may form a tolerable no¬
tion from the well-known fact, that one of those unhap-
89 ]
SLA
Bentt ji
Mora.
Scum j
Tol. ii,
» ,c
xtomai s
py beings was often chained at the gate of a great man’s Slavcrr
house, to give admittance to the guests invited to a ' \—-J
feast*. In the early periods of the commonwealth it ,
was customary, in certain sacred shews exhibited on so- *
lemn occasions, to drag through the circus a slave, who 1 L
had been scourged to death holding in his hand a fork
in the form of a gibbetf. But we need not multiply| CiVmxfe
proofs of the cruelty of the Romans to their slaves. H'Div. Hb. i.
the inhuman combats of the gladiators (see Gladia-caP-2(S-
TORs) admit of any apology on account of the martial
spirit with which they were thought to inspire the spec¬
tators, the conduct of Vedius Polho must have proceed¬
ed from the most wanton and brutal cruelty. This man,
who flourished not in the earliest periods of the republic,’
when the Romans were little better than a savage ban¬
ditti, but in the polished age of Augustus, frequently
threw such slaves as gave him the slightest offence into
his fishponds to fatten his lampreys ; and yet he was suf¬
fered to die in peace ! The emperor, indeed, upon co¬
ming to the knowledge of his cruelty, ordered his lam¬
preys to be destroyed, and his ponds to be filled up ;
but we do not recollect that any other punishment wa*
inflicted on the savage master. Till the reign of the
same emperor the depositions of slaves were never ad¬
mitted in the courts of judicature ; and then they were
leceiyed only when persons were accused of treasonable
practices.
The origin of slavery in Rome was the same as in Origin of
every other country. Prisoners of war were of course
reduced to that state, as if they had been criminals.slaver^
Ihe dictator Camillus, one of the most accomplished ge¬
nerals of the republic, sold his Hetrurian captives to pav
the Roman ladies for the jewels which they had present¬
ed to Apollo. Fabius, whose cautious conduct saved
his country when Hannibal was victorious in Italy, hav¬
ing subdued Tarentum, reduced 30,000 of the citizens
to slavery, and sold them to the highest bidder. Corio-
lanus, when driven from Rome, and fighting for the
Volsci, scrupled not to make slaves of his own country¬
men ; and Julius Cajsar, among whose faults wanton
cruelty has never been reckoned, sold at one time fifty-
three thousand captives for slaves. Nor did the slaves
in Rome consist only of foreigners taken in war. By
one of the laws of the twelve tables, creditors were em¬
powered to seize their insolvent debtors, and keep them
in their houses till, by their services or labour, they had
discharged the sum they owed : and in the beginning of
the commonwealth they were authorised to sell such
debtors, and even to put them to death (f). The chil¬
dren of slaves were the property not of the common-
wealth, or of their own parents, but of their masters ;
and thus was slavery perpetuated in the families of such
unhappy
(■*0 Aftei a certain number of citations, the law granted to the debtor thirty days of grace to raise the sum for
which he was accountable. The words of the law are : “ iEris confess!, rebusque jure judicatis, trigint i dies justi
sunto.. Post dein manum endojacito.—Vineito aut nervo, aut compedibus.” When the debt is confessed, and
the trial passed, let there be thirty days of forbearance ; afterwards lay hands on him ; bind him either with a cord
or fetters.” After the thirty days were expired, if the debtor had not discharged the debt, he was led to the pra-
tor, who delivered him over to the mercy of his creditors ; these bound him and kept him in chains for the space
of sixty days. Afterwards, for three market-days successively, the debtor was brought to the tribunal of the prte-
tor; then a public crier proclaimed in the forum the debt for which the prisoner was detained. It often happened,
that rich persons redeemed the prisoner by paying his debts ; but if nobody appeared in behalf of the debtor after
the third market-day, the creditor had a right to inflict the punishments appointed by the law. u Tertiis nundinis
capita.
12
Its dura¬
tion.
13
Slavery a-
mong tlie
ancient
Germans.
SLA
Slavery, unhappy men as fell into that state, whether through
—•-v  the chance of war or the cruelty of a sordid creditor (g).
The consequence was, that the number of slaves belong¬
ing to the rich patricians was almost incredible. Caius
Cmcrlius Isidorus, who died kbout seven years before
the Christian era, left to his heirs 41x6 slaves •, and if
any one ot those wretched creatures made an unsuccess¬
ful attempt to regain his liberty, or was even suspected
ot such a design, he was marked on the forehead with a
red-hot iron (h). In Sicily, during the most flourishing
periods of the commonwealth, it seems to have been
customary for masters to mark their slaves in this man¬
ner *, at least we know that such was the practice of
Damophilus, who, not satisfied with this security, shut
up his slaves every night in close prisons, and led them
out like beasts in the morning to their daily labour in
the field. Hence arose the servile war in Sicily.
Though many laws were enacted by Augustus and
other patriotic emperors to diminish the power of credi¬
tors over their insolvent debtors ; though the influence
ot the mild spirit of ‘Christianity tended much to meli¬
orate the condition of slaves even under Pagan masters;
and though the emperor Adrian made it capital to kill
a slave without a just reason, yet this infamous com¬
merce prevailed universally in the empire for many ages
after the conversion of Constantine to the religion of
Christ. It was not indeed completely abolished even in
the reign of Justinian j and in many countries which
had once been provinces of the empire it continued long
alter the empire itself had fallen to pieces.
It has already been observed, that among the ancient
Germans it was not uncommon for an ardent gamester
to lose his personal liberty by a throw of the dice. This
was indeed a strong proof of savage manners j but the
general condition of slaves among those savages seems to
have been much better than among the polished Greeks
and Romans. In Germany the slaves were generally
attached to the soil, and only employed in tending cat¬
tle, and carrying on the business of agriculture; for
the menial offices of every great man’s house were per¬
formed by his wife and children. Such slaves were sel¬
dom beaten, or chained, or imprisoned. Sometimes in¬
deed they were killed by their masters in a fit of sud¬
den passion ; but none were considered as materials of
commerce, except those who had originally been free¬
men, and lost their freedom by play. These, indeed,
t 39° 1
SLA
the successful gamester was very ready to sell, both be- g|aTf
cause he felt them an useless burden, and because their
presence continually put him in mind of that state to
which a throw of the dice might one day reduce him¬
self. . •
Such is the account which Tacitus gives * of slavery* Deb
among the ancient Germans. The Anglo-Saxons, how- Germ. ^1
ever, after they were settled in this island seem not to2^"
have carried on that traffic so honourably. By a sta¬
tute of Alfred the Greatf, the purchase of a man, WiHqI
horse, or an ox, without a voucher to warrant the sale, Calledw
was strictly forbidden. That law was, doubtless, enact- Lawsfm
ed to prevent the stealing of men and cattle ; but it
shows us that so late as the ninth or tenth century
man, when fairly purchased, was, in England, as much ^
the property of the buyer as the horse on which he rode, fa Engla,
or the' ox which dragged his plough. In the sameaa<^
country, now so nobly tenacious of freedom and the
rights of man, a species of slavery similar to that which
prevailed among the ancient Germans subsisted even to
the end of the sixteenth century. This appears from a
commission issued by Queen Elizabeth in 1574, for in¬
quiring into the lands and goods of all her bond men and
bond-women in the counties of Cornwall, Devon, So¬
merset, and Gloucester, in order to compound with them
for their manumission, that they might enjoy their lands
and goods as freemen In Scotland there certainly f Kemii
existed an order of slaves or bond-men, who tilled theSkekha,
ground, were attached to the soil, and with it were
transferable from one proprietor to another, at a period 1
IS
so late as the thirteenth century : but when or howScothui
those villains, as they w'ere called, obtained their free¬
dom, seems to be unknown to every lawyer and anti¬
quary of the present day. Coalliers and salters were,
in the same country, slaves till little more than 30 years
ago, that they were manumitted by an act of the Bri¬
tish legislature, and restored to the rights of freemen
and citizens. Before that period the sons of coalliers
could follow no business but that of their fathers; nor
were they at liberty to seek employment in any other
mines than those to which they were attached by
birth, without the consent of the lord of the manor,
who, if he had no use for their services himself, trans¬
ferred them by a written deed to some neighbouring
proprietor, jtf
That the savage nations of Africa were at any period Slavery *-
of moll£ ^.e
Carthagi¬
nians.
capite poenas data ant trans Tiberim peregre venumduito;” that is, “ Let him on the third market-day be punish¬
ed with death, or sold beyond the Tiber as a slave.” If there were several creditors, they were allowed, in conse¬
quence ol this severe law, to divide the body of the prisoner into several parts, and share it among them in propor¬
tion to the sum which they demanded.
(g) This is evident from the story of Appius and Virginia. See Rome, N° 113.
(h) How capriciously and unjustly this infamous mark was impressed, we learn from the story of Restio. This
man being proscribed, and a reward offered for his head by the triumvirs Octavianus, Antony, and Lepidus, con¬
cealed himself from the fury of the tyrants in the best way that be could. A slave whom he had marked with the
hot iron having found out the place of his retreat, conducted him to a cave, and there supported him for some time
with what he earned by his daily labour. At length a company of soldiers coming that way, and approaching the
cave, the faithful slave, alarmed at the danger his master was in, followed them close, and falling upon a poor pea¬
sant, killed him in their presence; and cut oft his head, crying out, “ 1 am now revenged on my master for the
marks with which he has branded me.” The soldiers, seeing the infamous marks on his forehead, and not doubt¬
ing but he had killed Restio, snatched the head out of his hand, and returned with it in all haste to the triumvirs.
rI hey were no sooner gone, than the slave conveyed his master to the sea side, where they had the good luck to
find one of Sextus Pompeius’s vessels, which transported them safe into Sicily.
SLA
hjb,
ft ■rt-
DA. Sic.
Sei'lso
An •■/it
avery. of Iiistory exempted from this opprobrium of our nature
—i which spread over all the rest of the world, the enlight¬
ened reader will not'suppose. It is indeed in that vast
country that slavery has in every age appeared in its
ugliest form. We have already observed, that about the
era of the Trojan war, a commerce in slaves was car¬
ried on between Phoenicia and Libya: and the Cartha¬
ginians, who w'ere a colony of Phoenicians, and revered
the customs, manners, and religion of their parent state
undoubtedly continued the Tyrian traffic in human flesh
with the interior tribes of Africa. Of this we mimht
rest assured, although W'e had no other evidence of the
fact than what results from the practice of human sacri¬
fices so prevalent in the republic of Carthage. The ge¬
nuine instincts ol nature are often subdued by dire super¬
stition, but they cannot be wholly eradicated 3 and the
rich Carthaginian, when a human victim was demanded
from him to the gods, would be ready to supply the
pla.ce ol his own child by the son of a poor stranger, per¬
fidiously purchased at whatever price. That this was,
indeed, a very common practice among them, we learn
from the testimony ol various historians*, who assure us,
that when Agathocles the tyrant of Syracuse had over-
Amm th’row" theJr generals Hanno and Bomilcar, and threat-
Un rsal ene^ Carthage itself with a siege, the people attributed
m -ij, their misfortunes to the just anger of Saturn for having
fWjh- been worshipped, for Some years, by the sacrifices of
children meanly born and secretly bought, instead of
those of noble extraction. These substitutions of one of¬
fering for another were considered as a profane devia¬
tion from the religion of their forefathers 3 and therefore
to expiate the guilt of so horrid an impiety, a sacrifice.of
200 children ol the first rank was on that occasion made
to the bloody god. As the Carthaginians were a com¬
mercial people, we cannot suppose that they purchased
slaves only for sacnfices. They undoubtedly condemn¬
ed many of .their prisoners of w'ar to the state of servi¬
tude, and either sold them to foreigners, or distributed
them among their senators and the leaders of their ar¬
mies. Haeno, who endeavoured to usurp the supreme
power in Carthage whilst that republic was engaged in
tJyn. war with I imoleon in Sicily f, armed 20,000 of his
cap.’and 111 or<Jer to.can7 ,lJs nefarious purpose into execu-
sai ti0n : anc^ Hannibal, after his decisive victory at Can-
Histl. S°H to the Greeks many of his prisoners whom the
V- Liv' l°man Senate refused to redeem J. That illustrious
and commander was indeed more humane, as well as more
politic, than the generality of his countrymen. Before
his days it was customary with the Carthaginians either
to massacre their captives in cold blood, that they might
never again bear arms against them, or to offer them in
sacrifice as a grateful acknowledgement to the gods by
whose assistance they believed that they were vanquish¬
ed 5 but this was not always done even by their most
Sunerstlf imia nr mnal- 1 1  ,4 .1
C 391 1
SLA
details of the battles which they fought in attempting S!av,rv
to preserve their national independence; but we have 1 -- 'j
no particular account of their different manners and
customs 111 that age when Rome was disputing with Car¬
tilage the sovereignty of tlid world. All the African
states of which we know any thing, were in alliance
with one or other ol those rival republics 3 and as the
people of those states appear to have been less enlio-hten-
ed than either the Romans or the Carthaginians, we
cannot suppose that they had purer morals, or a greater
regard lor the sacred rights ol man, than the powerful
nations by whom they were either protected or oppres¬
sed. a hey would, indeed, insensibly adopt their cus¬
toms ; and the ready market which Marius found for
the prisoners taken in the town Capsa, although Sallust
acknowledges 4. that the sale was contrary to the laws 9^^'
, w‘Yt’ sh.°1vys that slavery was then no strange thing tocaToi.
the Jsumidians. It seems indeed to have prevailed
through all Africa from the very first peopling of that
unexplored country ; and we doubt if in any age of the
worn! the unhappy negro was absolutely secure of his
personal freedom, or even of not being sold to a foreian
trader. * b
It is the common opinion that the practice of ma-Slave-wad.
king slaves of the negroes is of a very modern date 3 that with the
it owes its origin to the incursions of the Portuguese oncoastof
the western coast of Africa 3 and that but for the cun-Guillca be'
mug or cruelty of Europeans, it would not now exist,
ami would never have existed. But all this is a com-enese
plication ol mistakes. A learned writer has lately proved, * Whitta-
with a force of evidence which admits of no reply ^
that from the coast of Guinea a great trade in slaves
tv.ts c-iried on ty the Arabs some hundreds of yearsitonjaa
before the I ortuguese embarked in that traffic, or History,
had even seen a woolly-headed neoro. Even the l9
wandering Arabs of the desert, who never had any f,U\by !he
inendly correspondence with the Christians of Europe, ancarfy
have from time immemorial been served by negro period,
slaves. “ The Arab must be poor indeed (says M. Samnier
Saugmer) not to have at least one negro slave. His and Bris-
sole occupation is the care of the herd. They are ne-sow’s
ver employed in war, but they have it in their power^s-
to marry. Their wives, who are captive negresses,
da all the domestic work, and are roughly treated by the
Arabian women, and by the Arabs themselves. Their
children are slaves like them, and put to all kinds of
diudgery.” Surely no man "whose judgment is not
completely warped by prejudice will pretend that those
roving tribes of savages, so remarkable for their inde¬
pendent spirit and attachment to ancient customs, learn¬
ed to enslave the negroes from the Europeans. In all
piobabiiiiy they have, without interruption, continued
the practice of slavery from the days of their great an¬
cestor Ishmael ; and it seems evident, that none of the
Stol0 which™0/ “TT^ les,‘,.ers-. Am0n* 0tl,fr hod «*r a vidiyMd leg™
nen spoils which Agathocles, after his victory already till the y 1 ’ , - ..•5' . . *
men tinned    J j
A Vl
diaui.
■ 1 O 7 A j C V 1 A 4— tv VI V
mentioned, found in the camp of Hanno and Bomilcar,
were twenty thousand pair of fetters and manacles, which
Gose generals had provided for such of the Sicilian pri¬
soners as they intended to preserve alive and reduce to a
state of slavery.
^ith the ancient state of the other African nations
we are but very little acquainted. The Numidians,
iviauntanians, Gctulians, and Garamantes, are indeed
Mentioned by the Roman historians, who give us ample
jeeir 1 ico, when the crusaders fell in with a small
party of them near the town of Hebron in Judea, and
were so struck with the novelty of their appearance, that
the army burst into a general fit of laughter ||. LongH Malms*
before the crusades, however, we know with certainty to1’
that the natives of Guinea had been exposed to sale inP
foreign countries. In 651 the Mahometan Arabs of
Egypt so harassed the king of Nubia or Ethiopia, who
was a Christian, that he agreed to send them annually,
by way of tribute, a vast number of Nubian or Ethio¬
pian
83.
71 V
Slavery.
A [ 392 ] SLA
Such a tribute as this at that people of Angola at the earliest stage of their foreign
supply of slaves for the Portuguese
* Modern
Universal
History,
vol. i. 525.
f Whita¬
ker's Jle-
view.
20
"*Fhe tie-
,groes have
enslaved
one ano¬
ther fn m
time imme¬
morial.
* Modern
Universal
History,
vol. xiii.
chap. 47.
sect. 2.
S L
pian slaves into Egypt,
time, we are told, was more agreeable to the khalif
than any other, as the Arabs then made no small account
of those slaves *.
The very proposal of such a tribute, and the estima¬
tion in which black slaves were held in Egypt, shows
that a commerce in bond-servants could, not then be a
new branch of trade either to the Arabs or the Ethio¬
pians $ but the vast number which the Ethiopian mo¬
narch was now compelled to furnish every yea)1, indu¬
ced him to feed this great drain upon his subjects from
the natives of the neighbouring countries. “ He ranged
accordingly into all that vast blank of geography upon
the map of the world, the spreading bosom of the Afri¬
can continent; and even pushed through it to its farthest
extremities in the west. He thus brought the blacks of
Guinea, for the first time, into the service and families
of the east} and the slaves which he paid in tribute to
the Arabs, whether derived from the nearer neighbour¬
hood of Ethiopia, fetched from the Mediterranean regi¬
ons of Africa, or brought from the distant shores of the
Atlantic, were all denominated Ethiopians, from the
country by which they were conveyed into Egypt f.
“ At this time, therefore, according to Mr Whitaker,
began that kind of traffic in human flesh
“ Which spoils unhappy Guinea of its sons.’*
There are not many authors from whom, in questions
of antiquity, we differ with greater hesitation ; but, as
we meet with a female Ethiopian slave in the Eunuch of
Terence, we cannot help suspecting that Guinea was oc¬
casionally “ spoiled of its sons” at a much earlier period.
At any rate, from the observations made by the European
travellers who first penetrated into that continent, it ap¬
pears undeniable that slavery must have prevailed from
time immemorial among such of the tribes as had never
carried on any commerce with foreign nations. When
Battel first visited the Giagas*, those people had never
before seen a white man j yet they welcomed him and
the English, with whom he had come, to their country,
invited them to bring their goods on shore, and without
hesitation loaded the ships with slaves. The Giagas were
indeed waging war with the kingdom of Benguela j and
being cannibals, who prefer human flesh to all others,
the slaves whom they bad sold to the English were pro¬
bably prisoners whom they would have killed and eaten
if they had not found an opportunity of otherwise dis¬
posing of them to greater advantage. But as they had
not been incited by the Europeans to eat their prisoners,
there can be no reason to suppose that by the Europeans
they had been first induced to sell them'; for we have seen
that this kind of commerce prevailed in Africa among
people much more polished than the Giagas so early as
in the reign of Jugurtha.
That it was not introduced among the negroes either
by the Arabs or by the Portuguese, appears still more
evident from the behaviour of the Hahomans at the con¬
quest of Whidah, and from the manner in which the
Slavery,
trade procured a
market. The greater part ot the slaves whom the An¬
golans exported from St Paulo de Loanda were brought
from interior countries, some hundreds of leagues dis¬
tant, where they could not have been regularly purcha¬
sed had that commerce been till then unknown in those
countries. The JDahomans, in the beginning of the
year 1727, had never seen a white man : and when their
victorious prince and his army, in their route through
Whidah, first met with some Europeans in the town of
Sabi, they were so shocked at their complexion and
their dress, that they were afraid to approach them,
and cmdd not he persuaded that they were men till
they heard them speak, and were assured by the
Whidanese that these were the merchants who purcha¬
sed all the slaves that were sold in Guinea J. Slavery, 1 Modem
therefore, if it prevailed among the Dahomans before
that period, could not have been introduced among
them by European or Arabian intrigues : but we are
assured by Snelgrave, who was then in the army, that
those people treated their captives with such horrid
cruelty as was shocking to the natives of the sea-coast,
and leaves no room for doubt but that slavery had been
practised among them from the earliest ages. A great
part of their prisoners were sacrificed to their gods or
eaten by the soldiers; and w’hen our author expressed
to a colonel of the guard some surprise that a prince so
enlightened as the sovereign of Dahomy should sacri¬
fice so many men whom he might have sold to great
advantage, he was gravely told, that it had been the
custom of their nation, from time immemorial, to offer,
after victory, a certain number of prisoners to the gods;
and that they selected the old men for victims, because
they were of less value at market, and more dangerous
from their experience and cunning, than the young
men. To those persons who ^fancy that the wars be¬
tween the African princes are carried on for the sole
purpose of supplying the European ships with slaves, it
may be proper to remark, that one of the kings of Da¬
homy slaughtered at once not only all the captives ta¬
ken in war, but also 127 prisoners of different kinds,
that he might have a sufficiency of skulls to adorn the
walls of his palace; though at the very time of that
massacre he knew that there were six slave-ships in the
road of Whidah, from which he could have got for eve¬
ry prime slave a price little short of thirty pounds ster-
ling$. . & Dnhtfi
These facts, and numberless others which the reader|^en/
will find detailed in the 13th volume of the Modern #jig*
Universal History, by writers who were at the greatest dom of V’4
pains to procure authentic information ; who were nei-hon,b'‘
ther biassed by interest nor blinded by enthusiasm ; and
who appear to have held the infamous traffic in utter
abhorrence—prove beyond the possibility of doubt, that
slavery of the worst kind must have prevailed among all
the negro nations before they were visited either by the
Portuguese or by the Arabs (1). These two nations
may
I Ik
(1) The same thing appears from the voyages of M. Saugnier, who had an opportunity of conversing with
many tribes of negroes, and who always speaks of slavery as an established practice among them; adding, that
such as are sold for crimes are put to death by their own countrymen if they fly from their master. It appears
likewise in a still more striking light from Dulzel’s History of Dahomy, where we are told that all the Dabo-
nian?.
SLA
iavery.
ji
T route
b) -hieh
thllrabs
ca eil on
til llave-
tri",
IV lakert
Rt.iw,
?■ S-
may indeed have been the first who dragged the unhap-
4 P7 negro frorn I]Is native continent, and made his sla¬
very doubly severe, by compelling him to labour, with¬
out his own consent, for masters whom he hardly consi¬
dered as human beings.
On the beginning of this commerce, or the dreadful
cruelty with which it has been carried on to the present
day, it is impossible to reflect without horror : but there
is some consolation, however small, in knowing that its
original authors were not Europeans. The purchase of
Guinea blacks for slaves by foreign nations commenced
ages before the Portuguese had laid that country open
to the intercourse of Europe. Even after they had made
many incursions into it, the inhabitants were as regular¬
ly purchased for slaves by some of the adjoining states
as they are now by the maritime Europeans.
“ The Arabs of Egypt having reduced all the north
of Africa, and carrying with them their love of black
servants, would be sure to open a ready communication
for themselves to their country. They certainly had
one so early as Iji2, and before the Europeans had
any for that purpose (k). They went from Barbary
by a route that was so much practised, as to be denomi¬
nated expressly ‘ the way of the camels.’ Meeting to¬
gether at the town of Cape Cantin, or that of Valadie
near it,thecommercial caravan traversed the vast deserts,
those of Sarra, which run like the tropic of Cancer over
them in a long line across the country 5 to a place of
great population called Hoden, the Waden or Hoden of
our maps, and a little to the south-west of Cape Blanco.
From Hoden they turned to the left, and pushed di¬
rectly into the interior of the continent, to reach Te-
gazza, the Tagaxel or Taga%a of our maps, and lying
nearly east of Hoden. Here assuredly they did, as the
caravan does certainly at this day; and added to the
other wares upon their camels a quantity of salt from
those mines of rock-salt, which are extraordinary enough
to be noticed as rocks in our maps. This they carried,
as they still carry it, to Tanbut, the Tombut of the maps,
and a town in the heart of the African continent. And
from this town they turned on the right for the sea coast
again, and reached it in the great kingdom of Mele,
the Melli of our maps, to the south of the Gambia, and
just at the springing as it were of that grand arch
Vol. XIX. Part I. & f
r 393 ]
SLA
Slavery.
22
of sea which curves so deeply into the body of the
land, and constitutes the extensive gulf of Guinea.'
an^ at ^om^ut they received a measure of
gold tor a measure of salt. The caravan collects gold
at lombut to the present time; but at Melli they
purchased gold and also silver, in pieces as large as peb-
bles. And at Hoden they had a great mart for slaves ;
. . .blacks being brought thither from the countries ad-
joming, and bartered away to the traders. Such was
the Slave Coast and the Gold Coast of former days.
The staple commodity ot Hoden is only transferred now
to Whidah ; and diverted from the Arabs of Barbary
to the Christians of Europe,” by whom the negroes are w5licii is
carried to the continent of America or to the SugarIlowtrans'
Islands in the West Indies. In these countries they [he^uro-
are all sold like beasts in a market; but they experience peans.
very different degrees of servitude from the different
masters who hold them as property. Such of them as
are reconciled to the appearance of white men, or have
been born in the European colonies, feel themselves
as happy under a humane master as they could be in
their native continent (l) ; and we believe that few of
them in such circumstances have expressed a desire to
return.”
In the. French West India islands, before the late re- Condition
volution in the mother country, which has produced in of slaves in
all its dependencies anarchy and massacre, the condition lJte ^rTclV?h
of the negro slaves was better than that of the bond-jjjer the^
men among the ancient Germans. “ Those of them old govern,
who cultivated the plantations were attached to the soil, meat,
and could not be drawn off to pay debts, or be sold se¬
parately from the estate on which they lived. This
gave them a lasting property in their huts and little
spots of ground, which they might safely cultivate with¬
out dread of being turned out oi possession, or transfer¬
red contrary to their interest and feelings from one pro¬
prietor to another. -They were under the protection of
law as soon as they arrived in the colony. Proper mis¬
sionaries were appointed for the purpose of training them
up to a certain degree of religious knowledge, and am¬
ple funds were allotted for the maintenance of those ec¬
clesiastics. On ill treatment received from his master,
or on being deprived of his allowance of food and rai¬
ment, the slave was directed to apply to the king’s at-
3 -D torney,
I mans, from the lowest to the highest, acknowledge the right of the sovereign to dispose of their persons and nro-
perties at pleasure ; and where we learn,, that the sovereign himself assured Mr Abson the English governor at
> nulah, that all his ancestors had from time immemorial put to death every prisoner of war whom they could not
(ic) In the year 1442, Anthony Gonsalez, a Portuguese adventurer, restored to their native country some
Moorish prisoners whom he had two years before forcibly carried off’from the coast of Africa. He landed them
a itio del Uro, and received from the Moors in exchange ten blacks and a quantity of gold dust. This transac-
mn proves, that a commerce in black servants yvas then regularly carried on by the Moors and not by the Por-
ugu.ese ^0 early as.the year 1502, the Spaniards began to employ a few negroes in the mines of Hispaniola;
ut in the year following, Ovando, the governor of that island, forbade the further importation of them, alleging
n t nTT taug ll: t ie ,ians manner wickedness, and rendered them less tractable than formerly : and it was
0 1 the year 1517 that the supply of negroes to the Spanish American plantations became an established and
regular branch of commerce. Edward's History of the West Indies, Book IV. chap. ii.
(L J 1 have observed many ot my slaves go on board the vessel with joy, on my assurance that they would be
well treated and happy on the plantation where I was going to send them. ' When the Banbarans find that they
re instei by the whites, they never think of making their escape, choosing to be the slaves of Europeans rather
’an 0 a adman, who would treat them with the greatest cruelty. Voyages to the Coast of Africa bn Messrs
Saugnier and Brisson, p. 332. 335. English Translation. ' ' * J J J
SLA
[ 394 ]
SLA
beet.
24
In the I3ri
M'Neil's
Observa¬
tions on the
Slavery, torney, who was obliged to prosecute the master forth-
1 v~~ 1 with. That officer was also bound to prosecute, if by
any other means he heard of the abuse ; the law adding
as tiie reason, This we will to be observed, to check the
* Ramsay's a{)Use of power in the master*.''1
IheTCreat ^ e w‘s^ ^ were 'n olu' power to say, that in the Bri-
ment, and tish West India colonies slaves are equally protected by
Comiersion law as they were in the French islands under the old go-
of Slaves, vernment, and that the same care is taken of their mo¬
ral and religious improvement. This, however, we are
afraid, cannot be said with truth. In the island of Ja-
tish islands, maica, before the passing of the consolidated slave act,
not many years ago, a white man, whether proprietor
or not, who had killed a negro, or by an act of severity
been the cause of his death, was, for the first offence,
intitled to benefit of clergy, and not liable to capital
punishment till a repetition of the crime. By the pre¬
sent law, it is enacted, “ That if any person, whether
owner or superintendant of slaves, shall be convicted of
treatment having, by any act of passion or cruelty, occasioned the
of Negroes death of any negro, it shall be capital for the first of-
inthe island fence : and for the greater security of the property,
of Jamai- an(1
as a check on those who may have the punishment
of slaves in their power, it is particularly required, that
every surgeon or doctor belonging to each estate shall
swear to the cause of the death of each negro, to the
best of his knowledge and belief 5 and if any negro
dies, and is interred by the owner or overseer, without
the doctor’s having seen or been sent for to such negro,
in this case the owner or overseer causing the negro to
be so interred is liable to a prosecution for such con¬
duct.”
This law must doubtless be productive of good effects j
but being a colonial act, it cannot have the vigour of
the CodeNoir; nor do we know of any attorney in the
island who is obliged to defend the rights of the negroes,
or prosecute the master whose cruelty has by any means
come to his knowledge. The justices and vestry of each
parish are indeed constituted a council of protection, iov
the express purpose of making full enquiry into the bar¬
barities exercised on slaves, and bringing the authors to
punishment at the public expence 5 and by a new slave
act at Grenada, the justices are required annually to no¬
minate three freeholders to be guardians of the slaves,
’[Edwards'swho are to take an oath to see the law duly executed-f-.
History of These
are benevolent regulations*, but we doubt if pro-
ihj. w.a ^ecj.jon can jje so promptly afforded by a council of guar¬
dians as by an individual attorney who has no other em¬
ployment. In some of the other British islands, we have
been confidently told that the unfortunate sons of Afri¬
ca have no protection whatever against the tyranny of a
sordid owner, or the caprice of a boyish overseer (m) $
though it is added, that the humanity of many masters
more than supplies the want of laws in every respect
but that of improvement, and that the attachment of
others has in them a like effect. In some cases good
sense, a regard for their reputation, and a well-informed
conviction of their interest, induce men to treat their
the West
Indies,
book iv.
chap. v.
slaves with discretion and humanity. The slaves of Skrery.
many a planter possess advantages beyond what the la-
bourer even of Britain enjoys^*,” yet these advantages |Eawjs^’s
all depend upon the good will of his mastery and in no •ESSfly»,
part of the British colonies are the slaves attached to the P' 6a aiK*
soil. This single circumstance, together with the total 9I'
neglect of their moral and religious culture, makes their
situation much less eligible than was that of the French
slaves under the old government*, and affords a striking
proof of what the humane author whom we have just
quoted well observes, that “ those men and nations
whom liberty hath exalted, and who therefore ought to
regard it tenderly in others, are constantly for restrain¬
ing its blessings within their own little circle, and de¬
light more in augmenting the train of their dependants
than in adding to the rank of fellow-citizens, or in dif¬
fusing the benefits of freedom among their neighbours.”
25
Having given this ample detail of the rise and pro-The kw.
gress of slavery in the world, and shown that it has pre-^nes*®f
vailed in every age, and under all religions, we shall now8'^®^.™"
proceed to enquire whether a practice so general be in ^
anv instance lawful j and if it be, how it must be modi¬
fied, in order to be rendered consistent with the rights
of man and the immutable laws of virtue.
That in a state of nature one man has a right to
seize upon another, and to compel him by force to la¬
bour for his subsistence, is a position which we believe
has never been seriously maintained. But independent
communities stand to each other in the very same rela¬
tion that individuals do in a state of nature *, and there¬
fore in such a state the man of greater bodily strength,
or mental sagacity would have no right to convert his
weaker neighbour into personal property, neither can
the more powerful and enlightened nation have a right
to carry off by force, or entice by fraud, the subjects of
a weaker and more barbarous community for the pur¬
pose of reducing them to a state of servitude. This is
a truth so obvious as to admit neither of proof nor of
denial.
In thus stating the case between two independent na¬
tions, we have in our eye that traffic in slaves which is
carried on between the civilized Europeans and the bar¬
barous Africans: and the utmost length which we think
an apologist for that trade can go is to contend, that
we may lawfully purchase slaves in those countries where
from time immemorial they have been a common branch ^
of commerce. But the European right to purchasecora-
cannot be better than the African right to sell 5 andmonapo-
we have never yet been informed what gives one Afri-JogTj^j^
can a right to sell another. Such a right cannot be na-,ns
tural, for the reason which we have elsewhere assigned
(see Right) : neither can it be adventitious j for ad¬
ventitious rights are immediately derived from the mu¬
nicipal law, which is the public will of the state. But
the state has no authority to deprive an innocent man
of his personal freedom, or of the produce of his own
labour j for it is only to secure these, by protecting the
weak
(m) In Barbadoes there is said to be a law for the protection of slaves, which is the most insolent trifling with
justice and humanity that the writer of this article has ever seen. It is enacted, forsooth, “That if anymansha ,
of wantonness or only of bloodij-mindedness, or cruel intention, wilfully kill a negro or other slave, if Ins own, ®
shall pay into the public treasury fifteen pounds sterling! See Dickson's Letters on Slavery, p. 4*
SLA
27
rrmn
Slavery, weak from the violence of the strong, that states are
—/—-'formed, and individuals united under civil govern¬
ment.
It may perhaps be said, that by patiently submitting
to governments which authorize the traffic in human
flesh, men virtually give up their personal liberty, and
vest their governors with a right to sell them as slaves :
but no man can vest another with a right which he
possesses not himself j and we shall not hesitate to af¬
firm, that in a state of nature where all have equal
rights, no individual can submit himself to the absolute
disposal of another without being guilty of the greatest
  crime. The reason is obvious. From the relation in
a right which men stand to one another as fellow-creatures, and
Ihsclf j t0 aS ^ie*r common Creator, there are duties in¬
tithe ab^ cum^ent uPon eac*1 peculiar to himself; in the perform-
s te dis- ance which he can be guided only by his own rea-
p J of an-son, which was given him for that very purpose. But
0 r* he who renounces his personal freedom, and submits un¬
conditionally to the caprice of a master, impiously at¬
tempts to set himself free from the obligation of that law
which is interwoven with his very being, and chooses
a director of his conduct different from that which
God has assigned him. A man therefore cannot put
himself in a state of unconditional servitude ; and what
he cannot do for himself, he surely cannot authorize
others to do for him either by a tacit or by an open
consent.
These considerations have often made us regret that
writers, for whose talents and integrity we have the
highest respect, should, without accurately defining what
they mean by slavery, have peremptorily affirmed, that,
consistently with the law of nature men may be redu-
S ced to that state as a punishment for crimes, or to dis-
'Wrt kind charge debts which they cannot otherwise pay. That
nfl very a criminal, who has forfeited his life to the laws of his
C 395 ]
SLA
Slavery.
of
country, may have his punishment commuted for hard
pmlih.
we:
labour, till death in the course of nature shall put a pe¬
riod to his terrestrial existence, is a truth which we ap¬
prehend cannot be controverted ; but to make such a
commutation of punishments consistent with the laws of
nature and of nature’s God, it appears to us that the
kind and degree of labour must be precisely ascertain¬
ed, and the conduct of the criminal not left to the ca¬
pricious direction of any individual.
Punishments can be justly inflicted only for one or
other of two ends, or for both. They may be calcula¬
ted either to reform the criminal or to be a warning to
the innocent; and those which most effectually answer
both these purposes are surely to be preferred to such
as answer but one of them. For this reason we consi¬
der hard labour as a much fitter punishment for most
crimes than death : but to entitle it to preference, the
kind and degree of the labour must be ascertained by the
law ; for if these circumstances be omitted, and the of¬
fender delivered over as a slave to the absolute disposal
and caprice of a private master, the labour to which he
is condemned, instead of operating to his reformation,
may be converted into the means of tempting him to
the commission of new crimes. A young woman, in the
state of servitude, would hardly be able to maintain her
virtue against the solicitations of a master who should
promise her liberty or a remission of toil upon her yield¬
ing to his desires ; and the felon, who had long been
accustomed to a life of vagrancy and idleness, would
not strenuously object to the perpetration of any wick¬
edness to obtain his freedom, or even a diminution of     
Ins daily task. Indeed such temptations might be
thrown in Ins way, as human nature could not resist
but by means of much better principles than felons can
be supposed to possess. He might be scourged into
compliance ; or his labour might be so increased as to
make him for a little respite eagerly embrace the most
nefarious proposal which his master could make : for
being absolute property, there is no earthly tribunal to
which he could appeal for justice ; and felons do not
commonly support themselves under trials by pious me¬
ditations on a future state.
. reasoning in this way, we are far from meaning to
insinuate that slave-holders in general torture theirslaves
into the commission of crimes. God forbid ! Many of
them we know to be religious, humane, and benevolent:
but they are not infallible; and some of them may be
instigated, some of them undoubtedly have been insti¬
gated, by avarice and other worse principles, to compel
creatures, who are so absolutely their dependents, to ex¬
ecute deeds of darkness too hazardous for themselves.
But the morality or immorality of any action, and the
moral fitness of any state, are to be judged of by their
natural tendency, if the one were universally practised
and the other universally prevalent (see Moral Philo¬
sophy, N 156.) :• and as the natural tendency of abso¬
lute domestic slavery among such creatures as men is
to throw the most powerful temptations to vice in the
Way both of master and of slave, it must be in every in¬
stance, even when employed as a punishment, inconsist¬
ent with the fundamental principles of moral virtue.
Some writers indeed have maintained, and the civil childirn
law seems to suppose, that children are the property ofnot the
their parents, and may by them be sold as slaves in cases ljroPe, t>'
of urgent necessity : but if we duly consider how mo-of tbcir pa*
 :— 1 -11 ^ 1 rents.
perty is acquired (see Property), and attend to‘the
natural consequences of slavery, we shall soon be con¬
vinced that this opinion is very ill founded. The rights
of parents result from their duties; and it is certainly
the duty of that man who has been the instrument of
bringing into the world an intellectual and moral being,
to do every thing in his power to render the existence
ol that being happy both in the present life and in that
which is to come. It this duty be conscientiously dis¬
charged, the parent has a manifest right to the grati¬
tude, love, and reasonable obedience, of his child ; but
he cannot, in consequence of any duty performed, claim
a right to transfer that child as property to the uncon¬
trolled disposal of any private master; for this plain
reason, that the man who is considered as the private
property of another, cannot reasonably be supposed to
enjoy happiness in this world, and is under many temp¬
tations to do what must necessarily render him miserable
in the next. See Moral Philosophy, N° 138.
If criminals cannot be lawfully reduced to a state of
absolute private slavery, much less surely can it be law¬
ful to reduce insolvent debtors and prisoners of war to
that state. Many a virtuous man, who has contracted
debts with the fairest prospect of paying them, has been
suddenly rendered insolvent by fire, by shipwreck, or by
the bankruptcy of others with whom he was necessarily
engaged in the course of his trade. Such a man can be
considered in no respect as criminal. He has been in¬
deed unfortunate ; but it would be grossly unjust, as
3 -D '2 Wel!
SLA
[ 396 ]
SLA
Slavery-
Fraudulent
bankrupts
may be
compelled
to labour
for the be¬
nefit of
their cre¬
ditors,
31 ..
Two objec¬
tions to #ur
conclusions.
32
The former
answered.
well as shockingly cruel, to add to his misfortune by re¬
ducing him to a state to which we have just seen that
the vilest felon cannot be reduced without a violation of
the laws of morality. Fraudulent bankrupts indeed, of
whom we daily see many, might with great propriety
and the strictest justice be compelled to extenuate their
debts by labouring for the benefit of those whom they
have injured j and criminals of other descriptions might
he made to work for the benefit of the public: but in
both cases the task to be performed should be ascertain¬
ed oy the law, and the persons of the labourers be pro¬
tected by the state. If such can he called slaves, their
slavery is undoubtedly consistent with every principle of
virtue and religion 5 for they suffer nothing but the due
reward of their deeds. Prisoners of war, however, can
upon no honest principle be reduced even to this state of
mitigated bondage ; for they are so far from incurring
guilt by fighting for their country, that even to their
enemies their courage and conduct in such a cause must
appear worthy of reward. A victorious general has
certainly a right to prevent the prisoners taken in battle
from again drawing their swords against him during the
continuance of the war} but there are many ways by
which this may be done effectually without chaining the
unfortunate captives to the oar, or selling them like cat¬
tle to private purchasers, by whom they may be treated
with capricious cruelty, and driven to the perpetration
of the greatest crimes.
To these conclusions, and the reasoning on which
they are built, we are aware it may be objected, that if
private slavery were in every instance unlawful and in¬
consistent with the fundamental principles of morality,
it would not have prevailed among the ancient patri-
archs, and far less have been authorised by the Jewish
law.
In reply to this objection, it may be observed, that
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, though excellent men, were
not characters absolutely perfect 5 that as their practice
does not authorise polygamy or incest among us, it will
not authorise the reducing of our felW-creatures to a
state of hopeless servitude and that from the circum¬
stances of the age in which they lived, many things
were permitted to them, and were indeed harmless,
which are forbidden to us, and would now be pernicious.
The character of Abraham appears to have been much
more perfect than that of his son or grandson ; and was
certainly equal, if not superior, to that of any other
mere man of w hom we read either in profane or even in
sacred history. We are to remember, however, that he
was born amidst idolaters, and was probably an idolater
himself till enlightened by the inspiration of Jehovah,
and called from his kindred and from his father’s house.
Before his conversion, he must have had much cattle
and many slaves, which constituted the riches of that
early period; and his case would indeed have been pe¬
culiarly hard, had he been commanded to divest himself
of his servants, and to depart into a strange country
very thinly inhabited, without people to protect his flocks
and herds from beasts of prey. Nor would his loss have
contributed in any degree to the benefit of his slaves,
who, as the ranks of men were then adjusted, could not
long' have preserved their liberty. Had they not been
forcibly reduced to their former state by their idolatrous
countrymen, which in all probability they would have
been, they must have soon submitted to it, or perished
3;
by hunger. Let it be remembered, too, that the bond- g]aver},
servants of Abraham, though constituting the most va- v_—
luable part of his property, were not considered as a
species of inferior beings, but were treated rather as
children than as slaves. This is evident from his speak¬
ing of the steward of his house as his heir, when com¬
plaining to God of the w7ant of seed. Indeed the man¬
ner in which ibis circumstance is mentioned, shows that
it was then the general practice to consider domestic
slaves as members of the family for the patriarch does
not say, “ I will leave my substance to this Eliezer of
Damascus j” but his words are, “ Behold to me thou
has given no seed 5 and lo, one born in my house is my
heir*.'n From this mode of expression we are strongly * Gen XTi
inclined to think that captives taken in war were in that 3,
age of simplicity incorporated into the family or tribe
of the conqueror, as they are said to be at present
among the North American Indians, to supply the place
of those who had fallen in battle. If so, slavery was
then a very mild thing, unattended with the evils which
are now in its train, and must often have been highly
beneficial to the captive. 33
The other part of the objection appears at fij-st sight Answer to
more formidable j hut perhaps a little attention to the llie otlier'
design of the Mosaic economy may enable us to remove
it even more completely than this. We need not in¬
form our theological readers, that one great purpose
for which the posterity of Abraham were separated
from the heathen nations around them, was to preserve
the knowledge of the true God in a world run head¬
long into idolatry. As idolatry appears to have had
something in its forms of worship extremely captivating
to rude minds, and as the minds of the Israelites at the
era of their departure from Egypt were exceedingly
rude, every method was taken to keep their separation
from their idolatrous neighbours as complete as pos¬
sible. With this view they were commanded to sacri¬
fice the animals which their Egyptian masters had wor¬
shipped as gods, and were taught to ^consider hogs and
such other creatures as the heathen offered in sacrifice,
when celebrating their mystical and magic rites, as too
unclean to he eaten or even to he touched. Of this di¬
stinction between clean and unclean beasts, God him¬
self assigns the reason : “ I am the Lord your God
(says he), who have separated you from other people 3
ye shall therefore put difference between clean and un¬
clean beasts, and between unclean fowls and cleanf.” f hev.»
For the same reason they were prohibited from inter-24’I5>
marrying with the heathen, or having any transaction
whatever with them as neighbours 3 and the seven ido¬
latrous nations of Canaan they were strictly command¬
ed to exterminate. “ W hen the Lord thy God (says
Moses) shall deliver them before thee, thou shalt smite
them, and utterly destroy them : thou shalt make no
covenant with them, nor show mercy unto them: nei¬
ther shalt thou make marriages with them ; toy daugh¬
ter thou shalt not give unto his son, nor his daughter
shalt thou take to thy son 3 for they will turn away
thy son from following me, that they may serve other
godsj.” _ _ '
Under these laws, it is plain that no intercourse what-2, JA
ever could have place between an Israelite and a man
of any other nation, unless the latter was reduced to
such a state as that he could neither tempt the former,
nor practise himself the rites of his idolatrous worship.
But
SLA
Slave.
trade.
But the Israelites were not separated from the rest of
the world for their own sakes only : They were intend-
f to l)t; repositaries of the lively oracles of God
and gradually spread the light of divine truth through
other nations, till the fulness of time should come, when
in Christ ail things were to be gathered together in
one. To answer this end, it was necessary that there
should be some intercourse between them and their
Gentile neighbours 5 but we have seen that such an in¬
tercourse could only be that which subsists between
masters and their slaves.
Should this apology for the slavery which was au¬
thorised by the Jewish law be deemed fanciful, we beg
leave to submit to the consideration of our readers
the following account of that matter, to which the
same objection will hardly be made. It was morally
impossible that between nations differing so widely in
religion, customs, and manners, as the Jews and Gen¬
tiles, peace should for ever reign without interruption •
buf when wars broke out, battles would be fought
and prisoners would be taken. How were these prisoners
to be disposed of? Cartels for exchange were not then
known : it was the duty of the Israelites to prevent
their captives from taking up arms a second time against
them ; they could not establish them among themselves
either as artificers or as husbandmen 5 for their law en¬
joined them to have no communication with the hea¬
then. Ihere was therefore no other alternative but ei-
thei to massacre them in cold blood, or to reduce them
to the condition of slaves. It would appear, however,
that those slaves were raised to the rank of citizens, or
at least that their burdens were much lightened, as soon
as they were convinced of the truth of the Mosaic re¬
velation, and received into covenant with God by the
rite of circumcision. They were then admitted to
the celebration ot the passover ; concerning which one
aw was decreed to the stranger, and to him that was
home-born. Indeed, when we consider who was the
legislator of the Jews ; when we reflect upon the num¬
ber of laws enacted to mitigate slavery among them,
and call to mind the means by which the due execution
of all their laws was enforced, (see Theology), we
cannot help being of opinion that the heathen, who’was
reduced to slavery in Judea, might be happier, if he
pleased, than when living as a freeman in his own coun-
try. But whether this be so or not, is a matter with
winch we have no concern. On account of the hard¬
ness of their hearts, and the peculiarity of their circum¬
stances, many things, of which slavery may have been
one, were permitted to the Jews, which, if practised by
Christians, would render them highly guilty.
Alter treating thus largely of slavery in general, we
need not occupy much of the reader’s time with the
t 397 ]
SLA
SLA\ E-trade carried on by the merchants of
Europe Avith the natives of Africa. It is well known
that the Portuguese were the first Europeans whoembark-
I ed in this trade, and that their example was soon fol¬
lowed by the Dutch amT the English. Of the rise and
| Pr°p^ss of the English commerce in slaves, the reader
will mid a sufficient account in other articles of this
*See|cLWorIc *• That commerce, though long cherished bv
aii J
Guinea. -  
the government as a source of national and colonial
wealth, was from its contmencement considered by the
thinking part of the nation as a traffic inconsistent with
the rights ot man, and suspected to be carried on by
acts of violence. These suspicions were gradually spread
through the people at large, and confirmed, in many
instances, by evidence incontrovertible. Laws were in
consequence enacted to make the negroes more com-
foi table on what is called the middle passage, and to
protect them against the wanton cruelty of their masters
in the W est Indies : but the humanity of the nation
was roused ; and not many years ago a number of gen¬
tlemen of the most respectable characters, finding that
no adequate protection could be afforded to persons in a
state of hopeless servitude, formed themselves into a so¬
ciety at London, for the purpose of procuring a total
abolition of the slave-trade. That the motives which
influenced the leading men of this society were of the
purest kind, cannot, we think, be questioned j for
their object was to deliver those who had none to help
them, and from whom they could expect no other re-
vvaid for their labours of love than the blessings of them
who were ready to perish. To a cause truly Christian,
who did not pray for success ? or who but must have
felt the most pungent regret, if that success had been
rendered doubtful, or even delayed, by the imprudence
of some of the agents employed by the society ? This
we apprehend was really the case. Language calcula¬
ted only to exasperate the planters could not serve the
negroes 5 and the legislature of Great Britain would
never suffer itself to be forced into any measure by the
menaces of individuals.
In the year 1793, petitions were presented toparlia- .35
ment for the abolition of this inhuman traffic, which ^etlj|ions
gave a pleasing picture of the philanthrophy of the na- abobtL of
tion ; but, unfortunately for the cause of freedom, it was it.
discovered that many of the names subjoined to those
petitions had been collected by means not the most ho¬
nourable. The discovery,, perhaps, would never have
been made, had not the insulting epithets indiscrimi¬
nately heaped upon the slave-holders provoked those
men to watch with circumspection over the conduct of
their opponents. The consequence was, that suspicions
of unfair dealing on the part of the petitioners were ex¬
cited in the breasts of many who, though they ardent¬
ly wished well to the cause, chose not to add their
names to those of school-boys under age, and of pea¬
sants. who knew not what they were subscribing. Let
the rights of the Africans be maintained with ardour
and firmness •, but never let their advocates suppose that
tiie cause of humanity requires the support of artifice.
A bsolute slavery, in which the actions of one man are
regulated by the caprice of another, is a state demon¬
strably inconsistent with the obvious plan of the moral
government of the world. It degrades the mental fa¬
culties ol the slave, and throws, both in his way and
in his master’s, temptations to vice almost insurmount¬
able. Let these truths be set in a proper light by
those who have doubtless seen them exemplified 5 and
they will surely have their full effect on the minds of a
generous, and, we trust, not an impious people (n).
The trade will be generally abolished 5 pains will be ta¬
ken
(>0 Me have not insisted upon the impolicy of the slave trade, or endeavoured to prove that its abolition
would
SLA
t 398 ]
SLA
Slave-
trade.
ken to cultivate the minds of the West Indian negroes-,
and the era may be at no great distance when slavery
v shall cease through all the British dominions.
Objection.' ®ut w^iat it will be asked, will the negroes
ta the abo- of Africa reap from an abolition of the slave-trade ?
lition
37
of no
strength.
Should any thing so wildly incredible happen, as that
all the nations of Christendom, in one-common paro¬
xysm of philanthropy, should abandon this commerce
in servants, which has been prosecuted in all ages,
and under all religions ; they would only abandon it to
those who were originally possessed of it, who still pe¬
netrate into the country, and who even push up to
Gago at the very head of the Slave coast, and leave the
wool-headed natives of it to Mahometan masters, in
preference to Christian. Under such masters they were
in Judea at the time of the crusades. Under such,
as we learn from Messrs Saugnier, Brisson, and others,
they still are in the deserts of Africa, as well as in the
* Asiatic islands of Johanna and Madagascar* j and it is univer-
Researclies, sajjy knovvn that they enslave one another as a punish¬
ment for the most whimsical crimes. Among them, in¬
deed, slavery seems to be reduced to a system, and to
descend, as it has done in more polished nations, from
-J- Essay on father to son 5 for both Saugnier and Wadstromf speak
C»loni%a- 0f particular families of negroes who are exempted from
tlon‘ that degrading state by the laws of the country.
All this we admit to be true. Most certainly the
negroes would not be exempted from the miseries of
servitude, though Europe and the West Indies were
swallowed up in the ocean. The customs of the coun-
| Dalxel's try, as the king of Dahomy assured Mr Abson J, will
History. |)e made as long as black men shall continue to possess
their own territories, in their present state of depravity
and ignorance 5 and these customs appear to involve
slavery of the cruellest kind. But if slavery be in itself
unlawful, is it a sufficient excuse for our continuing the
traffic that it is carried on by the rude negroes and the
savage Arabs ? Are people, whom w'e sometimes aSect
to consider as an inferior order of beings, to furnish ex¬
amples of conduct to those w'ho boast of their advance¬
ments in science, in literature, and in refinement ? Or
-will the benevolent Lord of all things pardon us for
oppressing our helpless brethren, merely because they
are cruelly oppressed by others P It is indeed true that
the natives of Guinea cannot be made really free but
by introducing among them the blessings of religion and
the arts of civil life 5 but surely they would have fewer
*
temptations than at present to kidnap one another, or
to commence unprovoked wars for the purpose of making
captives, were the nations of Europe to abandon the
commerce in slaves (o). That commerce, W'e grant,
would be continued by the Arabs, and perhaps by
others of the eastern nations -, but the same number of
people could not be carried off by them alone that is
now carried off both by them and by the Europeans.
Were it indeed possible to put the slave-trade under
proper regulations, so as to prevent all kidnapping and
unjust wars among the Africans, to supply the markets j
and were it likewise possible to ensure to the negroes in
the West Indies mild treatment and religious instruc¬
tion, we are far from being sure that while the natives
of Guinea continue so rude, and their neighbours the
Arabs so selfishly savage, it would be proper to abandon
at once to hordes of barbarians the whole of this com¬
merce in bond servants. “ The trade, which in its pre¬
sent form is a reproach to Britain, might be made to
take a new shape, and become ultimately a blessing to
thousands of wretches who, left in their native country,
would have dragged out a life of miserable ignorance,
unknowing the hand that framed them, unconscious of
the reason of which they were made capable, and heed¬
less of the happiness laid up for them in store
Slavery is, indeed, in every form an evil j but it seemsE^ag,
to be one of those many evils which, having long pre-P" 39JA*
vailed in the world, can be advantageously removed on¬
ly by degrees, and as the moral cultivation of the slaves
may enable them to support the rank and discharge the
duties of free men. This is doubtless the reason why it
was not expressly prohibited by the divine Author of
our religion, but suffered to vanish gradually before the
mild influence of his Heavenly doctrines. It has van*sh"Abolition
ed before these doctrines in most countries of Europe }0ft}jesiare.
and it affords us no small gratification to have it in ourtradein
power to record, what indeed must be Iresh in the me- Britain,
mory of our readers, that the abolition of the slave-trade
was finally accomplished by the steady pers«verance and
generous exertions of some of the most enlightened and
respectable characters in the kingdom, who, after a long
and arduous struggle, obtained a decree of the legis¬
lature, prohibiting, after a limited period, the trade in
slaves to be continued by subjects of Britain. The bill
originated in the house of lords, and having undergone
considerable discussion in the house of commons, finally
passed on the 16th of March, and received his majesty’s
assent
mo!
L
rvould be advantageous to the sugar-planters 5 for the planters surely understand their own interest better than
those can do, who, having never been in the West Indies, are obliged to content themselves with what informa¬
tion they can glean on the subject from a number of violent and contradictory publications. To countenance
slavery under any form is undoubtedly immoral. This we know : and therefore upon this ground have we op¬
posed the slave-trade, which cannot be continued without preferring interest to virtue.
(o) In a speech which Mr Dalzel says the king of Dahomy made to Mr Abson, when he was informed of
what had passed in England on the subject of the slave-trade, are these remarkable words : “ In the name of
my ancestors and myself, I aver that no Dahoman ever embarked in war merely for the sake of procuring
wherewithal to purchase your commodities.” We must take the liberty to question the truth of this solemn aver¬
ment. That the slave-trade is not the sole cause of the Dahoman wars every man will admit, who does not fancy
that those people have neither passions nor appetites, but for the commodities of Europe : but the bare affirma¬
tion of this bloody despot, who boasted of having killed many thousands at the customs, will not convince those
who have read either Wadstrom’s Essay on Colonization, or the evidence respecting the slave-trade given at the
bar of the house of commons, “ that no Dahoman ever embarked in war merely to procure slaves to barter lor
European commodities.”
a ti
maianis
sioir:'
slaw *
S L E
assent on the 35th March 1807.     
the bill, for the total abolition of the trade, we believe
was the beginning of the following year, viz. January
1808. J
We cannot conclude without expressing a hope, that
the period is not very distant when the slaves in the
West Indies shall be so much improved in moral and re¬
el ligious knowledge, as that they may be safely trusted
Dauerof with their own freedom. To set them free in their pre-
" ”t'‘n sent state of ignorance and depravity, is one of the wild¬
est proposals that the ardour of innovation has ever
made. Such freedom would be equally ruinous to
themselves and to their masters ^ and we may say of it
what Cicero said of some unseasonable indulgences pro¬
posed to be granted to the slaves in Sicily : cmn
accidunt, nemo est^ (juin i/itclligot were ilium rempubli-
cam ; luxe ubi veniunt, nemo est, qui ullam spem salu-
tis reliquam esse arbitretur.
Those of our readers who wish to enter into a detail
of this subject, may consult, with much advantage, The
xlistory of the Rise, Progress, and Accomplishment of
the Abolition of the African Slave-Trade, by Mr Clark¬
son, 2 vols 8vo.
SLAUGHTER. See Manslaughter, Homicide,
Murder, &c.
SLEDGE, a kind of carriage without wheels, for
the conveyance of very weighty things, as huge stones,
bells, &c. The sledge for carrying criminals, condemn¬
ed for high treason, to execution, is called hurdle.
I. he Dutch have a kind of sledge on which they can
carry a vessel of any burden by land. It consists of a
plank of the length of the keel of a moderate ship,
raised a little behind, and hollow in the middle; so that
the sides go a little aslope, and are furnished with holes
to leceive pins, &c. Jbe rest is quite even.
Sledge is a large smith’s hammer, to be used with
both hands : of this there are two sorts, the up-hand
sledge, which is used by under workmen, when the
work is not of the largest sort; it is used with both the
hands before, and they seldom raise it higher than their
head. Rut the other, which is called the about-sledge,
and which is used for battering or drawing out the lar¬
gest work, is held by the handle with both hands, and
swung round over their heads, at their arm’s end, to
strike as hard a blow as they can.
SLEE1, that state of the body in which, though the
vital functions continue, the senses are not affected by the
ordinary impressions of external objects. See Dreams
and Physiology.
. SlEEP-Walker, one who walks in his sleep. Many
instances might be related of persons who were addicted
to this practice ; but it will be sufficient to select one
remarkable instance from a report made to the Physical
Society of Lausanne, by a committee of gentlemen ap¬
pointed to examine a young man who was accustomed
to walk in his sleep.
“ I he disposition to sleep-walking seems, in the opi¬
nion of this committee, to depend on a particular aflec-
tion of the nerves, which both seizes and quits the pa¬
tient during sleep. Under the influence of this affec¬
tion, the imagination represents to him the objects that
struck him while awake, with as much force as if they
really affected his senses; but does not make him per¬
ceive any of those that are actually presented to his
Senses, except in so far as they are connected with the
, f 3S9 ] S L E
ie time fixed by dreams which engross him at the time. If, during this
state, the imagination has no determined purpose, he
receives the impression of objects as if he were awake;
only, however, when the imagination is excited to bend
its attention towards them. The perceptions obtained
in this state are very accurate, and, when once received,
the imagination renews them occasionally with as much
force as if they were again acquired by means of the
senses. . Lastly, these academicians suppose, that the
impressions received during this state of the senses dis¬
appear entirely when the person awakes, and do not re¬
turn till the return of the same disposition in the nervous
system.
“ Their remarks were made on the Sieur Devaud, a
lad thirteen years and a half old, who lives in the town
of Vevey, and who is subject to that singular affection or
disease called Somnambulism or sleep-walking. This lad
possesses a strong and robust constitution, but his nervous'
system appears to be organised with peculiar delicacy,
and to discover marks of the greatest sensibility and ir¬
ritability. His senses of smell, taste, and touch, are ex¬
quisite ; he is subject to fits of immoderate and involun¬
tary laughter, and he sometimes likewise weeps without
any apparent cause.
This young man does not walk in his sleep every
night; several weeks sometimes pass without any ap¬
pearance of a fit. He is subject to the disease generally
two nights successively, one‘fit lasting for several hours.
I he longest are from three to four hours, and they com¬
monly begin about three or four o’clock in the morn-
ing.
“ TI,e flt may be prolonged, by gently passing the
finger or a feather over his upper lip, and this slight irri¬
tation likewise accelerates it. Having once fallen asleep
upon a staircase, his upper lip was thus irritated with a
feather, when he immediately ran down the steps with
great precipitation, and resumed all his accustomed ac¬
tivity.^ This experiment was repeated several times.
“ The young Devaud thinks he has observed, that,
on the evenings previous to a fit, he is sensible of a cer¬
tain heaviness in his head, but especially of a great
weight in his eyelids.
“ His sleep is at all times unquiet, but particularly
when the fits are about to seize him. During his sleep,
motions are observable in every part of his body, with
starting and palpitations ; he utters broken words, some¬
times sits up in his bed, and afterwards lies down again.'
He then begins to pronounce words more distinctly, he
rises abruptly, and acts as he is instigated by the dream
that then possesses him. He is sometimes in sleep sub¬
ject to continued and involuntary motions.
“ The departure of the fit is always preceded by two
or three minutes of calm sleep, during which he snores.
He then awakes rubbing his eyes like a person who has
slept quietly.
“ It is dangerous to awaken him during the fit, espe¬
cially if it is done suddenly; for then he sometimes falls?
into convulsions. Having risen one night with the in¬
tention of going to eat grapes, he left the house, passed
through the town, and went to a vineyard where he ex¬
pected good cheer. He was followed by several persons,
who kept at some distance from hinr, one of whom fired
a pistol, the noise of which instantly awakened him, and
he fell down without sense. He was carried home and
brought to himself, when he recollected very well the
having
Sleep¬
walker.
S L E [ 400 1 SEE
Sleep- having been awakened in the vineyard ; but nothing
walker, more, except the fright at being found there alone,
v which had made him swoon.
“After the fits he generally feels a degree of lassi¬
tude : sometimes, though rarely, of indisposition. At
the end of one of those fits, of which the gentlemen of
the committee were witnesses, he was affected with vo¬
mitings ; but he is always soon restored.
“ When he is awaked, he never for the most part re¬
collects any of the actions he has been doing during the
fit.
“ The subject of his dreams is circumscribed in a
small circle of objects, that relate to the few ideas with
which at his age his mind is furnished , such as his les¬
sons, the church, the bells, and especially tales of ghosts.
It is sufficient to strike his imagination the evening be¬
fore a fit with some tale, to direct his somnambulism to¬
wards the object of it. There was read to him while in
this situation the story of a robber j he imagined the
very next moment that he saw robbers in the room.
However, as he is much disposed to dream that he is
surrounded with them, it cannot be affirmed that this
was an effect of the reading. It is observed, that when
his supper has been more plentiful than usual, his dreams
are more dismal.
“ In their report, the gentlemen of the committee
dwell much on the state of this young man’s senses, on
the impression made upon them by strange objects, and
on the use they are of to him.
“ A bit of strong smelling wood produced in him a
degree of restlessness ; the fingers had the same effect,
whether from their smell or their transpiration. He
knew wine in which there was wormwood by the smell,
and said that it was not wine for his table. Metals
make no impression on him. „
“ Having been presented with a little common wine
while he was in a state of apathy, and all his motions
were performed with languor, he drank of it willingly j
but the irritation which it occasioned produced a deal
of vivacity in all his words, motions, and actions, and
caused him to make involuntary grimaces.
“ Once he was observed dressing himself in perfect
darkness. His clothes were on a large table, mixed
with those of some other persons ; he immediately per¬
ceived this, and complained of it much j at last a small
light was brought, and then he dressed himself with
sufficient precision. If he is teased or gently pinched,
he is always sensible of it, except he is at the time
strongly engrossed with some other thing, and wishes to
strike the offender ; however, he never attacks the per¬
son who has done the ill, but an ideal being whom his
imagination presents to him, and whom he pursues
through the chamber without running against the furni¬
ture, nor can the persons whom he meets in his way di¬
vert him from his pursuit.
“ While his imagination was employed on various
subjects, he heard a clock strike, which repeated at
every stroke the note of the cuckoo. There are cuc¬
koos here, said he ; and upon being desired, he imita¬
ted the song of that bird immediately.
“When he wishes to see an object, he makes an ef¬
fort to lift his eyelids ; but they ai-e so little under his
command, that he can hardly raise them a line or two,
while he draws up his eyebrows ; the iris at that time
appears fixed, and his eye dim. When any thing is
presented to him, and he is told of it, he always half
opens his eyes with a degree of difficulty, and then shuts
them after he has taken what was offered to him.
“ The report infers from these facts, and from many
others relative to the different senses, that their func¬
tions are not suspended as to what the sleep-walker wish¬
es to see, that is, as to all those perceptions which ac¬
cord with the objects about which his imagination is oc¬
cupied ; that he may also be disposed to receive those
impressions, when his imagination has no other object
at the time j that in order to see, he is obliged to open
his eyes as much as he can, but when the impression is
once made, it remains j that objects may strike his
sight without striking his imagination, if it is not inte¬
rested in them ; and that he is sometimes informed of the
presence of objects without either seeing or touching
them.
“ Having engaged him to write a theme, say the
committee, we saw him light a candle, take pen, ink,
and paper, from the drawer of his table, and begin to
write, w'hile his master dictated. As he was writing,
we put a thick paper before his eyes, notwithstanding
which he continued to write and to form his letters very
distinctly ; showing signs, however, that something was
incommoding him, which apparently proceeded from the
obstruction which the paper, being held too near his
nose, gave to his respiration.
“ Upon another occasion, the young somnambulist
arose at five o’clock in the morning, and took the ne¬
cessary materials for writing, with his copy-book. He
meant to have begun at the top of a page ", but finding
it already written on, he came to the blank part of the
leaf, and wrote some time from the following words,
Fiunt ignari pigritia—Us deviennent ignorans par la
paresse ; and, what is remarkable, after several lines he
perceived he had forgotten the s in the word ignnrans,
and had put erroneously a double r in. paresse; he then
gave over writing, to add the s he had forgotten, and to
erase the superfluous r.
“ Another time he had finished, of his own accord, a
piece of writing, in order, as he said, to please his mas¬
ter. It consisted of three kinds of writing, text, half
text, and small hand j each of them performed with the
proper pen. He drew, in the corner of the same pa¬
per, the figure of a hat; he then asked for a penknife
to take out a blot of ink which he had made between
two letters, and he erased it without injuring them.
Lastly, he made some arithmetical calculations with
great accuracy.
“ In order to explain some of the facts observed by
the academicians which we have here mentioned, they
establish two general observations, which result from
what they have said with respect to the senses and the
dreams of this sleep-walker.
“ 1. That he is obliged to open his eyes, in order to
recognise objects which he wishes to see } but the im¬
pression once made, although rapidly, is vivid enough
to supersede the necessity of his opening them again, to
view the same objects anew ; that is, the same objects
are afterwards presented to his imagination with as much
force and precision as if he actually saw them.
“ 2. That his imagination, thus warmed, represents
to him objects, and such as he figures to himself, with
as much vivacity as if he really saw them ; and, lastly,
that all his senses, being subordinate to his imagination,
seem
S L E
ieep-
ulkcr.
soctB concentratetl in the object with which it is occu¬
pied, and have at that time no perception of any tiling
[ 401 ]
S L E
~ but what relates to that object.
Ihese two causes united seem to them sufficient
for explaining one of the most singular facts that occur¬
red to their observation, to wit, how the young Devaud
ean write, although he has his eyes shut, and an ob¬
stacle before them. His paper is imprinted on his ima¬
gination, and every letter which he means to write is
also painted there, at the place in which it ought to
stand on the paper, and without being confounded with
the other letters ; now it is clear that his hand, which
is obedient to the will of his imagination, will trace
them on the real paper, in the same order in which they
are represented on that which is pictured in his head.
It is thus that he is able to write several letters, several
sentences, and entire pieces of writing ; and what seems
to confirm the idea, that the young Oevaud writes ac¬
cording to the paper painted on his imagination is,
that a certain sleep-tvalker, who is described in the
French Enajclopedie (article Somnambulism), having
written something on a paper, another piece of paper of
tho same size was substituted in its stead, which he
took for his own, and made upon this blank paper the
corrections he meant to have made on the other which
had been taken away, precisely in the places where
they would have been.
“ It appears from the recital of another fact, that
Devaud, intending to write at the top of the first leaf
of a white paper book, Vevey le — stopped a moment
as if to recollect the day of the month, left a blank
space, and then proceeded to Decembre 1787 j after
which he a:-ked for an almanac: a little book, such as
is given to children for a new year’s gift, was offered to
him ; he took it, opened it, brought it near his eyes,
then threw it down on the table. An almanac which
he knew was then presented to him ; this was in Ger¬
man, and of a form similar to the almanac of Vevey : he
took it, and then said, ‘ What is this they have given
me} here, there is your German almanac.’ At last
they gave him the almanac of Berne 5 he took this like¬
wise, and went to examine it at the bottom of an alcove
that was perfectly dark. He \Vas heard turning over
the leaves, and saying 24, then a moment afterwards
34- Returning to his place, with the almanac open at
the month of December, he laid it on the table and
wrote in the space which he had left blank the 24th.
This scene happened on the 23d ; hut as he imagined
it to he the 24th, he did not mistake. The following
is the explication given of this fact by the authors of
the report.
“The dates 23d, 24th, and 25th, of the month of
December, had long occupied the mind of the young
Devaud. The 23d and 25th were holidays, which he
expected with the impatience natural to persons of his
age, for the arrival of those moments when their little
daily labours are to be suspended. The 25th especially
was the object of his hopes; there was to he an illumi¬
nation in the church, which had been described to him
in a manner that quite transported him. The 24th
was a day of labour, which came very disagreeably be¬
tween the two happy days. It may easily be con¬
ceived, how an imagination so irritable as that of the
young Devaud would he struck with those pleasing
epochs. Accordingly, from the beginning of the month
Vol. XIX. Part II.
be bad been perpetually turning over the almanac of sleeb-
Vevey. He calculated the days and the bonis that walker.
were to elapse before the arrival of his wished for bo- ' V 
lidays ; he showed to bis friends and acquaintance the
dates of those days which he expected with so much
impatience ; every time he took up the almanac, it was
only to consult the month of December. We now see
why that date presented itself to his mind. He was
performing a task, because he imagined the day to be
the Monday which had so long engrossed him. It is
not surprising, that it should have occurred to his ima¬
gination, and that on opening the almanac in the dark
he might have thought he saw this date which he was
seeking, and that his imagination might have represent¬
ed it to him in as lively a manner as if he had actually
seen it. Neither is it surprising that he should have
opened the almanac at the month of December; the
custom of perusing this month must have made bin*
find it in the dark by a mere mechanical operation.
Man never seems to be a machine so much as in the
state of somnambulism ; it is then that habit comes to
supply those ol the senses that cannot be serviceable,
and that it makes the person act with as much precision
as if all his senses were in the utmost activity. These
circumstances destroy the idea of there being any thing'
miraculous in the behaviour of young Devaud with re¬
spect to the date and the month that he was in quest of;
and the reader, who has entered into our explanations,
will not be surprised at bis knowing the German alma¬
nac ; the touch alone was sufficient to point it out to
him ; and the proof of this is the shortness of the time
that it remained in his hands.
“ An experiment was made by changing the place
of the ink-standish during the time that Devaud was
writing. He had a light beside him, and had certified
himself of the place where his ink-holder was standing
by means of sight. From that time he continued to
take ink with precision, without being obliged to open
bis eyes again : but the ink-standish being removed, he
returned as usual to the place where be thought it was :
It must be observed, that the motion of his hand was
rapid till it reached the height of the standish, and then
he moved it slowly, till the pen gently touched the
table as lie was seeking for the ink 1 he then perceived
that a trick had been put on him, and complained of
it ; he went in search of his ink-standish and put it in
its place. This experiment was several times repeated,
and always attended with the same circumstances. Does
not what we have here .->tated prove, that the standish,
the paper, the table, &c. are painted on his imagination
in as lively a manner as if he really saw them^, as he
sought tne real standish in the place where his imagina¬
tion told him it ought to have been ? Does it not prove
that the same lively imagination is the cause of the
most singular actions of this sleep-walker? And lastly,
does it not prove, that a mere glance of his eye is suffi¬
cient to make his impressions as lively as durable ?
“ 1 he committee, upon the whole, recommend to
such as wish to repeat the same experiments, 1. To
make their observations on different sleep-walkers. 2.
To examine often whether they can read books that are
unknown to them in perfect darkness. 3. To observe
whether they can tell the hours on a watch in the dark.
4. To remove when they write the ink-standish from its
place, to see whether they will return to the same place
3 m
T
S L E [ 402 ]i s: L I
Sleep- order to take ink. 5. And, lastly, to take notice
walker whether they walk with the same confidence in a dark
!l and unknown place, as in one with which they are ac-
Sleswick. • , 1
, quamted.
“ 'L'liey likewise recommend to such as would con¬
firm or invalidate the above observations, to make all
their experiments in the dark •, because it has been hi¬
therto supposed that the eyes of sleep-walkers are of no
use to them.”
SLEEPERS, in Natural History, a name given to
those animals which sleep all winter; such as bears,
marmots, dormice, bats, hedgehogs, swallows, &e.
These do not feed in winter, have no sensible evacua¬
tions, breathe little or none at all, and most of the
viscera cease from their functions. Some of these ani¬
mals seem to he dead, and others return to a state like
that of the foetus before birth : in this state they con¬
tinue, till by an increase of heat the animal is restored
to its former functions.
Sleepers, in a ship, timbers lying before and aft in
the bottom of the ship, as the rungheads do : the lower¬
most of them is bolted to the rungheads, and the up¬
permost to the futtocks and rungs.
SLEEDAN, John, an excellent German historian,
born of obscure parents, in 1506, at Sleidan, a small1
town on the confines of the duchy of Juliers. After
studying some time in his own country, together with
his townsman the learned John Sturmius, he went to
France, and in 1525 entered into the service of the
Cardinal and archbishop John du Bellay. He retired
to Strasburg in 1542, where he acquired the esteem
and friendship of the most considerable persons, parti¬
cularly of James Sturmius ; by whose advice and assist¬
ance he was enabled to write the history of his own
time. He was employed in some public negociations ;
but the death of his wife, in 1555, plunged him into so
deep a melancholy, that be lost his memory entirely, and
died the year following. In 1555 came out, in folio,
J}( statu Religionis et IXeipubliccc sub Carolo Quinto,8x.c.
in 15 books; from the year 1517, when Luther began
to preach, to the year of its publication ; which history
was presently translated into most of the languages of
Europe. Besides this great work, he wrote, De qua-
tuor summis Imperils, libri tres ; with some other his¬
torical and political pieces.
SLEIGHT 0/Hand. See Legerdemain.
SLESW1CK, an ancient and considerable town of
Denmark, the metropolis of a duchy of the same name,
in the province of Gottorp, the see of a bishop, which
was secularized in the year 1586. The old palace of
Gottorp is close to it, which was formerly the ducal
residence, but afterwards inhabited by the governor.
'This town at one period wras much more extensive than
it is now, having suffered greatly by the German wars.
it is seated on the gulf of Sley, where there is a com¬
modious harbour, 60 miles north-west of Lubeck, and
1 25 south-west of Copenhagen. The people boast that
the German language is here spoken with as much ac¬
curacy as at Vienna, of which, however, a good Ger¬
man scholar can alone be judge. Sleswick has but little
trade, as none but small boats can have access to it, the
passage of the Sley having been long since choked up
with sand and mud ; before which period it was both
flourishing and populous. It is now chiefly inhabited by
the officers of the castle, and the poorer classes, or the
4 '
attendants on the court and on them. The preseut-po- Sbswift
pulation is said to be about 7000.- E. Long. 10. o. 11
N. Lat. 54. 40. Sl^1‘l|g-
Sleswick, the duchy of, or South Jutland, is about v J
roo miles in length and 60 in breadth, and contains
3600 square English miles, and in 1802about 340,80a
inhabitants. It is bounded on the north by North Jut¬
land, on the east by the Baltic sea, on the south by
Holstein, and on the west by the ocean. It contains
14 cities, 17 towns, 13 castles, 278 parishes, 1480 vil¬
lages, 162 farms, 116 water-mills, and 106 gentlemen’s
seats. It is a pleasant, fertile, populous country, and a
sovereign duchy. Formerly' the king of Denmark had
half of it, and the other belonged to the house ot Hol-
stein-Gottorp ; but the former having conquered this
duchy, had the possession of it confirmed to him by tli*
treaty of the north in 1720.
SLEUT-hounde, the ancient Scots name of the
blood-hound. The word is from the Saxon slot, “ the
impression that a deer leaves of its foot in the mire,”
and hound, “ a dog;” so they derive their name from'
following the track. See the article IXLOOD-lloiind.
SLICH, in Metallurgy, the ore of any metal, parti¬
cularly of gold, when it has been pounded, and prepa¬
red for farther working.
The manner of preparing the slich at Chremnitz in-
Hungary is this ; they lay a foundation of wood three
yards deep, upon this they place the ore, and over this
there are 24 beams, armed at their bottoms with iron ;
these, by a continual motion, beat and grind the ore,
till it is reduced to powder: during this operation, the
ore is covered with water. There are four wheels used
to move these beams, each wheel moving six ; and the
water, as it runs off, carrying some of the metalline par¬
ticles with it, is received into several basons, one pla¬
ced behind another ; and finally, after having passed
through them all, and deposited some sediment in each,
it is let off into a very large pit, almost half an acre in
extent; in which it is suffered to stand so long as to de¬
posit all its sediment, of whatever kind, and after this
it is let out. This work is carried on day and night,
and the ore taken away and replaced by more as often
as occasion requires. That ore which lies next the
beams, by which it was pounded, is always the cleanest
or richest.
When the slich is washed as much as they can, a hun¬
dred weight of it usually contains about an ounce, or
perhaps but half an ounce of metal, which is not all
gold; for there is always a mixture of gold and silver,
but the gold is in the largest quantity, and usually is
two-thirds of the mixture : they then put the slich into
a furnace with some limestone, and slacken, or the sco¬
ria of former meltings, and run them together. The first
melting produces a substance called lech; this lech they
burn with charcoal, to make it lighter, to open its body,
and render it porous, after which it is called vast; to
this rost they add sand in such quantity as they find ne¬
cessary, and then melt it over again.
At Chremnitz many other ways are practised of redu-
cing gold out of its ore, but particularly one, in which
they employ no lead during the whole operation; where¬
as, in general, lead is always necessarily, alter the be¬
fore-mentioned processes. See Ores, Reduction of.
SLIDING RULE, a mathematical instrument, ser¬
ving to work questions in gauging, measuring, with-
S L 0
eut tlie use of compasses ; merely by the sliding of the
parts of the instrument one by another, the lines and
divisions whereof give the answer by inspection.
This instrument is variously contrived, and applied
W various authors, particularly Everard, Coggeshall,
‘Guntei, Hunt, and Partridge 5 but the most common
and useful are those of Everard and Coggeshall.
SEIGO, a county in the province of Connaught, Ire¬
land, 31 miles in length, and 29 in breadth; bounded
on the east by that of Leitrim, on the west by the coun¬
ty of Mayo, on the north and north-west by the western
ocean, and on the south and south-west by Roscommon
and Mayo. It contains 11,500 houses, 41 parishes,
60,000 inhabitants, and sends two members to parlia¬
ment.
Sligo, the only market town in the county, contains
8000 inhabitants, and enjoys a considerable trade, is
seated on a bay of the same name, 30 miles west of
Killalla, and no north-east of Dublin. W. Loner
8. 26. N. Lat. 54. 13.
SLING, an instrument serving for casting stones with
gieat violence. Die inhabitants of the Balearic islands
weie famous in antiquity for the dexterous management
of the sling ; it is said they used three kinds of slings,
some longer, others shorter, which they used according
as their enemies were either nearer or more remote. It
is added, that the first served them for a head-band, the
second for a girdle, and that the third they constantly
carried in their hand.
SLINGING is used variously at sea ; but chiefly for
hoisting up casks or other heavy things with slings, i. e.
contrivances of ropes spliced into themselves at°eitlier
end, with one eye big enough to receive the cask or
whatever is to be slung. 1 here are other slings, which
are made longer, and with a small eye at each end ;
one of which is put over the breech of a piece of ord¬
nance, and the other eye conies over the end of an iron
crow, which is put into the mouth of the piece, to weigh
and hoist the gun as they please. There are also slings
by which the yards are bound fast to the cross-tree aloft,
and to the head of the mast, with a strong rope or chain,
that if the tie should happen to break, or to be shot to
pieces in fight, the yard, nevertheless, may not fall up¬
on the hatches.
Slinging a Man overboard, in order to stop a leak
in a ship, is done thus: the man is trussed up about the
middle in a piece of canvas, and a rope to keep him
from sinking, with his arms at liberty, a mallet in one
hand, and a plug, wrapped in oakum and well tarred in
a tarpawling clout, in the other, which he is to beat
with all dispatch into the hole or leak.
SLOANE, Sir Hans, Baronet, eminently distin¬
guished as a physician and a naturalist, was of Scotch
extraction, his father Alexander Sloane being at the
head of that colony of Scots which King Janies I. set¬
tled in the north of Ireland, where our author was born,
at Killieagh, on the 19th of April 1660. At a very
early period, he displayed a strong inclination for natu¬
ral history ; and this propensity being encouraged by a
suitable education, he employed those hours which young
people generally lose by pursuing low and trifling amuse¬
ments, in the study of nature, and contemplating her
Works. When about sixteen, he wa« attacked by a spit¬
ting of blood, which threatened to be attended with
considerable danger, and which interrupted the regular
r 403 3
S L O
course of his application for three years ; lie had, how¬
ever, already learned enough of physic to know that a
ma ady of tlm Lind was not to be removed suddenly,
and he prudently abstained from wine and other liquors
that were likely to increase it.
By strictly observing this severe regimen, which in
some measure he continued ever after, he was enabled
to prolong his life beyond the ordinary bounds ; being
an example of the truth of his own favourite maxim,
that sobriety, temperance, and moderation, are the best
and most powerful preservatives that nature has granted
to mankind.
As soon as he recovered from this infirmity, he re¬
solved to perfect himself in the diflerent branches of
physic, which was the profession he had made choice of;
and with this view he repaired to London, where he
hoped to receive that assistance which lie could not find
in his own country.
On his airival in the metropolis, he entered himself
as a pupil to the great Stafforth, an excellent chemist,
hied under the illustrious Stahl ; and by his instructions
be gained a perfect knowledge of the composition and
pieparation ol the different kinds of medicines then in
use. At the same time, he studied botany at the cele¬
brated garden at Chelsea, assiduously attended the pub¬
lic lectures of anatomy and physic, and in short neglect¬
ed nothing that he thought likely to prove serviceable
to him in his future practice. His principal merit,
however, was his knowledge of natural history ; and it
was this part of his character which introduced him
early to the acquaintance of Mr Boyle and Mr Ray,
two of the most eminent naturalists of that age. His
intimacy with these distinguished characters continued
as long as they lived ; and as he was careful to com¬
municate to them every object of curiosity that attract¬
ed his attention, the observations which he occasionally
made often excited their admiration and obtained their
-applause.
After studying four years at London with unremit¬
ting severity, Mr Sloane determined to visit foreign
countries for farther improvement. In this view he
set out for I ranee in the company of two other stu¬
dents, and having crossed to Dieppe, proceeded to Paris.
In the way thither they were elegantly entertained by
the famous M. Lemery the elder; and in return Mr
Sloane presented that eminent chemist with a specimen
of four different kinds of phosphorus, of which, upon the
credit of other writers, M. Lemery had treated in his
hook of chemistry, though he had never seen any of
them.
At Paris Mr Sloane lived as he had done in London.
He attended the hospitals, heard.the lectures of Tourne-
fort, De Verney, and other eminent masters ; visited
all the literati, who received him with particular marks
of esteem, and employed himself wholly in study.
Irom Paris Mr Sloane went to Montpelier; and,
being furnished with letters ol recommendation from
M. lournefort to M. Chirac, then chancellor of that
university, he found easy access, through Ids means, to
all the learned men of the province, particularly to M.
Magnol, whom he always accompanied in his botanical
excursions in the environs of that city, where he beheld
with pleasure and admiration the spontaneous produc¬
tions of nature, and learned under his instructions to
class them in a proper manner.
3 E 2 Having
Sloane.
S L O [ 404 ] S L O
Sloane. Having here found an ample field for contemplation,
——v — ' which was entirely suited to his taste, he took leave ol
his two companions, whom a curiosity ot a dillerent
kind led into laly.
After spending a whole year in collecting plants, he
travelled through Languedoc with the same design 5
and passing through rI houlouse and Ifourdeaux, return¬
ed to Pans, where lie made a short stay. About the
end of the year 1684 he set out for England, with an
intention of settling there as a physician. On his ar¬
rival in London, he made it his first business to visit his
two illustrious friends Mr Pay and Mr Boyle, in order
to communicate to them the discoveries he had made in
bis travels. The latter he found at home, but the lor-
mer had retired to Essex •, to which place Mr Sloane
transmitted a great vaiiety ol plants and seeds, which
Mr Ray has described in his History of Plants, and for
which he makes a proper acknowledgement.
About the year 1706 our author became acquainted
with the celebrated Sydenham ; who soon contracted so
warm an affection for him that he took him into his
house, au-1 recommended him in the strongest manner
to his patients. lie had not been long in London be¬
fore lie was proposed by Ur Martin Lister as a candi¬
date to be admitted a member of the Royal Society, on
the 26th of November 1684; and being approved, he
was elected on the 2ist of January following.
In 1681; he communicated some curiosities to the So¬
ciety ; and in July the same year he was a candidate
for the office of their assistant secretary, but without
success, as he was obliged to give way to the supeiioi
interest of his competitor Dr Halley. On the I 2th oi
April 1687, he was chosen a fellow of the college of
physicians in London ; and the same year his friend and
fellow traveller Dr Tancred Robinson, having mention¬
ed to the Society the plant called the star of the earth,
as a remedy newly discovered for the bite ol a mad dog,
Dr Sloane acquainted them that this virtue of the plant
was to be found in a book called De Grefs Farriery ;
and that he knew a man who had cured with it twenty
couple of dogs. This observation he made on the 13th
of July, and on the 12th of September following he
embarked at Portsmouth for Jamaica with the duke of
Albemarle, who had been appointed governor of that
island. The doctor attended his grace in quality of
physician, and arrived at Jamaica on the 19th of De¬
cember following.
Here a new field was opened for fresh discoveries in
natural productions •, but the world would have been
deprived of the fruits of them, had not our author, by
incredible application, converted, as we may say, Iris
minutes into hours. The duke of Albemarle died soon
after he landed, and the duchess determined to return
to England whenever an answer should be received to
the letter she had sent to court on that melancholy oc¬
casion. As Dr Sloane could not think of leaving her
/ grace in her distress, whilst the rest of her retinue were
preparing for their departure, he improved it in making
collections of natural curiosities-, so that, though his
whole stay at Jamaica was not above fifteen months,
he brought together such a prodigious number of plants,
that on his return to England, Mr Ray was astonished
that one man could procure in one island, and in so
short a space, so vast a variety.
On his arrival in London, he applied himself to the
practice of his profession -, and soon became sn eminent,
that he was chosen physician to Christ’s hospital on the1    
17th October 1694 : and this office he held till the year
1730, when, on account of his great age and infirmities,
he found it necessary to resign. It is somewhat singular,
and redounds much to the doctor’s honour, that though
lie received the emoluments of his office punctually, be¬
cause lie would not lay down a precedent which might
hurt his successors, yet he constantly applied the monev
to the relief of those who were the greatest objects of
compassion in the hospital, that it might never be said
he enriched himself by giving health to the poor. He
had been elected secretary to the Royal Society on the
30th of November 1693 j and upon this occasion he re¬
vived the publication of the Philosophical Transactions,
which had been omitted for some time. He continued
to be the editor of this work till the year 1712 j and
the volumes which appeared during that period are mo¬
numents of his industry and ingenuity, many of the
pieces contained in them being written by himself.
In the mean time he published Cat a logits Plant arum
Cjiue in Insula Jamaica sponte proveniiint, &c. j stu
Prodromi liistoiue Naturulis pars prima } which lie
dedicated to the Royal Society and Loilege of Physi¬
cians. About the same time he formed the plan of a
dispensary, where the poor might be furnished at prime
cost with such medicines as their several maladies
might require -, which he afterwards carried into exe¬
cution, with the assistance of the president and other
members of the college of physicians.
Oor author’s thirst for natural knowledge seems to
have been horn with him, so that his cabinet of curio¬
sities may be said to have commenced with his being.
He was continually enriching and enlarging it 5 and
the fame which, in the course of a few years, it had ac¬
quired, brought every thing that was curious in art or
nature to be first offered to him for purchase. These
acquisitions, however, increased it but very slowly in
comparison of the augmentation it received in 1701
by the death of William Courten, Esq. a gentleman
who had employed all his time, and the greater part of
his fortune, in collecting rarities, and who bequeathed
the whole to Dr Sloane, on condition of his paying cer¬
tain debts and legacies with which he had charged it.
These terms our author accepted, and he executed the
will of the donor with the most scrupulous exactness j
on which account some people have said, that he pur¬
chased Mr Courten’s curiosities at a dear rate.
In 1707 the first volume of Dr Sloane’s Natural Hi¬
story of Jamaica appeared in folio, though the publica¬
tion of the second was delayed till 1725. By this very
useful as well as magnificent work, the materia roedica
was enriched with a great number of excellent drugs
not before known. In 1708 the Doctor was elected a
foreign member of the Royal Academy of Sciences at
Paris, in the room of Mr Tschirnaus j an honour so
much the greater, as we were then at war with France,
and the queen’s express consent was necessary before he
could accept it. In proportion as ids credit rose among
the learned, his practice increased among the people of
rank: Queen Anne herself frequently consulted him,
and in her last illness was blooded by him.
On the advancement of George I. to the throne,
that prince, on the 3d of April 1716, created the Doc¬
tor a baronet, an hereditary title of honour to which
no
s L O [ 4t>5 ]
S L O
0.nP. no English physician ha<l before attained ; and at the
-v—^ same time made him physician general to the army, in
which station he continued till 1727, when he was ap¬
pointed physician in ordinary to George II. lie at¬
tended the royal family till his death j and was parti¬
cularly favoured by Queen Caroline, who placed the
greatest confidence in his prescriptions. In the mean
time he had been unanimously chosen one of the elects
of the college of physicians June I. 1716, and he was
elected president of the same body on September 39.
1719, an office which he held for sixteen years. Du¬
ring that period he not only gave the highest proofs of
his zeal and assiduity in the discharge of his duty, but
in 1721 made a present to that society of 100I.J and
so far remitted a very considerable debt, which the cor¬
poration owed him, as to accept it in such small sums as
were least inconvenient to the state of their affairs. Sir
Hans was no less liberal to other learned bodies. He
had no sooner purchased the manor of Chelsea, than he
gave the company of apothecaries the entire freehold of
their botanical garden there, upon condition only that
they should present yearly to the Royal Society fifty new
plants, till the number should amount to 2000 (a). He
gave besides several other considerable donations for the
improvement of this garden •, the situation of which, on
the banks of the Thames, and in the neighbourhood of
the capital, was such as to render it useful in two re¬
spects: First, by producing the most rare medicinal
plants ; and, secondly, by serving as an excellent school
for young botanists ; an advantage which he himself
had derived from it in the early part of his life.
The death of Sir Isaac Newton, which happened in
1727, made way for the advancement of Sir Hans to
the presidency of the Royal Society. He had been
vice-president, and frequently sat in the chair for that
great man ; and by his long connection with this learn¬
ed body he had contracted so strong an affection for it,
that he made them a present of an hundred guineas,
caused a curious bust of King Charles II. its founder, to
he erected in the great hall where it met, and, as is said,
was very instrumental in procuring Sir Godfrey Copley’s
benefaction of a medal of the value of five guineas, to
be annually given as an honorary mark of distinction to
the person who communicates the best experiments to
the Society.
On his being raised to the chair, Sir Hans laid aside
all thoughts of further promotion, and applied himself
wholly to the faithful discharge of the duties of the of¬
fices which he enjoyed. In this laudable occupation he
employed his time from 1727 to 1740, when, at the
age of fourscore, he formed a resolution of quitting the
service of the public, and of living for himself. With
this view he resigned the presidency of the Royal So- ^
ciety much against the inclination of that respectable
body, who chose Martin FoIkeS, Esq. to succeed him,
and in a public assembly thanked him for the great and
eminent services he had rendered them. In the month
of January 1741, he began to remove his library, and
his cabinet of rarities, from his house in Bloomsbury to
that at Chelsea ; and on the 12th of March following,
having settled all his affairs, he retired thither himself,
to enjoy in peaceful tranquillity the remains of a welt
spent life. He did not, however, bury himself in that
solitude which excludes men from society. He recei¬
ved in Chelsea, as he had done in London, the visits ef
people of distinction, of all learned foreigners, and of
the royal family, who sometimes did him the honour to
wait on him ; but, what was still more to his praise, he
never icfused admittance or advice to rich or poor who
came to consult him concerning their health. Not con¬
tented with this contracted method of doing good, he
»ow, during his retreat, presented to the public such use¬
ful remedies as success had warranted, during the course
of a long continued practice. Among these is the ef¬
ficacious receipt for distempers in the eyes, and his re¬
medy for the bite of a mad dog.
During the whole course of his life, Sir Hans had
lived with so much temperance, as had preserved him
from feeling the infirmities of old age j but in his 90th
year he began to complain of pains, and to be sensible
of an universal decay. He was often heard to say, that
the approach of death brought no terrors along with it 5
that he had long expected the stroke ; and that he was
prepared to receive it whenever the great Author of his
being should think fit. After a short illness of three
days, he died on the nth of January 1752, and was
interred on the 18th at Chelsea, in the same vault with
his lady, the solemnity being attended with the great¬
est concourse of people, of all ranks and conditions, that
had ever been seen before on the like occasion.
Sir Hans being extremely solicitous lest his cabinet
of curiosities, which he had taken so much pains to col¬
lect, should be again dissipated at his death, and being
at the same time unwilling that so large a portion of
his fortune should he lost to his children, he bequeathed
it to the public, on condition that 20,000!. should be
made good by parliament to his family. This sum,
though large in appearance, was scarcely more than the
intrinsic value of the gold and silver medals, the ores
and precious stones that were found in it; for in his
last will he declares, that the first cost of the whole
amounted at least to 50,000!. Besides his library, con¬
sisting-
(A) Ibis garden was first established by the company in 1673 ; and having after that period been stocked by
them with a great variety of plants, for the improvement of botany, Sir Hans, in order to encourage so serviceable
an undertaking, granted to the company the inheritance of it, being part of his estate and manor of Chelsea, on
condition that it should be for fever preserved as a physic garden. As a proof of its being so maintained, he obliged
the company, in consideration of the said grant, to present yearly to the Royal Society, in one of their weekly meet¬
ings, fifty specimens ol plants that had grown in the garden the preceding year, and which were all to be specifi¬
cally distinct from each other, until the number of two thousand should be completed. This number was com¬
pleted in the year 1761. In 1733 ^ie company erected a marble statue of Sir Hans, executed by Rysbrac, which
is placed upon a pedestel in the centre of the garden, with a Latin inscription, expressing his donation, and the.
design and advantages of it.
Sloane*
-~~v ■*
'S L U [ 406 ] S M A
SWne
y
Sluice.
sisting of more than 50,000 volumes, 347 of which
were illustrated with cuts finely engraven and coloured
from nature, there were 3560 manuscripts, and an infi¬
nite number of rare and curious works of every kind.
The parliament accepted the legacy, and fulfilled the
conditions.
SLOANEA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of polyandria, and order of monogynia ; and in the na¬
tural system ranging under the 50th order, Amentacete.
See Botany Index.
SLOE. See Prunus, Botany Index.
SLOOP, a small vessel furnished with one mast, the
mainsail of which is attached to a gaff above, or to the
mast on its foremost edge, and to a long boom below,
by which it is occasionally shifted to either quarter. See
$HIP.
Sloop of War, a name given to the smallest vessels
of war except cutters. They are either rigged as ships
or snows.
SLOT, in the sportsman’s language, a term used to
express the mark of the foot of a stag or other animal
proper for the chace in the clay or earth, by which
they are able to guess when the animal passed, and
which way he went. The slot, or treading of the
stag, is very nicely studied on this occasion j if the
slot be large, deep printed in the ground, and with
an open cleft, and, added to these marks, there is a large
space between mark and mark, it is certain that the stag
is an old one. If there be observed the slots or tread-
ings of two, the one long and the other round, and both
of one size, the long slot is always that of the larger
animal. There is also another way of knowing the old
ones from the young ones by the treading; which is,
that the hinder feet of the old ones never reach to their
fore feet, whereas those of the young ones do.
SLOTH, See Bradyfus, Mammalia Index.
SLOUGH, a deep muddy place. The cast skin of
a snake, the damp of a coal-pit, and the scar of a wound,
are also called by the same appellation. The slough of
a wild boar is the bed, soil, or mire, wherein he wallows,
or in which he lies in the day-time.
SLUCZK, a large and populous town in Russian Po¬
land, in Lithuania, and formerly capital of a duchy of
the same name ; famous for three battles gained here
by Constantine duke of Ostrog over the Tartars, in the
reign of Sigismund I. It is seated on the river Sluczk,
72 miles south-east of Minski, and 70 south of Novo-
grodeck. E. Long. 27. 44. N. Lat. 53. 2.
SLUG. See Limax, Helminthology Index.
SLUICE, a frame of timber, stone, or other matter,
serving to retain and raise the water of a river, &c. and
on occasion to let it pass.
Such is the sluice of a mill, which stops and collects
the water of a rivulet, &c. to let it fall at length in the
greater plenty upon the mill-wheel 5 such also are those
used as vents or drains to discharge water off land. And
such are the sluices of Flanders, See. which serve to
prevent the waters of the sea from overflowing the low¬
er lands.
Sometimes there is a kind of canal inclosed between
two gates or sluices, in artificial navigations, to save the
water, and render the passage of boats equally easy and
safe, upwards and downwards; as in the sluices of Bri-
are in France, which are a kind of massive walls built
parallel to each other, at the distance of 20 or 24 feet,
closed with strong gates at each end, between which is Sink*
a kind of canal or chamber, considerably longer than 11
broad ; wherein a vessel being inclosed, the water is let ,Sma^ $
out at the first gate, by which the vessel is raised 1 ; or ' u
16 feet, and passed out of this canal into another much
higher. By such means a boat is conveyed out of tire
Loire into the Seine, though the ground between them
rise above 150 feet higher than either of those riv-
ers ^
Sluices are made different ways, according to the userni/T ^
for which they are intended: when they serve for navi¬
gation, they are shut with two gates, presenting an
angle towards the stream ; when they are made near the
sea, two pair of gates are made, the one to keep the
water out and the other in, as occasion requires : in this
case, the gates towards the sea present an angle that
way, and the others the contrary way ; and the space
inclosed by those gates is called the chamber. When
sluices are made in the ditches of a fortress, to keep up
the water in some parts instead of gates, shutters are
made so as to slide up and down in grooves ; and when
they are made to raise an inundation, they are then shut
by means of square timbers let down in cullises, so as to
lie close and firm.
The word sluice is formed of the French escluse, which
Menage derives from the Latin exclusa, found in the
Salic law in the same sense. But this is to be restrained
to the sluices of mills, &c. for as to those serving to raise
vessels, they were wholly unknown to the ancients.
SLUR, in Music, a mark like the arch of a circle,
drawn from one note to another, comprehending two
or more notes in the same or different degrees. If the
notes are in diflerent degrees, it signifies that they are
all to be sung to one syllable ; for wind instruments,
that they are to be made in one continued breath; and
for stringed instruments, that are struck with a how, as
a violin, &c. that they are made with one stroke. If
the notes are in the same degree, it signifies that it is
all one note, to be made as long as the whole notes so
connected ; and this happens most frequently betwixt
the last note of one line and the first of the next; which
is particularly called syncopation.
SLUA S, a town of Dutch Flanders, opposite the
island of Cadsand, with a good harbour, 10 miles north
of Bruges, containing 14,000 inhabitants. £. Long.
3. 25. N. Lat. 51. 19.
SMACK, a small vessel, commonly rigged as a sloop
or hoy, used in the coasting or fishing trade, or as a ten¬
der in the king’s service.
SMALAND, or Calmar, a province in the south of
Sweden, which makes part of Gothland. It is about
112 miles in length, and 62 in breadth, and contains
about 4200 square miles. In 1808 it contained 66,121
tiinnas or about 80,000 acres of arable land, and
136,296 inhabitants. Calmar is the capital town.
SMALKALD, a town of G ermany, in Franconia,
and in the county of Henneberg; famous for the con¬
federacy entered into by the German Protestants against
the emperor, commonly called the league of Smulkald.
The design of it was to defend their religion and liber¬
ties. It is seated on the river Werra, 25 miles south¬
west of Erford, and 50 north-west of Bamberg. E-
Long. 10. 53. N. Lat. 50. 49, It is subject to the
prince of Hesse-Cassel.
SMALLAGE. See Afium, Botany Index.
SMALT,
S M E
malt
SMALT, a kind of glass of a dark blue colour
■ || which when levigated appears of a most beautiful co-
Siraton. lour j and if it could be made sufficiently fine, would be
v" ''r^Jan excellent succedaneum for ultramarine, as not only
resisting all kinds of weather, but even the most violent
fires. It is prepared by melting one part of calcined
cobalt with two of flint powder, and one of potash.
At the bottoms of the crucibles in which the smalt is
manufactured, we generally find a x-egulus of a whitish
colour inclined to red, and extremely brittle. This is
melted afresh, and when cold separates into two parts j
that at the bottom is the cobaltic regulus, which is
employed to make more of the smalt; the other is bis¬
muth.
SMARAGDITE, a species of mineral belonging to
the magnesian genus. See Mineralogy, p. 197.
SMARAGDUS, an old name for the emerald. See
Emerald, Mineralogy, p. 159.
SMEATON, John, an eminent civil engineer, was
born the 28th of May 1724, O. S. at Austhorpe, near
Leeds, in a house built by his grandfather, and where
his family have resided ever since.
The strength of his understanding and the originality
of his genius appeared at an early age ; his playthings
were not the playthings of children, but the tools which
men employ 5 and he appeared to have greater entertain¬
ment in seeing the men in the neighbourhood work,
and asking them questions, than in any thing else. One
day he was seen (to the distress of his family) on the
top of his father’s barn, fixing up something like a
windmill 5 another time, he attended some men fixing
a pump at a neighbouring village, and observing them
cut oft a piece of bored pipe, he was so lucky as to pro¬
cure it, and he actually made with it a working pump
that raised water. rI hese anecdotes refer to circumstan-
| ces that happened while he was in petticoats, and most
likely before he attained his sixth year.
About his 14th and 15th year, he made for himself
an engine for turning, and made several presents to his
friends of boxes in ivory or wood very neatly turned.
He forged his iron and steel, and melted his metal ; he
had tools ol every sort for working in wood, ivory, and
metals. He made a lathe, by which he cut a perpetual
screw in brass, a thing little known at that day, which
was the invention of Mr Henry Hindley of York j with
whom Mr Smeaton soon became acquainted, and they
spent many a night at Mr Hindley’s house till day-light,
conversing on those subjects.
Thus had Mr Smeaton, by the strength of his ge¬
nius and indefatigable industry, acquired, at the age
18, an extensive set of tools, and the art of work-
mg in most of the mechanical trades, without the as¬
sistance of any master. A part of every day was ge¬
nerally occupied in forming some ingenious piece of
mechanism.
Mr Smeaton’s father was an attorney, and desirous
of bringing him up to the same profession ; Mr Smea¬
ton therefore came up to London in 1742, and attend¬
ed the courts in Westminster hall ; but finding (as his
common expression was) that the law did not suit the
bent of his genius, he wrote a strong memorial to his
father on that subject j whose good sense from that mo¬
ment left Mr Smeaton to pursue the bent of his genius
»n his own way.
In 1751, he began a course of experiments to try a
r 407 3
S M E
machine of Ins invention to measure a ship’s way at sea, sRieat0H
and also made two voyages in company with Dr’Knight j
to try it, and a compass of bis own invention and ma¬
king, which was made magnetical by Dr Knight’s arti¬
ficial magnets: the second voyage was made in the For*
tune sloop of war, commanded at that time by Captain
Alexander Campbell.
. 1,1 *753 be was elected member of the Royal So¬
ciety ; the number of papers published in their Trans¬
actions will show the universality of his genius and
knowledge. In 1759116 was honoured by an unani¬
mous vote with their gold medal for his paper intitled
“ An Experimental Inquiry concerning the Natural
Powers of Water and Wind to turn Mills, and other
Machines depending on a Circular Motion.”
Ibis papei, he says, was the result of experiment#-
made on working models in the years 1752 and 17,-3,
but not communicated to the Society till 17595 before
which time he had an opportunity of putting the effect
of these experiments into real practice, in a variety of
cases, and for various purposes, so as to assure the‘So¬
ciety he had found them to answer.
In December 1755, the Eddystone lighthouse was.
burnt down : Mr Weston, the chief proprietor, and the
others, being desirous of rebuilding it in the most sub¬
stantial manner, inquired of the earl of Macclesfield
(then president of the Royal Society) whom he thought
the most proper to rebuild it 5 his lordship recommend¬
ed Mr Smeaton.
. Mr Smeaton undertook the work, and completed it
in the summer of 1759. Of the preparation for this
extraordinary work, of its commencement and progress,,
Mr Smeaton has given an ample and interesting de¬
scription in a splendid folio volume which was first pub¬
lished in 1791. The same volume contains the history
of the diflerent buildings which have been erected on
the Eddystone rock. See Eddystone.
Though Mr Smeaton completed the building of the
Eddystone lighthouse in 1759 (a work that does him so
much credit) yet it appears he did not soon get into
full business as a civil engineer 5 but in 1764, while in
Yorkshire, he offered himself a candidate for one of
the receivers of the Derwentwater estate, and on the
31st of December in that year, he was appointed at a
full board of Greenwich hospital, in a manner highly
flattering to himself, when two other persons strongly-
recommended and powerfully supported were candidates
for the employment. In this appointment'he was very
happy, by the assistance and abilities of bis partner Mr
Walton one of the receivers, who taking upon himself
the management and accounts, left Mr Smeaton leisure
and opportunity to exert his abilities on public works, as
well as to make many improvements in the mills and' in
the estates of Greenwich hospital. By the year 1775 he
had so much business as a civil engineer, that he wished
to resign this appointment; and would have done it
then, bad not his friend the late Mr Stuart the hospi¬
tal surveyor, and Mr Ibbetson their secretary, prevail¬
ed upon him to continue in the office about two years
longer.
Mr Smeaton having now got into full business as a
civil engineer, performed many works of general utili¬
ty. He made the river Calder navigable 5 a work that
required great skill and judgment, owing to the very
impetuous floods in that river: He planned and at¬
tended
Sifccaton.
S M E [ 46S
temled the execution of the great canal in Scotland for
conveying the trade of the country either to the Atlan¬
tic or German ocean *, and having brought it to the
place originally intended, he declined a handsome year¬
ly salary, in order that he might attend to the multipli¬
city of his other business.
On the opening of the great arch at London bridge,
the excavation around and under the sterlings was so
considerable, that the bridge was thought to be in great
danger of falling. He was then in Yorkshire, and was
sent, for by express, and arrived with the utmost dis¬
patch : “ I think (says Mr Holmes, the author or his
life) it was on a Saturday morning, when the apprehen¬
sion of the bridge falling was so general that few would
pass over or under it. He applied himself immediately
to examine it, and to sound about the sterlings as mi¬
nutely as he could and the committee being called
togetber, adopted his advice, which was to repurchase
the stones that had been taken from the middle pier,
then lying in Moorfields, and to throw them into the
river to guard the sterlings.” Nothing shows the ap¬
prehensions concerning the falling of the bridge more
than the alacrity with which this advice was pursued ;
the stones were repurchased that day, horses, carts, and
barges were got ready, and they began the work on
Sunday morning. Thus Mr Smeaton, in all human
probability, saved London bridge from falling, and se¬
cured it till more effectual methods could be taken.
The vast variety of mills which Mr Smeaton con¬
structed, so greatly to the satisfaction and advantage of
the owners, will show the great use which he made of
his experiments in 1752 and 17535 for he never trusted
to theory in any case where he could have an opportu¬
nity to investigate it by experiment. He built a steam
engine at Austliorpe, and made experiments thereon,
purposely to ascertain the power of Newcomen’s steam-
engine, which he improved and brought to a greater
degree of perfection, both in its construction and powers,
than it was before.
Mr Smeaton during many years of his life rvas a
frequent attendant on parliament, his opinion being con¬
tinually called for 5 and here his strength of judgment
and perspicuity of expression had its full display : it
was his constant custom, when applied to, to plan or
-support any measure, to make himself fully acquainted
with it, to see its merits before he Would engage in it:
by this caution, added to the clearness of his descrip¬
tion and the integrity of his heart, he seldom failed to
obtain for the bill which he supported an act of parlia¬
ment. No one was heard with more attention, nor had
any one ever more confidence placed in his testimony.
In the courts of law he had several compliments paid
him from the bench by Lord Mansfield and others, for
the new light which he threw on difficult subjects.
About the year 1785 Mr Smeaton’s health began to
decline; and he then took the resolution to endeavour
to avoid all the business he could, so that he might
have leisure to publish an account of his inventions and
works, which was certainly the first wish of his heart 5
for he has ftften been heard to say, that “ he thought
he could not render so much service to his country as
by doing that.” He got only his account of the Ed¬
dy stone lighthouse completed, and some preparations to
his intended Treatise on Mills 5 for he could not resist
the solicitations of his friends in various Works: and
5
]
S M E
Mr Aubert, whom he greatly loved and respected, he- Smeatoa
ing chosen chairman of Ramsgate harbour, prevailed „
upon him to accept the place of engineer to that bar-. ‘°^
hour 5 and to their joint efforts the public is chiefly in¬
debted for the improvements that have been made there
within these few years, which fully appears in a report
that Mr Smeaton gave in to the board of trustees in
1791, which they immediately published.
Mr Smeaton being at Austhorpe, walking in his gar¬
den on the 16th of September 1792, was struck with
the palsy, and died the 28th of October. “ In his ill¬
ness (says Mr Holmes) I had several letters from him,
signed with his name, hut written and signed by ano¬
ther’s pen 5 the diction of them showed that the strength
of his mind had not left him. In one written the 26th
of September, after minutely describing his health and
feelings, he says, “ in consequence of the foregoing, I
conclude myself nine-tenths dead ; and the greatest fa¬
vour the Almighty can do me (as I think), will be to
complete the other part; but as it is likely to be a lin¬
gering illness, it is only in His power to say when that
kely to happen.”
Mr Smeaton had a warmth of expression that might
appear to those who did not know him well to border
on harshness 5 but these more intimately acquainted with
him, knew it arose from the intense application of his
mind, which was always in the pursuit of truth, or en¬
gaged in investigating difficult subjects. He would
sometimes break out hastily, when any thing was said
that did not tally with his ideas ; and he would not
give up any thing he argued for, till his mind was con¬
vinced by sound reasoning.
In all the social duties of life he was exemplary; he
was a most affectionate husband, a good father, a warm,
zealous, and sincere friend, always ready to assist those
whom lie respected, and often before it was pointed out
to him in what way he could serve them. He was a lover
and encourager of merit wherever he found it ; and
many men are in a great measure indebted to his as¬
sistance and advice for their present situation. As a
companion, he was always entertaining and instruc¬
tive ; and none could spend any time in his company
without improvement.
SMELL; this word has in most languages two
meanings, signifying either that sensation of mind of
which we are conscious, in consequence of certain im¬
pressions made on the nostrils, and conveyed to the
brain by the olfactory nerves; or that unknown virtue,
or quality in bodies, rvliich is the cause of our sensations
of smell.
SMELLING is the act by which we perceive
smells, or become sensible of the presence of odorous
bodies. The sensations of smell are excited by certain
effluvia, which, in the open air, are always issuing from
the surfaces of most bodies, and striking on the extre¬
mities of the olfactory nerves, give them a peculiar sort
of impression, which is communicated to the brain. I he
particles which issue thus from bodies are extremely vo¬
latile, and produce sensation by a degree of contact,
which, though insensible, is still more efficient than if
it were more gross and palpable. It is by a similar
species of insensible contact that the eyes and ears are
affected by external objects ; whilst, in the excitation
of the sensations of touch and of taste, an actual and
sensible Contact of the object with the organ is neces-
%
sary.
S M E
camical
Qinions,
boa i.
idling-, sa^y- The organs of smelling are the nostrils and olfac
' tory nerves ; the minute ramifications of tlie latter be¬
ing distributed throughout the whole concavity of the
former. For a description of these, see Anatomy.
The effluvia from odorous bodies are constantly floating
about in the atmosphere, and must of course be drawn into
the nostrils along with the air in inspiration ; “ so that
there is,” as Dr Reid observes, “ a manifest appearance
of design in placing the organ of smell in the inside of
that canal, through which the air is continually passing
in inspiration and expiration.” It has been affirmed by
Boerhaave, that the matter in animals, vegetables, fos¬
sils, &c. which chiefly aflects the sense of smelling, is
that attenuated substance, inherent in their oily parts,
called spirits; because, when this is taken away from
the most fragrant bodies, what remains has scarcely anv
smell at all ; but this, he says, if poured on the most
* e also inodorous bodies, gives them a fragrancy *. We can-
D, i- not, however, enter at present upon this inquiry.
mtuA- The sense of smell has a close alliance with that of
taste ; and it seems probable from the proximity in the
situation of their organs in all animals, that both are
principally intended to guide them in the choice of
their food 5 so that from this close connection, they are
better enabled to choose what is good for them, and to
reject what would be injurious. This is the opinion of
Dr Reid, as it was, in a very early period of the history
of philosophy, that of Socrates and of Cicero (a).
Dr Reid also remarks, that the sense of smell probably
serves the same purpose in the natural state of man ; but
it is not always a sure guide for this purpose. The or¬
gans of smell differ, like those of the other senses, ac¬
cording to the destination of the animals to which they
belong-, and we know, that this sense is in man much
less acute, than it is in many other animals. We see,
that in the choice of their food, they are guided bv the
senses of smell and of taste, except when man has brought
them into a sort of unnatural state by domestication.
And this circumstance renders it probable, that both
these senses were intended to serve the same purpose in
the natural state of our species, although less calculated
for this end than they were in the brutes, on account of
the great superiority of their smelling organs. Besides,
since it is probable that man, in the natural state, acts
more by instinct than when civilized in society, so also it
is reasonable to think, that he may possess some of the
senses, (this of smell for instance), in greater acuteness
than we do. This indeed we are assured to be a fact $
C 409 1
S M E
for we are told in tlie Histoire des Antilles, tliat tliere Smeftiii'W
are negroes who, by the smell alone, can distinguish the -y—“
footsteps of a Frenchman from those of a negro.
. se^se; °f smell is much more obtuse in man than
in some of the lower animals. Dogs we know possess a
power of smelling, of which we can scarcely form a
conception, and which, it is haopy for us we do not pos¬
sess (b) ; and birds of prey are said to possess this sense
in still greater acuteness. But although this be more
perfect, still the sense of smelling in man, who has other
means of judging of his food, &c. is such as to fit him
for deriving enjoyment from a diversity of scents, parti¬
cularly those of flowers and perfumes, to which dogs and
other animals seem perfectly insensible. It has been said,
we are aware, that some animals, the elephant for in¬
stance, are capable of this enjoyment (c) 5 but of this
fact we cannot help being very doubtful.
There is a very great sympathy between the organs
oi smell and of taste j for any defect or disease of one is
generally attended with some corresponding defect or
disease of the other. There is also a greater similarity
between the sensations of both these, than between those
of any other two senses : and hence it is, that we can
sometime tell the taste of an object from its smell, and
'vice versa. Hence also the reason why rve apply the
same epithets to the names of both these classes of sensa¬
tions j as a sweet smell or taste, &c.
It deserves also to be remarked, that both these senses
seem subservient to the preservation of the animal exist¬
ence, rather than to any other purpose. They accord¬
ingly constitute an object of the natural history of man,
rather than of intellectual or of moral philosophy. The
othe r three senses, on the contrary, seem rather intend¬
ed foi (as they certainly are essential to) our intellec¬
tual improvement, and become, of course, a proper ob¬
ject of investigation in the sciences of moral philosophy,
or metaphysics.
Die advantages derived by man and the oilier ani¬
mals from the sense of smelling are not confined to the
assistance which it affords them in the choice of their
food. Most bodies in nature, when exposed to the open
air, are constantly sending forth emanations or effluvia
of such extreme minuteness as to be perfectly invisible.
These diffuse themselves through the air, and however
noxious or salutary, would not be perceived without the
sense of smelling, which if not vitiated by unnatural
habits, is not only a faithful monitor when danger is at
hand, but conveys to us likewise the most exquisite
pleasures.
(a) Ut gustus (says a learned physiologist) cibi itineri, sic olfactus ostio viarum, quas aer subire debet, cus-
os praepomtur, momturus ne quid noxu, via quae semper patet, in corpus admittatur. Porro, ut gustus, sic quo-
que 0 tactus ad salutarem cibum invitat, a noxio aut corrupto, putrido imprimis vel rancido, deterret.”
When thou seest the mouth, through which animals take in whatever they desire, always placed near the
nose and eyes, thinkest thou not, says Socrates to Aristodemus, that this is the work of a providence.” Xeno-
pnon s Memorables, book i. chap. 4.
^ ’ie e.xc<lssi^e eagerness which dogs express on smelling their game, seems to be but little connected
vi e appetite lor food, and wholly independent of any preconceived ideas of the objects of their pursuit being
1 i°y *, • e!1Ce severa^ of them will not eat the game which they pursue with such wild impetuosity ;
y °„ vv’’c . t;ie sce”t seems to animate them to a degree of ecstasy far beyond what the desire of food can pro¬
duce. Knight on Taste. i
^1 M an .an*ma^ which, naturalists say, perfume is so agreeable and so necessary, that nature has
ovue it with a little bag stored with an exquisite odour. “ On pretend, (says Buffon), cue la mano-misff'
provided
euvre cette poche, pour se refraichir lorsqu’ ellg1 a trop chaud.”
^OL. XIX. Part II. f
On pretend, (says Buflbn), que la mangouste
3F
S M E
Smelling, pleasures. The fragrance of a rose, and of many other
"y 1 flowers, is not only pleasant, but gives a refreshing and
delightful stimulus to the whole system, whilst the odours
proceeding from hemlock, or any noxious vegetable, or
other substance, are highly offensive to our nostrils.
Hence we are naturally led to seek the one class of sen¬
sations, and to avoid the other.
In some species of animals the sense of smell seems to
be connected with certain mental sympathies, as those
of hearing and sight are in all that possess them in any
high degree : for not only their Sexual desires appear to
be excited by means of it, but other instinctive passions,
which, according to the usual system of nature, should
be still more remote from its influence. Dogs, although
wholly unacquainted with lions, will shudder at their
roar 5 and an elephant that has never seen a tiger, will
in the same manner show the strongest symptoms of
horror and affright at the smell of it. “ The late Lord
Clive (says an ingenious writer), exhibited a combat
between two of these animals at Calcutta } but the scent
of the tiger had such an effect upon the elephant, that
nothing could either force or allure him to go along the
road, where the cage in which the tiger was inclosed,
had passed, until a gallon of arrack was given him. Up¬
on this, his horror suddenly turning into iury, he broke
down the paling to get at his enemy, and killed him
without difficulty.”
If riding along a road, near which a dead horse, or
part of its carcass, happens to be lying, we know, that
our horse, although he sees it not, cannot be made to
pass the place but with difficulty. Where blood has
been shed, particularly that of their own species, oxen
will assemble, and upon smelling it, roar and bellow,
and show the most manifest signs of horror and distress.
And yet these symptoms could not arise from any as¬
sociated notions of danger or death, since they appear
in such as never had any opportunities of acquiring
them. They must therefore be instinctive, like other
instinctive antipathies and propensities. But although
in their mutual intercourse, animals make much use of
the sense of smell, still it does not seem to be further
concerned in exciting their sexual desires, than in indi¬
cating their object.
Some of those splenetic philosophers, who are ready
upon all occasions to quarrel with the constitution of na¬
ture, have taken the liberty of condemning their Maker,
because it has pleased his unfathomable wisdom to be¬
stow in some instances upon the brutes senses and in¬
stincts more perfect than he has given to man, without
reflecting that he has given to man an ample equivalent j
for it may be asked with the poet,
“ Is not his reason all these powers in one ?
“ Is Heaven unkind to man and man alone P
“ Shall he alone, whom rational w'e call,
“ Be pleased with nothing if not blessed with all.”
With respect to that unknown peculiarity of bodies,
which is the cause of our sensations of smell, the opinions
of philosophers have been very various. Until of late,
the doctrine of Descartes and Locke on this subject was
pretty generally received ; but, since the publication of
Doctor Reid’s works, his opinion, which we deem the
most correct and satisfactory, has become very popular.
We will endeavour to abridge his account of this matter.
For this purpose, let us suppose a person, who has grown
S M E
up without the sense of smell, to be immediately endowed SmelHn., I
with the use of this organ, and placed near some flowers 1 y^.
of an exquisite savour. When he examines what he feels
in such a situation, he can find no resmblance between
this new sensation, and any thing with which he is alrea¬
dy acquainted. He finds himself unable to explain its
nature, and cannot ascribe to it figure, extension, or any
known property of matter. It is a simple affection, or
feeling of mind, and, considered abstractedly, can have
no necessary connection with the nerves, the nostrils, or
effluvia, or with any thing material whatever. By the
nature of his constitution he is, however, led to refer this
peculiar sensation to the nostrils, as its organ; and when,
from experience, and by means of touch, he learns that
external objectshave the powerof exciting this sensation,
he concludes, that there must exist in bodies some un¬
known cause by which it is excited. In the first part of
this process he considers the feeling, or sensation, abstract¬
edly. As such it exists in the mind only j and cannot
exist there but when the mind is conscious of it. His
consciousness soon enables him to distinguish different
sorts of smells, all of them very distinct from one another,
but, conformably to the nature of all sensation, extreme¬
ly simple. He concludes, that each of these must have
a distinct cause ; and finding, by experience, that this
cause is an unknown something in bodies, he concludes,
that it must be a property of matter, and, for want of
another, gives it the name of smell. When he removes
an odorous body from the organ, the sensation vanishes :
when the body is again applied, the sensation is excited:
and hence it is, that he is led naturally to connect tlie
sensation with this unknown peculiarity of bodies by
which it is produced. But since we see, that the sensa¬
tion is, in a great degree, related to other objects besides
its unknown cause, to the mind in which it exists, for
instance, and to the organ which is its instrument, it
may be asked why it becomes associated in the mind with
its cause only ? The reason seems pretty obvious. No
single sensation or class of sensations, is more connected
with the mind, than any others of which it is susceptible.
Nor is the connection subsisting between the organ and
any of the sensations peculiar to it greater than that
which subsists between it and every other sensation of
which it is the inlet. Hence the connection between
the smell of an orange and the mind, or between it and
the nostrils, is very general, and cannot, in the former
instance, distinguish it from any other sensation of what¬
ever kind, nor, in the latter from any other particular
smell. But the connexion between this sensation and
the orange is peculiar and permanent $ and wre accord¬
ingly find them always associated in the mind, just as we
associate the notion of fire with the sensation of burn¬
ing. The relation which a sensation of smell, or any
sensation, bears to the mind, to an organ, or to the me¬
mory and conception of itself, is common to all sensa¬
tions. The relation which any sensation bears to its own
cause, suppose of the sensation of smell to a particular
virtue or quality of bodies, is common to it with every
other sensation, when considered with respect to its pe¬
culiar cause. And finally, a sensation of any kind bears
the same sort of relation to the memory and conception
of itself, that any other feeling or operation of mind bears
to the conception and memory of that particular feeling
or operation.
Whatever then be the nature of the minute particles
of
[ 410 ]
S M E
Smelling.^ of bodies by which our sensations of smell are excited,
•Y—' we cannot help considering their unknown cause as a
vjrtue or quality of matter. Like all other modifica¬
tions of material substance, it must be confessed, that this
can have no resemblance to the sensations of mind. But
we are not therefore, to conclude with the followers of
Les Cartes and Locke, that this secondary quality is a
mere sensation ; especially as we can readily conceive it
existing where it is not smelled, or even after supposing-
tJlP nrm i hi 1 a r\P nxm***,  i. 1 ,1 i . i ^
[ 4ii ]
S M E
universe. The existence of the sensation we know to be
momentary and fugitive} but in the existence of its cause
we can, without difficulty, or inconsistency, conceive a
permanency independent of mind and of its sensations.
The doctrine we have been illustrating has of late
been called in question by a sceptical writer, who, it ap-
m all .languages; and it is this cause which Dr Reid sup¬
poses capable of existing in the deserts of Arabia, where
there is no sentient being to perceive it. But let us hear
himself: “ We have considered smell as signifying a
sensation, feeling, or impression upon the mind ; and in
this sense it can only be in a mind or sentient being:
but it is evident that mankind give the name of smc/l
much more frequently to something which they con¬
ceive to be external, and to be a quality of body; they
Smellinc
T,0n 0rry 7,1 ‘ —gw ^ S
umverse. The ex.s.ence of the sensat.on we know to be mind, and have not the Jst diffic„lt“i," conceivi'r.he
air nprfiirrwarl \irifU « ^^ J  • i
• £ ,      ~ v., VdV-i V 1IJ liltJ
air perfumed with aromatic odours in the deserts of
Arabia, or some uninhabited island where the human
foot never trod “ The faculty of smelling is some- * Inquiry,
.  j ao ov/iur;- ^ ,
thing very different from the actual sensation of smell-ch‘iL
pears to us, has upon this occasion been entirely deficient
in his accustomed acuteness. Dr Reid’s account of this
sect. 8.
f'y, ch.
ii ;ct t.
affair seems so full, so clear and convincing, that we are
at a loss to conceive how his meaning can be misunder¬
stood ; and yet the arguments and objections of the wri¬
ter to whom we allude, derive all their plausibility from
a misinterpretation of Dr Reid’s meaning, and from a
. deviation from the established use of language. il An
Dr Retd eminent metaphysician * (says this author) has declared
that he has not the least difficulty in conceiving the air
perfumed with aromatic odours in the deserts of Arabia;
and he has decided, that the man who maintains smells
to exist only in the mind, must be mad, or must abuse
language and disgrace philosophy. There are some au¬
thors, nevertheless, who differ widely on this subject
from the learned metaphysician. Is it possible for a sen¬
sation to exist where there is no sentient? The authors
to whom I allude think it impossible.” And so, we
» ma7 tel1 this learned author, does Dr Reid, if he will
take his word for it. Of the sensation of smell he re¬
marks : “ It is indeed impossible, that it can be in any
'•il r *k.0(ty • ^t is a sensation ; and a sensation can be in a sen-
X !r~ tl5nt thing onl7 + ” Again, “ I can think of the smell
ol a rose when I do not smell it; and it is possible that
when I think of it there is no rose any where existing;
but, when 1 smell it, I am necessarily determined to be¬
lieve that the sensation really exists. This is common
to all sensations, that, as they cannot exist but in being
perceived, so they cannot be perceived but they must
exist J.” But continues this acute metaphysician, “ a
smell is nothing else than a sensation. It is a feeling,
which may be agreeable or disagreeable ; which may, as
some think, be excited by various combinations of ele¬
ments ; but which, since it is a feeling, cannot be those
elements which are said to cause it, and cannot exist
where there is no creature to perceive it. What is to
be understood, in philosophical strictness, by the per¬
fumes of the desert P We can excuse the poet when he
makes the ocean smile *, the winds dance +, and the
flowers respire J ; or even were he to perfume the de¬
sert. But the philosopher is no such magician, and had
better not wander through the regions of fancy in search
of sensations where there is no sentient.” And is it then
true that the word smell means only a sensation P A sen¬
sation is no more than an effect; it is a transient modifi¬
cation of the mind, which the mind itself can never pro¬
duce. It must then have some cause which is external
to the mind. Now, it is to this cause, and not to the
sensation, that the name is most frequently applied
t ■ d. ch.
“• 2,
* -teon.
1 l-vi-
ion.
mg ; for the faculty may remain when we have no sen-1
sation. And the mind is no less different from the fa¬
culty, for it continues the same individual being when
the faculty is lost. What is smell in the rose ? It is a
quality or virtue of the rose, or of something proceeding
from it, which we perceive by the sense of smelling;
and this is all w'e know of the matter. But what is
smelling ? It is an act of the mind, but is never imagined
to be a quality of the mind. Again, the sensation of
smelling is conceived to infer necessarily a mind or sen¬
tient being ; but smell in the rose infers no such thing.
We say, this body smells sweet and that stinks ; but we
do not say, this mind smells sweet and that stinks; there¬
fore, smell in the rose, and the sensation which it causes,
are not conceived, even by the vulgar, to be things of
the same kind, although they have the same name f.” f sect.
Ihere are some other remarks on Dr Reid’s opinion1*'
in the work upon which we have been commenting,
which we shall pass by ; we may, however, notice the
author’s concluding argument: after mentioning some
examples, he observes, “ Now in these instances we see
men and animals that must have perception of smell if
I may be permitted to say so, altogether different frLm
each other. Is not smell sensation when the spaniel finds
sport in the field for his master ; when the shark pur¬
sues through the ocean its expected victim ; and -when
the camel conducts the thirsty wanderer to a fountain of
fresh w-ater across the burning sands of the Arabian de¬
sert ? If no animal had the sensation of smell, there
would be no odour ; for aroma and oils may be thought
to be material compositions, but are neither agreeable
nor disagreeable feelings.” If men and animals difl'er in
their perceptions of smell, (and no doubt, difference of
organization will cause them to do so) the conclusion
should not be, we think, that smell is merely sensation,
but that there is actually something external which is
the cause of their sensations, and about which they differ.
A rose put to the nostrils of a man and then to those of
a dog, niay excite very different sensations; but we can¬
not think that the peculiarity of the rose, which excites
those different sensations, varies by thus changing the
position of the rose. If at table one person mistakes
mutton for beef, and another thinks that it is venison,
the conclusion may be, that it is neither venison nor
beef; but no man in his senses can conclude that there
is no meat at the table. But, “ is not smell sensation
when the spaniel finds sport for his master in the field ?”
There is sensation no doubt; but we may be permitted
to ask, what would become of the spaniel’s sensation of
smell and of his master’s sport, were there no game in
3 F 3 -the
S M E [4
Smelling, the field ? What of the shark’s sensation of smell and
t——-y—' —1 pursuit, were there no victim in the ocean ? and what
of the camel and the thirsty wanderer, were there no
fountain of fresh water in the Arabian deserts P “ The
smell of a rose signifies two things, says Dr Reid j First,
A sensation which can have no existence but when it is
perceived, and can only be in a sentient being or mind.
Secondly, It signifies some power, quality, or virtue, in
the rose, or in effluvia proceeding from it, which hath
a permanent existence independent of the mind •, and
which, by the constitution of nature, produces the sen¬
sation in us. By the original constitution of our nature
we are both led to believe that there is a permanent
cause of the sensation, and prompted to seek after it j
and experience determines us to place it in the rose.
The names of all smells, tastes, sounds, as well as heat
and cold, have a like ambiguity in all languages^ but it
deserves our attention, that these names are but rarely,
in common language, used to signify the sensations; for
the most part, they signify the external qualities which
* Inquiry, are indicated by the sensations*. We have been induced
eliap ii. t[iug to discuss this topic at some length, because we re-
sect. p. gretted to see ^e*d’s opinion and reasoning misre¬
presented; and we shall now conclude, not as this mo¬
dern Berkleian does, “ that, if no animal bad the sen¬
sation of smell, there would be no odour;” but, if that
there were no odour or external cause of smell, no ani¬
mal would have this sensation.
The sense of smell becomes sometimes too acute,
either in consequence of some defect or disease of the
organ, or from too great a sensibility of the whole ner¬
vous system, such as we sometimes observe in fevers, in
phrenitis, and in hysterical diseases. It is however more
frequently blunted in consequence of alfections of the
brain and nerves, arising from blows on the head, or
from internal causes; or this may happen on account of
too great a dryness of the organ, owing to a suppression
of the accustomed humours, or to their being conveyed
oil’ by some other channel : or it may arise from too
great a quantity of tears and of mucus choking up the
nostrils. We have instances of both in cases of common
cold, in which, at the beginning of the disease, the nos¬
trils are dry, but as it advances, begin to discharge a
great deal of humour, or become obstructed by a thick
mucus. Whatever hinders the free entrance of the air
into the nostrils or its passage through them, must also
injure the sense of smell. It is also sometimes so de¬
praved as to perceive smells when there is no odorous
body present, or to perceive smells different from those
that are really present. Some of the particles of the
odorous effluvia, after having remained for some time in
the caverns of the nostrils, issuing forth again and affect¬
ing the organ, will sometimes cause this species of false
perception, even in the most healthy persons.
The sense of smelling may be diminished or destroy¬
ed by diseases; as by the moisture, dryness, inflamma¬
tion, or suppuration of the olfactory membrane, the com¬
pression of the nerves which supply it, or some fault in
the brain itself at their origin. A defect, or too great
a degree of solidity of the small spongy bones of the up¬
per jaw, the caverns of the forehead, &c. may likewise
impair this sense ; and it may be also injured by a col¬
lection of fetid matter in these caverns, which is conti-
nnally exhaling from them, and also by immoderate use
of snuff. When the nose abounds with moisture, after
- 1
2 ] SMI
gentle evacuations, such things as tend to take of? irri- Smells
tation and coagulate the thin sharp serum may be ap- || ^
plied ; as the oil of anise mixed with fine flour, cam- Smith
phor dissolved in oil of almonds, &c. the vapours of am- '—‘"V—J
her, frankincense, gum-mastic, and benjamin, may like¬
wise be received into the nose and mouth. For moist¬
ening the mucus when it is too dry, some recommend
snuff made of the leaves of marjoram, mixed with oil of
amber, marjoram, and aniseed; or a sternutatory" of cal¬
cined white vitriol, twelve grains of which may be mix¬
ed with two ounces of marjoram water and filtrated.
The steam of vinegar upon hot iron, and received up
the nostrils, is also of use for softening the mucus, re¬
moving obstructions, &c. If there be an ulcer in the
nose, it ought to be dressed with some emollient oint¬
ment, to which, if the pain be very great, a little lau¬
danum may be added. If it be a venereal ulcer, 12
grains of corrosive sublimate may be dissolved in a pint
and a half of brandy, a table spoonful of which may be
taken twice a-day. The ulcer ought likewise to be
washed with it, and the fumes of cinnabar may be re¬
ceived up the nostrils.
If there be reason to suspect thatthe nerves which sup¬
ply the organs of smelling are inert, or want stimulating,
volatile salts, or strong snuffs, and other things which oc¬
casion sneezing, may be applied to the nose ; the fore¬
head may likewise he anointed with balsam of Peru, to
which may be added a little oil of amber.
SMELT. See Salmo, Ichthyology Index.
SMELTING, in Metallurgy, the fusion or melting
of the ores of metals, in order to separate the metalline
part from the earthy, stony, and other parts. See Ores,
Reduction of.
SMEW. See Mergus, Ornithology Index.
SMILAX, Rough Bindweed, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of dixeia and order of hexandna}
and in the natural system ranging under the 11th or¬
der, Sarmentacece. See Botany and Materia Me¬
dic a Index.
SMITH, Sir Thomas, was born at Walden in Es¬
sex in 1512. At 14 he was sent to Queen’s college
Cambridge, where he distinguished himself so much,
that be was made Henry VIII.’s scholar, together with
John Cheke. He was chosen a fellow of his col¬
lege in 1531, and appointed two years after to read
the public Greek lecture. The common mode of read¬
ing Greek at that time was very faulty ; the same sound
being given to the letters and diphthongs, t, »j, v, u, vi.
Mr Smith and Mr Cheke had been for some time sensible
that this pronunciation was wrong : and alter a good
deal of consultation and research, they agreed to intro¬
duce that mode of reading which prevails at present.
Mr Smith ivas lecturing on Aristotle de Republica in
Greek. At first he dropped a word or two at inter¬
vals in the new pronunciation, and sometimes he would
stop as if he had committed a mistake, and correct him¬
self. No notice was taken ot this for two or three
days; but as he repeated more frequently, his audience
began to wonder at the unusual sounds, and atlastsome
of bis fiiends mentioned to him what they bad remark¬
ed. He owned that something was in agitation, but
that it was not yet sufficiently digested to be made pub¬
lic. They entreated him earnestly to discover his pro¬
ject: be did so; and in a short time great numbers re¬
sorted to him for information. The new pronunciation
was
S M I
[ 4
was adopted with enthusiasm, and soon became univer¬
sal at Cambridge. It was afterwards opposed by Bi¬
shop Gardiner the chancellor $ but its superiority to
the old mode was so visible, that in a few years it
spread over all England.
IS39 he travelled into foreign countries and stu¬
died for some time in the universities of France and Ita¬
ly. On his return he was made regius professor of ci¬
vil law at Cambridge. About this time be published a
treatise on the mode of pronouncing English. He was
useful likewise in promoting the reformation. Having
gone into the family of the duke of Somerset, the pro¬
tector during the minority of Edward VI. be was em¬
ployed by that nobleman in public aflairs ; and in i 548
was made secretary of state, and received the honour of
knighthood. While that nobleman continued in office,
he was sent ambassador, first to Brussels and afterwards
to France.
Upon Mary’s accession he lost all his places, but was
fortunate enough to preserve the friendship of Gardiner
and Bonner. He was exempted from persecution, and
was allowed, probably by their influence, a pension of
tool. During Elizabeth’s reign be was employed in
public affairs, and was sent three times by that prin¬
cess as her ambassador to France. He died in 1577.
His abilities were excellent, anti bis attainments un¬
commonly great: He was a philosopher, a physician, a
chemist, mathematician, linguist, historian, and archi¬
tect. He wrote, 1. A treatise called the English Com¬
monwealth. 2. A letter De Recta et Emendata Lin-
guce Grcecce Pronunciatione. 3. De Moribus Turca-
rum. 4. De Druidum Moribus.
Smith, Edmund, an English poet, the only son of
Mr Neale an eminent merchant, by a daughter of Ba¬
ron Lechmere, was horn in 1668. By his father’s death
he was left young to the care of Mr Smith, who had
married his father’s sister, and who treated him with so
much tenderness, that at the death ol his generous guar¬
dian he assumed his name. His writings are not many,
and those are scattered about in miscellanies and collec¬
tions : his celebrated tragedy of Phaedra and Hippolitus
was acted in 17°7> ant^ being introduced at a time
when the Italian opera so much engrossed the polite
world, gave Mr Addison, who wrote the prologue, an
opportunity to rally the vitiated taste of the public.
However, notwithstanding the esteem it has always
been held in, it is perhaps rather to he considered as a
fine poem than as a good play. This tragedy, with a
Poem to the memory of Mr John Philips, three or four
Odes, with a Latin oration spoken at Oxford in lau-
dem Thomee Bodleii, were published as his works by
his friend Mr Oldisworth. Mr Smith died in 1710,
sunk into indolence and intemperance by poverty and
disappointments: the hard fate of many a man of ge¬
nius.
Smith, John, an excellent mezzotinter, flourished
about 17005 but neither the time of his birth nor
death is accurately known. He united softness with
strength, and finished with freedom. He served his
time with one Tillet a painter in Moorfields ; and as
soon as he became his own master, learned from Becket
the secret of mezzotinto, and being farther instructed
by Van der Vaart, was taken to work in Sir Godfrey
Kneller’s house 5 and as he was to be the publisher of
that master’s works, doubtless received considerable hints
13 ] SMI
Irom him, which he amply repaid. “ To posteiity per- ' Smith.
haps his prints (says Mr Walpole) will carry an idea of v—^
something burlesque ; perukes of an enormous length lVe'lp°fe's
flowing over suits of armour, compose wonderful habits.
It is equally strange that fashion could introduce thei-ers. ^
one, and establish the practice of representing the other
when it was out oi fashion. Smith excelled in exhibi¬
ting both, as he found them in the portraits of Knel-
ler, who was less happy in what he substituted to ar¬
mour. In the Kit-cat club he has poured full bottoms
chiefly over night-gowns. If those streams of hair were
incommode in a battle, I know nothing (he adds) they
were adapted to that can he done in a night-gown.
Smith composed two large volumes, with proofs of his
own plates, for which he asked 50I. His finest works
are Duke Schomberg on horseback ; that duke’s son
and successor Maynhard : the earls of Pembroke, Dor¬
set, and Albemarle; three plates with two figures in
each, of young persons or children, in which he shone:
W illiam Cowper j Gibbons and his wife5 Queen Anne 5
the duke of Gloucester, a whole length, with a flower¬
pot ; a very curious one of Queen Mary, in a high head,
fan, and gloves; the earl of Godolphin ; the duchess of
Ormond, a whole length, with a black ; Sir George
Hooke, &c. There is a print by him of James II. with
an anchor, but no inscription ; which not being finished
when the king went away, is so scarce that it is some¬
times sold for above a guinea. Smith also performed
many historic pieces : as the loves of the gods, from
Titian, at Blenheim, in ten plates; Venus standing in a
shell, from a picture by- Corregio, and many more, of
which perhaps the most delicate is the holy family with
angels, after Carlo Maratti.”
Smith, Dr Adam, the celebrated author of the Philosophi-
Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth ofc«^ Trajis-
Nations, was the only son of Adam Smith comptroller”'^0”* °/
of the customs at Kirkaldy, and of M argaret Douglas
daughter of Mr Douglas of Strathenry. He was born Edwhu/glb,
at Kirkaldy on the 5th June 1723, a few months after vol. iii. *
the death of his father. His constitution during his
infancy was infirm and sickly, and required all the care
of his surviving parent. When only three years old ho
was carried by his mother to Strathenry on a visit to
his uncle Mr Douglas ; and happening one day to he
amusing himself alone at the door of the house, he was
stolen by a party of those vagrants who in Scotland are
called tinkers. Luckily he was missed immediately, and
the vagrants pursued and overtaken in Leslie wood j
and thus Dr Smith was preserved to extend the bounds
of science, and reform the commercial policy of Eu¬
rope.
He received the rudiments of his education in the
school of Kirkaldy under David Miller, a teacher of
considerable eminence, and whose name deserves to be
recorded on account of the great number of eminent
men whicli that seminary produced while under his di¬
rection. Dr Smith, even while at school, attracted no¬
tice by his passionate attachment to books, and by the
extraordinary powers of his memory; while his friend¬
ly and generous disposition gained and secured the af¬
fection of his schoolfellows. Even then he was remark¬
able for those habits which remained with him through
life, of speaking to himself when alone and of absence
in company. He was sent in 1737 ^le university of
Glasgow, where he remained till 1740, when he went
to
S M I r 4
to BalJol college Oxford, as an exhibitioner on Snell’s
foundation. His favourite pursuits while at the uni¬
versity were mathematics and natural philosophy. Af¬
ter his removal to England he frequently employed him¬
self in translating, particularly from the French, with a
view to the improvement of his own style: a practice
which he often recommended to all who wished to cul¬
tivate the art of composition. It was probably then al¬
so that he applied himself with the greatest care to the
study of languages, of which, both ancient and modern,
his knowledge was uncommonly extensive and accu¬
rate.
After seven years residence at Oxford he returned to
Kirkaldy, and lived two years with his mother without
any fixed plan for his future life. He had been design¬
ed for the church of England •, but disliking the eccle¬
siastical profession, he resolved to abandon it altogether,
and to limit his ambition to the prospect of obtaining
some of those preferments to which literary attainments
lead in Scotland. In 1748 he fixed his residence in E-
dinburgh, and for three years read a course of lectures
on rhetoric and belles lettres under the patronage of
Lord Kames. In 1751 he was elected professor of lo¬
gic in the university of Glasgow, and the year follow¬
ing was removed to the professorship of moral phi¬
losophy, vacant by the death of Mr Thomas Craigie,
the immediate successor of Hr Hutcheson. In this si¬
tuation he remained 13 years, a period he used frequent¬
ly to look back to as the most useful part of his life.
His lectures on moral philosophy were divided into four
parts : The first contained natural theology ; in which
he considered the proofs of the being and attributes of
God, and those truths on which religion is founded :
the second comprehended ethics, strictly so called, and
consisted chiefly of those doctrines which he afterwards
published in his theory of moral sentiments : in the
third part he treated more at length of that part of mo¬
rality called ; and which, being susceptible of
precise and accurate rules, is for that reason capable of
a full and accurate explanation : in the last part of his
lectures he exartiined those political regulations which
are founded, not upon the principle of justice, but of
expediency ; and which are calculated to increase the
riches, the power, and the prosperity of a* state. Un¬
der this view he considered the political institutions re¬
lating to commerce, to finances, to ecclesiastical and
military governments : this contained the substance of
.his Wealth of Nations. In delivering his lectures he
■ trusted almost entirely to extemporary elocution : his
manner was plain and unaffected, and hp never failed to
interest his hearers. His reputation soon rose very high,
and many students resorted to the university merely up¬
on his account.
When his acquaintance with Mr Hume first com¬
menced is uncertain ; but it had ripened into friendship
before the year 1752.
In 1759 he published his Theory of Moral Senti¬
ments ; a work which deservedly extended his reputa¬
tion : for, though several of its conclusions be ill-
founded, it must be allowed by all to be a singular ef¬
fort of invention, ingenuity, and subtilty. Besides, it
contains a great mixture of important truth ; and,
though the author has sometimes been misled, he has had
the merit of directing the attention of philosophers to a
view of human nature, which had formerly in a great
4 ] -S MI
measure escaped their notice. It abounds everywhere Smiil!,
with the purest and most elevated maxims concerning'——y—.
the practical conduct of life 5 and when the subject of
his work leads him to address the imagination and the
heart, the variety and felicity of his illustrations, the
richness and fluency of his eloquence, and the skill with
which he wins the attention and commands the passions
of his readers, leave him among our British moralists
without a rival.
Towards the end of 1763 Hr Smith received an in¬
vitation from Mr Charles Townsend to accompany the
duke of Buccleugh on his travels; and the liberal
terms in which this proposal was made induced him to
resign his office at Glasgow. He joined the duke of
Buccleugh at London early in the year 1764, and set
out with him for the continent in the month of March
following. After a stay of about ten days at Paris,
they proceeded to Thoulouse, where they fixed their
residence for about 18 months j thence they went
by a pretty extensive route through the south of 1 ranee
to Geneva, where they passed two months. About
Christmas 1765 they returned to Paris, and remained
; there till' October following. The society in which
Hr Smith passed these ten months may be conceived iu
consequence of the recommendation of Mr Hume. Tur¬
got, Quesnai, Necker, d’Alembert, Helvetius, Mar-
montel, Madame Biccoboni, were among the number
of his acquaintances 3 and some of them he continued
ever after to reckon among the number of his friends.
In October 1766 the duke of Buccleugh returned to
'England.
Hr Smith spent the next ten years of his life with
his mother at Kirkaldy, occupied habitually in intense
study, but unbending his mind at times in the company
of some of his old schoolfellows, who still continued to
•reside near the place of their birth. In 177^ ^ie Pu^"
dished his Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the
Wealth of Nations ; a book so universally known, that
• any panegyric on it would be useless. The variety, im¬
portance, and (may we not add), novelty, of the infor¬
mation which it contains ; the skill and comprehensive¬
ness of mind displayed in the arrangement; the admir¬
able illustrations with which it abounds 3 together with
a plainness and perspicuity which make it intelligible
to all—render it unquestionably the most perfect work
which has yet appeared on the general principles of any
branch of legislation.
He spent the next two years of his life in London,
where he enjoyed the society of some of the most emi¬
nent men of the age : but he removed to Edinburgh in
1778, in consequence of having been appointed, at the
request of the duke of Buccleugh, one of the commis¬
sioners of the customs in Scotland. Here he spent the
last twelve years of his life in an affluence which was
more than equal to all his wants. But his studies seem¬
ed entirely suspended till the infirmities of old age re¬
minded him, when it was too late, of what he yet owed
to the public and to his own fame. The principal mate¬
rials of the works which he had announced had long
ago been collected, and little probably was wanting but
a few years of health and retirement to complete them.
The death of his mother, who had accompanied him t«
Edinburgh in 1784, together with that of his .cousin
Miss Houglas in 1788, contributed to frustrate these
projects. They had been the objects of his affection
S M O [ <
•llth' for m0re than 60 years, and in their society he had en-
j joyed from his infancy all that he ever knew of the en-
Sl<ke' , dearments of a family. He was now alone and help-
T less ; and though he bore his loss with equanimity, and
regained apparently his former cheerfulness, yet his
health and strength gradually declined till the period
of his death, which happened in July 1790. Some
days before his death he ordered all his papers to be
burnt except a few essays, which have since been pub¬
lished.
Of the originality and comprehensiveness of his views;
the extent, the variety, and the correctness of his infor¬
mation; the inexhaustible fertility of his invention he
has left behind him lasting monuments. To his private
worth, the most certain of all testimonies may be found
in that confidence, respect, and attachment, which fol¬
lowed him through all the various relations of life. He
was habitually absent in conversation, and was apt
when he spoke to deliver his ideas in the form of a lec¬
ture. He was rarely known to start a new topic him¬
self, or to appear unprepared upon those topics that were
introduced by others. In his external form and appear¬
ance there was nothing uncommon. When perfectly at
ease, and when warmed with conversation, his gestures
were animated and not ungraceful ; and in the society
of those he loved, his features were often brightened by
a smile of inexpressible benignity. In the company of
strangers, his tendency to absence, and perhaps still
more his consciousness of that tendency, rendered his
manners somewhat embarrassed ; an effect which was
probably not a little heightened by those speculative
ideas of propriety which his recluse habits tended at
once to perfect in his conception, and to diminish his
power of realizing.
SMITHIA, a genus of plants belonging to the dia-
delphia class; and in the natural method ranking under
the 3 2d order, Pupilmnacece. See Botany Index.
SMUHERY, a smith’s shop; also the art of a smith,
by which iron is wrought into any shape by means of
fire, hammering, filing, &c.
8MIT. ING-line, in a ship, is a small rope fastened
to the mizen-yard-arm, below at the deck, and is always
furled up with the mizen-sail, even to the upper end
of the yard, and thence it comes down to the poop.
Its use is to loose the mizen-sail without striking down
the yard, which is easily done, because the mizen-sail
is furled up only with rope-yarns ; and therefore when
I this rope is pulled hard, it breaks all the rope-yarns,
and so the sail falls down of itself. The sailor’s phrase is,
smite the mi'zen (whence this,rope takes its name), that
is, hale by this rope that the sail may fall down.
SMOKE, a dense elastic vapour, arising from burn¬
ing bodies. As this vapour is extremely disagreeable
i to the senses, and often prejudicial to the health, man¬
kind have fallen upon several contrivances to enjoy the
benefit of fire, without being annoyed by smoke. The
most universal of these contrivances is a tube leading
from the chamber in which the fire is kindled to the
top of the building, through which the smoke ascends,
and is dispersed into the atmosphere. These tubes are
called chimneys ; which, when constructed in a proper
manner, carry off the smoke entirely; but, when im¬
properly constructed, they carry off the smoke imper¬
fectly, to the great annoyance of the inhabitants. As
our masons at present seem to have a very imperfect
ns I s m o
knowledge of the manner in which chimneys ought to Sn oke,
be built, we can hardly perform a more acceptable ser- v■■■' f j
vice to the public than to point out the manner in
which they ought to be constructed, so as to carry off
the smoke entirely; as welt as to explain the causes
from which the defects so often complained of generally
proceed, and the method of removing them.
Those who would be acquainted with this subject, Tirtmac-
should begin by considering on what principle smoke Horn of'the
ascends in any chimney. At first many are apt to think -dmerican
that smoke is in its nature, and of itself, specifically
lighter than air, and rises in it for the same reason that^ ocu^‘
cork rises in water. These see no cause why smoke
should not rise in the chimney though the room be ever
so close. Others think there is a power in chimneys to
i/mjo up the smoke, and that there are different forms
of chimneys which afford more or less of this power.
I hese amuse themselves with searchingTor the best form.
The equal dimensions of a funnel in its whole length is
not thought artificial enough, and it is made, for fancied
reasons, sometimes tapering and narrowing from below
upwards, and sometimes the contrary, &c. &c. A
simple experiment or two may serve to give more cor¬
rect ideas. Having lighted a pipe of tobacco, jrlunge
the stem to the bottom of a decanter half filled with
cold water; then putting a rag over the bowl, blow
through it, and make the smoke descend in the stem of
the pipe, from the end of which it will rise in bubbles
through the water ; and being thus cooled, will not af¬
terwards rise to go out through the neck of the decan¬
ter, but remain spreading itself and resting on the sur¬
face of the water. This shows that smoke is really hea¬
vier than air, and that it is carried upwards only when
attached to or acted upon by air that is heated, and.
thereby rarefied and rendered specifically lighter than
the air in its neighbourhood.
Smoke being rarely seen but in company with heat-,
ed air, and its upward motion being visible, though that
of the rarefied air that drives it is not so, has naturally
given rise to the error. It is now well known that air
is a fluid which has weight as well as others, though
about 800 times lighter than water ; that heat makes,
the particles of air recede from each other, and take up
more space, so that the same weight of air heated will-
have more bulk than equal weights of cold air which
may surround it, and in that case must rise, being forced,
upwards by such colder and heavier air, which presses
to get under it and take its place. That air is so ra-.
refied or expanded by heat, may be proved to their com¬
prehension by a lank blown bladder, which laid before
a fire, will soon swell, grow tight, and burst.
Another experiment may be to take a glass tube '
about an inch in diameter, and 12 inches long, open at p}au
both ends, and fixed upright on legs so that it need not ccccxcvu,
be handled, for the hands might warm it. At the end
of a quill fasten five or six inches of the finest light fila¬
ment of silk, so that it may be, held either above the
upper end of the tube or under the lower end, your
warm hand being at a distance by the length of the
quill. If there were any motion of air through the
tube, it would manifest itself by its effect on the silk;
but if the tube and the air in it are of the same tempe¬
rature with the surrounding air, there will be no such
motion, whatever may be the form of the tube, whether
crooked or straight, narrow below and widening up-
wards,
S M O [ 416 ] S M O
Smoke. War^s, or the contrary, the air in it will be quiescent.
——v—' Warm the tube, and vou will find as long as it continues
warm, a constant current of air entering below and pas¬
sing up through it till discharged at the top •, because
the warmth of the tube being communicated to the air
it contains, rarefies that air, and makes it lighter than
the air without; which therefore presses in below, forces
it upwards, follows and takes its place, and is rarefied
in its turn. And, without warming the tube, if you
hold under it a knob of hot iron, the air thereby heat¬
ed will rise and fill the tube, going out at its top j and
this motion in the tube will continue as long as the
knob remains hot, because the air entering the tube be¬
low, is heated and rarefied by passing near and over
that knob.
That this motion is produced merely by the difference
of specific gravity between the fluid within and that
without the tube, and not by any fancied form of the
tube itself, may appear by plunging it into water con¬
tained in a glass jar a foot deep, through which such
motion might be seen. The water within and without
the tube being of the same specific gravity, balance
each other, and both remain at rest. But take out the
tube, stop its bottom with a finger, and fill it with olive
oil, which is lighter than water ; then stopping the
top, place it as before, its lower end under water, its
top a very little above. As long as you keep the bot¬
tom stopped the fluids remain at rest; but the moment
it is unstopt, the heavier enters below, forces up the
lighter, and takek its place : and the motion then ceases,
merely because the new fluid cannot he successively
made lighter, as air may he by a warm tube.
In fact, no form of the funnel of a chimney has any
share in its operation or effect respecting smoke except
its height. The longer the funnel, if erect, the greater
its force when filled with heated and rarefied air to
draw in below and drive up the smoke, if one may, in
compliance with custom, use the expression draw, when
in fact it is the superior weight of the surrounding at¬
mosphere that pressed to enter the funnel below, and
so drives up before it the smoke and warm air it meets
with in its passage.
What is it then which makes a smoky chimney, that
is, a chimney which, instead of conveying up all the
smoke, discharges a part of it into the room, offending
the eyes and damaging the furniture ?
The causes of this effect may be reduced to nine, dif¬
fering from each other, and therefore requiring different
remedies.
1. Smoky chimneys in a new house are such frequently
from mere want of air. The workmanship of the rooms
being all good, and just out of the workman’s hands, the
joints of the boards of the flooring, and of the pannels
of wainscotting, are all true and tight *, the more so as
the walls, perhaps not yet thoroughly dry, preserve a
dampness in the air of the room which keeps the wood¬
work swelled and close. The doors and the sashes too,
being worked with truth, shut with exactness, so that
the room is as tight as a snuff-box, no passage being
left open for air to enter except the key-hole, and even
that is sometimes covered by a little dropping shutter.
Now if smoke cannot rise but as connected with rare¬
fied air, and a column of such air, suppose it filling the
funnel, cannot rise unless other air be admitted to sup¬
ply its place j and if therefore no current of air enter
the opening of the chimney—there is nothing to prevent Smoke,
the smoke from coming out into the room. It the motion “y—J u>
upwards of the air in a chimney that is freely supplied
he observed by the rising of the smoke or a feather in
it, and it be considered that in the time such feather
takes in rising from the fire to the top of the chimney,
a column of air equal to the content of the funnel must
be discharged, and an equal quantity supplied from the
room below, it will appear absolutely impossible that
this operation should go on if the tight room is kept
shutfor were there any force capable ol drawing con¬
stantly so much air out of it, it must soon be exhausted
like the receiver of an air-pump, and no animal could
live in it. Those therefore who stop every crevice in a
room to prevent the admission of fresh air, and yet would
have their chimney carry up the smoke, require incon¬
sistencies, and expect impossibilities, et under this si¬
tuation it is not uncommon to see the owner of a new
house in despair, and ready to sell it for much less than
it cost; conceiving it uninhabitable because not a chim¬
ney in any one of its rooms will carry off the smoke un¬
less a door or window be left open. Much expence
has also been made to alter and amend new chimneys
which bad really no fault : in one house particularly
which Dr Franklin knew that belonged to a nobleman
in Westminster, that expence amounted to no less than
300!. after his house had been, as he thought, finished
and all charges paid. And alter all, several of the al¬
terations were ineffectual, for want ol understanding
the true principles.
Remedies. When you find on trial that opening the
door or a window enables the chimney to carry up all
the smoke, you may he sure that want ol air from with¬
out is the cause of its smoking. “ I say from with¬
out, (adds Dr Franklin), to guard you against a com¬
mon mistake of those who may tell you the mom is
large, contains abundance of air sufficient to supply any
chimney, and therefore it cannot be. that the chimney
wants air. These reasoners are ignorant that the large¬
ness of a room, if tight, is in this case of small import¬
ance, since it cannot part with a chimneyfull of its air
without occasioning so much vacuum •, which it requires
a great force to effect, and could not be borne if ef¬
fected.”
It appearing plainly then, that some of the outward
air must be admitted, the question will be, how much
is absolutely necessary ? for you would avoid admitting
more, as being contrary to one of your intentions m
having a fire, viz. that of warming your room. To
discover this quantity, shut the door gradually while a
middling fire is burning, till you find that before it is
quite shut the smoke begins to come out into the room1,
then open it a little till you perceive the smoke comes
oat no longer. There hold the door, and observe the
width of the open crevice between the edge of the door
and the rabbet it should shut into. Suppose the dis¬
tance to be half an inch, and the door eight feet high 5
you find thence that your room requires an entrance
for air equal in area to 96 half inches, or 4^ S(]uare
inches, or a passage of 6 inches by 8. 1 his, however,
is a large supposition j there being few chimneys that,
having a moderate opening and a tolerable height 0
funnel, will not be satisfied with such a crevice 0 a
quarter of an inch : Dr Franklin found a square 0
by 6, or 36 square inches, to be pretty good medium
S M O [ 417 ] SMO
woke, that will serve for most chimneys. High funnels with going up a ladder till tliplr I 7 .1
v—^ small and low openings may indeed be supplied throuirh Ti ; P 11 r ^ea<ls are near the ceiling.
a less space ; because, for reasons that willappear 1 ert ti v 0 o'utvvarT^ •1S ZT ^ ^ ^ ^Uan
after, the force of levity, if one may so speak beTno- V u l' ^ bfSl admitted» with which being
greater in such funnels, the cool air enters the room niinV V C° ( T3!* 13 abated’ and lts inconvenience di-
with greater velocity, an’d conseque" ly n, r e,<3Z b " ; ' 1“ £ T™ T" Thk
the same time. This, however, has its limits • for ,4" ^ ™! b? dlaW!^ ‘,0',n about »" “eh the upper
perience shows, that no increased velocity so occasioned a crevLe throuch’its'frame’- ^T^’l l’y,CM,W". “u:l'
Smoke.
the key-hole with great rapidity.
It lemams then to be considered, how and where
this necessary quantity of air from without is to be ad¬
mitted so as to be least inconvenient: for if at the door,
lett so much open, the air thence proceeds directly to
the chimney, and in its way comes cold to your back
and heels as you sit before your fire. If you keep the
door sliut, and raise a little the sash of your window,
yon teel the same inconvenience. \ arious have been
the contrivances to avoid this j such as bringing in fresh
air through pipes in the jams of the chimney, which
pointing upwards should blow the smoke up the funnel}
opening passages into the funnel above, to let in air for
the same purpose. But these produce an effect con-
trary to that intended : for as it is the constant current
of air passing from the room through the opening of the
chimney into the funnel which prevents the smoke from
coming out into the room, if you supply the funnel by
othei means or in other ways with the air which it
wants, and especially if that air be cold, you diminish
the force of that current, and the smoke in its efforts to
enter the room finds less resistance.
Tfie Wanted air must then indispensably be admitted
into the room, to supply what goes off through the
opening of the chimney. M. Gauger, a very ingenious
and intelligent French writer on the subject, proposes
with judgment to admit it above the opening of the
chimney ; and to prevent inconvenience from its cold¬
ness, he directs that it may be so made, that it shall
pass in its entrance through winding cavities made be¬
hind the iron hack and sides of the fire-place, and un¬
der the iron hearth-plate } in which cavities it will be
Warmed, and even heated, so as to contribute much, in¬
stead of cooling, to the warming of the room. This
invention is excellent in itself, and may be used with
advantage in building new houses } because the chim¬
neys may then be so disposed as to admit conveniently
toe cold ai^ to enter such passages : but in houses built
without such views, the chimneys are often so situated
as not to afford that convenience without great and ex¬
pensive alterations. Fasy and cheap methods, though
not quite so perfect in themselves, are of more general
utility} and such are the following.
In all rooms where there is a fire, the body of air
warmed and rarefied before the chimney is continually
changing place, and making room for other air that is
to be warmed in its turn. Part of it enters and goes
up the chimney, and the rest rises and takes place near
the ceiling. If the room be lofty* that warm air re-
niains above our heads as long as it continues warm,
and we are little benefited by it, because it does not
descend till it is cooler. Few can imagine the difference
of climate between the upper and lower parts of such a
room, who have not tried it by the thermometer, or bv
VOL. XIX. Part II. t
. . j o —  * wtiiiuy. in some
houses the air may be admitted by such a crevice made
in the wainscot, cornice, or plastering, near the ceiling
and over tue opening of the chimney. This, if practi¬
cable, is to be chosen, because the entering cold air
will there meet with the warmest rising air from before
the nre, and be soonest tempered by the mixture. The
same kind of shelf should also be placed here. Another t •
way, and not a very difficult one, is to take out an up- ^
per pane of glass in one of your sashes, set it in a tin
frame, giving it two springing angular sides, and then
replacing it, with hinges below on which it may lie
turned to open more or less above. It will then have
the appearance of an internal sky-light. By drawing
this pane in, more or less, you may admit what air you
hnd necessary. Its position will naturally throw that
air up and along the ceiling. This is what is called in
Irance a Vc/s ist das? As this is a German question,
the invention is probably of that nation, and takes its
name from the frequent asking of that question when it
first appeared. In England some have of late years cut
a round hole about five inches diameter in a pane of the
sash, and placed against it a circular plate of tin hung 0n
an axis, and cut into vanes} which, being separately
bent a little obliquely, are acted upon by the enterino-
air, so as to force the plate continually round like the
vanes of a windmill. This admits the outward air,
and by the continual whirling of the vanes, does in
some degree disperse it. The noise only is a little in¬
convenient.
2. A second cause of the smoking of chimneys Is,
their openings in the room being too large; that is, too
wide, too high, or Loth. Architects in general have no
other ideas of proportion in the opening of a chimney
than what relate to symmetry and beauty respecting the
dimensions of the room } while its true proportion re¬
specting its function and utility depends on quite other
pi inciples; and they might as properly proportion the
step in a staircase to the height of the story, instead of
the natural elevation of men’s legs in mounting. The
proportion then to be regarded, is what relates to the
height of the funnel. For as the funnels in the different
stories of a house are necessarily of diflerent heights or
lengths, that from the lowest floor being the highest or
longest, and those of the other floors shorter and shorter,
till we come to those in the garrets, which are of course
the shortest} and the force of draft being, as already
said, in proportion to the height of funnel filled with ra¬
refied air, and a current of air from the room into the
chimney, sufficient to fill the opening, being necessary
to oppose and prevent the smoke from coming out into
the room} it follows, that the openings of the longest
funnels may be larger, and that those of the shorter fun¬
nels should be smaller. For if there be a large opening
to a chimney that does not draw strongly, the funnel
3 G may
S-mofee.
S M O [41
mav happen to be furnished with the air which it de¬
mands by a partial current entering on one side ot the
opening, and leaving the other side free of any opposing
current, may permit the smoke to issue there into the
room. Much too of the force of draft in a funnel de¬
pends on the degree of rarefaction in the air it contains,
and that depends on the nearness to the fire of its pas¬
sage in entering the funnel. If it can enter lar from
the fire on each side, or far above the fire, in a wide or
high opening, it receives little heat in passing by the
fire, and the contents of the funnel are by those means
less different in levity from the surrounding atmosphere,
and its force in drawing consequently weaker. Hence
if too large an opening be given to chimneys in upper
rooms, those rooms will be smoky : On the other hand,
if too small openings be given to chimneys in the
lower rooms, the entering air operating too directly and
violently on the fire, and afterwards strengthening the
draft as it ascends the funnel, will consume the fuel too
rapidly.
Remedy. As different circumstances frequently mix
themselves in these matters, it is difficult to give precise
dimensions for the openings of all chimneys. Our fa¬
thers made them generally much too large : we have
lessened them ; but they are often still of greater di¬
mensions than they should be, the human eye not being
easily reconciled to sudden and great changes. If you
suspect that your chimney smokes from the too great di¬
mension of its opening, contract it by placing moveable
boards so as to lower aqd narrow it gradually till you
find the smoke no longer issues into the room. The pro¬
portion so found will he that which is proper for that
chimney, and you may employ the bricklayer or mason
to reduce it accordingly. However, as in building new
bouses something must be sometimes hazarded, Dr
Franklin proposes to make the openings in the lower
rooms about 30 inches square and 1 8 deep, and those in
the upper only 18 inches square and not quite so deep ;
the intermediate ones diminishing in proportion as the
height of the funnel is diminished. In the larger open¬
ings, billets of two feet long, or half the common length
of cordwood, may he burnt conveniently ; and for the
smaller, such wood may be sawed into thirds. \\ here
coals are the fuel, the grates will be p;oportioned to the
openings. The same depth is nearly necessary to all,
the funnels being all made of a size proper to admit a
chimney-sweeper. If in large and elegant rooms cus¬
tom or fancy should require the appearance of a larger
chimney, it may be formed of expensive marginal de¬
corations, in marble, &c. But in time perhaps, that
which is fittest in the nature of things may come to be
thought handsomest.
3. Another cause of smoky chimneys is too short a
funnel. This happens necessarily in some cases, as
where a chimney is required in a low building j for, if
the funnel be raised high above the roof, in order to
strengthen its draft, it is then in danger of being blown
down, and crushing the roof in its fall.
Remedies. Contract the opening of the chimney, so
as to oblige all the entering air to pass through or very
near the fire 5 whereby it will be more heated and rare¬
fied, the funnel itself be more warmed, and its contents
have more of what may be called the force of levity, so
as to rise strongly and maintain a good draft at the
opening.
8 ] S M O
Or you may in some cases, to advantage,- build addi¬
tional stories over the low building, which will support
a high funnel.
If the low building be used as a kitchen, and a con¬
traction of the opening therefore inconvenient, a large
one being necessary, at least when there are great din¬
ners, for the free management of so many cooking uten¬
sils ; in such case the best expedient perhaps would be
to build two more funnels joining to the first, and hav¬
ing three moderate openings, one to each funnel, instead
of one large one. When there is occasion to use hut
one, the other two may be kept shut by sliding plates,
hereafter to be described ; and tw'0 or all of them may
be used together when wanted. This rviil indeed bean
expence, but not an useless one, since your cooks will
work with more comfort, see better than in a smoky-
kitchen what they are about, your victuals will he
cleaner dressed and not taste of smoke, as is often the
case 5 and to render the effect more certain, a stack of
three funnels may he safely built higher above the roof
than a single funnel.
The case of too short a funnel is more general than
would be imagined, and often found where one would
not expect it. For it is not uncommon, in ill-contrived
buildings, instead of having a funnel for each room or
fire-place, to bend and turn the funnel of an upper room
so as to make it enter the side of another funnel that
comes from below. By these means the upper room
funnel is made short of course, since its length can only
be reckoned from the place where it enters the lower
room funnel; and that funnel is also shortened by all
the distance between the entrance of the second funnel
and the top of the stack : for all that part being readily
supplied with air through the second funnel, adds no¬
strength to the draft, especially as that air is cold when
there is no fire in the second chimney. The only easy
remedy here is, to keep the opening of that funnel shut
in which there is no fire.
4. Another very common cause of the smoking of
chimneys is, their overpowering one another. For in¬
stance, if there be two chimneys in one large room, and
•you make fires in both of them, the doors and windows
close shut, you will find that the greater and stronger
fire shall overpower the weaker, from the funnel of
which it will draw air down to supply its own demand }
-which air descending in the weaker funnel, will drive
down its smoke, and force it into the room. If, instead
of being in one room, the two chimneys are in two dif¬
ferent rooms, communicating by a door, the case is the
same whenever that door is open. In a very tight
house, a kitchen chimney on the lowest floor, when it
had a great fire in it, has been known to overpower
any other chimney in the house, and draw air and
smoke into its room as often as the door communicating
with the staircase was opened.
Remedy. Take care that every room have the means
of supplying itself from without with the air which its
chimney may require, so that no one of them may be
obliged to borrow from another, nor under the necessity
of lending. A variety of these means have been al¬
ready described.
5. Another cause of smoking is, when the tops of
chimneys are commandodby higher buildings, or by a hill,
so that the wind blowing over such eminences falls like
water over a dam, sometimes almost perpendicularly on
the
Smoke
s m o r 419
the tops of the chimneys that lie in its way, and beats
down the smoke contained in them.
To illustrate this, let A (fig. 3.) represent a small
building at the side of a great rock B, and the wind
coming in the direction CD ; when the current of air
comes to the point D, being hurried forward with great
velocity, it goes a little lorward, but soon descends
downward, and gradually is reflected more and more in¬
ward, as represented by the dotted lines EE, &c. so
that, descending downwards upon the top of the chim¬
ney A, the smoke is beat back again into the apart¬
ments.
It is evident that houses situated near high hills or
thick woods will be in some measure exposed to the
same inconvenience $ but it is likewise plain, that if a
house be situated upon the slope of a hill (as at F,
fig. 3.), it will not be in any danger of smoke when the
wind blows towards that side of the hill upon which it
is situated; for the current of air coming over the house¬
top in the direction GH, is immediately changed by the
slope of the hill to the direction HC, which powerfully
draws the smoke upward from the top of the chimney.
But it is also evident, that a house in this situation will
be liable to smoke when the wind blows from the hill;
for the current of air coming downwards in the direction
CH, will beat downward on the chimney F, and pre¬
vent the smoke from ascending with freedom. The ef¬
fect will be much heightened if the doors and windows
arc chiefly in the lowermost side of the house.
Remedij. That commonly applied in this case is a
turncap made of tin or plate iron, covering the chimney
above and on three sides, open on one side, turning on
a spindle; and which being guided or governed by a
vane alwmys presents its back to the current. This
may be generally effectual, though not certain, as there
may be cases in which it will not succeed, liaising your
funnels if practicable, so as their tops may be higher,
or at least equal, with the commanding eminence, is
more to be depended on. But the turning Cap, being
easier and cheaper should first be tried. “ If obliged to
build in such a situation, I would choose (says Dr
Franklin) to place my doors on the side next the hill,
and the hacks of my chimneys on the farthest side; for
then the column of air falling over the eminence, and of
course pressing on that below, and forcing it to enter
the doors or 'Was-ist-dases on that side, would tend to
balance the pressure down the chimneys, and leave
the funnels more free in the exercise of their func¬
tions.”
6. There is another case which is the reverse of that
last mentioned. It is where the commanding eminence
is farther from.the wind than the chimney commanded.
To explain this a figure may be necessary. Suppose then
a building whose side AB happens to he exposed to the
wind, and forms a kind of dam against its progress.
Suppose the wind blowing in the direction FE. The
air obstructed by this dam or building AB will like
water press and search for passages through it; but find¬
ing none, it is beat back with violence, and spreads it¬
self on every side, as is represented by the curved lines
e, e, <?, e, e, e. It will therefore force itself down the
«mall chimney C, in order to get through hy some door
or window open orl the other side of the building. And
if there be afire in such chimney, its smoke is of course
beat down, and fills the room.
] S M o
Flcmaly. 7 here is but one remedy, which is to raise
such a funnel higher than the roof, supporting it if ne¬
cessary by iron bars. For a turncap in this case has
no effect, the dammed-up air pressing down through it
in whatever position the wind may have placed its opeu-
ing.
Dr 1 ranklin mentions a city in which many houses
are rendered smoky by this operation. For their kitch¬
ens being built behind, and connected by a passage with
the houses, and the tops of the kitchen chimneys lower
than the tops ot the houses, the whole side of a street
when the wind blows against its back forms such a dam
as above described; and the wind so obstructed forces
down those kitchen-chimneys (especially when they have
but weak fires in them) to pass through the passage and
bouse into the street. Kitchen-chimneys so formed and
situated have another inconvenience. In summer, if you
open your upper room windows for air, a light breeze
blowing over your kitchen chimney towards the house,
though not strong enough to force down its smoke as
aforesaid, is sufficient to waft it into your windows, and
fill the rooms with it; which, besides the disagreeable-
ness, damages your furniture.
7* Chimneys, otherwise drawing well, are sometimes
made to smoke by the improper and inconvenient situa¬
tion of a door. \\ hen the door arid chimney are on the
same side of the room, if the door being in the corner
is made to open against the wall, which is common, as
being there, when open, more out of the way, it fol¬
lows, that when the door is only opened in part, a ctir-
ient ol air rushing in passes along the wall into and
across the opening of the chimney, and flirts some of the
smoke out into the room. This happens more certainly
when the door is shutting, for then the force of the cur-
lent is augmented, and becomes very inconvenient to
those who, warming themselves by the fire, happen to
sit in its way.
Hie remedies are obvious and easy. Either put an
intervening screen from the wall round great part of
the fireplace; or, which is perhaps preferable, shift the
hinges of jour door, so as it may open the other way,
and when open throw the air along the other wall.
8. A room that has no fire in its chimney is some¬
times filled with smoke which is received at the top of its
funnel, and descends into the room. Funnels without
fires have an effect according to their degree of cold¬
ness or warmth on the air that happens to be contained
in them. The surrounding atmosphere is frequently
Smoke.
changing its temperature ; but stacks of funnels covered
from winds and sun by the house that contains them,
retain a more equal temperature. If, after a warm sea¬
son, the outward air suddenly grows cold, the empty
warm funnels begin to draw strongly upward ; that is,
they rarefy the air contained in them, which of course'
rises, cooler air enters below to supply its place, is ra¬
refied in its turn, and rises; and its operation continues
till the funnel grows cooler, or the outward air warmer,
or both, when the motion ceases. On the other hand,
if after a cold season the outward air suddenly grows
warm and of course lighter, the air contained in the
cool funnels being heavier descends into the room ; and
the warmer air which enters their tops being cooled in
its turn, and made heavier, continues to descend ; and
this operation goes on till the funnels are warmed by the
passing of warm air through them, or the air itself grows
cooler.
S M O [ 420 ] S M 0
Smoke, cooler. When the temperature of the air and of the
-"-y-1 1 funnels is nearly equal, the difference of warmth in the
air between day and night is sufficient to produce these
currents : the air will begin to ascend the funnels as the
cool of the evening comes on, and this current will con¬
tinue till perhaps nine or ten o’clock the next morning,
when it begins to hesitate } and as the heat of the day
approaches, it sets downwards, and continues so till to¬
wards evening, when it again hesitates for some time,
and then goes upwards constantly during the night, as
before mentioned. Now when smoke issuing from the
tops of neighbouring funnels passes over the tops of fun¬
nels which are at the time drawing downwards, as they
often are in the middle part of the day, such smoke is
of necessity drawn into these funnels, and descends with
the air into the chamber.
The remedy is to have a sliding plate that will shut
perfectly the offending funnel. Dr Franklin has thus
described it: “The opening of the chimney is contract¬
ed by brick-work faced with marble slabs to about two
feet between the jams, and the breast brought down to
within about three feet of the hearth. An iron frame is
placed just under the breast, and extending quite to the
back of the chimney, so that a plate of the same metal
may slide horizontally backwards and forwards in the
grooves on each side of the frame. This plate is just so
large as to fill the whole space, and shut the chimney
entirely when thrust quite in, which is convenient when
there is no fire. Draw it out, so as to leave between
its further edge and the back a space of abouttwo inches j
this space is sufficient for the smoke to pass j and so large
a part of the funnel being stopt by the rest of the plate,
the passage of warm air out of the room, up the chim¬
ney, is obstructed and retarded ; and by those means
much cold air is prevented from coming in through cre¬
vices, to supply its place. This effect is made manifest
three ways. 1. When the fire burns briskly in cold
weather, the howling or whistling noise made by the
wind, as it enters the room through the crevices, when
the chimney is open as usual, ceases as soon as the plate
is slid in to its proper distance. 2. Opening the door
of the room about half an inch, and holding your hand
against the opening, near the top of the door, you feel
the cold air coming in against your hand, but weakly,
if the plate be in. Let another person suddenly draw it
out, so as to let the air of the room go up the chimney,
with its usual freedom where chimneys are open, and
you immediately feel the cold air rushing in strongly.
3* If something be set against the door, just sufficient,
when the plate is in, to keep the door nearly shut, by
resisting the pressure of the air that would force it open :
then, when the plate is drawn out, the door will be for¬
ced open by the increased pressure of the outward cold
air endeavouring to get in to supply the place of the
warm air that now passes out of the room to go up the
chimney. In our common open chimneys, half the fuel
is Avasted, and its effect lost •, the air it has warmed be¬
ing immediately drawn off.”
9. Chimneys which generally draw well, do neverthe¬
less sometimes give smoke into the rooms, it being driven
down by strong winds passing over the lops ofthcirj'unnels,
though not descending from any commanding eminence.
This case is most frequent where the funnel is short and
the opening turned from the wind. It is the more
grievous, when it happens to be a cold wind that produ¬
ces the effect, because when you most want your fire
you are sometimes obliged to extinguish it. To under¬
stand this, it may be considered that the rising light air,
to obtain a free issue from the funnel, must push out of
its way or oblige the air that is over it to rise. In a
time of calm or of little wind this is done visibly j for
we see the smoke that is brought up by that air rise in a
column above the chimney : but when a violent current
of air, that is, a strong wind, passes over the top of a
chimney, its particles have received so much force, which
keeps them in a horizontal direction and follow each
other so rapidly, that the rising light air has not strength
sufficient to oblige them to quit that direction and move
upwards to permit its issue.
Remedies. In Venice, the custom is to open or widen
the top of the flue, rounding it in the true form of a fun¬
nel. In other places the contrary is practised ; the tops
of the flues being narrowed inwards, so as to form a slit
for the issue of ihe smoke, long as the breadth of the fun¬
nel, and only four inches wide. This seems to have been
contrived on a supposition that the entry of the wind
would thereby be obstructed •, arid perhaps it might have
been imagined, that the whole force of the rising warm
air being condensed, as it were, in the narrow opening,
would thereby be strengthened, so as to overcome the re¬
sistance of wind. This, however, did not always succeed}
for when the wind was at north-east and blew fresh, tire
smoke was forced down by fits into the room where Dr
Franklin commonly sat, so as to oblige him to shift tire
fire into another. The position of the slit of this fun¬
nel rvas indeed north-east and south-Avest. Perhaps if
it had lain across the Avind, the effect might have been
difl’erent. But on this we can give no certainty. It
seems a matter proper to be referred to experiment.
Possibly a turncap might have been serviceable, but it
Avas not tried.
With all the science, however, that a man shall sup¬
pose himself possessed of in thisarticle, he may sometimes
meet Avith cases that shall puzzle him. “ I once lodged
(says Dr Franklin) in a house at London, Avhich in a
little room had a single.chimney and funnel. The open¬
ing Avas very small, yet it did not keep in the smoke,
and all attempts to have a fire in this room were fruit¬
less. 1 could not imagine the reason, till at length ob¬
serving that the chamber over it, Avhich had no fireplace
in it, Avas always filled Avith smoke when a fire Avas kind¬
led beloAA', and that the smoke came through the cracks
and crevices of the w'ainscoat; I had the Avainscot taken
doAvn, and discovered that the funnel which Avent up
behind it had a crack many feet in length, and >ride
enough to admit my arm; a breach very dangerous Avith
regard to fire, and occasioned probably by an apparent
irregular settling of one side of the house. The air en¬
tering this breach freely, destroyed the draAving force
of the funnel. The remedy Avould ha%'e been, filling
up the breach, or rather rebuilding the funnel : but the
landlord rather chose to stop up the chimney.
“ Another puzzling case I met Avith at a friend’s
country house near London. His best room had a
chimney in Avhich, he told me, he never could have a
fire, lor all the smoke came out into the room. I flat¬
tered myself I could easily find the cause and pi’escribe
the cure. I opened the door, and perceived it Avas not
want ot air. 1 made a temporary contraction of the
opening of the chimney, and found that it Avas not its
[ 421
I went
Its fun-
some of
S M o
being too large that caused tbe smoke to issue,
out and looked up at the top of the chimney:
nel was joined in the same stalk with others ;
diem shorter, that drew very well, and I saw nothing to
prevent its doing the same. In fine, after every other
examination I couid think of, I was obliged to own the
insufficiency of my skill. But my friend, who made no
pretension to such kind of knowledge, afterwards disco¬
vered the cause himself. He got to the top of the fun¬
nel by a ladder, and looking down found it filled with
twigs and straw cemented by earth and lined with fea¬
thers. It seems the house after being built, had stood
empty some years before he occupied it; and he con¬
cluded that some large birds had taken the advantage of
its retired situation to make their nest there. Thel-ub-
bish, considerable in quantity, being removed, and the
funnel cleared, the chimney drew well, and gave satis¬
faction.”
Chimneys whose funnels go up in the north wall of a
house, and are exposed to the north winds, are not so apt
to diaw well as those in a south wall j because when
rendered cold by those winds, they draw downwards.
Chimneys inclosed m the body of a house are better
tbari those whose funnels are exposed in cold walls.
Chimneys in stacks are apt to draw better than se¬
parate funnels, because the funnels that have constant
fires in them warm the others in some degree that have
none.
Smoke Jack. This ingenious machine is of German
origin, and Messinger, in his Collection of Mechanical
ft
eocc]|rn
I
1 erformanceS) says it is very ancient, being represent¬
ed in a painting at Nurenbergh, which is known to be
older than tbe year 1350.
Its construction is abundantly simple. An upright
. iron spindle GA (fig. 5.), placed in the narrow part of
the kitchen chimney, turns round on two points H and
I. I he upper one H passes through an iron bar, which
is built in across the chimney; and the lower pivot I is
of tempered steel, and is conical or pointed, resting in a
conicai bell metal socket fixed on another cross bar.
On the upper end of the spindle is a circular fly G, con¬
sisting of 4, 6, 8, or more thin iron plates, set obliquely
on the spindle like the sails of a windmill, as we shall
describe more particularly by and by. Near the lower
end of the spindle is a pinion A, which works in the
teeth of a contrate or face wheel B, turning on a ho-
montal axis BC. One pivot of this axis turns in a
cock fixed on the cross bar, which supports the lower
end of the upright spindle III, and the other pivot turns
in a cock fixed on the side wall of the chimney ; so
that this axle is parallel to the front of the chimney.
Ou the remote end of this horizontal axle there is a
small pulley C, having a deep angular groove. Over
tliis pulley there passes a chain CHE, in the lower bight
of which hangs the large pulley E of the spit. This
end of the spit turns loosely between the branches of the
fork of the rack or raxe I, but without resting on it.
Ibis is on tbe top of a moveable stand, which can be
shifted nearer to or farther from the fire. The other
end turns in one of the notches of another rack. The
number of teeth in the pinion A and wheel B, and the
diameters of the pulleys C and E, are so proportioned
that the fly G makes from 12 to 20 turns for one turn
w the spit.
] S M O
The manner of operation of this useful machine is
easily understood. I he air which contributes to the
burning of the fuel, and passes through the midst of it,
is greatly heated, and expanding prodigiously in bulk,
becomes lighter than the neighbouring air, and is there¬
fore pushed by it up the chimney. In like manner, all
the air which comes near the fire is heated, expanded,
becomes lighter, and is driven up the chimney. This
is called the draught or suction, hut would with greater
propriety be termed the drift of the chimney. As the
chimney gradually contracts in its dimensions, and as
the same quantity of heated air passes through every
section of it, it is plain that the rapidity of its ascent
must be greatest in the narrowest place. There the fly
G should he placed, because it will there be exposed to
the strongest current. The air, striking the fly vanes
obliquely pushes them aside, and thus turns them round
with a considerable force. If the joint of meat is ex¬
actly balanced on the spit, it is plain that the only re¬
sistance to the motion of the fly is what arises from tlue
friction of the pivots of the upright spindle, the friction
of the pinion and wheel, the friction of the pivots of
the horizontal axis, the friction of the small end of the
spit, and the friction of the chain in the top pulleys.
I he whole of this is but a mere trifle. But there is fre¬
quently a considerable inequality in the weight of the
meat on difl’erent sides of the spit: there must therefore
he a sufficient overplus of force in the impulse of the
ascending air on the vanes of the fly, to overcome this
want of equilibrium occasioned by tbe unskilfulness or
negligence of the cook. There is, however, common¬
ly enough of power when the machine is properly con¬
structed. The utility of this machine will, we hope,
procure us the indulgence of some of our readers, while
we point out the circumstances on which its performance
depends, and the maxims which should be followed in
its construction.
The upward current of air is the moving power, and
should be increased as much as possible, and applied in
tbe most advantageous manner. Every thing will in¬
crease the current which improves the draught of the
chimney and secures it from smoking. A smoky chim¬
ney must always have a weak current. For this parti¬
cular, therefore, we refer to what has been delivered in
the article Pneumatics, N° 359; and the article
Smoke.
With respect to the manner of applying this force, it
is evident that the best construction of a windmill sails
will be nearly tbe best construction for the fly. Ac¬
cording to tbe usual theory of tbe impulse of fluids,
the greatest effective impulse (that is, in the direction of
the fly’s motion) will he produced if the plane of the
vane be inclined to the axis in an angle of 54 degrees
46 minutes. But, since we have pronounced this the¬
ory to be so very defective, Ave bad better take a deter¬
mination founded on the experiments on tbe impulse of
fluids made by the academy of Paris. These authorise
us to say, that 494- or 50 degrees will be the best angle
to give the vane: but this must be understood only of
that part of it which is close adjoining to the axis. The,
vane itself must be twisted, or weathered as the mill¬
wrights term it, and must be much more oblique at its
outer extremity. The exact position cannot be deter¬
mined with any precision; because this depends on the
proportion
Smoke-
Jack.
S M O
I 42
Smoke- proportion of the velocity of the vane to that of the
Jack. current of heated air. This is subject to no rule, being
 V“ changed according to the load of the jack. We ima¬
gine that an obliquity of 65 degrees for the outer ends
of the vanes will be a good position for the generality
of cases. Messinger describes an ingenious contrivance
for changing this angle at pleasure, in order to vary the
velocity of the motion. Each vane is made to turn
round a midrib, which stands out like a radius from the
spindle, and the vane is moved by a stiff wire attached to
one of the corners adjoining to the axle. These wires
are attached to a ring which slides on the spindle like
the spreader of an umbrella 5 and it is stopped on any-
part of the spindle by a pin thrust through a hole in the
spindle and ring. We mention this brieli'y, it being
easily understood by any mechanic, and but oflittle con¬
sequence, because the machine is not susceptible of much
precision.
It is easy to see that an increase of the surface of the
vanes will increase the power: therefore they should oc¬
cupy the whole space of the circle, and not consist of
four narrow arms like the sails of a windmill. It is bet¬
ter to make many narrow vanes than a few broad ones 5
as will appear plain to one well acquainted with the
mode of impulse of fluids acting obliquely. We recom¬
mend eight or twrelve at least; and each vane should
be so broad, that when the whole is held perpendicular
between the eye and the light, no light shall come
through the fly, the vanes overlapping each other a very
small matter. We also recommend the making them
of stiff plate. Their weight contributes to the steady
motion, and enables the fly, which has acquired a con¬
siderable velocity during a favourable position of things,
to retain a momentum sufficient to pull round the spit
while the heavy side of the meat is rising from its lowest
position. In such a situation a light fly soon loses its
momentum, and the jack staggers under its load.
It is plain, from what has been said, that the fly should
occupy the whole of that section of the vent where it is
placed. The vent must therefore be brought to a round
form in that place, that none of the current may pass
uselessly by it.
It is an important question where the fly should he
placed. If in a wide part of the vent, it will have a
great surface, and act by a long lever; but the current
in that place is slow, and its impulse weak. This is a fit
subject of calculation. Suppose that we have it in our
choice to place it either as it is drawn in the figure, or
farther up at g-, where its diameter must be one half of
what it is at G. Since the same quantity of heated air
passes through both sections, and the section^ has only
one-fourth of the area of the section G, it is plain that
the air must be moving four times faster, and that its im¬
pulse is 16 times greater. But the surface on which it
is acting is the fourth part of that of the fly G-, the ac¬
tual impulse therefore is only four times greater, suppo¬
sing both flies to be moving with the same relative ve¬
locity in respect of the current 5 that is, the rim of each
moving with the same portion of the velocity of the cur¬
rent. This will be the case when the small fly turns
eight times as often in a minute as the large fly : for
, the air is moving four times as quick at g, and the dia¬
meter of g is one-half of that of G. Therefore, when
>the small fly is turning eight times as quick as the great
2 ] S M 0
one, there is a quadruple impulse acting at half the di¬
stance from the axis. The momentum or'energy there¬
fore of the current is double. Therefore, supposing the
pinion, w heel, and pulleys of both jacks to be the same,
the jack with the small fly, placed in the narrow part of
the vent, will be 16 times more powerful.
By this example, more easily understood than a ge¬
neral process, it appears that it is of particular impor¬
tance to place the fly in an elevated part of the vent,
where the area may be much contracted. In order still
farther to increase the power of the machine, it would
be very proper to lengthen the spindle still more, and to
put another fly on it at a considerable distance above the
first, and a third above this, &.c.
As the velocity of the current changes by every
Change of the fire, the motion of this jack must he very
unsteady. To render it as adjustable as may be to the
particular purpose of the cook, the pulley E has several
grooves of different diameters, and the spit turns more
or less slowly, by the same motion of the fly, according
as it hangs in the chain by a larger or smaller pulley or
groove.
Such is the construction of the smoke-jack in its most
simple form. Some are more artificial and complicated,
having, in place of the pulleys and connecting chain, a
spindle coming down from the horizontal axis BC. On
the upper end of this spindle is a horizontal contrate
wheel, driven by a pinion in place of the pulley C. On
the lower end is a pinion, driving a contrate wheel in
place of the pulley E. This construction is represent¬
ed in fig. 6. Others are constructed more simply, in%&
the manner represented in fig. 7. But our first con- Fig'?
struction has great advantage in point of simplicity, and
allows a more easy adjustment of the spit, which may be
brought nearer to the fire or removed farther from it
without any trouble •, whereas, in the others, with a
train of wheels and pinions, this cannot he done with¬
out several changes of pins and screws. rI he only im¬
perfection of the pulley is, that by long use the grooves
become slippery, and an ill-balanced joint is apt to hold
back the spit, while the chain slides in the grooves.
This may he completely prevented by making the
grooves flat instead of angular (which greatly diminishes
the friction), and furnishing them with short studs or
pins which take into every third or fourth link of the
chain. If the chain be made of the simplest form, with
flat links, and each link he made ot an exact length
(making them all on a mould), the motion will be as
easy as with any wheelwork, and without the least
chance of slipping.
It is always of importance to avoid this slipping of
the chain by balancing the loaded spit. For this pur¬
pose it will be extremelv convenient to have what is
called a balance-skewer. Let a part of the spit, imme¬
diately adjoining to the pulley, he made round, and let
an arm he made to turn on it stiffly, so that it may be
made fast in any position by a screw. Let a leaden bail
be made to slide along this arm, with a screw to I as tea
it at any distance from the spit. When the meat is
spitted, lay it on the racks, and the heaviest side wd
immediately place itself undermost. Now turn round
the balance-skewer, so that it may point straight up¬
wards, and make it fast in that position by the screw.
Put the leaden ball on it, and slide it inwards or out¬
wards
S M O
Fis
wards till it exactly balances the heavy side, which will
> appear by the spit’s remaining in any position in which
it is put.
.The greatest difficulty is to keep the machine in re¬
pair. The essential part of it, the first mover, the fly,
and the pinion and wheel, by which its motion is trans¬
mitted to the rest of the machine, are situated in a place
of difficult access, and where they are exposed to vio¬
lent heat and to the smoke and soot, i lie whole weight
of the fly, resting on the lower pivot I, must exert a
gieat piessure there, and occasion great friction, even
when this pinion is reduced to the smallest size that is
compatible with (lie necessary strength. The pivot must
be of hardened steel, tapered like an obtuse cone, and
must turn in a conical socket, also of hardened steel or
of bell-metal; and this seat of pressure and friction must
be continually supplied with oil, which it consumes very
quickly. It is not sufficient that it be from time to time
smeared with an oiled feather; there must be an iron
cup formed round the socket, and kept filled with oil.
It is surprising how quickly it disappears ; it soon be¬
comes clammy by evaporation, and by the soot which
gathers about it. I he continued rubbing of the pivot
and socket wears them both very fast ; and this is in¬
creased by hard powders, such as sandy dust, that are
hurried up by the rapid current every time that the
cook stirs the fire. Ihese, getting between the rub-
bing paits, cause them to grind and wear each other
prodigiously. It is a great improvement to invert these
rubbing parts. Let the lower end of the spindle be of
a considerable thickness, and have a conical hollow nice¬
ly drilled in its extremity. Let a blunt-pointed coni¬
cal pin rise up in the middle of the, oil cup, on which
the conical hollow of the spindle may rest. Here will
be the same steady support, and the same friction as in
the other way ; but no grinding dust can now lodge be¬
tween the pivot and its socket : and if this upright pin
be screwed up through the bottom of the cup, it may
be screwed farther up in proportion as it wears ; and
thus the upper pivotwill never desert its hole, a thing
which soon happens in the common way. We can say
from experience, that a jack constructed in this way will
not require the fifth part of the repairs of one done in
the other way.
It is of importance that the whole be so put toge¬
ther as to be easily taken down, in order to sweep the
vent, or to he repaired, &c. For this purpose, let the
cross bar which carries the lower end of the upright
spindle be placed a little on one side of the perpendicu¬
lar line from the upper pivot hole. Let the cock which
cauies the oil cup and the pivot of the horizontal axis
BC be screwed to one side of this cross bar, so that the
centre of the cup may be exactly under the upper pivot
hole. By this construction we have only to unscrew
this cock, and then both axles come out of their places
at once, and may be replaced without any trouble. We
have sketched in fig. 8. the manner in which this may
be done, where M represents a section of the lower cross
bar. BCDE is the cock, fixed to the bar by the pins
which go through both, with finger nuts a and b on the
opposite sidq. F i is the hard steel pin with the conical
top i, on which the knver end I of the upright spindle
AG rests, in the manner recommended as the best and
most durable. The pivot of the horizontal axis turns
m a hole at E the top of the cock.
[ 423 ]
S M O
After all, we must acknowledge that the smoke-lack
t, . er,or ,0 t!ie comni°n jack that is moved by a weight.
is more expensive at first, and requires more frequent
lepasrs ; its motion is not so much under command ; it
occasions soot to be thrown about the fire, to the great
annoyance of the cook ; and it is a great encumbrance
w.ien we would clean the vent*
SMOKE-Iart/ungs. The pentecostals or customary
oblations offered by the dispersed inhabitants within a
diocese when they made their procession to the mother
or cathedral church, came by degrees into a standing
annual rent called smoke farthings.
Smoke Silver. Lands were holden in some places by
the payment of the sum of 6d. yearly to the sheriff,
ca, ed smoke-silver (Par. 4. Edw. VI.): Smoke-silver
and smoke-penny are to he paid to the ministers of di¬
vers parishes as a modus in lieu of tithe-wood: and
J.n Son?e manors formerly belonging to religious houses,,
tueie is still paid, as appendant to the said manors, the
1 jter-pence, by the name of Smoke-vionar
( / wisd. Hist. T indicat. n—The bishop of London
anno 1444 issued out his commission, Ad levandum le
smoke-farthings, &c.
SMOLENSKO, a large and strong city of Russia,
and capital of a government of the same name, with a
castle seated on a mountain, and a bishop’s see. It is
strong by its situation. It has been taken and retaken
several times by the Poles and Russians; but these last
nave had possession of it ever since the year 1687. It
was taken by the French in their irruption into Russia
in i»i2. It is seated on the river Nieper, near the
frontiers of Lithuania, 188 miles south-west of Moscow.
E. Long. 31. 22. N. Lat. 54. 50.
Smolensk©, a government of Russia, bounded on
the north by Twer, on the east by Moscow, on the
south by Kalouga, and on the west by Witepsk. It is
Ju 1 of forests and mountains, but is fertile in grain.
I he population in 1815 was 965,000.
SMOLLET, I)r Ioeias, an author whose writings
will transmit his name with honour to posterity, w’as
born in the year 1720 at a small village within two
miles of Cameron, on the banks of the river Leven.
He appears to have received a classical education, and
waa bred to the practice of physic and surgery ; and in
the early part of his life served as a surgeon’s mate in
the navy.
. incidents that befel him during his continuance
in this capacity served as a foundation for Roderic Ran¬
dom, one of the most entertaining novels in the English
tongue. He was present at the siege of Carthagena ;
and in the before-mentioned novel he has given a faith¬
ful, though not very pleasing, account of the manage¬
ment of that ill-conducted expedition, which he censures
in the warmest terms, and from circumstances which fell
under his own particular observation.
His connection with the sea seems not to have been
of long continuance ; and it is probable that he wrote
several pieces before he became known to the public by
his capital productions. The first piece we know of
with certainty is a Satire in two parts, printed first in
the years 1746 and 1747, and reprinted in a Collection
of his Plays and Poems in 1777. About this period, or
some time before, he wrote for Mr Rich an opera intitled
Alceste, which has never been performed nor printed.
At the age of 18 he wrote a tragedy intitled The
Regicide,
Saioke-
Jack
II
Sinollet.
  1
S M O r 424 ] S M- 0
Sniollet. Regicide, founded on the story of the assassination of
 James I. of Scotland. In the preface to this piece,
published by subscription in the year I749> bitterly
exclaimed against false patrons, and the duplicity ot
theatrical managers. The warmth and impetuosity of
his temper hurried him, on this occasion, into unjust re¬
flections against the late George Lord Lyttleton and
Mr Garrick : the character of the former he character¬
ised in the novel of Peregrine Pickle, and he added a
burlesque of the Monody written by that nobleman on
the death of his lady. Against Mr Garrick he made
illiberal ill-founded criticisms *, and in his novel of Ro¬
derick Random gave a very unfair representation of his
treatment of him respecting this tragedy. Of this con¬
duct he afterwards repented, and acknowledged his er¬
rors ; though in the subsequent editions of the novel
the passages which were the hasty effusions of disap¬
pointment were not omitted.
However, in giving a sketch of the liberal arts in
his History of England, he afterwards remarked, “ the
exhibitions of the stage were improved to the most ex¬
quisite entertainment by the talents and management of
Garrick, who greatly surpassed all his predecessors ol
this and perhaps every other nation, in his genius for
acting, in the sweetness and variety of his tones, the ir¬
resistible magic of his eye, the fire and vivacity of his
action, the eloquence of attitude, and the whole pathos
of expression.
Not satisfied with this public declaration, he wrote
an apology to Mr Garrick in still stronger terms. With
these ample concessions, Mr Garrick was completely sa¬
tisfied ; so that in 1757, when Dr Smollet’s comedy of
the Reprisals, an afterpiece of two acts, was performed
at Drury Lane theatre, the latter acknowledged himself
highly obliged for the friendly care of Mr Garrick ex¬
erted in preparing it for the stage j and still more for
his acting the part of Lusignan in Zara for his benefit,
on the sixth instead of the ninth night, to which he was
only intitled by the custom of the theatre.
The Adventures of Roderic Random, published in 1748,
2 vols 12mo, a book which still continues to have a most
extensive sale, first established the Doctor’s reputation.
All the first volume and the beginning of the second ap¬
pear to consist of real incident and character, though
certainly a good deal heightened and disguised. The
Judge his grandfather, Crab and Potion the two apo-
fhecaries, and ’Squire Gawky, were characters well
known in that part of the kingdom where the scene was
laid. Captains Oakhum and Whiffle, Doctors Mack-
shane and Morgan, were also said to be real personages $
but their names .we have either never learned or have
now forgotten. A bookbinder and barber long eager¬
ly contended for being shadowed under the name of
Sti'ap. The Doctor seems to have enjoyed a peculiar
felicity in describing sea characters, particularly the
officers and sailors of the navy. His Trunnion, Hatch¬
way, and Pipes, are highly finished originals; but
what exceeds them all, and perhaps equals any charac¬
ter that has yet been painted by the happiest genius of
ancient or modern times, is his Lieutenant Bowling.
This is indeed nature itself; original, unique and sui
genei'is.
By the publication of this work the Doctor had ac¬
quired so great a reputation, that henceforth a certain
3
degree of success was insured to every thing known or Smolle.
suspected to proceed from his hand. In the course olW-y—,
a few years, the Adventures of Peregrine Pickle ap¬
peared ; a work of great ingenuity and contrivance in
the composition, and in which an uncommon degree of
erudition is displayed, particularly in the description of
the entertainment given by the Republican Doctor, af¬
ter the manner of the ancients. Under this personage
the late Dr Akenside, author of The Pleasures of Ima¬
gination, is supposed to be typified ; and it would be
difficult to determine whether profound learning or ge¬
nuine humour predominate most in this episode. An¬
other episode of the Adventures of a Lady of Quality,
likewise inserted in this work, contributed greatly to its
success, and is indeed admirably executed ; the mate¬
rials, it is said, the lady herself (the celebrated Lady
Fane) furnished.
These were not the only original compositions of this
stamp with which the Doctor has favoured the public.
Ferdinand Count Fathom, and Sir Launcelot Greaves,
are still in the list of what may be called reading novels,
and have gone through several editions ; but there is no
injustice in placing them in a rank far below the former.
No doubt invention, character, composition, and con¬
trivance, tire to be found in both ; but then situations
are described which are hardly possible, and characters
are painted which, if not altogether unexampled, are at
least incompatible with modern manners ; and which
Ought not to be, as the scenes are laid in modern
times.
The last work which we believe the Doctor published
Was of much the same species, but cast into a different
foim—The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker. It con¬
sists of a series of letters, written by different persons to
their respective correspondents. He has here carefully
avoided the faults which may be justly charged to his
two former productions. Here are no extravagant
characters nor unnatural situations. On the contrary,
an admirable knowledge of life and manners is display¬
ed ; and most useful lessons are given applicable to in¬
teresting but to very common situations.
We know not whether the remark has been made,
but there is certainly a Very obvious similitude between
the characters of the three heroes of the Doctor’s chief
roductions. Roderic Random, Peregrine Pickle, and
latthew Bramble, are all brothers of the same family.
The same satirical, cynical disposition, the same gene¬
rosity and benevolence, are the distinguishing and cha-
racteristical features of all three; but they are tar from
being servile copies or imitations of each other. Jhey
differ as much as the Ajax, Diomed, and Achilles of
Homer. This was undoubtedly a great eflort of ge¬
nius ; and the Doctor seems to have described his own
character at the different stages and situations of his life.
Before he took a house at Chelsea, he attempted to
settle as practitioner of physic at Bath ; and with that
view wrote a treatise on the waters ; but was unsuccess¬
ful, chiefly because he could not render himself agree¬
able to the women, whose favour is certainly of great
consequence to all candidates for eminence, whether in
medicine or divinity. This, however, was a little ex¬
traordinary; for those who remembered Dr Smollet at
that time, cannot but acknowledge that he was as grace¬
ful and handsome a man as any of the age he lived m;
beside^)
mollet.
s M o [42
besides, there was a certain dignity in his air and man-
nei which could not but mspirerespectwhereverhean-
pcared i erbaps he was too soon discouraged j in all
probaoihty, had he persevered, a man of his great learn¬
ing, profound sagacity, and intense application, besides
being endued with every other external as well as inter¬
nal accomplishment, must have at last succeeded, and
had he attained to common old age, been at the head of
Ins profession.
Abandoning physic altogether as a profession, he fix¬
ed his residence at Chelsea, and turned his thoughts en¬
tirely to writing. Yet, as an author, he was not near
so successful as his happy genius and acknowledged
meat certainly deserved. He never acquired a patron
among the great, who by his favour or beneficence re¬
lieved him from the necessity of writing for a subsistence.
Ihe truth is, Dr Smollet possessed a loftiness and eleva-
tion of sentiment and character which appear to have
disqualified him for paying court to those who were ca¬
pable of conferring favours. It would be wrong to call
this disposition pride or haughtiness ; for to his equals
and inferiors he was ever polite, friendly, and generous.
Looksellers may therefore be said to have been his on¬
ly patrons ; and from them he had constant employ¬
ment in translating, compiling, and reviewing. He
translated Gil Bias and Don Quixote, both so happily,
that all the former translations of these excellent pro¬
ductions of genius have been almost superseded by his.
Wis name likewise appears to a translation of Voltaire’s
Prose Works j but little of it was done by his own
hand, be only revised it, and added a few notes. He
was concerned in a great variety of compilations. His
History of England was the principal work of that
Kind. It had a most extensive sale; and the Doctor is
tfnuation reCeiVed 200°L for writing and the con-
In 1755 he set on foot the Critical Review, and
continue^ the principal manager of it till he went abroad
or the first time in the year 1763. He was perhaps
too acrimonious sometimes in the conduct of that work •
and at the same time displayed too much sensibility
when any of the unfortunate authors attempted to reta¬
liate whose works he had pe. haps justly censured.
Among other controversies in which his engagements
in this publication involved him, the most material in
its consequences was that occasioned by his remarks on
a pamphlet published by Admiral Knowles. That gen-
leman, m defence of his conduct on the expedition to
hfort, published a vindication of himself; which fal¬
ling under the Doctor’s examination, produced some
very severe strictures both on the performance and on
the character of the writer. The admiral immediately
commenced a prosecution against the printer; declaring
1 'f, sam{; time t,lat Iie desired only to be informed
who he writer was, that if he proved to be a gentle-
man he might obtain the satisfaction of one from him.
and , .the1P°?t0r beWd both with prudence
will Tl ' T'.11- Pesirous 0* compromising the dispute
w, an “,!,:cable m?n"er' !,e *»
h;a tv 1 nr ittm 1 manner, lie applied to
s filend Mr Wilkes to interpose his good offices with
„ j ^,^nent" ^ ie adniiral, however, was inflexible;
the i» ns /lS Sente^e was going to be pronounced against
lelfffie ’tb ^ ^ ^ C°Urt’ ^oweddiim-
readv r tb5 Strictures, and declared himself
vL xix. p,rrt irles a"y satkf‘ctio"iiedw5e-
5 ] s M o
Thf. lulmiral immediately commenced a fresh action
-gainst the Doctor, t.ho „„s found guilty, fined tool,
and condemned to three months imprisonment in the
^e AdveoT tV’ rtl,ere is S!''d '» I|ave written
he Adventures ot Sir Launcelot Greaves, in which he
low-prisC„?erf.SO,”e remiU'k!*bl<-‘>“«ters, then his fel-
Bnte "a8 ca,lei1 10 tlle chief ad,ninistra-
nf r’ ,"aS I'revail"1 lo write in defence
ot that nobleman’s measures; which he did in a weekly
Nonl R e Tl"'8 saTe rise “>th<i famoui
Aoith Buton; wherein according to the opinion of
the public be was rather baffled. The truth is the
octor did not seem to possess the talents necessary for
polilicaUllcrcat,01,. He wanted temper and coolness ;
and his friends accused his patron of having denied him
tbe necessary information, and even neglected the fulfil-
ingof some of his other engagements with him. Be
bat as it will, the Doctor is said not to have forgotten
b-ni in Ins subsequent performances, =
wvfiiTle;Vhe Bnt0n•, I)r Sm°ilet is suPP<>sed to have
Tbe Adv r inASUpP°.rt of the he espoused,
ibe Ad ventures of an Atom, in two volumes, are known
to be Ins production,
SefvntC0npi.tUti0” bein.g at last great,y impaired by a
wen abroad for his health in Jn" ,,6,, and
of f ? • 7 t',° r”rS’ He 'wole a" account
Ins travels in a series of letters to some friends, which
were afterwards published in two volumes octavo, 1766.
ming all that time he appears to have laboured under
lettTrs wi I6' ffl g,nn‘ A Ve1J Sllght PerU8a! of these
letters w.il suffienndy evince that this observation is
founded in fact and is indeed a melancholy instance of
the influence of bodily distemper over the best disposi¬
tion. 1
His relation of Ins travels is actually cynical ; for
which Sterne, m ins Sentimental Journey, has animad¬
verted on him under the character of Smelfungus. The
Doctor lived to return to bis native country1; bu< bia
health continuing to decline, and meetino- with fresh
mortifications and disappointments, he went back to
Italy where he died October 21. 1771. He was em¬
ployed, dunng the last years of his life, i„ abridging the
Modern Universal History, great part of which he bad
originally written himself, particularly the histories of
.rrancc, Italy, and Germany.
He certainly met with many mortifications and dis¬
appointments ; which, in a letter to Mr Garrick, lie
thus feelingly expresses : “lam old enough to have
seen and observed, that we are all playthings of For¬
tune ; and that it depends upon something as insignifi-
cant and precarious as the tossing up of a halfpenny,
whether a man rises to affluence and honours, or conti¬
nues to his dying day struggling with the difficulties and
disgraces of life.”
It would he needless to expatiate on the character of
a man so well known as Dr Smollet, who has, besides,
given so many strictures of his own character and man¬
ner of living in his writings, particularly in Humphrey
C linker ; where he appears under the appellation of
Mr Serle, and has an interview with Mr Bramble ; and
his manner of living is described in another letter, where
young Mel ford is supposed to dine with him at his house
in Chelsea. No doubt he made money by his connee-
+ 3 H tions
S M U [ 426 '] S M tJ
SmoHet, lions with the booksellers j and had he been a rigid
Sniuffckrs. economist, or endued with the gift of retention (an ex-
v pression of his own), be might have lived and died very
independent. However, to do justice to his memory,
bis difficulties, whatever they were, proceeded not from
extravagance or want of economy. He was hospitable,
but not ostentatiously so; and his table was plentiful,
but not extravagant. No doubt he had his failings j
but still it would be difficult to name a man who was so
respectable for the qualities ot his head, or more ami¬
able for the virtues of his heart.
Since his death a monument has been erected to his
memory near Leghorn, on which is inscribed an epitaph
written in Latin by his friend Dr Armstrong, author
of The Art of Preserving Health, and many other ex¬
cellent pieces. An inscription written in Latin was like¬
wise inscribed on a pillar erected to his memory on the
banks of the Leven bv one of his relations.
To these memoirs we are extremely sorry to add, that
so late as 1785 the widow of Dr Smollet was residing
in indigent circumstances at Leghorn. On this account
the tragedy of Venice Preserved was acted for her be¬
nefit at Edinburgh on the jth of March, and an excel¬
lent prologue spoken on that occasion.
The pieces inserted in the posthumous collection of
Dr Smollet’s plays and poems are, The Regicide, a
tragedy : The Reprisal, a comedy •, Advice and Re¬
proof, twro satires ; The Tears of Scotland •, Verses on
a Young Lady ; a Love Elegy, in imitation of Tibul¬
lus ; two Songs; a Burlesque Ode; Odes to Mirth, to
Sleep, to Leven Water, to Blue-ey’d Ann, and to In¬
dependence.
SMUGGLERS, persons who import or export pro¬
hibited goods without paying the duties appointed by
the law.
The duties of customs, it is said, were originally in¬
stituted, in order to enable the king to afford protec¬
tion to trade against pirates : they have since been con¬
tinued as a branch of the public revenue. As duties
imposed upon the importation of goods necessarily raise
their price above what they might otherwise have been
sold for, a temptation is presented to import the com¬
modity clandestinely and to evade the duty. Many
persons, prompted by the hopes of gain, and consider¬
ing the violation of a positive law of this nature as
in no respect criminal (an idea in which they have
been encouraged by a great part of the community,
who make no scruple to purchase smuggled goods),
have engaged in this illicit trade. It was impossible
that government could permit this practice, which is
highly injurious to the fair trader, as the smuggler is
enabled to undersell him, while at the same time he im¬
pairs the national revenue, and thus wholly destroys the
end for which these duties were appointed. Such penal¬
ties are therefore inflicted as it was thought would pre¬
vent smuggling.
Bwris Many laws have been made with this view. If any
Jmw Die- goods be shipped or landed without warrant and pre-
tomP’ sence °f an officer, the vessel shall be forfeited, and the
wharfinger shall forfeit 100I. and the master or ma¬
riner of any ship inward bound shall forfeit the value of
the goods: and any carman, porter, or oth.jr assisting,
shall be committed to gaol, till he find surety of his
good behaviour, or until he shall be discharged by the
^eui’t of exchequer (13 and 14 C. II. c. II.). If goods
he relanded after drawback, the vessel and goods shall Snm^fr
be forfeited ; and every person concerned therein shall—y~-.
forfeit double the value of the drawback (8 An. c. 13.).
Goods taken in at sea shall be forfeited, and also the
vessel into which they are taken; and every person con¬
cerned therein shall forfeit treble value (9 G.H. c. 350-
A vessel hovering near the coast shall be forfeited, if
under 50 tons burden ; and the goods shall also be for¬
feited, or the value thereof (5 G. HI. c. 43.). Persons
receiving or buying run goods shall forfeit 20I. (8 G.
c. 18.). A concealer of run goods shall forfeit ti’eble
value (8 G. c. 18.). Offering run goods to sale, the
same shall be forfeited, and the person to whom they
are offered may seize them ; and the person offering
them to sale shall forfeit treble value (11 G. c. 30.).
A porter or other person carrying run goods shall for¬
feit treble value (9 G. II. c. 35.). Persons armed or
disguised carrying run goods shall be guilty of felony,
and transported for seven years (8 G. c. 18. 9 G. II.
c* 85-)-
But the last statute, 19 G. II. c. 34. is for this pur¬
pose/V/star owkA/ot ,• for it makes all forcible acts of
smuggling, carried on in defiance of the laws, or even
in disguise to evade them, felony without benefit of
clergy : enacting, that if three or more persons shall
assemble, with fire-arms or other offensive weapons, to
assist iri the illegal exportation or importation of goods,
or in rescuing the same after seizure, 01 in rescuing of¬
fenders in custody for such offences; or shall pass with
such goods in disguise ; or shall wound, shoot at, or as¬
sault, any officers of the revenue when in the execution
of their duty ; such persons shall be felons, without the
benefit of clergy.
When we consider the nature, and still more the hi¬
story of mankind, we must allow that the enacting of
severe penal laws is not the way to prevent crimes. It
were indeed much (0 be wished that there were no such
thing as a political crime ; for the generality of men,
hut especially the lower orders, not discerning the pro¬
priety or utility of such laws, consider them as oppres¬
sive and tyrannical, and never hesitate to violate them
when they can do it with impunity. Instead therefore Smith's
of punishing smugglers, it would be much better to re- MoMljf
move the temptation. But the high duties which have^jp
been imposed upon the importation of many diffeient
sorts of foreign goods, in order to discourage their con¬
sumption in Great Britain, have in many cases served
only to encourage smuggling; and in all cases have re¬
duced the revenue of the customs below what more mo¬
derate duties would have afforded. The saying of Dr
Swift, that in the arithmetic of the customs two and
two, instead of making four, make some times only one,
holds perfectly true with regard to such heavy duties,
which never could have been imposed, had not the mer¬
cantile system taught us, in many cases, to employ tax¬
ation as an instrument, not of revenue, but of mono-
Po,y- . . . . .
The bounties which are sometimes given upon the
exportation of home produce and manufactures, and the
drawbacks which are paid upon the re-exportation of
the greater part of foreign goods, have given occasion
to many frauds, and to a species of smuggling more de¬
structive of the public revenue than any other. In 0('
dcr to obtain the bounty or drawback, the goods, it is
well known, are sometimes shipped and sent to sea, but
SOOB
(jle
ii
yrna
f s m y . r 427 i
soon afterwards clandestinely relanded in some other part church
of the country
 Heavy duties being imposed upon almost all goods
imported, our merchant importers smuggle as much
and make entry of as little as they can. Our merchant
exporters, on the contrary, make entry of more than
they export} sometimes out of vanity, and to pass for
great dealers in goods which pay no duty ; and some¬
times to gain a bounty or a drawback. Our exports
in consequence of these different frauds, appear upon
the customhouse books greatly to overbalance our im¬
ports $ to the unspeakable comfort of those politicians
who measure the national prosperity by what they call
the balance of trade. J
SMUT, in Husbandry, a disease in corn, when the
grains, instead of being filled with flour, are full of a
stinking black powder. See Wheat.
. SMYRNA, or Ismir, at present the largest and
ooeSo Clt^ 0. ^‘a Minor, is situated in north latitude
38 28', and in E. Long. 270 25' from Greenwich, and
about 183 miles west by south of Constantinople. The
town extends along the shore about half a mile on a
gentle declivity. The houses of the English, French,
and Dutch consuls, are handsome structures j these, with
most of those occupied by the Christian merchants, are
Washed on one side by the sea, forming a street named
£ rank-street, from its being solely inhabited by Euro¬
pean Christians. In the year 1763 the whole of this
quarter was cousumed by tire ; the loss sustained by
this calamity in merchandise Was estimated at a million
and a half of Turkish dollars, or near 200,oool. ster¬
ling. The port is one of the finest of the Levant, it
being able to contain the largest fleetj and indeed
there are seldom in it fewer than 100 ships of different
nations.
A castle stands at its entrance, and commands all the
shipping which sail in or out. There is likewise an old
ruinous castle, neara mile in circumference, which stands
m the upper part of the city, and according to tradi¬
tion, was built by the empress Helena : and near it is
an ancient structure, said to be the remains of a palace
wheie the Greek council was held when Smyrna was
the metropolis of Asia Minor. They also show the
rums of an amphitheatre, where it is said St Polycarp,
the first bishop, fought with lions.
Ihis city is about four miles in circumference, and
nearly of a triangular form ; but the side next the
mountain is much longer than the other sides. The
houses are low, and mostly built with clay walls, on ac¬
count of the earthquakes to which the country is sub¬
ject ; but the caravanseras and some other of the public
buildings have an air of magnificence. The streets are
Wide, and almost a continued bazar, in which a great
pait of the merchandise of Europe and Asia is exposed
to sale, with plenty of provisions ; though these are not
so c leap as in many other parts of Turkey, on account
°. *rie P0Pul°usness of the place, and the great resort
of foreigners. It is said to contain 15,000 Turks,
io,coo Greeks, 1800 Jews, 200 Armenians, and 200
Tranks: but the whole population is computed at
i20,coo. J he 1 urks have J9 mosques ; two churches
belong to the Greeks; one to the Armenians ; and the
dews have eight synagogues. The Romanists have
three convents. There is also one of the fa hers Della
ferra Santa. Here resides an archbishop of the Greek
SNA
• , . ■ a. k'fl‘0P who has a salary from Rome, Smirua
with the title of bishop of Smyrna in partibus infideli- j|
nm ; and the English and Dutch factories have each ' Snafl.
their chaplain. 1 v  
The walks about the town are extremely pleasant,
particularly on the west side of Frank street, where
there are several little groves of orange and lemon trees,
which being always clothed with leaves, blossoms, and
fruit, regale several of the senses at the same time. The
vines which coyer the little hills about Smyrna afford
both a delightful prospect and plenty of grapes, of
which good wine is made. These bills are agreeably
interspersed with fertile plains, little forests of olives
am ot ler fruit-trees, and many pleasure-houses, to
which the Franks usually retire during the summer. In
the neighbourhood of Smyrna is great plenty of game
and wild-fowl, and particularly deer and wild-hogs.
Die sea also abounds with a variety of good fish. The
European Christians are here allowed all imaginable li¬
berties, and usually clothe themselves after the Euro¬
pean manner.
The chief commerce of this city consists in raw silk,
silk-stutts, grograms, and cotton yarn.
However, the unhealthfulness of the situation am!
more especially the frequent earthquakes, from which
it is said, they are scarcely ever free for two years to¬
gether, and which have been felt 40 days successively
are an abatement of the pleasure that might otherwise
be enjoyed here. A very dreadful one happened iu
June 1668, which overthrew a great number of the
houses j and the rock opening where the castle stood,
swallowed it up, and no less than 5000 persons perish¬
ed on this occasion*
In the year 17581 so desolating a plague raged here,
that scarcely a sufficient number of the inhabitants sur¬
vived to gather in the fruits of the earth. In the year
*772> three-fourth parts of the city were consumed by
fire ; and six years after it was visited by the mast dread¬
ful earthquakes, which continued from the 25th of June
to the 5th of July; by which successive calamities the
city has been so much reduced, that its former conse¬
quence is never likely to he restored.
Hie ladies here wear the oriental dress, consisting of
large trowsers or breeches, which reach to the ancle;
long vests of rich silk or velvet, lined in winter with
costly furs ; and round their waist an embroidered zone
with clasps of silver or gold. Their hair is plaited,
and descends down the back often in great profusion.
The girls have sometimes above twenty thick tresses,
besides two or three encircling the head as a cornet,
and set oil with flowers and plumes of feathers, pearls,
or other jewels. They Commonly stain it of a chesnut
colour, which is the most desired. Their apparel and
carriage are alike antique. It is remarkable that the
trowsers are mentioned in a fragment of Sappho as part
of the female dress.
SMYRNIUM, Alexanders ; a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class of pentandria, and to the order of
digynia ; and in the natural system ranging under the
45th order, Umbellatce. See Botany Index.
SNAFFLE, in the manege, is a very slender bit-
mouth without any branches, much used in England;
the true bridles being reserved for war.
SNAIL, in Zoology. See Helix, Conchology
Index, and Limax, Helminthology Index.
3 H 2 ' SNAKE,
S N
Snake. SNAKE, in Zmlogy.
—^ Ophiology Index.
SxrjKE-Stones, Arnmoriitce, in Natural History, the
name of a large genus of fossil shells, very few if any of
which are. yet known in their recent state, or living
either on our own or any other shores j so that it seems
wonderful whence so vast a number and variety of them
should he brought into our subterranean regions. They
seem indeed dispersed in great plenty throughout the
world, but nowhere are found in greater numbers, beau¬
ty, and variety, than in our island.
Mr Harenberg found prodigious numbers of them on
the banks of a river in Germany. He traced this river
through its several windings for many miles; and among
a great variety of belemnitae, cornua ammonis, and coch-
n rious kinds, he found also great quantities of
A [ 428 ] S N E
See AnGUIS and Serpens, or snake-stones, are found in many parts of England,
Snake
Sncczin
litae, of var
wood of recent petrifaction, which still preserved plain
marks of the axe by which it had been cut from the
trees then growing on'the shore. The water of this river
he found in dry seasons, when its natural springs were
not diluted with rains, to be considerably heavier than
common water; and many experiments showed him
that it contained ferruginous, as well as stony particles,
in great quantity, whence the petrifactions in it appear¬
ed the less wonderful, though many of them of recent
date. .
Of the cornua ammonis, or serpent-stones, he there
observed more than 30 different species. They lie im¬
mersed in a bluish fossil stone, of a soft texture and
fatty appearance, in prodigious numbers, and of a great
variety of si7.es, from the larger known sorts down to
such as could not be seen without very accurate inspec¬
tion or the assistance of a microscope. Such as lie in
the softest of these stones are soft like their matrix, and
easily crumble to pieces; others are harder. In a piece
of this stone, of the bigness of a finger, it is common to
find 30 or more of these fossils; and olten they are seen
only in form of white specks,-so minute that their fi¬
gure cannot be distinguished till examined by the mi¬
croscope.
They all consist of several volutae, which are different
in number in the different species, and their striae also
are extremely various ; some very deep with very high
ridges between them, others very slight; some straight,
others crooked.; others undulated, and some termina¬
ting in dots, tubercles, or cavities, towards the back,
and others having tubercles in two or three places.
They are all composed of a great number of chambers
or cells, in the manner of the nautilus Grcecontm, each
having a communication with the others, by means of a
pipe or siphunculus. There is a small white shell fish of
Barbadoes, which seems truly a recent animal of this
genus ; and in the East Indies there is another also,
small and grayish; but the large and beautifully mark¬
ed ones are found only fossil.
They are composed of various fossil bodies, often of
quarry stone, sometimes of the matter of the common
pyrites, and of a great variety of other substances ; and
though they appear usually mere stones, yet in some the
pearly part of the original shell is preserved in all its
beauty. Sometimes also, while the outer substance is
of the matter of the pyrites, or other coarse, stony, or
mineral matter, the inner cavity is filled with a pure
white spar of the common plated texture. This gives
a great beauty to the specimen. The cornua ammonis,
particularly in Yorkshire, where they are very plentiful
in the alum rocks of several sizes. ^
Snake-Root, See Polygala, Botany Index. ' v '
Snake-fFeed. See Polygonum, Botany index.
SNAPEDIiAGON. See Antirrhinum, Botany
Index.
SNEEZING, a convulsive motion of the muscles of
the breast, whereby the air is expelled from the nose
with much vehemence and noise. It is caused by the
irritation of the upper membrane of the nose, occasioned
by acrid substances floating in the air, or by medicines
called sternutatory.
This irritation is performed either externally, by
strong smells, as marjorum, roses, &c. or by dust float¬
in': in the air, and taken in by inspiration ; or by sharp
pungent medicines, as cresses and other sternutatories,
which vellicate the membrane of the nose; or internally,
by the acrimony of the lympha or mucus, which natu¬
rally moistens that membrane. The matters cast forth
in sneezing come primarily from the nose and throat;
the pituitary membrane continually exuding a mucus
thither; and, secondarily, from the breast, the trachea,
and the bronchia of the lungs.
The practice of saluting the person who sneezed ex¬
isted in Africa, among nations unknown to the Greeks
and Romans. The accounts wre have of Monomotapa
inform us*, that when the prince sneezes, all his sub-*
jects in the capital are advertised of it, that they may
offer up prayers for his safety. I he author of the C on¬
quest of Peru assures us, that the cacique of Guachoia
having sneezed in presence of the Spaniards, the In¬
dians of his train fell prostrate before him, stretched
forth their hands, and displayed to him the accustomed
marks of respect, while they invoked the sun to en¬
lighten him, to defend him, and to be his constant
guard.
Every body knows that the Romans saluted each ^ ^
other on these occasions : and Pliny relates f, that li-^ ^^
berius exacted these signs of homage when drawn in hiscapiJ>
chariot. Superstition, whose influence can debase every
thing, had degraded this custom for several ages, by
attaching favourable or unfavourable omens to sneezing
according to the hour of the day or night, according to
the signs of the zodiac, according as a work was more
or less advanced, or according as one had sneezed to the
right or to the left %. If a man sneezed at rising
table or from his bed, it was necessary for him to sit rornmftt'
lie down again. A 011 are struck with astonishment, said
Timotheus to the Athenians, who wished to return into
the harbour with their fleet §, because be had sneezed^
you are struck with astonishment, because among io,oco^
there is one man whose brain is moist.
Polydore Virgil pretends, that in the time of Gre¬
gory the Great, there reigned in Italy an epidemic dis¬
temper, which carried off by sneezing all those who
were seized by it; and that this pontiff ordered prarers
to be made against it, accompanied by certain signs 0
the cr’oss. But besides that, there are very few cases nr
which sneezing can be considered as dangerous, and that
it is frequently a favourable symptom [|, it is evident,
that we ought not to date from the sixth cen*ur.y *
origin of a custom which loses itself in the obscurity 0
antiquity. Avicenna and Cardan say, it is a sort of con¬
vulsion, which gives occasion to dread an epilepsy,
and
that
S N E
*, darch
de vi. So-
crt
t s.iten-
at.
} Uteri
Od I, lib.
j X'.~,ph.
Am
! At l. des
Inso.
T0l.
* fo ot.
wp.,
that this disease is endeavoured to be warded off by
< prayers. Clement of Alexandria considers it as a mark
of intemperance and effeminacy, which ought to be
proscribed. And he inveighs bitterly against those who
endeavour to procure sneezing by external aid. Mon¬
taigne, on the contrary, explains this fact in a tone ra¬
ther cynical. It is singular enough, that so many ridi¬
culous, contradictory, and superstitious opinions, have
not abolished those customary civilities which are still
preserved equally among high and low; and which on¬
ly the Anabaptists and Quakers have rejected, because
they have renounced salutations in every case.
Among the Greeks sneezing was almost always a good
omen. It excited marks of tenderness, of respect, and
attachment. The genius of Socrates informed him by
sneezing, when it was necessary to perform any action *.
The young Partbenis, hurried on by her passion, resol¬
ved to write to Sarpedon an avowal of her love f ; she
sneezes in the most tender and impassioned part of her
letter : This is sufficient for her ; this incident supplies
the place of an answer, and persuades her that Sarpedon
is her lover. Penelope, harassed by the vexatious court¬
ship of her suitors, begins to curse them all, and to pour
forth vows for the return of Ulysses j!. Her son Tele-
machus interrupts her by a loud sneeze. She instantly
exults with joy, and regards this sign as an assurance of
the approaching return of her husband. Xenophon was
haranguing his troops ; a soldier sneezed in the mo¬
ment when he was exhorting them to embrace a dange¬
rous but necessary resolution. The whole army, moved
by this presage, determined to pursue the project of
their general ; and Xenophon orders sacrifices to Jupi¬
ter the preserver §.
This religious reverence for sneezing, so ancient and
so universal even in the times of Homer, always excited
the curiosity of the Greek philosophers and of the rab¬
bins. These last have spread a tradition, that, after the
creation of the world, God made a general law to this
purport, that every living man should sneeze but once
in his life, and that at the same instant he should render
up his soul into the hand of his Creator |[, without any
preceding indisposition. Jacob obtained an exemption
from the common law, and the favour of being informed
of his last hour : He sneezed and did not die; and this
sign of death was changed into a sign of life. Notice
of this was sent to all the princes of the earth ; and they
ordained that in future sneezing should be accompanied
with forms of blessing, and vows for the persons who
sneezed.
Aristotle remounts likewise to the sources of natural
religion. He observes, that the brain is the origin of
the nerves, of our sentiments, our sensations, the seat of
the soul, the image of the Divinity * ; that upon all
these accounts, the substance of the brain has ever been
held in honour ; that the first men swore by their head ;
that they durst not touch nor eat the brains of any ani¬
mal ; that it was even a sacred word which they dared
not to pronounce. Filled with these ideas, it is not
wonderful that they extended their reverence even to
sneezing. Such is the opinion of the most ancient and
sagacious philosophers of Greece.
According to mythology, the first sign of life Pro¬
metheus’s artificial man gave was by sternutation. This
supposed creator is said to have stolen a portion of the
solar rays ; and filling with them a phial, which he had
[ 429 ]
S N O
made on purpose, sealed it up hermetically. He instant- Sneezing
ly flies back to his favourite automaton, and opening |) &
the phial holds it close to the statue ; the rays still re- Snoring.
taining all their activity, insinuate themselves through ' 
the pores, and set the fictitious man a sneezing. Pro¬
metheus, transported with the success of his machine,
offers up a fervent prayer, with wishes for the preserva¬
tion of so singular a being. His automaton observed
him, remembering his ejaculations, was very careful, on
the like occasions, to offer these wishes in behalf of his
descendants, who perpetuated it from father to son in
all their colonies.
SNIGGLING, a method of fishing for eels, chiefly
used in the daytime, when they are found to hide
themselves near wears, mills, or flood-gates. It is per¬
formed thus : Take a strong line and hook, baited with
a garden worm, and observing the holes where the eels
lie hid, thrust your bait into them by the help of a
stick ; and if there be any, you shall be sure to have
a bite; and may, if your tackling hold, get the largest
eels.
SNIPE, in Ornithology. See Scolopax and Shoot¬
ing.
SNORING, in Medicine, otherwise called stertor, is
a sound like that of the cerelmon, but greater and more
manifest.
Many confound those affections, and make them to
differ only in place and magnitude, calling by the name
of stertor that sound or noise which is heard or supposed
to be made in the passage between the palate and the
nostrils, as in those who sleep; that boiling or bubbling
noise, which in respiration proceeds from the larynx or
head, or orifice of the aspera arteria, they call cerchnon;
but if the sound comes from the aspera arteria itself,
it is called cercknos, that is, as some understand it, a
rattling, or as others a stridulous or wheezing roughness
of the aspera arteria. In dying persons this affection is
called by the Greeks rhenchos, which is a snor¬
ing or rattling kind of noise, proceeding as it were from
a conflict between the breath and the humours in the
aspera arteria.
This and such like affections are owing to a weak¬
ness of nature, as when the lungs are full of pus or hu¬
mours : to which purpose we read in the Prognostics of
Hippocrates, “ it is a bad sign when there is no expec¬
toration, and no discharge from the lungs, but a noise
as from an ebullition is heard in the aspera arteria from
a plenitude of humour.” Expectoration is suppressed
either by the viscidity of the humour, which requires to
be discharged, and which adhering to the aspera arteria,
and being there agitated by the breath, excites that
bubbling noise or stertor; or by an obstruction of the
bronchia ; or, lastly, by a compression of the aspera ar¬
teria and throat, whence the passage is straitened, in
which the humours being agitated, excite such a kind
of noise as before described. Hence Galen calls those
who are strait-breasted stertorous. That author assigns
but two causes of this symptom, which are either the
straitness of the passage of respiration or redundance of
humours, or both together; but it is necessary to add a
third, to wit, the weakness of the faculty, which is the
cause of the rhenchos in dying persons, where nature is
too weak to make discharges.
From what has been said we conclude, that this
symptom or this sort of fervour or ebullition in the
throat,
S N O [ 43° J S N O
Snoring, throat, is not always mortal, but only when nature is
Snow, oppressed with the redundance of humour, in such a
■“““V L'' manner, that the lungs cannot discharge themselves by
spitting; or the passage appointed for the breath (being
the aspera arteria) is very much obstructed, upon which
account many dying persons labour under a stertor with
their mouths gaping.
SNOW, a well known meteor, formed by the freez¬
ing of the vapour of water in the atmosphere. It differs
from hail and hoar-frost, in being as it were crystalli¬
sed, which they are not. This appears in examining a
flake of snow by a magnifying glass; when the whole
of it will appear to he Composed of fine shining spicula
diverging like rays from a centre. As the flakes fall
down through the atmosphere, they are continually
joined by more of these radiated spicula, and thus in¬
crease in bulk like the drops of rain or hailstones. Dr
Grew, in a discourse of the nature of snow, observes,
that many parts thereof are of a regular figure, for the
most part stars of six points* and are as perfect and
transparent ice as any we see on a pond, &c. Upon
each of these points are Other collateral points, set at
the same angles as the main points themselves: among
which there are divers other irregular, which are chief¬
ly broken points, and fragments of the regular ones.
Dthers also, by various winds, seem to have been thaw*
ed and frozen again into irregular clusters; so that it
seems as if the whole body of snow were an infinite mass
of icicles irregularly figured; That is* a cloud of va¬
pours being gathered into drops, the said drops forth¬
with descend; upon which descent* meeting with a
freezing air as they pass through a colder region, each
drop is immediately frozen into an icicle, shooting itself
forth into several points ; but these still continuing their
descent, and meeting with some intermitting gales of
warmer air, or in their continual wattage to and fro
touching upon each other, some of them are a little
thawed, blunted, and again frozen into clusters, or en¬
tangled so as to fall down in what we call flakes.
The lightness of snow, although it is firm ice, is ow¬
ning to the excess of its surface, in comparison to the
matter contained under it ; as gold itself may be ex¬
tended in surface till it ride upon the least breath of
air.
The whiteness of snow is owing to the small particles
into which it is divided; for ice, when pounded, will
become equally white. An artificial snow has been
made bv the following experiment. A tall phial of
aquafortis being placed byr the fire till it is Warm, and
filings of pure silver, a few at a time* being put into it;
after a brisk ebullition, the silver will dissolve slowly.
The phial being then placed in a cold window, as it
cools the silver particles will shoot into crystals, several
of which running together will form a flake of snow,
which will descend to the bottom of the phial. While
they are descending, they represent perfectly a shower
of silver snow, and the flakes will lie upon one another
-at the bottom, like real snow upon the ground;
According to Signior Beccaria, clouds of snow differ
in nothing from clouds of rain, but in the circumstance
of told that freezes them. Both the regular diffusion
of the snow, and the regularity of the structure of its
iparts (particularly some figures of snow or hail which
fall about Turin, and which he calls rosette') show that
^clouds of snow are acted upon by some uniform cause
like electricity; and he endeavours to show how electri¬
city is capable of forming these figures. He was con- u
firmed in his conjectures by observing, that his appara¬
tus for observing the electricity of the atmosphere never
failed to be electrified by snow as well as rain. Pro¬
fessor Winthrop sometimes found his apparatus electri¬
fied by snow when driven about by the wind, though it
had not been affected by it when the snow itself was
falling. A more intense electricity, according to Bec-
caria, unites the particles of hail more closely than the
more moderate electi icily does those, of snow, in the
same manner as we see that the drops of rain which
fall from thunder-clouds are larger than those which fall
from others, though the former descend through a less
space.
But we are not to consider snow merely as a curious
and beautiful phenomenon. The Great-Dispenser of
universal bounty has so ordered it, that it is eminently
subservient* as well as all the works of creation, to his
benevolent designs. Were we to judge from appearan¬
ces only* we might imagine, that so far from being use¬
ful to the earth, the cold humidity of snow would be
detrimental to vegetation. But the experience of all
ages asserts the contrary. Suow, particularly in those
northern regions where the ground is covered with it
for several months, fructifies the earth, by guarding the
corn or other vegetables from the intenser cold ot the
air, and especially from the cold piercing winds. It has
been a vulgar opinion, very generally received, that snow
fertilizes the lands on which it falls more than rain, in
consequence of the nitrous salts which it is supposed t«
acquire by freezing. But it appears from the experi¬
ments of Margraaf, in the year 1751, that the chemi¬
cal difference between rain and snow water is exceed¬
ingly small; that the latter contains a less proportion of
earth than the former; but neither of them contain ei¬
ther earth or any kind of salt in any quantity which
can be sensibly efficacious in promoting vegetation. Al¬
lowing, therefore, that nitre is a fertilizer of lands, which
many are upon good grounds disposed utterly to deny,
yet so very small is the quantity of it contained in snow,
that it cannot be supposed to promote the vegetation of
plants upon which the snow has lallcn. rIhe pecu¬
liar agency of snow, as a fertilizer in preference to rain,
may admit of a very rational explanation, without re¬
curring to nitrous salts supposed to be contained in it. It
may be rationally ascribed to its furnishing a covering to
the roots of vegetables* by which they are guarded from
the influence of the atmospheric cold, and the internal
heat of the earth is prevented from escaping.
The internal part of the earth, by some principle
which we do not understand, is heated uniformly to the
48th degree of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. This degree
of heat is greater than that in which the watery juices
of vegetables freeze, and it is propagated from the in¬
ward parts of the earth to the surlace, on which the ve¬
getables grow. The atmosphere being variably heated
by the action of the sun in different climates, and in the
same climate at different seasons, communicates to the
surface of the earth and to some distance below it the
degree of heat or cold which prevails in itself. Diffe¬
rent vegetables are able to preserve life under difterent
degrees of cold, but all of them perish when the cold
which reaches their roots is extreme. Providence has
therefore, in the coldest climates, provided a covering
S N o
t 431 ]
S N O
Snow.
of snow for the roots of vegetables, by which they are with which the grotto is arched above prevent them
protected from the influence of the atmosoheriral rnM fV™,  • . U 6 Pievcilt tbcm
protected from the influence of the atmospherical cold.
The snow keeps in the internal heat of the earth, which
surrounds the roots of vegetables, and defends them
from the cold of the atmosphere.
Snow or ice water is always deprived of its fixed air,
which escapes during the process of congelation. Ac¬
cordingly, as some of the inhabitants of the Alps who
use it for their constant drink have enormous wens upon
their throats, it has been ascribed to this circumstance.
If this were the cause of these wens, it would be easy
to remove it by exposing the snow-water to the air for
some time. Rut several eminent physicians have reject¬
ed the notion that snow-water is the cause of these wens j
for in Greenland, where snow-water is commonly used,
the inhabitants are not affected with such swellings: on
the other hand, they are common in Sumatra where
snow is never seen.
Snow, in sea-aflairs, is generally the largest of all
two-masted vessels employed by Europeans, and the
most convenient for navigation.
Ihe sails and rigging on the mainmast and foremast
of a snow are exactly similar to those on the same masts
in a ship } only that there is a small mast behind the
mainmast of the former, which carries a sail nearly re¬
sembling the mizen of a ship. The root of the mast is
fixed on a block of wood on the quarter-deck abaft the
mainmast; and the head of it is attached to the after¬
top of the maintop. The sail, which is called the try-
seal, is extended from its mast towards the stern of the
vessel.
YVhen the sloops of war are rigged as snows, they
are furnished with a horse, which answers the purpose
of the trysail-mast, the fore-part of the sail being at¬
tached by rings to the said horse, in different parts of
its height.
Snow-Grotto, an excavation made by the waters on
the side of Mount Etna, by making their way under
>   j—Snow,
from making any impression. Snowdmt-
M hen the season for exporting the snow comes on, it fifib-
is put into large bags, into which it is pressed as closely' v J
as possible; it is then carried by men out of the grotto,
and laid upon mules, which convey it to the shore,
where small vessels are waiting to carry it away.
Rut before those lumps of snow are put into bags,
they are wrapped in fresh leaves > so that while thev
are conveyed from the grotto to the shore, the leaves
may prevent the rays of the sun from making any im¬
pression upon them. J
The Sicilians carry on a considerable trade in snow,
which affords employment to some thousands of mules,5
horses and men. Ihey have magazines of it on the
summits of their loftiest mountains, from which they
distribute it through all their cities, towns, and houses 5
for every person in the island makes use of snow. They
consider the practice of cooling their liquors as absolute¬
ly necessary for the preservation of health ; and in a cli¬
mate the heat of which is constantly relaxing the fibres,
cooling liquors, by communicating a proper tone to the
fibres of the stomach, must greatly strengthen them for
the performance of their functions.
In this climate a scarcity of snow is no less dreaded
than a scarcity of corn, wine, or oil. We are inform¬
ed by a gentleman who was at Syracuse in the year
1777, when there was a scarcity of snow, the people of
the town learned that a small vessel loaded with that ar¬
ticle was passing the coast: without a moment’s delibe¬
ration they ran in a body to the shore, and demanded
her cargo j which, when the crew refused to deliver up,
the Syracusans attacked and took, though with the loss
of several men.
Snow-Drop. See Chionanthus, Rotany Index.
SNOWDON hill, the name of a mountain in Caer-
naryon-shire in Wales, generally thought to be the high¬
est in Britain j though some have been of opinion that
the 1 avers of lavn J • 5 7 ^ 1 esc 1,1 I3ntaiu $ though some have been of opinion that
snow: f„r in Sieiiy at N^s, and
tor Si„ge,h°eKneTlri Tn^oTherT ^ ""'I • mCK"',I,'',Si '0 Mt *■ -on.ainlfjact.
ion making sweetmeat* ’ ^ rS’ Its produce is cattle and sl,eep;«>ST
preserve quantities of snow to be sent to^Malta when ^ i'T'9' ll0U®es cons,st a long low room, with
veiled a piece of ground of c^n de -abfe extent trl ^ m°SSeS LC°lleCted the rocks,
they have inclosed™! tl, tbbL l 1 f 1' , IDur,nS su'™er the men pass their time in tending their
when tii^s ^ewt t,ia; herds °vn -^^c. ,nd the women ;n ^
violence, carry the snow from the £e! parts ofTL "•••" m g bl"tfr a"d ^ F°r Uleirow" “s<: ll>«
mountains, and deposit it in the inclosure, it is retained
and amassed by the walls. The people then remove it
there 1^ f™0 though the two openings j and it is
• ® !.la,d UP» apnd preserved in such a manner as to re-
t the force of the summer heats j as the layers of lava
ing
milk both ewes and goats-, and   ^ wj
milk. Their diet consists of milk, cheese, and butter •
and their ordinary drink is whey ; though they have*
by way of reserve, a few bottles of very strong beer
which they use as a cordial when sick. They are people
of good understanding, wary, and circumspect; tall,
thine.
they
make cheese of the
Snowdon-
Hill.
S N O [ 432 ]
tlihi, ami of strong constitutions. In the winter-time hard,
they descend into the hen-dref, or, “ old dwelling,”
where they pass their time in inactivity.
The view from the highest peak of Snowden is very
extensive. From it Mr Pennant saw the county of
Chester, the high hills of Yorkshire, part of the north of
England, Scotland, and Ireland ; a plain view of the isle
of Man j and that of Anglesea appeared like a map ex¬
tended under his feet, with every rivulet visible. Our
author took much pains to have this view to advantage j
Sat up at a farm on the west till about 12, and walked
up the whole way. The night was remarkably fine
and starry 5 towards morning the stars faded away, lea¬
ving an interval of darkness, which, however, was soon
dispelled by the dawn of day. The body of the sun ap¬
peared most distinct, with the roundness of the moon,
before it appeared too brilliant to be looked at. The
sea, which bounded the western part of the prospect,
appeared gilt with the sun-beams, first in slender streaks,
and at length glowed with redness. The prospect was
disclosed like the gradual drawing up ot a curtain in a
theatre 5 till at last the heat became sufficiently strong
to raise mists from the various lakes, which in a slight
degree obscured the prospect. The shadow of the moun¬
tain extended many miles, and showed its bicapitated
form j the Wyddfa making one head, and Crib y Distill
the other. At this time he counted between 20 and
30 lakes either in Caernarvon or in Merionethshire. In
making another visit, the sky was obscured very soon
after he got up. A vast mist involved the whole cir¬
cuit of the mountain, and the prospect down was hor¬
rible. It gave an idea of numbers of abysses, concealed
by a thick smoke furiously circulating around them.
Very often a gust of wind made an opening in the
clouds, which gave a fine and distinct vista ol lake and
valley. Sometimes they opened in one place, at others
in many at once *, exhibiting a most strange and perplex¬
ing sight of water, fields, rocks, and chasms. 1 hey then
closed again, and every thing was involved in darkness j
in a few minutes they would separate again, and repeat
the above-mentioned scene with infinite variety. From
this prospect our traveller descended with great reluc¬
tance 5 but before he had reached the place where his
horses were left, he was overtaken by a thunder storm.
The rolling of the thunder-claps, being reiterated by
the mountains, was inexpressibly awtul j and after he
had mounted, he was in great danger ol being swept
away by the torrents which poured down in consequence
of a very heavy rain.
It is very rare (Mr Pennant observes) that the tra¬
veller gets a proper day to ascend this hill : it indeed
often appears clear *, but by the evident attraction ot the
clouds by this lofty mountain, it becomes suddenly and
unexpectedly enveloped in mist, when the clouds have
just before appeared very high and very remote. At
times he observed them lower to half their height5 and
notwithstanding they have been dispersed to the right
and left, yet they have met from both sides, and united
to involve the summit in one great obscurity.
The height of Snowden was measured, in 1682, by
Mr Caswell, with instruments made by Flamstead : ac¬
cording to his mensuration, the height is 3720 ^eet
more moderate computations make it only 35^^> reckon¬
ing from the quay at Caernarvon to the highest peak.
The stone that composes this mountain is excessively
S O A
  Large coarse crystals, and frequently cubic py- Sncmdon-
rites, are found in the fissures. An immense quantity of
water rushes down the sides of Snowdon and the neigh¬
bouring mountains, insomuch that Mr Pennant supposes,
if collected into one stream, they would exceed the wa¬
ters of the Thames.
SNUFF, a powder chiefly made of tobacco, the use
of which is too well known to need any description
here.
Tobacco is usually the basis of snuff; other matters
being only added to give it a more agreeable scent, &c.
The kinds of snuff, and their several names, are infinite,
and new ones are daily invented j so that it would be
difficult, not to say impossible, to give a detail ot them.
We shall only say, that there are three principal sorts:
the first granulated j the second an impalpable powder j
and the third the bran, or coarse part remaining after
sifting the second sort.
“ Every professed, inveterate, and incurable snuff-
taker (says Lord Stanhope, at a moderate computa¬
tion, takes one pinch in ten minates. Every pinch,
with the agreeable ceremony of blowing and wiping the
nose and other incidental circumstances, consumes a mi¬
nute and a half. One minute and a half out of every
ten, allowing 16 hours to a snufl' taking day, amounts
to two hours and 24 minutes out of every natural day,
or one day out of every ten. One day out ot every 10
amounts to 36 days and a half in a year. Hence if we
suppose the practice to be persisted in 40 years, two en¬
tire years of the snuff-taker’s life will be dedicated to
tickling his nose, and tivo more to blowing it. I be
expence of snuff, snuff-boxes, and handkerchiefs, will be
the subject ot a second essay j in which it will appear,
that this luxury encroaches as much on the income of
the snuff-taker as it does on his time j and that by a
proper application of the time and money thus lost to
the public, a fund might be constituted for the discharge
of the national debt.” See NlCOTIANA.
SNYDERS, Francis, a Flemish painter, born at
Antwerp in 1379, and bred under bis countryman Hen¬
ry Van Baleh. His genius first displayed itself in paint¬
ing fruit: he afterwards attempted animals, huntings,
&.c. in which he exceeded all his predecessors. _ H«
also painted kitchens, &c. and gave dignity to subjects
that seemed incapable ot it. He was made paintei to
Ferdinand and Isabella, archduke and duchess, and be¬
came attached to the house of the cardinal infant of
Spain. The king of Spain and the elector Palatine
adorned their palaces with huntings by this artist. Ru*
bens, Jordaens, and Snyders, used to co-operate in the
enriching of each other’s pictures according to their
several talents; and thus they became more valuable
than if finished by either of them singly. Snyders died
in 1657.
SOAL-fish. See Pleuronectes, Ichthyology
Index. , .
SOAP, a composition of caustic, fixed alkaline sa t,
and oil, sometimes hard and dry, sometimes soft and 1-
quid ; much used in washing, whitening linens, an >Y
dyers and fullers.—Soap may be made by seveial nu
thods, which, however, all depend upon the same prl”
ciple. The soap which is used in medicine is mate
without heat.
In manufactures where large quantities of it are pie
pared, soap is made with heat. A lixivium of quick ime
ioap.
S O A [433
and soda is made, but is less concentrated than that soap
' above referred (o, and only so much that it can sustain
a fresh egg. A part of this lixivium is to be even di¬
luted and mixed with an equal weight of oil of olives.
The mixture is to be put on a gentle fire, and agitated,
that the union may be accelerated. When the mix¬
ture begins to unite well, the rest of the lixivium is to
be added to it; and the whole is to he digested with a
very gentle heat, till the soap he completely made. A
] S O A
Soap thus made would appear yellow, hut by a
mixture of indigo added at the end of the boiling, it is
rendered green, that being the colour which results
from the mixture of yellow and blue.
White soap. Of this one sort is made after the same
manner as green soft soap, oil alone excepted, which is
not used in white. The other sort of white soft soap is
made from the lees of ashes of lime boiled up two dilfer-
with tallow.
Soap.
. - # , ent times with tallow. First, a quantity of lees and
tnal is to he. made of it, to examine whether the just tallow are put into the copper together, and kept boil-
proportion of oil and alkali has been observed. Good ing, being fed with lees as they boil, until the whole is
soapoi this kind ought to be firm, and veiy white when boiled sufficiently 5 then the lees are separated or dis
cold ; not subject to become moist by exposure to air,
and entirely miscible with pure water, to which it com¬
municates a milky appearance, but without any drops
of oil floating on the surface. When the soap has not
these qualities, the combination has not been well made,
oi- the quantity of salt or oil is too great, which faults
must be corrected.
In soft or liquid soaps, green or black soaps, cheaper
oils are employed, as oi! of nuts, of hemp, of fish, &c.
These soaps, excepting in consistence, are not essential¬
ly different from white soap.
Fixed alkalies are much disposed to unite with oils
that are not volatile, both vegetable and animal, since
this union can be made even without heat. The com¬
pound resulting from this union partakes at the same
time of the properties of oil and of alkali ; but these
properties are modified and tempered by each other,
according to the general rule of combinations. Alkali
charged from the tallowish part, which part is removed
into a tub, and the lees are thrown away ; this is called
the first half-boil: then the copper is filled again with
fresh tallow and lees, and the first half-boil is put out
of the tub into the copper a second time, where it is
kept boiling with fresh lees and tallou till tne soap is
produced. It is then put out of the copper into the
same sort of casks as are used for green soft soap. The
common soft soap used about London, generally of a
greenish hue, with some white lumps, is prepared chief¬
ly with tallow : a blackish sort, more common in some
other places, is said to be made with whale oil.
Hard soap is made with lees from ashes and tallow,
and is most commonly boiled twice : the first, called the
half-boil, hath the same operation as the first half-boil of
soft white soap. Then the copper is charged with fresh
lees again, and the first half-boil put into it, where it
is kept boiling, and fed with lees as it boils, till it grains
formed into soap has not nearly the same acrimony as or is boiled enough : then the lev is discharged fr
when it is pure *, it is even deprived of almost all its
causticity, and its other saline alkaline properties are
almost entirely abolished. rlhe same oil contained in
soap is less combustible, than when pure, from its union
with the alkali, which is an inflammable body. It is
miscible, or even soluble, in water, to a certain de¬
gree, by means of the alkali. Soap is entirely soluble
in spirit of wine 5 and still better in aquavitae sharpen¬
ed by a little alkaline salt, according to an observation
of Mr Geollroy.
The manufacture of soap in London first began in
the year 1524 ; before which time this city was served
with white soap from foreign countiies, and with gray
sosp speckled with white from Bristol, which was sold
for a penny a pound; and also with black soap, which
sold for a halfpenny the pound.
The principal soaps of our own manufacture are the
soft, the hard, and the ball soap. T he soft soap is ei¬
ther white or green. The process of making each of
these shall now be described.
Green soft soap. The chief ingredients used in ma¬
king this are lees drawn from potash and lime, boiled
up with tallow and oil. I irst, the ley of a proper de¬
gree of strength (which must be estimated by the weight
of the liquor), and tallow, are put into the copper to¬
gether, and as soon as they boil up the oil is affiled;    ltl llJC luJluai.w.,
ie re is t icn clamped or stopped up, while the ingre- it is little altered in the connection of its principles ; for
clients remain in the copper to unite ; when they are it may be separated from the alkali by decomposing
soap with any acid, and may be obtained nearly in its
original state.
Concerning the decomposition of soap by means of
om it,
and the soap put into a frame to cool and harden. Com
mon salt is made use of for the purpose of graining the
soap ; for when the oil or tallow has been united with
the ley, after a little boiling, a quantity of salt is thrown
into the mass, which dissolving readily in water, but
not in the oil or tallow, draws out the water in a con¬
siderable degree, so that the oil or tallow united with
the salt of the ley swims on the top. When the ley is
of a proper strength, less salt is necessary to raise the
cuid than when it is too weak. It must be observed,
that there is no certain time for bringing off a boiling
of any of these sorts of soap : it frequently takes up part
of two days.
Ball soap, commonly used in the north, is made with
lees from ashes and tallow. T he lees are put into the
copper, and boiled till the watery part is quite gone,
and there remains nothing in the copper but a sort of
saline matter (the very strength or essence of the ley) :
to this the tallow is put, and the copper is kept boil¬
ing and stirring for above half an hour, in which time
the soap is made; and then it is put out of the copper
into tubs or baskets with sheets in them, and imme¬
diately (whilst soft) made into balls. It requires near
24 hours in this process to boil away the watery part of
the ley.
When oil unites with alkali in the formation of scap,
united, the copper is again made to boil, being fed or
filled with lees as it boils, till there be a sufficient quan¬
tity put into it; then it is boiled ofl and put into casks.
Vvlien this soap is first made it appears uniform; but
in about a week’s time the tallow separates from the
oil into those white grains which we see in comma!
Vol. XIX. Part II. f
acids, we must observe, first, that all acids, even the
weakest vegetable acids, may occasion this decomposi¬
tion, because every one of them has a greater affinity
3 I than
So?.p.
A t 434 ] S .° A
Secondly, these acids, even lost much of its reputation in jaundice, since it is now
WoodviUes
Medical
Hot any,
?• 39c-
s o
than oil with fixed alkali.
when united with any basis, excepting fixed alkali, are
capable of occasioning the same decomposition*, whence
all ammoniacal salts, all salts with bases of earth, and all
those with metallic bases, are capable of decomposing
soap, in the same manner as disengaged acids are; with
this difierence, that the oil separated from the fixed al¬
kali, by the acid of these salts, may unite more or less
intimately with the substance which was the basis of the
neutral salt employed for the decomposition.
Soap may also be decomposed by distillation, as Le-
mery has done. When first exposed to fire, it yields a
phlegm called by him a spirit; which nevertheless is
neither acid nor alkaline, but some water which enters
into the composition of soap. It becomes more and
more coloured and empyrcumatic as the fire is increa¬
sed, which shows that it contains the most subtle part
of the oil. It seems even to raise along with it, by
help of the oil and action of the fire, a small part of the
alkali of the soap : for as the same chemist observes, it
occasions a precipitate in a solution of corrosive subli¬
mate. After this phlegm the oil rises altered, precise¬
ly as if it had been distilled from quicklime, that is,
empyreumatic, soluble in spirit of wine, at first suffi¬
ciently subtle and afterwards thicker. An alkaline re-
siduous coal remains in the retort, consisting chiefly of
the mineral alkali contained in the soap, and which may
be disengaged from the coal by calcination in an open
fire, and obtained in its pure state.
Alkaline soaps are very useful in many arts and trades,
and also in chemistry and medicine. Their principal uti¬
lity consists in a detersive quality that they receive from
their alkali, which, although it is in some measure satura¬
ted with oil, is yet capable of acting upon oily matters,
and of rendering them saponaceous and miscible with
water. Hence soap is very useful to cleanse any sub¬
stances from all fat matters with which they happen to
be soiled. Soap is therefore daily used for the washing
and whitening of linen, for the cleansing of woollen
cloths from oil, and for whitening silk and freeing it
from the resinous varnish with which it is naturally co¬
vered. Pure alkaline lixiviums being capable of dissol¬
ving oils more effectually than soap, might be employed
for the same purposes ; but when this activity is not
mitigated by oil, as it is in soap, they are capable of al¬
tering, and even of destroying entirely by their causti¬
city, most substances, especially animal matters, as silk,
wool, and others: whereas soap cleanses from oil almost
as effectually as pure alkali, without danger of altering
Or destroying; which renders it very useful.
Soap wfas imperfectly known to the ancients. It is
mentioned by Pliny as made of fat and ashes, and as an
invention of the Gauls. Areteeus and others inform us,
that the Greeks obtained their knowledge of its medi¬
cal use from the Romans. Its virtues, according to
Bergius, are detergent, resolvent, and aperient, and its
use recommended in jaundice, gout, calculous complaints,
and in obstructions of the viscera. The efficacy of soap
in the first of these diseases was experienced by Sylvius,
and since recommended very generally by various au¬
thors who have written on this complaint *, and it has
also been thought of use in supplying the place of bile
in the primse vise. The utility of this medicine in icte-
rical cases was inferred chiefly from its supposed power
of dissolving biliary concretions ; but this medicine has
known that gall-stones have been found in many after
death who had been daily taking soap for several months
and even years. Of its good effects in urinary calcu¬
lous affections, we have the testimony of several, espe¬
cially when dissolved in lime-water, by which its efficacy
is considerably increased ; for it thus becomes a power¬
ful solvent of mucus, which an ingenious modern author
supposes to be the chief agent in the formation of cal¬
culi ; it is, however, only in the incipient state of the
disease that these remedies promise effectual benefit;
though they generally abate the more violent symptoms
where they cannot remove the cause. With Boerhaave
soap was a general medicine : for as he attributed most
complaints to viscidity of the fluids, he, and most of the
Boerhaavian school, prescribed it in conjunction with
different resinous and other substances, in gout, rheu¬
matism, and various visceral complaints. Soap is also
externally employed as a resolvent, and gives name to
several officinal preparations.
From the properties of soap we may know that it
must be a very effectual and convenient anti-acid. It
absorbs acids as powerfully as pure alkalies and absor¬
bent earths, without having the causticity of the for¬
mer, and without oppressing the stomach by its weight
like the latter.
Lastly, we may perceive that soap must be one of
the best of all antidotes to stop quickly, and with the
least inconvenience, the bad effects of acid corrosive poi¬
sons, as aquafortis, corrosive sublimate, &.c.
Soap imported is subject by to Ann. cap. 19. to a
duty of 2d. a pound (over and above former duties) ;
and by 12 Ann. stat. 2. cap. 9. to the farther sum of
id. a pound. And by the same acts, the duty on soap
made in the kingdom is lid. a pound. By 19 G. HI.
cap. 52. no person within the limits of the head cflio*
of excise in London shall be permitted to make any
soap unless he occupy a tenement of 10I. a-year,
be assessed, and pay the parish rates ; or elsewhere,
unless he be assessed, and pay to church and poor.
Places of making are to be entered on pain of 50I.
and covers and locks to be provided under a forleituie
of icol. ; the furnace-door of every utensil used in the
manufacture of soap shall be locked by the excise offi¬
cer, as soon as the fire is damped or drawn out, and
fastenings provided, under the penalty of i an(^
opening or damaging such fastening incurs a penalty of
1 ool. Officers are required to enter and survey at all
times, by day or night, and the penalty of obstructing
is 20I.; and they may unlock and examine every copper?
&c. between the hours of five in the morning and ele¬
ven in the evening, and the penalty of obstructing is
100I. Every maker of soap before he begins any ma¬
king, if within the bills of mortality, shall give 12 hours,
if elsewhere 24 hours, notice in writing to the officer,
of the time when he intends to begin, on pain of 50 *
No maker shall remove any soap unsurveyed on pain 0
20I. without giving proper notice of his intention.
And if any maker shall conceal any soap or materia s,
he shall forfeit the same, and also 500I. Every barre
of soap shall contain 2561b. avoirdupois, halt barre
1281b. firkin 64 lb. half-firkin 3 2 lb. besides the weight
or tare of each cask : and all soap, excepting hard ca e
soap and ball soap, shall be put into such casks am no
other, on pain of forfeiture, and 5I. rIbe niakei sia
Soap.
s o c
Bl.ht.
CmkhI,
Toll.
II
DefiniJini
weekly enter in writing at the next office the soap made
by him in each week, with the weight and quantity at
each boiling, on pain of 50I.J and within one week
after entry clear oft' the duties, on pain of double duty.
See, besides the statutes above cited, 5 Geo. Ill,cap.43.
12 Geo. III. cap. 46. 11 Geo. cap. 30. I Geo. stat. 2.
cap. 36.
Acid Soap. This is formed by the addition of con¬
centrated acids to the expressed oils. Thus the oil is
rendered partially soluble in water ; but the union is not
sufficiently complete to answer any valuable purpose.
Soap-Berry Tree. See Sapindus, Botany Index.
Soap-Earth. See Steatites, Mineralogy Index.
SOAPWORT. See Saponaria, Botany
, SOC (Sax.), signifies power or liberty to minister
justice or execute laws; also the circuit or territory
wherein such power is exercised. Whence our law-
Latin word socca is used for a seigniory or lordship en¬
franchised by the king, with tlm liberty of holding or
keeping a court of his sockmen: And this kind of li¬
berty continues in divers parts of England to this day,
and is known by the names oi soke and soken.
SOCAGE, in its most general and extensive signifi¬
cation, seems to denote a tenure by any certain and
determinate service. And in this sense- it is by our
ancient writers constantly put in opposition to chivalry
or knight-service, where the render was precarious and
uncertain. The service must therefore be certain, in or¬
der to denominate it socage; as to hold by fealty and
20s. rent; or, by homage, fealty, and 20s. rent ; or,
by homage and fealty without rent; or, by fealty and
certain corporal service, as ploughing the lord’s land for
tnree days; or, by fealty only without any other ser¬
vice : for all these are tenures in socage.
. Socage is of two sorts: /rer-socage, where the ser¬
vices are not only certain but honourable; and villein*
socage, where the services, though certain, are of a baser
nature (see Villenage). Such as hold by the former
tenure are called, in Glanvil and other subsequent au¬
thors, by the name of Uberi sokananni, or tenants in
free-socage. Ihe word is derived from the Saxon ap¬
pellation toc, which signifies liberty or privilege; and,
being joined to an usual termination, is called socage, in
Latin socagium; signifying thereby a free or privileged
tenure. ' °
It seems probable that the socage-tenures were the
relics of Saxon liberty ; retained by such persons as had
neither forfeited them to the king, nor been obliged to
exchange their tenure for the more honourable,0 as it
^vas called, but at the same time more burthensome te¬
nure of knight-service. This is peculiarly remarkable
Jn the tenure which prevails in Kent, called gavelkind,
which is generally acknowledged to be a species of so¬
cage-tenure ; the preservation whereof inviolate from
the innovations of the Norman conqueror is a fact uni¬
versally known. And those who thus preserved their
liberties were said to hold in free and common socage.
, ^.‘ccffore the grand criterion and distinguishing
mark of tins species of tenure are the having its renders
or services ascertained, it will include under it all other
methods of holding free lands by certain and invariable
lents and duties; and in particular, Petit Serjeanty,
tides™' ^ BvRGAGE* antl ^velkinb. See these ar-
SOCIETY, a number of rational and moral be-
[ 435 ]
S O C
Society.
ings, united for their common preservation and happi¬
ness. 1
There are shoals of fishes, herds of quadrupeds, and 2
flocks of birds. But till observation enable us to de- j^ow far
termine with greater certainty, how far the inferior ani-elpScof
mals are able to look through a series of means to the a social
end which these are calculated to produce, how farstHtc*
their conduct may be influenced by the hope of re¬
ward and the fear of punishment, and whether they are
at all capable of moral distinctions—wre cannot with
propriety apply to them the term Society. We call
crows and beavers, and several other species of animals,
gregarious; but it is hardly good English to say that
they are social. ^
It is only human society, then, that can become the Mankind
subject of our present investigation. The phenomena the.°In!y
which it presents are highly worthy of our notice. irT^fnb6*
Such are the advantages which each individual evi-ject to our
t ently derives from living in a social state ; and so help- observa-
less does any human being appear in a solitary state, l*on‘
that we are naturally led to conclude, that if there ever 4
was a period at which mankind were solitary beings,
t iat period could not be of long duration; for their vnge state,
aversion to solitude and love of society would soon in¬
duce them to enter into social union. Such is the opi¬
nion which w'e are led to conceive, when we compare
our own condition as members of civilized and en¬
lightened society with that of the brutes around us, or
with that of savages in the earlier and ruder periods of
social life. When we hear of Indians wandering naked
through the woods, destitute of arts, unskilled in agri¬
culture, scarce capable of moral distinctions, void of all
religious sentiments, or possessed with the most absurd
notions concerning superior powers, and procuring
means of subsistence in a manner equally precarious
with that of the beasts of prey—we look down with
pity on their condition, or turn from it with horror.
Av hen we view the order of cultivated society, and
consider our institutions, arts, and manners—we rejoice
over our superior wisdom and happiness.
Man in a civilized state appears a being of a superior
order to man in a savage state ; yet some philosophers
tell us, that it is only he who, having been educated in
society, has been taught to depend upon others, that
can be helpless or miserable when placed in a solitary
state. I hey view the savage who exerts himself with
intrepidity to supply his wants, or bears them with for¬
titude, as the greatest hero, and possessing the greatest
happiness. And therefore if we agree with them, that
the propensities of nature may have prompted men to
enter, into social union, though they may have hoped
to enjoy superior security and happiness by engaging
to protect and support each other, we must conclude
that the Author of the universe has destined man to at¬
tain greater dignity and happiness in a savage and so¬
litary than in a social state ; and therefore that those
dispositions and views which lead us to society are fal¬
lacious and inimical to our real interest.
AA hatever be the supposed advantages of a solitary-
state, certain it is that mankind, at the earliest periods,
were united in society. Various theories have been
formed concerning the circumstances and principles
which gave rise to this union : but we have elsewhere
shown, that the greater part of them are founded in er¬
ror ; that they suppose the original state of man to have
3 I 2 been
Society.
S O C [ 43^ 1 S 0 ,C
been that of savages j and that such a supposition is con- of communicating to their posterity.
* See
Scripture,
7—IS-
First state
of society
according
to authen-
tradicted by the most authentic records of antiquity.
For though the records of the earlier ages are gene¬
rally obscure, fabulous, and imperfect j yet happily
there is one free from the imperfections of the rest, and
of undoubted authenticity, to which we may safely have
recourse *. This record is the Pentateuch of Moses,
which presents us with a genuine account of the origin
of man and of society, perfectly consonant to what we
have laid down in the article referred to (see Savage).
According to Moses, the first society was that of a
husband and wife united in the bonds of marriage: the
first government that of a father and husband, the mas-
lu UUI„CU- ter of his family. Men lived together under the patri-
tic histoiy. arc[ia] form 0f government while they employed them¬
selves chiefly in tending floclcs and heids. Children in
such circumstances cannot soon rise to an equality with
their parents, where a man’s importance depends on his
property, not on his abilities. When flocks and herds
are the chief articles of property, the son can only
obtain these from his father j in general therefore, the
son must he entirely dependent on the father for the
means of subsistence. If the parent during his life be¬
stow on his children any part of his property, he may
do it on such conditions as shall make their dependence
upon him continue till the period of his death. When
the community are by this event deprived of their head,
instead of continuing in a state of union, and selecting
some one from among themselves whom they may invest
with the authority of a parent, they separate into so
many distinct tribes, each subjected to the authority of a
different lord, the master of the family, and the propri¬
etor of all the flocks and herds belonging to it. Such
was the state of the first societies which the narrative
of Moses exhibits to our attention.
6. p Those philosophers who have made society, in its va-
Thiloso rious stages between rudeness and refinement, the subject
phers con- of their speculations, have generally considered mankind,
ceming the in wl5atever region of the globe, and under whatever
climate, as proceeding uniformly through certain regu¬
lar gradations from one extreme to the other. They
regal'd them, first, as gaining a precarious subsistence by
gathering the spontaneous fruits of the earth, preying
on the inhabitants of the waters, if placed on the sea¬
shore, or along the banks of large rivers ; or hunting
wild beasts, if in a situation where these are to be found
in abundance j without foresight or industry to provide
for future wants when the present call of appetite is gra¬
tified. Next, they say, man rises to the shepherd state,
and next to that of husbandmen, when they turn their
attention from the management ol flocks to the culti¬
vation of the ground. Next, these husbandmen improve
their powers, and better their condition, by becoming
artizans and merchants j and the beginning of this pe¬
riod is the boundary between barbarity and civiliza¬
tion.
These are the stages through which they who have
employed themselves on the natural history of society
have generally conducted mankind in their progress from
rudeness to refinement i but they seem to have oveilook-
ed the manner in which mankind were at first establish¬
ed on this earth ; for the circumstances in which the
parents of the human race were originally placed for
the degree of knowledge communicated to them j and
for the instruction which they must have been capable
3
origin of
society,
   „ - x . They rather ap- Society
pear to consider the inhabitants of every difl'erent region 1—
of the globe as aborigines, springing at first from the
ground, or dropped on the spot which they inhabit j no
less ignorant than infants of the nature and relations of
the objects around them, and ot the purposes which they
may accomplish by the sacrifice of their organs and fa¬
culties. 7
The absurdity of this theory has been fully demon-are fanciful,
strated in another place : and if we agree to receive tha
Mosaic account of the original establishment ol man¬
kind, we shall be led to view the phenomena of social
life in alight very different. We must first allow, that
though many of the rudest tribes are found in the state
of hunters or fishers ; yet the bunting or fishing state
cannot have been invariably the primary form of society.
Notwithstanding the powers with which we are endow¬
ed, we are in a great measure the creatures of circum¬
stances. Physical causes exert, though indirectly, a
mighty influence in forming the character and direct¬
ing the exertions of the human race. From the infor¬
mation of Moses we gather, that the first societies of
men lived under the patriarchal form of government,
and employed themselves in the cultivation of the ground
and the management of flocks. And as we know that
mankind, being subjected to the influence both of phy¬
sical and moral causes, are no less liable to degeneracy
than capable of improvement; we may easily conceive,
that though descending all from the same original pair,
and though enlightened with much traditionary know¬
ledge relative to the arts of life, the order of society,
moral distinctions, and religious obligations j yet as
they were gradually, and by various accidents, dispersed
over the earth, being removed to situations in which the
arts with which they were acquainted could but little
avail them, where industry was overpowered, or indo¬
lence encouraged, by the severity or the profusion of
nature, they might degenerate and fall into a condition
almost as humble and precarious as that of the brutal
tribes. Other moral causes might also concur to debase
or elevate the human character in that early period.
The particular character of the original settlers in any
region, the manner in which they were connected with
one another, and the arts which they were best qualified
to exercise, with various other causes of a similar nature,
would have considerable influence in determining the
character of the society.
When laying aside the spirit of theory and system,
we set ourselves, with due humility, to trace facts, an
to listen to evidence, though our discoveries may be
few-er than we should otherwise fancy them \ yet the
knowledge which we thus acquire will be more usefu
and solid, and our speculations more consistent with the
spirit of true philosophy. Here, though we learn from
the information of the sacred writings, that the first a-
mily of mankind was not cruelly exposed in this woi ,
as children whom the inhumanity of their parents in u
ces them to desert yet we are not, in consequence o
admitting this fact, laid under any necessity of denying
or explaining away any of the other phenomena w uci
occur to our observation when tracing the natural history
of society. Tradition may be corrupted; arts am SC1
ences may be lost 5 the sublimest religious doctrines
may be debased into absurdity. _ „ .
If then we are desirous of surveying society in lts^t
It in some
pi icular:
i Minces
razed.
S O C [ 437 ]
dest form, we must look, not to tlie earliest period of and that
its existence, but to those districts of the globe where
external circumstances concur to drive them into a state
of stupidity and wretchedness. Thus in many places of
the happy clime of Asia, which a variety of ancient re¬
cords concur with the sacred writings in representing as
the first peopled quarter of the globe, we cannot trace
the form of society backwards beyond the shepherd
state. In that state indeed the bonds which connect
society extend not to a wide range of individuals, and
men remain for a long period in distinct families j but
yet that state is highly favourable to knowledge, to hap¬
piness, and to virtue. Again, the torrid and the frozen
regions of the earth, though probably peopled at a later
period, and by tribes sprung from the same stock with
the shepherds of Asia, have yet exhibited mankind in a
much lower state. It is in the parched deserts of Af¬
rica and the wilds of America that human beings have
been found in a condition approaching the nearest to
that of the brutes.
We may therefore with some propriety desert the
order of time, and take a view of the different stages
through which philosophers have considered mankind as
advancing, beginning with that of rudeness, though we
have shown that it cannot have been the first in the
13ower which brought into exist-
thinys. Of arts they must he al-
Societv.
9
Rust
stu.or firs
st; of so-
progress.
Where the human species are found in the lowest and
rudest state, their rational and moral powers are very
faintly displayed j but their external senses are acute
and their bodily organs active and vigorous. Hunting
and fishing are then their chief employments on which
they depend for support. During that portion of their
time which is not spent in these pursuits, they are sunk
in listless indolence. Destitute of foresight, they are
roused to active exertion only by the pressure of imme¬
diate necessity or the urgent calls of appetite. Accus¬
tomed to endure the severity of the elements, and hut
scantily provided with the means of subsistence, they ac¬
quire habits of resignation and fortitude, which are be¬
held with astonishment by those who enjoy the plenty
and indulgence of cultivated life. But in'thie state of
want and depression, when the powers and possessions
of every individual are scarcely sufficient for his own
support, when even the calls of appetite are repressed
because they cannot always be gratified, and the more
refined passions, which either originate from such as are
merely animal, or are intimately connected with them,
have not yet been felt—in this state all the milder af¬
fections are unknown j or if the breast is at all sensible
to their impulse, it is extremely feeble. Husband and
wife, parent and child, brother and brother, are united
by the weakest ties. Want and misfortune are not pi¬
tied. Why indeed should they, where they cannot be
relieved ? It is impossible to determine how far beings
in this condition can be capable of moral distinctions.
One thing certain is, that in no state are the human
race entirely incapable of these. If we listen, however,
to the relations of respectable travellers, we must admit
that human beings have sometimes been found in that
abject state where no proper ideas of subordination,
government, or distinction of ranks, could be formed.
No distinct notions of Deity can be here entertained.
Beings in so humble a condition cannot look through
the order of the universe and the harmony of nature to
that Eternal Wisdom and Goodness which contrived
s o c
Almighty
ence, the system of
most totally destitute. I hey may use some instruments
for fishing or the chace ; but these must be extremely
rude and simple. It they he acquainted with any
means to shelter them from the inclemency of the ele¬
ments, both their houses and clothing will be awkward
and inconvenient. rc
But human beings have not been often found in so Second
rude a state as this. Even those tribes which we deno-staSeiJ1 the
minate savage, are for the most part farther, removed pro£res8 ot
from mere animal life. They generally appear unitedS0UCty’
under some species of government, exercising the powers
ol reason, capable of morality, though that morality be
not always very refined 3 displaying some degree of so¬
cial virtues, and acting under the influence of religious
sentiments. Those who may be considered as but one
degree higher in the scale than the stupid and wretched
beings whose condition we have surveyed, are to he
found still in the hunting and fishing state ; but they
are farther advanced towards social life, and are become
more sensible to the impulse of social affection. By un¬
avoidable intercourse in their employments, a few in¬
dividual hunters or fishers contract a certain degree of
fondness for each other’s company, and are led to take
some part in each other’s joys and sorrows j and when
the social affections thus generated (see Passion) begin
to exert themselves, all the other powers of the mind
are at the same time called forth, and the circumstances
of the little society are immediately improved. We be¬
hold its members in a more comfortable condition, and
find reason to view the human character with more com¬
placency and respect. Huts are now built, more com¬
modious clothes are fashioned, instruments for the annoy¬
ance of wild beasts and even of enemies are contrived j
in short, arts, and science, and social order, and reli¬
gious sentiment, and ceremonies, now make their ap¬
pearance in the rising society, and serve to characterize
it by the particular form which distinguishes each of
them. But though social order is no longer unknown
nor unobserved, yet the form of government is still ex¬
tremely simple, and its ties are but loose and feeble. It
will perhaps bear some resemblance to the patriarchal;
only all its members are on a more equal footing, and
at the same time less closely connected than in tire
shepherd state, to which that form of government seems
almost peculiar. The old men are treated with venera¬
tion ; hut the young are not entirely subject to them.
They may listen respectfully to their advice 3 but they
do not submit to their arbitrary commands. Where
mankind are in the state of hunters and fishers, where
the means of subsistence are precariously acquired, and
prudent foresight does not prompt to accumulate much
provision for the future, no individual can acquire com¬
parative wealth. As soon as the son is grown-up, he
ceases to be dependent on his father, as well as on the
society in general. Difference of experience therefore
constitutes the only distinction between the young and
the old 3 and if the old have experience, the young have
strength and activity. Here, then, neither age nor pro¬
perty can give rise to any striking distinction of ranks.
All who have attained to manhood, and are not disabled
by unusual deficiency of strength or agility, or by the
infirmities of old age, are on an equal footing 3 or if any
one possess a pre-eminence over the rest, he owes it to
superior
Society.
s o c [ 438 ] s o c
superior address or fortitude. The whole tribe delibe¬
rate , the old give their advice 5 each individual o! the
assembly receives or rejects it at his pleasure (for the
whole body think not of exercising any compulsatory
power over the will of individuals) j and the warrior
who is most distinguished for strength, address, and va¬
lour, leads out the youth of the tribe to the chace or
against the enemy. War, which in the former stage
dfd not prevail, as they who were strangers to social
sentiments were, at the same time, scarce capable of be¬
ing enemies, now first begins to depopulate the thinly
inhabited regions where those hunters and fishers pursue
their prey. They arc scattered, possibly in scanty and
separate tribes, over an immense tract of country 5 but
they know no medium between the affection which
brethren of the same, tribe bear to each other and the
hatred of enemies. Though thinly scattered over the
earth, yet the hunting parties of diflerent tribes will
sometimes meet as they range the forests 5 and when
tliey meet, they will naturally view each other wdth a
jealous eye; for the success of the one party in the
chace may cause the other to he unsuccessful } and
while the one snatches the prey, the other must return
home to all the pangs of famine. Inveterate hostility
will therefore long prevail among neighbouring tribes
in the hunting state.
If we find them not incapable of social order, we may
naturally expect that their conduct will be influenced
by some sentiments of religion. They have at this pe¬
riod ideas of superior beings. They also practise certain
ceremonies to recommend them to those beings ; but
both their sentiments and ceremonies are superstitious
and absurd.
We have elsewhere shown (see Polytheism) how
savage tribes have probably degenerated from the pure
worship of the one true God to the adoration of a
multitude of imaginary divinities in heaven, earth, and
hell. We have traced this idolatrous worship from that
of the heavenly bodies, through all the gradations of
daemon-worship, hero-worship, and statue-worship, to
that wonderful instance of absurd superstition which in¬
duced the inhabitants of some countries to fall prostrate
in adoration before the vilest reptiles. But though we
are convinced that the heavenly bodies have by all ido¬
laters been considered as their first and greatest gods,
we pretend not that the progress through the other
stages of polytheism has been everywhere in the very
same order. It is indeed impossible to exhibit under
one general view an account of arts, manners, and reli¬
gious sentiments, which may apply to some certain pe¬
riod in the history of every nation. The characters and
circumstances of nations are scarce less various and ano¬
malous than those of individuals. Among many of the
American tribes, among the ancient inhabitants of the
forests of Germany, whose manners have been so accu¬
rately delineated by the masterly pen of Tacitus, and
in some of the islands scattered over the southern ocean,
religion, arts, and government, have been found in that
state which we have described as characterising the se¬
cond stage of social life. But neither can we pretend
that all those simple and rude societies have been de¬
scribed by historians and travellers as agreeing precisely
in their arts, manners, and religious sentiments; or that
the difference of circumstanees always enables us to ac¬
count in a satisfactory manner for the distinction of their
characters. There is a variety of facts in the history of Socieiv,
the early periods of society, which no ingenuity, no in-1
dustry, however painful, can reduce under general heads.
Here, as well as when we attempt to philosophize on
the phenomena of the material world, we find reason to
confess that our powers are weak, and our observation
confined within a narrow sphere. „
But we may now carry our views a little forward,Third$ta;e
and survey human life as approaching somewhat neareriu ffepfo-
to a civilized and enlightened state. As property is ac-g^8®*'50-
cjuired, inequality and subordination of ranks necessari-^’^
ly follow : and when men are no longer equal, the many 0f property
are soon subjected to the will of the few. But what and iaeqiij.
gives rise to these new phenomena is, that after having^*1!of
often suffered from the precariousness of the hunting and aP"
fishing state, men begin to extend their cares beyond^ar‘
the present moment, and to think of providing some
supply for future wants. When they are enabled to
provide such a supply, either by pursuing the chace with
new eagerness and perseverance, by gathering the spon¬
taneous fruits of the earth, or by breeding tame ani¬
mals—these acquisitions are at first the property of the
whole society, and distributed from a common store to
each individual according to his wants : But as various
reasons will soon concur to convince the community,
that by this mode of distribution, industry and activity
are treated with injustice, while negligence and indo¬
lence receive more than their due, each individual will
in a short time become his own steward, and a commu¬
nity of goods will be abolished. As soon as distinct
ideas of property are formed, it must be unequally di¬
stributed ; and as soon as property is unequally distribu¬
ted, there arises an inequality of ranks. Here we have
the origin of the depression of the female sex in rude
ages, of the tvrannical authority exercised by parents
over their children, and perhaps of slavery. I he wo¬
men cannot display the same perseverance, or activity,
or address, as the men, in pursuing the chace. 1 hey
are therefore left at home j and from that moment are
no longer equals, but slaves and dependants, who must
subsist by the bounty of the males, and must thereiore
submit with implicit obedience to all their capricious
commands. Even before the era of property, the female
sex were viewed as inferiors •, but till that period they
were not reduced to a state of abject slavery.
In this period of society new notions are formed of
the relative duties. Men now become citizens, masters,
and servants, husbands, parents, &c. It is impossible
to enumerate all the various modes of government which
take place among the tribes who have advanced to this
stage $ but one thing certain is, that the authority of
the few over the many is now first established, and that
the rise of property first introduces inequality of ranks.
In one place, we shall perhaps find the community sub¬
jected during this period to the will of a single person ‘7
in another, power may be lodged in the hands of a
number of chief's j and in a third, every individual may
have a voice in creating public officers, and in enacting
laws for the support of public order. But as no code 0
laws is formed during this period, justice is not very im¬
partially administered, nor are the rights of individua s
very faithfully guarded. " Many actions, which will a -
terwards be considered as heinously immoral, are now
considered as praise-worthy or indiflerent. rlhis is the
age of hero-worship, and of household and tutelary gods •,
s o c
Si etv.
for it is in this stage of society that the invention of arts,
—■ which gave rise to that worship, contributes most con¬
spicuously to the public good. War, too, which we
considered as beginning first to ravage the earth during
the former period, and which is another cause of the dei¬
fication of dead men, will still prevail in this age, and
be carried on with no less ferocity than before, though
in a more systematic form.
^ The prevalence of war, and the means by which sub¬
sistence is procured, cannot but have considerable influ¬
ence on the character and sentiments of societies and in¬
dividuals. I he hunter and the warrior are characters
in many respects different from the shepherd and the
husbandman. Such, in point of government, arts, and
manners, religious and moral sentiments, were several of
the German tribes described by Tacitus j and the Bri¬
tons whose character has been sketched by the pen of
Caesar : such, too, were the Romans in the early period
of their history; such too the inhabitants of Asia Minor
about the time of the siege of Troy, as well as the
Greeks whom Homer celebrates as the destroyers of the
Trojan state : the northern, tribes also, who poured
through Asia, Africa, and Europe, and overthrew the
Roman empire, appear to have been of a nearly similar
character. It seems to be a general opinion among those
who have directed their attention to the history'of so¬
ciety, that, in the scale ascending from the lowest con¬
dition of human beings to the most civilized and enlight¬
ened state of society, the shepherd state is the next in
order above the hunting; and that as mankind improve
m knowledge and in moral sentiments, and as the forests
are gradually depopulated of their inhabitants, instead of
destroying the inferior animals, men become their guar¬
dians and protectors. But we cannot unreservedly sub¬
scribe to this opinion : we believe, that in the shepherd
state societies have been sometimes found superior to the
most polished tribes of hunters; but upon viewing the
annals of mankind in early ages, we observe that there
is often no inconsiderable resemblance even between
hunters and shepherds in point of the improvement of
the rational faculties and the moral sense ; and we are
therefore led to think, that these two states are some¬
times parallel: for instance, several of the American
tribes, who still procure their subsistence by hunting, ap¬
pear to be nearly in the state which we have described
as the third stage in the progress of society ; and the an¬
cient shepherds of Asia do not appear to have been much
more cultivated and refined. \Ve even believe that
men have sometimes turned their attention from hunting
to agriculture, without passing through any intermediate
state. Let us remember, that much depends upon local
circumstances, and somewhat undoubtedly on original
inspiration and traditionary instruction. In this period
of society the state of the arts well deserves our atten¬
tion. YYe shall find, that the shepherds and the hunters
are m that respect on a pretty equal footing. Whether
gamine the records of ancient history, or view the
islands scattered through the South sea, or range the
wilds of America, or survey the snowy wastes of Lap-
laud and the frozen coast of Greenland—still we find the
useful arts in tins period, though known and cultivated
m a very rude state ; and the fine arts, or such as are
cultivated merely to please the fancy or to gratify ca¬
price, displaying an odd and fantastic, not a true or na¬
tural, taste ; yet tins is the period in which eloquence
f 439 ]
S O C
shines with the truest lustre: all is metaphor or glowing Sccittv
sentiment. Languages are not yet copious ; and there- ' y—-4
fore speech is figurative, expressive, and forcible. The
tones and gestures of nature, not being yet laid aside
as they generally are, from regard to decorum, in more
polished ages, give a degree of force and expression to
the harangues of the rustic or savage orator, which the
most laborious study of the rules of rhetoric and elocu¬
tion could not enable even a more polished orator to dis¬
play.
But let us advance a little farther, and contemplate Fourth*
our species in a new light, where they will appear with stage; in
greater dignity and amiableness of character. Let us which agii-
view them as husbandmen, artizans, and legislators.cullure
Whatever circumstances might turn the attention of^am are
any people from hunting to agriculture, or cause the subdivided,
herdsman to yoke his oxen for the cultivation of the commerce |
ground, certain it is that this change in the occupation and regTllar
would produce a happy change on the character and g0Tn"
circumstances of me. ; it tvould oblige them to enertlT.te.L
a more regular and persevering industry. The hunter
is like one of those birds that are described as passim?
the winter in a torpid state. The shepherd’s life is ex¬
tremely indolent. Neither of these is very favourable
to refinement. But different is the condition of the
husbandman. His labours succeed each other in regiv
ar rotation through the year. Each season with liiTn
has its proper employments : he therefore must exert
active persevering industry ; and in this state we often
find the virtues of rude and polished ages united. This
is tlie period where barbarism ends and civilization ba-
gins. Nations have existed for ages in the huntino
or the shepherd state, fixed as by a kind of stagnation
without advancing farther. But scarcely any instanced
occur in the history of mankind of those who once
reached the state of husbandmen, remaining long in
that condition without rising to a more civilized and
polished state. Where a people turn their attention in
any considerable degree to the objects of agriculture, a
distinction of occupations naturally arises among them.
1 lie husbandman is so closely employed through the se¬
veral seasons of the year in the labours ef the field, that
he has no longer leisure to exercise all the rude arts
known among his countrymen. He has not time to
fashion the instruments of husbandry, to prepare his
clothes, to build his house, to manufacture household
utensils, or to tend those tame animals which he con¬
tinues to rear. I hose different departments therefore
now begin to employ different persons ; each of whom
dedicates his whole time and attention to his own ce-
cupation. The manufacture of cloth is for a consider¬
able time managed exclusively by the women; but smiths
and joiners arise from among the men. Metals begin
now to be considered as valuable materials. The inter¬
course of mankind is now placed on a new footing. Be¬
fore, every individual practised all the arts that were
known, as far as was necessary for supplying himself
with the conveniencies of life. Now he confines him¬
self to one or to a few of them ; and, in order to ob¬
tain a necessary supply of the productions of those arts
which he does not cultivate himself, he gives in ex¬
change a part of the productions of his own labours.
Here we have the origin of commerce.
After continuing perhaps for some time in this state
as arts and distinctions multiply in society, the ex-
changs
s o o
t 440 ]
s o c
Societr. change of one commodity for another is found trot 1 -
 r—' some anil inconvenient. It is ingeniously contrived to
adopt a medium of commerce, which being estimated
not by its intrinsic value, but by a certain nominal va¬
lue which it receives from the agreement of the society
among whom it is used, serves to render the exchange
of property, which is so necessary for the purposes ot
social life, easy and expeditions. Wherever metals
have been known, they appear to have been adopted
as the medium of commerce almost as soon .as such a
medium began to he used : and this is one important
purpose for which they serve ; but they have still more
important uses. Almost all the necessary aits depend
on them. Where the metals are known, agriculture
practised, and the necessary arts distributed among ditle-
rent orders of artisans—civilization and refinement, it
not obstructed by some accidental circumstances, ad¬
vance with a rapid progress. With regard to the first
applying of the precious metals as the medium ot com¬
merce, we may observe, that this was probably not ac¬
complished by means of a formal contract, fliey might
be first used as ornaments ; and the love of ornament,
which prevails among rude as much as among civilized
nations, would render every one willing to receive
them in exchange for such articles as he cou.d spare.
Such might be the change produced on society with re¬
gard to the necessary arts by the origin of agriculture.
As soon as ornament and amusement are thought of,
the fine arts begin to be cultivated. In their origin
therefore they are not long posterior to the necessary
and useful arts. They appear long before men reach
the comfortable and respectable condition of husband¬
men ; but so rude is their character at their first origin,
that our Dilettanti would probably view the produc¬
tions of that period with unspeakable contempt and
disgust. But in the period of society which we now
consider, they have aspired to a higher character •, yet
poetry is now perhaps less generally cultivated than
during the shepherd state. Agriculture, considered by
itself, is not directly favourable either to refinement of
manners or to the fine arts. The conversation of shep¬
herds is generally supposed to be far more elegant than
that of husbandmen ; but though the direct and imme¬
diate effects of this condition of life he not favourable
to the fine arts, yet indirectly it has a strong tendency
to promote their improvement. Its immediate influ¬
ence is extremely favourable to the necessary and use¬
ful arts j and these are no less favourable to the fine
arts. . . .
One of the noblest changes which the introduction of
the arts by agriculture produces on the form and cir¬
cumstances of society, is the introduction of regular go¬
vernment and laws. In tracing the history of ancient
nations, we scarcely ever find laws introduced at an ear¬
lier period. Minos, Solon, and Lycurgus, do not ap¬
pear to have formed codes of wisdom and justice for re¬
gulating the manners of their countrymen, till after the
Cretans, the Athenians, and even the Lacedsemonians,
had made some progress in agriculture and the useful
arts. . .
Religion, under all its various forms, has in every
stage of society a mighty influence on the sentiments
and conduct of men (see Religion) and the arts cul¬
tivated in society have on the other hand some influence
on the system of religious belief. One happy effect
which will result from the invention of arts, though pef- Society
haps not immediately, will be, to render the character S—y—j
of the deities more benevolent and amiable, and the
rites of their worship more mild and humane.
The female sex in this period generally find the yoke
of their slavery somewhat lightened. Men now become
easier in their circumstances j the social aflectionsassume
stronger influence over the mind } plenty, and security,
and ease, at once communicate both delicacy anci keen¬
ness to the sensual desires. All these circumstances con¬
cur to make men relax in some degree that tyrannic
sway by w'hich they before depressed the softer sex.
The foundation of that empire, where beauty triumphs
over both wisdom and strength, now begins to be laid.
Such are the effects which history warrants as to attri¬
bute to agriculture and the arts ^ and such the outlines
of the character of that which we reckon the fourth
stage in the progress of society from rudeness to refine-
ment. 13
Let us advance one step farther. We have not yet Fiftk stage
surveyed mankind in their most polished and cultivated in the pro¬
state. Society is rude at the period when the arts firsts™" ^
begin to show themselves, in comparison of that state |j.
to which it is raised by the industrious cultivation ofterature,
them. The neighbouring commonwealths of Athens arts, and
and Lacedaemon afford us a happy opportunity of com-*™,
paring this with the former stage in the progress of so-‘ livate(ij
ciety. The chief effect produced by the institutions ofaBdreli*ioR
Lycurgus seems to have been, to fix the manners of his assumes a
countrymen for a considerable period in that state to“' “
which they had attained in his.days. Spartan v*1<-ueaSpect, °
has been admired and extolled in the language of en¬
thusiasm j hut in the same manner has the character
and the condition of the savage inhabitants of the wilds
of America, been preferred by some philosophers, to the
virtues and the enjoyments of social life in the most po¬
lished and enlightened state. The Spartans in the days
of Lycurgus had begun to cultivate the ground, and
were not unacquainted with the useful arts. I hey
must soon have advanced farther had not Lycurgus ari¬
sen, and by effecting the establishment of a code of law's,
the tendency of which appears to have been in many
particulars directly opposite to the designs of nature,
retarded their progress towards complete civilization
and refinement. The history of the Lacedaemonians,
therefore, while the laws of Lycurgus continued in
force, exhibits the manners and character of a people m
that which we have denominated the fourth stage in the
progress of society. But if we turn our eyes to their
neighbours the Athenians, we behold in their history
the natural progress of opinions, arts, and manners.
The useful arts are first cultivated wnh such steady in¬
dustry, as to raise the community to opulence, anri to
furnish them with articles for commerce with foreign
nations. The useful arts cannot be raised to this heigi
of improvement without leading men to the pursuit
science. Commerce with foreign nations, skil m e
useful arts, and a taste for science, mutually ai en
other, and conspire to promote the improvement 0
fine arts. Hence magnificent buildings, noble statue-,
paintings expressive of life, action, and passion j a
poems in which imagination adds new grace anc su
mity to nature, and gives the appearances of socm
more irresistible power over the aflections ot t ie ie ^
Hence are moral distinctions more carefully stu iec,
s 0 C [ .4
Sfty- . the rights of every individual and every order in society
better understood and more accurately defined. Moral
science is generally the first scientific pursuit which
strongly attracts the attention of men. Lawgivers ap¬
pear before geometricians and astronomers. Some par¬
ticular circumstances may cause these sciences to be cul¬
tivated at a very early period. In Egypt the overflow¬
ing of the Nile caused geometry to be early cultivated.
Causes no less favourable to, the study of astronomy,
concurred to recommend that science to the attention of
the Chaldeans long before they had attained the height
of refinement. But, in general, we find, that the laws
of morality are understood, and the principles of morals
inquired into, before men make any considerable progress
in physical science, or even prosecute it with any degree
of keenness. Accordingly, when we view the state of
literature in this period (lor it is now become an object
of so much importance as to force itself on our atten¬
tion), we perceive that poetry, history, and morals, are
the branches chiefly cultivated. Arts are generally
casual inventions, and long practised before rules and
principles on which they are founded assume the form
of science. But morality, if considered as an art, is
that art which men have soonest and most constantly oc¬
casion to practise. Besides, we are so constituted by
the wisdom of nature, that human actions, and the events
which befal human beings, have more powerful influ¬
ence than any other object to engage and fix our at¬
tention. Hence tve are enabled to explain why mora¬
lity, and those branches of literature more immediately
connected with it, are almost always cultivated in prefer¬
ence to physical science. Though poetry, history, and
morals, be pursued with no small eagerness and success
in that period of society which we now consider, we
need not therefore be greatly surprised that natu¬
ral philosophy is neither very generally nor very success¬
fully cultivated. VVcre we to consider each particular
iu that happy change which is now produced on the
circumstances of mankind, we should be led into a too
minute and perhaps unimportant detail. This is the
period when human virtue and human abilities shine with
most splendour. Rudeness, ferocity, and barbarism, are
now banished. Luxury has made her appearance; but
as yet she is the friend and the benefactress of society.
Commerce has stimulated and rewarded industry, but
has not yet contracted the heart and debased the cha¬
racter. Wealth is not yet become the sole object of
pursuit. The charms of social intercourse are known
and relished ; but domestic duties are not yet deserted
for public amusements. The female sex acquire new
influence, and contribute much to refine and polisli the
manners of their lords. Religion now assumes a milder
and more pleasing form ; splendid rites, magnificent
temples, pompous sacrifices, and gay festivals, give even
superstition an influence favourable to the happiness of
| mankind. The gloomy notions and barbarous rites of
former periods fall into disuse. The system of theology
produced in former ages still remains: but only the mild
and amiable qualities of the deities are celebrated ; and
none but the gay, humane, and laughing divinities, are
j Worshipped. Philosophy also teaches men to discard
such parts of their religion as are unfriendly to good
morals, and have any tendency to call forth or cherish
unsocial sentiments in the heart. War (for in this pe¬
riod of society enough of causes will arise to arm one
Vol. XIX. Part IL +
.1 ] s o c
nation against another)—war,however,nolongerrefains Society,
its former ferocity; nations no longer strive to extirpate * ■■■h■
one another : to procure redress for real or imaginary
injuries 5 to humble, not to destroy, is now its object.
Prisoners are no longer murdered in cold blood, sub¬
jected to horrid and excruciating tortures, or condemn¬
ed to hopeless slavery. They are ransomed or exchan¬
ged ; they return to their country, and again fight un¬
der its banners. In this period the arts of government
are likewise better understood, and practised so as to
contribute most to the interests of society. Whether
monarchy, or democracy, or aristocracy, be the esta¬
blished form, the rights of individuals and of society
are in general respected. The interests of society are
so well understood, that the few, in order to pre¬
serve their influence over the many, find it necessary to
act rather as the faithful servants than the imperious
lords of the public. Though the liberties of a nation
in this state be not accurately defined by law, nor their
property guaranteed to them by any legal institutions,
yet their governors dare not violate their liberties, nor
deprive them wantonly of their properties. This is trulv
the golden age of society : every trace of barbarism is
entirely effaced ; and vicious luxury has not yet begun
to sap the virtue and the happiness of the community.
Alen live not in listless indolence ; but the industry in
which they are engaged is not of such a nature as to
overpower their strength or exhaust their spirits. The
social affections have now the strongest influence on
men’s sentiments and conduct.
. Kut lluman affair3 are scarcely ever stationary. The DegeJera-
circumstances of mankind are almost always changing °y alit*
either growing better or worse. Their manners are ever declille oi’
in the same fluctuating state. They either advance to-*0^'
wards perfection or degenerate. Scarcely have they at¬
tained that happy period in which we have just contem¬
plated them, when they begin to decline till they per¬
haps fall back into a state nearly as low as that from
which we suppose them td have emerged. Instances
of this unhappy degeneracy occur more than once in
the history of mankind ; and we may finish this .short
sketch of the history of society by mentioning in what
manner this degeneracy takes place. Perhaps, strictly
speaking, every thing but the simple necessaries of life
may be denominated luxury : For a long time, how¬
ever, the welfare of society is best promoted, while its
members aspire after something more than the mere ne¬
cessaries of life. As long as these superfluities are to
be obtained only by active and honest exertion; as lonsr
as they only engage the leisure hours, without becoming
the chief objects of pursuit—the employment which
they give to the faculties is favourable both to the vir¬
tue and the happiness of the human race.
The period arrives,, however, when luxury is no long¬
er serviceable to the interests of nations; when she is no
longer a graceful, elegant, active form, but a languid,
overgrown, and bloated carcase. It is the love of lux-
ury, which contributed so much to the civilization of
society, that now brings on its decline. Arts are culti¬
vated and improved, and commerce extended, till enor¬
mous opulence be acquired : the effect of opulence is to
awaken the fancy, to conceive ideas of new and caprici¬
ous wants, and to inflame the breast with new desires.
Here we have the origin of that selfishness which, ope¬
rating in conjunction with caprice and the violence of
3 ^ unbridled
$ O C F 442 ] s o c
Society, unbridled passions, contributes so much to the corruption
ul—j otvirtuous manners. Selfishness, caprice, indolence, ef¬
feminacy, all join to loosen the bonds of society, to brinfr
on the degeneracy both of the useful and the fine arts,
to banish at once the mild and the austere, virtues, to de¬
stroy civil order and subordination, and to introduce in
their room anarchy or despotism.
Scarcely could we have found an example of the beau¬
tiful form of society which we last attempted to describe.
Never, at least, has any nation continued long to enjoy
such happy circumstances, or to display so amiable and
respectable a character. But when we speak of the de¬
clining state of society, we have no difficulty in finding
instances to which we may refer. History tells of the
Assyrians, the Egyptians, and the Eeisians, all of them
once flourishing nations, but brought low by luxury and
an unhappy corruption ol manners. I he Greeks, the
Romans, and the Assyrians, owed their fall to the same
causes ; and we know not il a similar late does not now
threaten many of those nations who have long made a
distinguished figure in the system ot Europe. The Por¬
tuguese, the Venetians, and the Spaniards, have already
fallen ; and what is the present state of our neighbours
the French ? They have long been a people destitute of
religion, corrupted in morals, unsteady in conduct, and
slaves to pleasure and public amusements. Among them
luxury had arrived at its highest pitch ; and the conse¬
quence has been, that after capriciously shaking oft’ the
yoke of despotism, they have established, or rather set
up (for established it cannot be), a motley kind of go¬
vernment, which, in the course of a few years, has exhi¬
bited scenes of tyranny and oppression, to which we
doubt if the annals of the world can furnish any parallel.
Yet this is the people whose manners the other nations
of Europe were ambitious to imitate. May those na¬
tions take warning in time, and avoid the rocks upon
which they have split.
Concluding Thus have we viewed the several stages in which so-
remarks, ciety appears in its progress from rudeness to refinement
and decay. The intelligent reader will perceive, that
the various and anomalous phenomena which occur in
the natural history of society, cannot easily be solved j
because the necessary information cannot he obtained.
Others have been well accounted for by the researches
of cnrioqs philosophical inquirers. Eoeal circumstances,
the influence of climate, the intercourse of nations in
difterent states of civilization, have been taken notice of,
as causes serving to accelerate or retard the progress of
arts and manners. But our proper business here was
merely to mark the gradations between barbarism and
refinement: and as the painter who is to exhibit a series
of portraits representing the human foim in infancy,
puerility, youth, and manhood, will not think of deli¬
neating all that variety of figures and faces which each
of those periods of fife affords, and will find himself un¬
able to represent in any single figure all diversities of
form and features •, so we have not once thought of de¬
scribing particularly under this article, all the various
national characters reducible to any one of those divi¬
sions under which we have viewed the progress of so¬
ciety, nor have found it possible to comprehend under
one consistent view, all the particulars which may be
gathered from the remains of antiquity, from the rela¬
tions of later travellers, and the general records of hi- SouVtr,
story concerning the progressive character of mankind Societies,
in various regions, and under the influence ot various
accidents and circumstances, 'i bis indeed would even
have been improper, as all tiiat information appears un¬
der other articles in this Work.
SOCIETIES, associations voluntarily formed by a
number of individuals for promoting knowledge, indu¬
stry, or virtue. They may therefore he divided into
three classes; societies for promoting science and litera¬
ture, societies for encouraging and promoting arts and
manufactures, and societies for diffusing religion and mo¬
rality and relieving distress. Societies belonging to the
first class extend their attention to all the sciences and
literature ingeneral, or devote ittoone particularscience.
The same observation may be applied to those which are
instituted for improving arts and manufactures. Those
of the third class are established, either with a view to
prevent crimes, as the Philanthropic Society ; for the
diffusion of the Christian religion among unenlightened
nations, as the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel
in Foreign Parts ; or for introducing arts and civiliza¬
tion, along with a knowledge of the Christian religion,
as the Sierra Leona Company.
The honour of planning and instituting societies for
those valuable purposes is due to modern times. A li¬
terary association is said to have been formed in the
reign of Charlemagne (see Academy) ; hut the plan
seems to have been rude and defective. Several others
were instituted in Italy in tiie 16th century ; but from
the accounts which we have seen of them, they seem to
have been far inferior to those which are most flourishing
at present. The most enlarged idea of literary societies
seems to have originated with the great Lord Bacon, the
father of modem philosophy, who recommended to the
reigning prince to institute societies of learned men, who
should give to the world from time to time a regular
account of their researches and di-coveries. It was the
idea of this great philosopher, that the learned world
should be united, as it were, into one immense republic ;
which, though consisting of many detached states, should
hold a strict union and preserve a mutual intelligence
with each other, in every thing that regards the com¬
mon interest. The want of this union and intelligence
he laments as one of the chief obstacles to the advance¬
ment of science ; and, justly considering the institution
of public societies, in the different countries of Europe,
under the auspices of the sovereign, to he the best re¬
medy for that defect, he has given, in his fanciful work,
the New Atlantis, the delineation of a philosophical so¬
ciety on the most extended plan, for the improvement
of all arts and sciences ; a work which, though written
in the language, and tinctured with the colouring ol
romance, is full of the noblest philosophic views, ft he
plan of Lord Bacon, which met with little attention
from the a<{e in which he lived, was destined to produce
its effect in a period not very distant. 1 he selieme ota
philosophical college by Cowley is acknowledged to have
had a powerful influence in procuring the establish¬
ment of the Royal Society of London by charter from
Charles II. f ; and Cowley’s plan is manifestly copied
in almost all its parts from that in the New Atlantis.
ft'be institution of the Royal Society oi London was
soon followed by the establishment of the Royal Aca-
denri-p, 35.
s o c
Ryr iulli
anj^ in •
mai Sa
ciles.
^emy of Sciences at Paris: and these t wo have served
• as models to the philosophical academics of highest re-
' putation in the other kingdoms of .Europe.
_i The experience of ages has shown, that improvements
of a public nature are best carried on by societies of li¬
beral and ingenious men, uniting their labours without
regard to nation, sect, or party, in one grand pursuit
alike interesting to all, whereby mutual prejudices are
worn oil, and a humane philosophical spirit is cherished.
Men united together, and frequently meeting for the
purposes of advancing the sciences, the arts, agriculture,
manufactures, and commerce, may oftentimes suggest
such hints to one another as may be improved to im¬
portant ends } and such societies, by being the reposito¬
ries of the observations and discoveries of the learned
and ingenious, may from time to time furnish the world
with useful publications which might otherwise be lost:
for men ot ingenuity and modesty may not choose to
risk their reputation, by sending abroad unpatronized
what a learned society might judge richly worth the
public eye ; or perhaps their circumstances being strait¬
ened, they may not be able to defray the expence of
publication. Societies instituted for promoting know¬
ledge may also be of eminent service, by exciting a spirit
of emulation, and by enkindling those sparks of genius
which otherwise might for ever have been concealed ;
and if, when possessed of funds sufficient for the pur¬
pose, they reward the exertions of the industrious and
enterprising with pecuniary premiums or honorary me¬
dals, many important experiments and useful discoveries
will be made, from which the public may reap the
highest advantages.
Eminent instances of the beneficial effects of such in-
1 443 1
S O C
stitutious we have in the Royal Academy of Sciences at
Taris, the Royal Soci* ty, and the Society instituted for
the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Com¬
merce, iu London, and many others of a similar kind.
Hereby a spirit oi discovery and improvement has been
excited among the ingenious in almost every nation ;
knowledge ot various kinds, and greatly useful to man¬
kind, has taken place of the dry and uninteresting spe¬
culations ot schoolmen ; and bold and erroneous hypo¬
thesis has been obliged to give way to demonstrative
experiment. In short, since the establishment of these
societies, solid learning and philosophy have more in¬
creased than they had done tor many centuries before.
As to those societies established for promoting in¬
dustry,religion and morality, and relieving distress, the
design is laudable and excellent, and presents a beauti¬
ful picture ot the philanthropy of modern times. We
are happy to find, from the minutes of some of these so¬
cieties, that their beneficial effects are already conspi-
| cuous.
We will now give some account of the most eminent
societies; arranging them under the three classes into
which we have divided them : I. Religions and Humane
\ Societies. II. Societies for Promoting Science and Li¬
terature. HI. Societies for Encouraging Arts, Manu¬
factures, &c.
I. Religious and Humane Societies.
i. Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign
Parts, was instituted by King William III. in 1701,
m order to secure a maintenance for an orthodox cler¬
gy, and to make other provisions for propagating the
gospel iu the plantations, colonies, and factories beyond Religious
the seas. To that end he incorporated the archbishops, and lin-
several of the bishops, and others of the nobility, gentry, ni "*e So.
and clergy, to the number of 90, into one body, which, tiel,eR-
by the name ot The Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel in Foreign Parts, was to plead and be impleaded j
to have perpetual succession, with privilege to purchase
2000I. a-year inheritance, and estates for lives or years,
with other goods and chattels to any value. By its
charter the society is authorised to use a common seal j
and to meet annually on the third Friday in February
tor the purpose of choosing a president, vice president,
and officers for the year ensuing j and on the third Fri¬
day in every month, or oftener if there should be occa¬
sion, to transact business, and to depute persons to take
subscriptions, and collect money contributed for the pur¬
poses aforesaid ; and of all moneys received and laid
out, it is obliged to give account yearly to the lord-
chancellor or keeper, the lord-chief-justice of the King’s-
bench, the lord-chitf justice of the Common-pleas, or to
any two of these magistrates. Of this society there is a
standing committee at St Paul’s chapter-house, to pre¬
pare matters for the monthly meeting, which is held at
St Martin’s library.
Before the incorporation of the society for the pro¬
pagation ot the gospel in foreign parts, there had been
formed, for the promoting of Christian knowledge both
at home and in the colonies, a voluntary association of
persons of rank and respectability, who in March 1699
began to hold stated meetings in London for that pur¬
pose, regulating themselves by the laws of the land and
the canons ot the church j and when the new society
was tormed, they had already transmitted to America
and the West Indies 800I. worth of Bibles, Books of
Common Prayer, and treatises of practical religion, be¬
sides securing a tolerable maintenance to several clergy¬
men on that continent. This association still subsists un¬
der the denomination ot The Society for Promoting Chri¬
stian Knowledge, and has been productive of much good
iu the cities of Loudon and Westminster j but upon the
formation ot the new society, into which all its original
members were incorporated by name, the care which
the voluntary association bad taken of the colonies de¬
volved of course upon the incorporated society ; of
which incorporation we believe the object has been
sometimes mistaken, and the labours of its missionaries
grossly misrepresented. It lias by many been supposed
that the society was incorporated for the sole purpose of
converting the savage Americans , and it has been much
blamed for sending missionaries into provinces where, in
the common language of the complainers, a gospel mini¬
stry was already established. But an impartial view of
the rise and progress of the American provinces, now
become independent states, will show the folly and in¬
justice ot those complaints.
The English colonies in North America were in the
last century formed and first peopled by religious men 5
who, made uneasy at home by their intolerant brethren,
left the old world to enjoy in peace that first and chiei!
prerogative of man, thefree worship of God according to
his own conscience. At one time Puritans w'ere driven
across the Atlantic by the episcopal church ; at another,
Churchmen were forced away by the presbyterians,
just as the revolutions of state threw the civil power into
the hands of the one or the other party j and not a few
3 K 2 members
S O C [ 444. ] s o c
■Religious members of the church of Home were chased to the from one of the greatest and the best of men. Surely Religion:-
and Hu- wilds of America by the united exertions of both. It such a mission deserved not to be evil spoken of b) sec- and Hu¬
mane So- lias been often observed, that people persecuted for their tarists ®f any denomination who believe in Christ ; espe- malle S0-
. ciellc~- religion become for the most part enthusiastically at- daily as the very charter of incorporation assigns as a . Ut^K^J
tached to it; and the conduct of those colonists was in reason for missionaries being sent to the colonies, “ that
perfect harmony with this observation. Their zeal, in- by reason of their poverty those colonies were destitute
flamed bv their violent removal to the other hemisphere, and unprovided of a maintenance for ministers and the
kept religion alive and active among themselves 5 but
th ir poverty disabled them from supplying fuel to the
flame, by making provision for a ministry to instruct
their offspring. The consequence was, that the new
Christian commonwealth, without the kindly assistance
of its mother country, would have been, in the words of
the Homan historian, Res nnius osteitis. Against this
danger a timely aid was to be provided by the society *,
which, as it consisted not of fanatical members, would
not intrust the important business of the mission to fana¬
tical preachers, who, though alwavs ready for such spi¬
ritual enterprises, are never qualified to carry them on
with success.
It was therefore thought fit to assign a decent main¬
tenance for clergymen of the church of England, who
might preach the gospel to their brethren in America :
and though those missionaries in general carefully avoid¬
ed the conduct of those of Home, whose principal aim
is to reduce all churches under submission to the papal
tyranny j yet so lately as 1765, did some of the colo¬
nies, in which the puritanic spirit of the last century
characterised the church established by law, raise a hi¬
deous outcry against the society for sending a mission
into their quarters, though only for the service of the
dispersed members of the Episcopal church residing
among them, and for the conversion of those men whom
their rigidfanaticism had prejudiced against Christianity
itself.
Indeed the commodity called FREETHINKING, as
Bishop Warburton expresses it, was at an early period
imported by the opulent and fashionable colonists. The
celebrated Berkeley, who had resided some years in
ilhode Island, and at his return was called upon to
* See his preach the anniversary sermon before the society *, in-
ToMi^of f°rms us> that the island where he lived was inhabited
his Works, an English colony, consisting chiefly of sectaries
^to. of many different denominations •, that several of the
better sort of the inhabitants of towns were accustomed
to assemble themselves regularly on the Lord’s day for
the performance of divine worship; but that most of
those who were dispersed through the colony rivalled
some well-bred people of other countries, in a thorough
indifference for all that is sacred, being equally careless
of outward worship and of inward principles. He adds,
that the missionaries had done, and were continuing to
do, good service in bringing those planters to a serious
sense of religion. “ I speak it knowingly (says he),
that the ministers of the gospel, in those provinces which
go by the name of New England, sent and supported at
the expence of the society, have, by their sobriety of
manne rs, discreet behaviour, and a competent degree of
useful knowledge, shown themselves worthy of the choice
of those who sent them.” We have the honour to be
acquainted with some of the missionaries sent at a later
period, and have reason to believe that, down to the
era oi the American revolution, they had the same vir¬
tues, and were doing the same good services, which pro¬
cured to their predecessors this honourable testimony
X
public worship of God.”
The society, however, was incorporated for other
purposes than this. It was obliged by its charter to
attempt the conversion of the native Americans and the
negro slaves 5 and we have reason to believe, that, as-
soon as the spiritual wants of the colonists were decent¬
ly supplied, it was not inattentive to these glorious ob¬
jects. Its success indeed in either pursuit has not been
so great as could be wished •, but it would be rash and
unfair to attribute this failure to the president, vice-
president, or other officers of the corporation at home.
An erroneous notion, that the being baptized is incon¬
sistent with a state of slavery, rendered the selfish colo¬
nists for a long time averse from the conversion of their
negroes, and made them throw every obstacle in the
way of all who made the attempt } while the difficulties
of 'he Indian mission are such as hardly any clergyman
educated in a Protestant country can be supposed able
to surmount.
He who hopes successfully to preach the gospel
among a tribe of savage wanderers, must have an ardent
zeal and unwearied diligence 5 appetites subdued to all
the distresses of want j and a mind superior to all the
terrors of mortality. These qualities and habits may
be acquired in the church of Home by him who from
infancy has been trained up in the severities of some of
the monastic orders, and afterwards sent to the college
de propaganda fide to be instructed in the languages, and
inured to the manners and customs, of the barbarous na¬
tions whose conversion be is destined to attempt. But
in the reformed churches of Britain there are no mo¬
nastic orders, nor any college dc propaganda Jide ; and
yet without the regular preparation, which is to be
looked for in such institutions alone, it is not in nature,
whatever grace may effect, for any man cheerfully, and
at the same time soberly, to undergo all the accumulat¬
ed distresses ever ready to overtake a faithful missionary
among savage idolaters. A fanatic zealot will indeed
undertake it, though he is totally unqualified for every
sober and important work *, and a man of ruined for¬
tunes may he pressed into the service, though the impo-
tency of his mind has shown him unable to bear either
poverty or riches. The failure of the society therefore
in its attempts to convert the American Indians may
be attributed, we think, in the first instance, to the want
of a college de propaganda for training up young men
for the American mission.
Perhaps another cause of this failure may he found
in the conduct of the missionaries, who, it is to be pre¬
sumed, have not always employed in a proper manner
even the scanty qualifications which they actually pos¬
sessed. The gospel, plain and simple as it is, and tilted
in its nature for what it was ordained to effect, cannot
be apprehended but by an intellect somewhat raised
above that of a savage. Such of the missionaries there¬
fore as began their work with preaching to savage and
brutal men, certainly set out at the wrong end ■, for to
make the gospel understood, and much more to propa-
S O C [ 4
^ leligious Rate and establish it, those savages should have been
nd Hu- first taught the necessary arts of civil life, which, while
titij' they improve every bodily accommodation, tend at the
■7 Cie>RS' ' same time to enlarge and enlighten the understanding.
For want of this previous culture, we doubt not, it hath
happened that such of the savages as have been bap¬
tized into the faith have so seldom persevered them¬
selves, or been able in any degree to propagate among
their tribes the Christianity which they had been taught,
and that successive missions have always found it neces¬
sary to begin anew the work of conversion.
To one or other of these causes, or to both, may
justly be attributed the little progress which reformed
Christianity 1ms made among the Indians of North A-
merica j and not to any want of zeal, attention, or libe-
rality, in the directors of the society at home. During
the dependence of the United States on the mother-
country, great part of the society’s funds was properly
expended in keeping alive a just sense of religion among
the Christian colonists from Europe, who had surely the
first claims upon this best of charities 5 but now that
America has separated herself from Great Britain, and
shown that she is able to maintain her independence,
and to make ample provision for a regular clergy of
her own, the members of the corporation must feel them¬
selves at liberty to bestow greater attention, and to ex¬
pend more money than they could formerly do, on the
conversion of such Indians as have any intercourse with
the settlements which we still possess. To a body so
respectable, we presume not to offer advice; but we
. cannot help thinking, with Bishop Berkeley, that the
most successful missionaries would be children of In¬
dians, educated in a considerable number together from
the age of ten or twelve in a college rfe propagandaJide,
where they should be in no danger of losing their mo¬
ther-tongue while they were acquiring a competent
fposaf knowledge of religion, morality, history, practical ma-
Jt rhe irf-tliematics, and agriculture. “ If there were a yearly
tn UfPly~ fupply Cfays he)of a dozen such missionaries sent abroad
C, ekes ™to t^r respective countries, after they had received
t Fo- ^ie degree of master of arts, and been admitted into
!'<■: ! Plan-holy orders, it is hardly to he doubted but that in a
£?,ls' little time the world would see good and great effects
cf their mission.”
2. Society in Scotland for Propagating Christian
Knowledge, was instituted in the beginning of the 18th
century. At that period the condition of the Scotch
Highlanders was truly deplorable. Shut up in desolate
islands by tempestuous seas, or dispersed over a wide
extent of country, intersected by high mountains, rapid
rivers, and arms of the sea, without bridges or highways,
by which any communication could he kept open either
With remote or neighbouring districts, they lived in
small detached companies in hamlets or solitary huts.
Being thus secluded from intercourse with the more ci¬
vilized part of the island, they could not enjoy the ad¬
vantages ol trade and manufactures. As their soil was
barren and their climate severe, in agriculture no pro-
45 ] s o c
gress was to he expected: and as they were acquainted Religious
with no language but Gaelic, in which no books were and Hu-
then written, to possess knowledge was impossible. nmne So-
Their parishes being of great extent, often 30 or 40 Ciet!es‘
miles long and of a proportionable breadth, andsometimes v ^
consisting^ of several islands separated bv seas, which
are often impassable, a considerable number of the in¬
habitants was entirely deprived of religious instruction
or fell a prey to Popish emissaries. A single school in
such ex-tensive parishes could be of little benefit; vet
many parishes were entirely destitute even of this 're¬
source ; and where schools were established, the want of
books prevented them from producittg the useful effects
otherwise to have been expected from them (a). To all
this we must add, that they lived in a state of the great¬
est oppression : For though the Highlands formed a
part of the British empire, the blessings of the British
constitution had not reached them. The feudal system
reigned in its utmost rigour ; the chieftains exercising
the most despotic sway over the inferior Highlanders,
whom at their pleasure they deprived of their lives or
property (b).
I bus the Highlanders were ignorant, oppressed, and
uncivilized ; slaves rather than subjects ; and either en¬
tirely destitute of the advantages of the Christian reli¬
gion, or unqualified to improve them. Hitherto they
had been unhappy and useless to themselves and dan¬
gerous to the state; for they were ready at the call of
their chieftains to issue from their mountains, and to
turn their arms against their lawful king and his loyal
subjects. This character, however, arose from their
situation. It was therefore impossible for benevolent
minds to contemplate this unhappy situation of their
countrymen without feeling a desire to raise them to
the dignity of rational beings, and to render them use¬
ful as citizens.
Accordingly, in the year 1701, .some private gentle¬
men of the city of Edinburgh, who had formed them¬
selves into a society for the reformation of manners, di¬
rected their attention to the Highlands of Scotland, and
endeavoured to devise some plan for alleviating the
distresses of the inhabitants. The remedy wFich pro¬
mised to be most efficacious was, to establish charity
schools in different places. But as the exigency was
great, it was no easy matter to raise a sufficient fund
for this purpose. They began therefore with what vo¬
luntary subscriptions they could procure, hoping after¬
wards to increase their capital by vacant stipends and
public contributions. A memorial with this view was
presented to the General Assembly in 1704, which re¬
ceived their approbation ; and they accordingly passed
an act, recommending a general contribution. In 1706
the General Assembly appointed some of their number
to inquire more carefully into the state of the High¬
lands, and the year following appointed a select com¬
mittee to confer with the gentlemen who had suggested
the plan. I he result of these conferences was the pub¬
lication of proposals “ for propagating Christian know¬
ledge
^ ,at^f the year not fewer t,ian *75 parishes, within the bounds of 30 presbyteries had no
not entirely removed^ ^ ^ Hdd’ ^ ^ Ule Pl'eSent en!%luened and benevolent age the complaint is-
(Bj Hie feudal sjstem was at length abolished in the year 1748 by the jurisdiction act.
s o c r 446 ] s o c
Religious letlge in tlie Highlands and Islands of Scotland, and in
aud Hu- foreign parts of the world.” Copies of these proposals,
manoSo- subscription papers, were distributed through the
, cieties- kingdom ; and the contributions having soon amounted
to 1000I. her majesty Queen Anne encouraged this in¬
fant society by her royal proclamation, and at the same
time issued letters patent under the great seal ot Scot¬
land for erecting certain of the subscribers into a corpo¬
ration 5 the, first nomination ot whom was lodged with
the lords of council and session.
This corporation held its first meeting on Thursday
3d November 1709. It was attended by several of the
nobility, fourteen of the lords of session, many gentle¬
men of rank, together with most of the ministers of the
city of Edinburgh and neighbourhood. A president,
secretary, and treasurer, with a committee ol fifteen di¬
rectors were appointed for the dispatch of business. At
their second meeting in January i7ioj a scheme of ma¬
nagement was formed and approved 5 in which it was
proposed, 1. To eiect and maintain schools in such
places of Scotland, particularly in the Highlands and
Islands, as should be found to need them most; in which
schools all persons whatsoever should be taught by fit
and well qualified schoolmasters, appointed by the so¬
ciety, to read the Holy Scriptures and other pious
books ; as also to write, and to understand the common
rules of arithmetic, with such other things as should be
thought suitable to their circumstances. 2. That the
schoolmasters should be particularly careful to instruct
their scholars in the principles of the Christian reformed
religion 5 and for that end should be obliged to catechise
them at least twice a week, and to pray publicly with
them twice a-day. 3. That not only such as were un¬
able to pay should be taught gratis, hut that those
whose circumstances required it, should have such farther
encouragement as the society should think fit in a con¬
sistency with their patent. 4. To name some prudent
persons, minislers and others, to be overseers of those
schools, who should take care that the schoolmasters do
their duty, and that the instructions to he given from
time to time by the society or their committee he punc¬
tually observed 5 which overseers should make their re¬
port to the society quarterly or half-yearly at farthest.
5. To give suitable encouragement to such ministers or
catechists as should be willing to conti ibute their assist¬
ance towards the farther instruction of the scholars
remote from church, by not only catechising, but
preaching to them which ministers or catechists should
take the same care of the other inhabitants as of
the scholars. 6. To extend their endeavours for the
advancement of the Christian religion to heathen na¬
tions 5 and for that end to give encouragement to mini¬
sters to preach the gospel among them.
Having thus formed a plan, they immediately pro¬
ceeded to establish schools in the most useful and eco¬
nomical manner; and as the capital continued to ac¬
cumulate, the interest was faithfully applied, and
the utility of the institution was more extensively dif¬
fused.
Until the year 1738 the attention of the society had
been wholly directed to the establishment of schools 5
but their capital being then considerably augmented,
they began to extend their views of utility much farther.
The grand object of all public associations ought cer-
5
tainly to be the promoting of religion and morality. It Religiam
must, howevt i. be evident to every man of reflection, and Hu. !
that these can neither he propagated nor preserved a- maneSo.
mong a people vithout agiiculture, unaccustomed to , ciet^8,
commerce and manufactures, and consequently without
labour or exertion. Languor and debility of mind must
always be the companions of idleness. While the High¬
landers roved about with arms in their hands, the latent
vigour of their minds must often have been called forth
into action ; but when their arms were taken away,
and themselves confined to a domestic life, where there
was nothing to rouse their minds, they must have sunk
into indolence and inactivity. All attempts therefore to
instruct them in religion and morality, without introdu¬
cing among them some of the necessary arts of life,
would probably have been unavailing. The society ac¬
cordingly resolved to adopt what appeared to them the
most effectual methods of introducing industry among
the Highlanders. But as their patent did not extend
far enough, they applied to his majesty George II. for
an enlargement of their powers; and accordingly ob¬
tained a second patent, by which they are empowered,
“ besides fulfilling the purposes of their original patent,
to cause such of the children as they shall think 'fit'to
be bred to husbandry" and housewifery, to trades and
manufactures, or in such manual occupations as the so¬
ciety shall think proper.”
The objects of this second patent the society have
not failed to pursue ; and though many obstacles and
discouragements to their efforts occurred among a rude
and barbarous people, yet their perseverance, and the
obvious utility of their plans, at length so far overcame
the reluctance of the inhabitants, that not fewer than 94
schools of industry in various parts of the Highlands and
Islands are now upon their establishment, at which are
educated 2360 scholars.
The society, while anxiously endeavouring to diffuse
a spirit of industry through the Highlands, were still
equally solicitous to promote the knowledge of the
Christian religion. As the English language had been
the only channel by which knowledge was conveyed to
them (a language which, being not used in conversa¬
tion, was in all respects foreign to them), it was judged
requisite that they should have the Scriptures in their
vernacular tongue. The society therefore first appoint¬
ed a translation of the New Testament to be made in¬
to Gaelic : A translation was accordingly undertaken
by the Rev. Mr Stewart, minister of Killin in Perth¬
shire, and printed in 1767, which is said to be executed
with much fidelity. Of this work many thousand co¬
pies have been distributed in the Highlands. The great¬
er part of the Old Testament has also been translated
by the Rev. Hr Smith of Campbelton and others, hut
chiefly by the Rev. Dr Stewart of Loss, by the appoint¬
ment and at the expence of the society : and as soon as
the remaining part can be got ready, the whole will be
sold at so low a price as the poor may without difficulty
afford. This plan the society have judiciously chosen,
in order to prevent discontent and murmuring j effects
which the diffusion of the Scriptures ought never to
produce ; but which could net possibly have been pre¬
vented, had the distribution been gratuitous, and ot
course partial.
For some ye:us past the funds of the society have ra¬
pidly
9 O C
[
fljions pidJy accumulated, from tile very liberal donatious of
V' several individuals,
ue io-
Latly Glenorchy,
By a person unknown,
L rd Van Vrvhouven of Holland,
M iss Gray of Teasses,
L. 5,000
J 0,000
20,000
3’Soo
In consequence of these great additions to their stock,
insinuations have been thrown out that the society have
become so wealthy as to be at a Joss for proper objects
on winch to bestow their increased revenue. If such
an opinion be seriously entertained by any one, we must
beg him to remember, that the society have erected and
endowed not fewer than 323 schools for religion, the first
principles of literature and industry, at the annual ex¬
pence ol 3214^ tos. sterling j and that at these semi¬
naries are educated from 14,00010 15,000 children ;
who, hut lor the means of instruction thus obtained,
would in all probability be bred up in ignorance and
idleness: That they employ 12 missionary ministers and
catechists in remote parts of the Highlands and islands,
or among the ignorant Highlanders settled in the great
towns ot Scotland, at the annual expence of 296I. :
•That they bestow a bursary or pension of 15]. per
annum on each of six students of divinity having the
Gaelic language: That they employ two missionary
ministers and one schoolmaster among the Oneida and
Stockbridge Indians of North America (being the des¬
tination ol certain legacies bequeathed to them for that
purpose), at the annual expence of 140I. Such is their
fixed scheme of annual expenditure, amounting in all
toi 374°1* I0S- sterling—a sum it will be acknowledged
ot very considerable magnitude. The whole of their
incidental expences arising from the Gaelic translation
of the Scriptures of the Old Testament; from annui¬
ties which they have to pay, in consequence of sums left
them as residuary legatees j from land and house taxes j
from enabling candidates for the office of schoolmaster
to come to Edinburgh for examination j from furnishing
books to poor scholars in their various schools j and
from removing schoolmasters from one station to an¬
other, is generally about 875k which added to the
former sum makes the whole annual expence amount to
4615k ics.
If it lie inquired at what expence, in t\\e management
of it, this extensive and complicated charity is annually
conducted, we are authorised to say, that the treasurer,
bookholder, and clerk, are allowed each 25I. per an¬
num, the same salaries which were annexed to these
offices from the commencement of the society. The
beadle or officer is allowed 12I. per annum. No salary
whatever is enjoyed by any of the other officers of
the society. The secretary, comptroller, accountant,
and librarian, although subjected, some of them espe-
447 ] ' s o c
cially, to no small expence of time and labour, have no Religions
pecuniary recompense or emolument. Theirs are la- and Hu-
bours of love, for which they seek and expect no other n,ar1e So-
reward than the consciousness of endeavouring to pro- , c*et-‘t‘s- i
mote the best interests of mankind. The whole amount V
of the expence of managing the business of the society,
including the above salaries, and coals, candle, station¬
ary ware, postages, and other incidents, exceeds not at
an average 115I. per annum. From this statement it
appears, that hitherto at least the directors have been at
no loss for important objects within the proper sphere
of their institution on which to bestow their increased
funds. 'I hey have, it is true, the disposal of very con¬
siderable sums for promoting the objects of the institu¬
tion j but they are so far from accumulating wealth, that
every year their expenditure, notwithstanding the late
increase of their capital, exceeds rather than falls short
of their income. They have depended upon a kind
Providence and a generous public to refund these anti¬
cipations of their revenue, and hitherto they have ne¬
ver been disappointed.
Thus has the Society forPropagatingChristian Know¬
ledge proceeded for almost a century. It was founded
by the pious exertions of a few private individuals,
whose names are unknown to the world ; and its funds,
by faithful and judicious management, as well as by ge¬
nerous contributions, have now” become of such magni¬
tude, as to excite the hope that they will be productive
of the most valuable effects. The benefits arising from
public societies, it is well known, depend entirely upon
the management of their directors. If so, the advanta¬
ges which have accrued from this society intitle it to
the praise and gratitude of the nation. While eager to
increase the number of schools, the society have not
been inattentive to their prosperity. In the year 1771
Mr Lewis Drummond, a gentleman in whom they pla¬
ced great confidence, was commissioned by them to visit
their schools, and to make an exact report of their state
and circumstances. Again, in the year 1790, acorn-
mission was granted to the Rev. Dr Kemp, one of the
ministers of Edinburgh and secretary to the society, to
visit all the schools on their establishment. This labo¬
rious and gratuitous task he accomplished in the course
of four summers with much ability and care, and highly
to the satisfaction of the society. At his return he eom’-
muriicated a variety of important information respecting
the state of the Highlands and Islands, and the means
necessary for their improvement in religion, literature
and industry; an abstract of which was published by the
society in appendixes to the anniversary sermons preach¬
ed before them in the years 1789, 90, 91, and 92 (c).
The following tabic will exhibit at a glance the funds,
establishment, and expenditure, of the society, from a
few years after its commencement to the present time.
Where
(c) t is wt . nown, tnat the number of Roman Catholics in the Highlands is considerable; but it must give.
j-UC? Pit;lsure t° the Piotestant reader to be informed, that the ancient malignant spirit of Popery has in that
is i.et given pace to mildness and liberality. This is chiefly owing to the gentleman who superintends the^
pies s in that quarter, whose mind is enlightened by science and learning. So far from being hostile to the
lews 0 tne society, he recommended to his clergy to promote them. They accordingly received the secretary'
1 1 muci po iteness ; exhorted the people to send their children to the Protestant schools to he instructed in li-.
era ure, to be taught to read the Scriptures in their own language, and to be made acquainted with those great,
P incip es ol icngion in which all Christians are agreed. What a blessed reformation !
s o c
[ 448 ]
s o c
Religious Where the number of scholars is not mentioned, the de-
and Hu- feet may be supplied by taking an average from those
mane So- yg^rs where a computation has been made. Where the
, cieycs- capital is not mentioned, it may easily be made out by
considering the salaries as the interest.
A.D.
17*5
1719
1727
1732
1742
3 753
1758
1781
3 79S
3 794
. Capital.
L. 6,177
8,168
9>I3I
33>3l8
19,287
24,308
28,413
34,00°
Salaries
3,080
3»2I4
Schools.
12
25
48
78
IO9
128
352
176
l8o
3°7
323
Scholars.
2757
6409
7000
12,913
34,37°
Hitherto we have taken no notice of the correspond¬
ing board which was established at London so early as
the year 1729, to receive subscriptions and lay out sums.
That board indeed remained long inactive ; but in 1773
its members began to co-operate more cordially with
their brethren in Scotland. Since that period an annual
sermon has been preached in recommendation of the
charity j and the preacher is now selected without any re¬
gard to the religious denomination to which he belongs j
sometimes from the church of England, sometimes from
the church of Scotland, and sometimes from sectaries of
different persuasions. The meetings of the correspond¬
ent board have been attended by many of the nobility
and gentry, who have made great exertions to promote
the views of the society. From its present flourishing
state therefore, from the indefatigable exertion and lau¬
dable zeal of the managers, and from the countenance
and support which they have received from persons of
the first rank and respectability in the nation, the bene-
volent mind may look forward with much confidence
and satisfaction to a period not very distant, when its
beneficial effects shall be felt not only in the Highlands,
but shall be communicated to the rest of the nation.
We have been thus particular in our account of the So¬
ciety for Propagating Christian Knowledge, because we
have had access to the most authentic sources of infor¬
mation, and because we know it to be an institution cal¬
culated to enlighten and improve a considerable part of
the British nation.
3. Society of the So?is of the Clergy, was incorporated
hy King Charles II. in 1678, by the name of The Go¬
vernors of the Charity for Relief of the Poor Widows
and Children of Clergymen. This society is under the
direction and management of a president and vice-pre¬
sident, three treasurers, and a court of assistants com¬
posed of forty members. Several hundreds of widows
and children of the clergy have annually received con¬
siderable relief from this useful charity.
4. Society for the Sons of the Clergy o f the Established
Church of Scotland, was instituted at Edinburgh in Fe¬
bruary 1790, and was constituted a body corporate by
his majesty’s royal charter in The society, after
several meetings, are of opinion, that the period in which
the families of clergymen feel most urgently the need
both of friends and of pecuniary aid, is that which com¬
mences with the introduction of the sons either to an Re%;Mi
university or to business, and terminates with their esta- and Uu.
blishment in their respective professions; that many of maneSo
the ministers of this church, living at great distances from , C1 ■
the seats either of universities or of business, possess in¬
comes which, in the present state of the country, are in¬
adequate to the purposes of procuring for their sons either
the literary or professional education which might enable
them to come forward with credit and success in the
world ; that the sons of clergymen, from domestic tuition
and example, have in general very advantageous means
of receiving in their early years the impressions of virtue
and honour, together with the rudiments of liberal know¬
ledge j and that of course the public interest may be pro¬
moted, by enabling this class of young men to obtain
their share in the respectable situations of life. The
views of the society have been limited to the sons only
of clergymen ; as they are of opinion, that within the li¬
mits which they have fixed, the field of beneficence will
be still very extensive, and the claims for aid as many
ami as great as their funds can be supposed able to
answer, at least for many years to come. If the socie¬
ty shall ever he in a situation to undertake more than
the aids which will be necessary in bringing forward
the sons of the clergy, it may then he considered in what
manner the daughters also may become sharers in its
bounty.
A society of the same nature, and having the same
objects in view, was instituted at Glasgow we think the
year before ; and both societies, we know, have in many
cases proved highly beneficial in promoting the views
for which they were instituted.
5. Royal Humane Society, was instituted in London in
1774, for the recovery of persons drowned or otheiwise
suffocated. We have already given some account of
societies instituted in other countries with the sameviews,
and have also copied the directions of this society for the
recovery of life, for which see the article Drowning.
We have therefore only to state, that the plan of this so¬
ciety is so averse to any private interested views, that it
acquits its founders of all sordid motives. For the me¬
dical practitioners accept no pecuniary recompense for
the time which they devote to a difficult and tedious pro¬
cess ; for the anxiety which they feel while the event is
doubtful: for the mortification which they too often un¬
dergo, when death, in spite of all their efforts, at last car¬
ries off his prey 5 nor for the insults to which they willing¬
ly expose themselves from vulgar incredulity. Their sole
reward is in the holy joy of doing good. Of an institu¬
tion thus free in its origin from the suspicion of ambitious
views, and in its plan renouncing self-interest in every
shape, philanthropy must be the only basis. The good
intention therefore of the society is proved by its consti¬
tution j the wisdom and utility of the undertaking are
proved by itssuccess: not fewer than 3000 fellow-creatures
having since its commencement been (1 794) restored to
the community by its timely and indefatigable exertions.
For it is to be observed, that the benefit of this society
is by no means confined to the two cases of drowning
and suspension. Its timely succours have roused the le¬
thargy of opium taken in immoderate and repeated doses j
they have rescued the wretched victims of intoxication j
rekindled the life extinguished by the sudden strode of
lightning j recovered the apoplectic j restored life to tne
infant that had lost it in the birth , they have piove
efficacious
s 0 c [ 449 ]
eihcacious in cases of accidental smotliernifr and of sufl'o- welfare
cation by noxious damps j in instances in which the ten¬
derness of the infant body or the debility of old age
greatly lessened the previous probability of success : in¬
somuch that no species of death seems to be placed be¬
yond the reach of this society’s assistance, where the
mischief had gone no farther than an obstruction of the
movements ol the animal machine without any damage
of the organs themselves. In consequence of every ne¬
cessary assistance alforded by this society, similar in¬
stitutions have been established at Algiers, Lisbon,
Philadelphia, Loston, Jamaica, Dublin, Leith, Glasgow,
Paisley, Aberdeen, Birmingham, Gloucester,Shropshire,
Northamptonshire, Lancaster, Bristol, Whitehaven,
Norwich, Exeter, Kent, and Newcastle. The society
has published an 8vo volume with plates, consisting of
s o c
it is calculated to increase industry ; and it di¬
rects that industry into the most useful and necessary
channels. If we regard self-interest, its immediate ob¬
ject is to protect our persons from assault and murder,
our property from depredation, and our peaceful habita-
tmns from the desperate fury of midnight incendiaries.
Une guinea per annum constitutes a member of the
society j and xol. at one payment a member for life.
A life-subscription, or an annual payment of at least
two guineas, is a necessary qualification for beirm elect¬
ed into the committee.
II.
Religious
and Hu¬
mane Sos
cieties.
cases, correspondence, and a variety of interesting mat¬
ter relating to the object of this benevolent institution.
6. The Philanthropic Society, was instituted in Sep¬
tember 1788. It aims at the prevention of crimes, by
removing out of the way of evil counsel, and evil com¬
pany, those children who are, in the present state of
things, destined to ruin. It proposes to educate and
instruct in some useful trade or occupation the children
of convicts or other infant poor who are engaged in
vagrant or cri/ninal courses; thus to break the chain of
those pernicious confederacies, deprive the wicked of
successors, the gaols of inhabitants, justice of its victims,
arid by all these means add citizens to society. This
institution is not only calculated to decrease vice and
infamy, but to increase useful industry; so that those
children who would otherwise succeed to their parents
hereditary crimes, and become the next race of beggars
and thieves, will now be taught to supply by honest
means their own wants and the wants of others*
To carry into effect these desirable purposes, it is the
first business of the society to select from prisons, and
from the haunts of vice, profligacy, and beggary, such
objects as appear most likely to become obnoxious to
the laws, or prejudicial to the community; and, in the
execution of this duty, the assistance of the magistrates,
the clergy, and all who are interested in the promotion
of good morals and good government, is most earnestly
requested. For the employment of the children, several
houses are supported, at Cambridge Heath, near Hack¬
ney, in each of which a master-workman is placed for
the purpose of teaching the children some useful trade.
The trades already established are those of a printer,
carpentei, shoemaker, and taylor. I he girls are at
present educated as menial servants.
In the year 1791 not fewer than 70 children were un¬
der the protection of this society, among whom were ma¬
ny who have been guilty of various felonies, burglaries,
and other crimes. Yet, singular as it may appear, in’
less than two years those very children became no less re¬
markable for industry, activity, decency, and obedience,
than they formerly were for the contrary vices. Such
are the grounds on which the Philanthropic Society
now claims the attention and solicits the patronage of
the public. If we regard humanity and religion, this
institution opens an asylum to the most forlorn and ab
ject of the human race; it befriends the most friend
Societies for Promoting Science and Li¬
terature.
1. The Royal Society of London is an academy or body
of persons of eminent learning, instituted by Charles 11.
inr thp ™ -1* 4.--. I I 11 J .... . .
for the promoting of natural knowledge. The origin
of this society is traced by Dr Sprat, its earliest histo-
rian, no farther back than to “ some space after the end
of the civil wars” in the 17th century. The scene of the
mst meetings of the learned men who laid the founda¬
tion of it, is by him fixed in the university of Oxford, at
he lodgings of Dr Wilkens warden of Wadham col-
lege. But Dr Birch, on the authority of Dr Wallis
one of its earliest and most considerable members, as¬
signs it an earlier origin. According to him, certain
worthy persons, residing in London about the year
l645>_ “ein8 “inquisitive into natural and the new and
experimental philosophy, agreed to meet weekly on a
certain day, to discourse upon such subjects, ami were
known by the title of The Invisible or Philosophical Col¬
lege. In the years 1648 and 1649, company who
formed these meetings was divided, part retiring to Ox¬
ford and part remaining in London ; but they conti¬
nued the same pursuits as when united, corresnondin <r
with each other, and giving a mutual account of their
respective discoveries. About the year 16 C9 the areat-
ei part of the Oxford society returned to London, and
again uniting with their fellow-labourers, met once, if
not twice, a-week at Gresham college, during term
time till they were scattered by the public distractions
of that year, and the place of their meeting made a
quarter for soldiers. On the restoration 1660 their
meetings were revived, and attended by a greater con¬
course of men eminent for their rank and learning.
icy were at last taken notice of by the king, who
having himself a considerable taste for physical science,
was pleased to grant them an ample charter, dated the
1.5th, Ju,y 1662, and afterwards a second dated 1 rth
April 1763, by which they were erected into a corpo¬
ration, consisting of a president, council, and fellows, for
promoting natural knowledge; and to give their investi¬
gations, against which strange prejudices were entertain¬
ed, every possible support, he sometimes honoured their
meetings with his presence.
Their manner of electing fellows is by balloting.
I heir council are in number 21, including the presi-
dent, vice-president, treasurer, and two secretaries; 11
of which are continued for the next year, and 10 more
added to them ; all chosen on St Andrew’s
.     - day. Each
member at his admission subscribes an engagement that
r ~  he will endeavour to promote the good of the sociVtv •
less, It saves from the certain and fatal consequences of from which he may be freed at any time by «b,„?f 7 ’
infamy and vicious courses orphans and deserted chil- to the president that he desires to wi’thdraw n,!
d,e„. If we reoard national nro.,cbarges haTe been diffi,ent at
3 L at
dren. If we regard national prosperity and the public
Vol. XIX. Part IL r J P ^
s o c
t 45° ]
S O C
at first irregularly paid : but they are now five guineas
paid to the treasurer at admission, and 13s. per quar¬
ter so long as the person continues a member j or, in
lieu of the annual subscription, a composition of 25 gui¬
neas in one payment.
Their design is, to “ make faithful records pf all the
works of nature or art which come within their reach }
so that the present as well as future ages may be enabled
to put a mark nn errors which have been strengthened
by long prescription } to restore truths that have been
neglected ; to push those already known to more various
uses } to make the way more passable to what remains
unrevealed,” &c. To this purpose they have made a
great number of experiments and observations on most
of the works of nature j and also numbers of short
histories of nature, arts, manufactures, useful engines,
contrivances, &e. The services which they have ren¬
dered to the public are very great. They have im¬
proved naval, civil, and military architecture ; advanced
the security and perfection of navigation ; improved
agriculture j and pu# not only this kingdom, but also
Ireland, the plantations, &c. upon planting. They
have registered experiments, histories, relations, obser¬
vations, &c. and reduced them into one common stock j
and have, from time to time, published those which they
reckoned most useful, under the title of Philosophical
Transactions, &c. and laid the rest up in public regi¬
sters, to be nakedly transmitted to posterity, as a solid
ground-work for future systems.
They have a library adapted to their institution ■, to¬
wards which Mr Henry Howard, afterwards duke of
Norfolk, contributed the Norfolcian library, and which
is, at tins time, greatly increased by a continual series
of benefaetions. The museum or repository of natural
and artificial rarities, given them by Daniel Colwal,
Esq. and since enriched by many others, is now remo¬
ved to the British museum, and makes a part of that
great repository. 1 heir motto is Phnllms in vcrhci, and
their place of assembling is Somerset house in the Strand.
Sir Godfrey Copley, baronet, left five guineas to be
given annually to the person who should write the best
paper in the year, under the head of experimental phi¬
losophy. This reward, which is now changed to a
gold medal, is the highest honour the society can bestow.
It is conferred on St Andrew’s day.
2. The Tioi/al Society of Edinburgh, was incorporated
by royal charter on the 29th of March iy83, and has
for its object the cultivation of every branch of science,
erudition, and taste. Its rise and progress towards its
present state was as follows: In the year 1718a literary
society was established in Edinburgh by the learned
11 midi man and others, which in 1731 was succeeded by
a society instituted for the improvement of medical
knowledge. In the year 1739 the celebrated Mac-
laurin conceived the idea of enlarging the plan of this
society, by extending it to subjects of philosophy and
literature. The institution was accordingly new-mo¬
delled by a printed set of laws and regulations, the
number of members was increased, and they were di¬
stinguished from that time by the title of The Society for
Improving Arts and Sciences, or more generally by the
title of The Philosophical Society of Edinburgh. Its
meetings, however, were soon interrupted by the disor¬
ders of the country during the rebellion in X745 and
they were not renewed tili the year I752, Soon after
4
this period the first volume of the Iransactions of the Societies
Philosophical Society of Edinburgh was published, un-for Promot-
der the title of Essays and Observations, Physical fl/2t/inS Science
Literary, and was followed by other volumes of acknow-8™™-
ledged merit. About the end of the year 1782, in a i — t
meeting of the professors of the university of Edinburgh,
many of whom are likewise members of the 1 hiloso-
phical Society, and warmly attached to its interests, a
scheme was proposed by the Bev. Dr Robertson, prin¬
cipal of the university, for the establishment of a new.
society on a more extended plan, and after the model of
some of the foreign academies. It appeared an expe¬
dient measure to solicit the royal patronage to an insti¬
tution of this nature, which promised to be of national
importance, and to request an establishment by charter
from the crown. The plan was approved and adopted 5
and the Philosophical Society, joining its influence as
a body in seconding the application from the university,
his majesty, as we have already observed, was most
graciously pleased to incorporate The Royal Society of
Edinburgh by charter.
The society consists of ordinary and honorary mem¬
bers ; and the honorary places are restricted to per¬
sons residing out of Great Britain anti Ireland, rue
election of new members is appointed to be made at
two stated general meetings, which are to be held on
the fourth Monday of January and the fourth Monday
of June. A candidate for the place of an ordinary
member must signify by a letter, addressed to one of
the members, his wish to be received into the society.
He must then be publicly proposed at least a month
before the day of election. If the proposal be seconded
by two of the members present, his name to be insert¬
ed in the list of candidates, and hungup in the ordinary
place, of meeting. The election is made by ballot, and
is determined in favour of a candidate, if he shall have
the votes of two thirds of those present, in a meeting
consisting of at least 21 members. Ihe general busi¬
ness of the society is managed by a president, two vice-
presidents, with a council of 12, a general secretary,
and a treasurer. These officers are chosen by ballot
annually on the last Monday of November. All public
deeds, whether of a civil or of a literary nature, are
transacted by this board, and proceed in the name of
the president or vice-president.
As it was thought that the members would have a
greater inducement to punctual attendance on the meet¬
ings of the society, if they had some general intimation
of the nature of the subjects which were to be consi¬
dered, and made the topics of conversation, it was there¬
fore resolved to divide the society into two classes,
which should meet and deliberate separately. One of
these classes is denominated the Physical Class, and has
for its department the sciences of mathematics, natma
philosophy, chemistry, medicine, natural history, and
whatever relates to the improvement of arts and manu¬
factures. The other is denominated the Literary Class,
and has for its department literature, philology, history,
antiquities, and speculative philosophy. Every member
is desired at his admission to intimate which of those
classes he wishes to be more particularly associated wit ,
but he is at the same time intitled to attend the meet¬
ings of the other class, and to take part in all its pro
ceedings. Each of the classes has four presidents an
two secretaries, who officiate by turns. Ihe meetings
S O C [ 45!
Societies of the physical class are held on the first Mondays of
br Proraot-January, February, March, April, July, August, No¬
te Science vember, and December •, and the meetings of the Lite-
udturetoil'rary class are held on the third Mondays of January,
—February, March, April, June, July, November, and
December, at 7 o’clock afternoon.
At these meetings the written essays and observations
of the members of the society, or their correspondents,
are read publicly, and become the subjects of conversa¬
tion. The subjects of these essays and observations are
announced at a previous meeting, in order to engage the
attendance of those members who may be particularly
interested in them. The author of each dissertation is
likewise desired to furnish the society with an abstract
of it, to be read at the next ensuing meeting, when the
conversation is renewed with increased advantage, from
the knowledge previously acquired of the subject. At
the same meetings are exhibited such specimens of na¬
tural or artificial curiosities, such remains of antiquity,
and such experiments, as are thought worthy of the at¬
tention of the society. All objects of natural history
presented to the society, are ordered by the charter of
the institution, to be deposited, on receipt, in the museum
of the university of Edinburgh ; and all remains of an¬
tiquity, public records, or ancient manuscripts, in the
library belonging to the faculty of advocates at Edin¬
burgh.
The ordinary members, whose usual residence is in
the city of Edinburgh or its immediate neighbourhood,
are expected to attend regularly the monthly meetings 5
and are required to defray, by an annual contribution,
the current expences of the institution. The members
who reside at such a distance from Edinburgh, that
they cannot enjoy the advantages arising from a regular
attendance on the meetings of the society, are not sub¬
jected to any contribution for defraying its expences,
hut have a right to attend those meetings when occa¬
sionally in Edinburgh, and to take part in all their pro¬
ceedings.
Five volumes of the Transactions of the society have
been published, which bear ample testimony to the learn¬
ing and acuteness of their various authors.
3. Medical Society of London, instituted in the year
*752> 0,1 the plan recommended by Lord Bacon (De
Augm. Scient. lib. iv. cap. 2.), to revive the Hippocra¬
tic method of composing narratives of particular cases,
in which the nature of the disease, the manner of treat¬
ing it, and the consequences, are to be specified j to at¬
tempt the cure of those diseases which, in his opinion,
have been too boldly pronounced incurable ; and, last¬
ly, to extend their inquiries after the powers of par¬
ticular medicines in the cure of particular cases ; the
collections of this society have been already published,
under the title of Medical Observations and Inquiries,
in several volumes.
4- dhe Medical Society oiEdinburgh was incorporated
by royal charter .in 1778) but there appears to have
been in that city a voluntary association of the same
name from the first establishment of a regular school of
physic in the university. To the voluntary society the
public is indebted for six volumes of curious and use¬
ful essays, collected principally by the late Dr Monro
from June 173* June 173^ ? but in the year 1739
that society was united to another, as we have already
observed in a former article. The ordinary members
] s o c
of the present medical society are elected by ballot, and
threedissentients excludea candidate} an ordinary mem¬
ber may also be elected an honorary member, who en-
joys the privileges of the others, and receives a diploma,
but is freed from the obligation of attendance, deliver-
ing papers in rotation, &c. to which the ordinary mem¬
bers are subject} but in this case the votes must lie una¬
nimous. j he meetings of this society are held every
Iriday evening (formerly Saturday) in their own hall,
during the winter season, when papers on medical sub¬
jects are delivered by the several members in rotation ;
and four of these are annually elected to fill the chair in
rotation, with the title of annual presidents. This so¬
ciety possesses an excellent library of books on sub¬
jects connected with its pursuits.
5. Ike Royal Medical Society of Paris was instituted
in 1776. The members are divided into associates ordi¬
nary, limited to 30, honorary to 12, extraordinary to 60,
and foreign to 60, and correspondents. This society has
published several volumes of Memoirs in qto.
6. Asiatic Society, an institution planned by the late
illustrious Sir William Jones, and actually formed at
Calcutta on the 15J1 of January 1784, for the purpose
of tracing the history, antiquities, arts, sciences, and li¬
terature, of the immense continent of Asia. As it was
resolved to follow as nearly as possible the plan of the
Royal Society of London, ot which the king is pa¬
tron, the patronage of the Asiatic Society was offered
to the governor-general and council, as the executive
power in the territories of the company. By their ac¬
ceptance of this offer, Mr Hastings, as governor-gene-
ral, appeared among the patrons of the new society }
“ but he seemed in his private station, as the first liberal
promoter of useful knowledge in Bengal, and especially
as the great encourager of Persian and Shanscrit litera¬
ture, to deserve a particular mark of distinction he
was requested, therefore, to accept the honorary title of
president. This was handsomely declined in a letter
from Mr Hastings, in which be requested “to yield bis
pretensions to the gentleman whose genius planned the
institution, and was most capable of conducting it to the
attainment of the great and splendid purposes of its for¬
mation.” On the receipt of this letter, Sir William
Jones was nominated president of the society ; and we
cannot give the reader a view of the object of the insti¬
tution in clearer language than that which he employed
in his first discourse from the chair.
“ It is your design, I conceive (said the president),
to take an ample space for your learned investigations,
bounding them only by the geographical limits of Asia}
so that, considering Hindostan as a centre, and turning
your eyes in idea to the north, you have on your right
many important kingdoms in the eastern peninsula, the
ancient and wonderful empire of China with all her Tar¬
tarian dependencies, and that of Japan, with the cluster
of precious islands, in which many singular curiosities
have too long been concealed : before you lies that pro¬
digious chain of mountains, which formerly perhaps
were a barrier against the violence of the sea, and be¬
yond them the very interesting country of Tibet, and
the vast regions of Tartary, from which, as from the
Trojan horse of the poets, have issued so many consum¬
mate warriors, whose domain has extended at least from
the banks of the Ilyssus to the mouths of the Ganges}
on your left are the beautiful and celebrated provinces
3 L 2 of
S O C [45
Societies of Iran or Persia, the unmeasured and perhaps unmea-
for Promot-surahle deserts of Arabia, and the once flourishing king-
ing Science dorn Gf Yemen, with the pleasant isles that the Arabs
and Litera-jiave su|i(|ued or colonized j and farther westward, the
■ ' . A sin fir, dominions of the Turkish sultans, whose moon
seems approaching rapidly to its wane. By this great
circumference the field of your useful researches will be
inclosed 5 but since Egypt had unquestionably an old
connection with this country, if not with China, since
the language and literature of the Abyssinians bear a
manifest affinity to those of Asia, since the Arabian
arms prevailed along the African coast of the Mediter¬
ranean, and even erected a powerful dynasty on the
continent of Europe, you may not be displeased occa¬
sionally to follow the streams of Asiatic learning a little
beyond its natural boundary *, and, if it be necessary or
convenient that a short name or epithet be given to our
society, in order to distinguish it in the world, that of
Asiatic appears both classical and proper, whether we
consider the pbice or the object of the institution, and
preferable to Oriental, which is in truth a word merely
relative, and though commonly used in Europe, con¬
veys no very distinct idea.
“ If now it be asked. What are the intended objects
of our inquiries within these spacious limits ? we answer,
Man and Nature ; whatever is performed by the one
or produced by the other. Human knowledge has been
elegantly analysed according to the three great faculties
of the mind, memory, reason, and imagination, which
we constantly find employed in arranging and retaining,
comparing and distinguishing, combining and diversify¬
ing, the ideas, which we receive through our senses, or
acquire by reflection ; hence the three main branches
of learning are, history, science, and art; the first com¬
prehends either an account of natural productions, or
the genuine records of empires and states j the second
embraces the whole circle of pure and mixed mathema¬
tics, together with ethics and law, as far as they de¬
pend on the reasoning faculty ; and the third includes
all the beauties of imagery and the charms of invention,
displayed in modulated language, or represented by co¬
lour, figure, or sound.
“ Agreeable to this analysis, you will investigate
whatever is rare in the stupendous fabric of nature, will
correct the geography of Asia by new observations and
discoveries j will trace the annals and even traditions of
those nations who from time to time have peopled or
desolated it", and will bring to light their various forms
of government, with their institutions civil and religions j
you will examine their improvements and methods in
arithmetic and geometry, in trigonometry, mensuration,
mechanics, optics, astronomy, and general physics; their
systems of morality, grammar, rhetoric, and dialect ;
their skill in chirurgery and medicine ; and their ad¬
vancement, whatever it may be, in anatomy and che¬
mistry. To this you will add researches into their agri¬
culture, manufactures, trade ; and whilst you inquire
with pleasure into their music, architecture, painting,
and poetry, will not neglect those inferior arts by which
the comforts and even elegancies of social life are sup¬
plied or improved. You may observe, that I have
omitted their languages, the diversity and difficulty of
which are a sad obstacle to the progress of useful know¬
ledge ; but I have ever considered languages as the
mere instruments of real learning, and think them im-
2 ] s ° c
properly confounded with learning itself: the attain* Societies i”'1
ment of them is, however, indispensably necessary; and for Promot. fliu
if to the Persian, Armenian, Turkish, and Arabic, could ln^c*en«
be added not only the Shanscrit, the treasures of which an tJ^tenu in.
we may now hope to see unlocked, but even the Chi- %—
nese, Tartarian, Japanese, and the various insular dia¬
lects, an immense mine would then be open, in which
we might labour with equal delight and advantage.”
Of this society three volumes of the Transactions
have been published, which are replete with informa¬
tion in a high degree curious and important ; and we
hope that the European world shall soon be favoured
with another. The much-to-be-lamented death of the
accomplished president may indeed damp the spirit of
investigation among the members; for to conquer diffi¬
culties so great as they must meet with, a portion seems
to be necessary of that enthusiasm which accompanied
all the pursuits of Sir William Jones ; but his successor
is a man of great worth and learning, and we trust will
use his utmost endeavours to have the plan completed
of which Sir William gave the outlines.
5. The American Philosophical Society, held at Phi¬
ladelphia, was formed in January 17^9 ^ie un,on °I
two societies which had formerly subsisted in that city.
This society extends its attention to geography, mathe¬
matics, natural philosophy, and astronomy ; medicine
and anatomy; natural history and chemistry; trade
and commerce; mechanics and architecture; husbandry
and American improvements. Its officers are a patron,
president, three vice-presidents, one treasurer, lour se¬
cretaries, and three curators, who are annually chosen
by ballot. The duty of the president, vice-presidents,
treasurer, and secretaries, is the same as in other socie¬
ties. The business of the curators is to take the charge
of all specimens of natural productions, whether of the
animal, vegetable, or fossil kingdom ; all models of
machines and instruments; and all other matters be¬
longing to the society which shall be intrusted to them.
The ordinary meetings are held on the first and third
Fridavs of every month from October to May inclusive.
This society was incorporated by charter 15th March
1780; and has published three volumes of its Transac¬
tions, containing many ingenious papers on general li¬
terature and the sciences, as well as respecting those
subjects peculiar to America. It is a delightful pro¬
spect to the philosopher to consider, that Asia, Europe,
and America, though far separated and divided into a
variety of political states, are all three combined to pro¬
mote the cause of knowledge and truth.
6. A Literary and Philosophical Society of consider¬
able reputation has been lately established at Man¬
chester, under the direction of two presidents, four vice-
presidents, and two secretaries. The number of mem¬
bers is limited to 50; besides whom there are several
honorary members, all of whom are elected by ballot;
and the officers are chosen annually in April. Five vo¬
lumes of valuable essays have been already published by
this society.
A society on a similar plan has been established at
Newcastle. It is composed of a number of most re¬
spectable members, and possesses a very valuable library
and philosophical apparatus. Lectures on the different
branches of natural philosophy have been delivered for
several years at this institution.
7. Societyfor Promoting the Discovery of the Interior
Parts
S O C [
Soci’ies "Parts of Africa. This society or association for explor-
for P:inot-Ing the internal districts of Africa, of which so little is
ingSi;nceat present known, was formed in London by some opu-
8nitJjeia"lent individuals in 1788; who, strongly impressed with
j, — — • a conviction of the practicability and utility of thus en¬
larging the fund of human knowledge, determined if
possible to rescue the age from that stigma which at¬
taches to its ignorance of so large and so near a portion
of the globe. The founders of this society resolved to
admit no man a member for a shorter period than three
years, during which he must pay annually into the
public fund five guineas. After three years, any mem¬
ber, upon giving a year’s notice, may withdraw himself
from the association. During the first I 2 months each
of the members was allowed to recommend for the ap¬
probation of the society such of his friends as he might
think proper to be admitted into it j but since that pe¬
riod we believe all additional members have been elected
l by a ballot of the association at large. A committee
was chosen by ballot to manage the funds of the society,
to choose proper persons to be sent on the discovery of
the interior parts of Africa, and to carry on the society’s
correspondence, with express injunctions to disclose no
intelligence received fi'om their agents but to the society
at large. But a fuller account of the nature of this
establishment, and the very happy efiorts they have
made, may be seen in the superb edition of their pro¬
ceedings printed in 1790, 4to, for their own use 5 or in
the 8vo edition since made public. They soon found
[ two gentlemen, Mr Lucas and Mr Ledyard, who were
singularly well qualified for the imp u tant mission. The
information they have acquired will be found in the
above work j with a new map by Mr Rennel, exhibit¬
ing the geographical knowledge collected by the Afri¬
can association. Mr Ledyard very unfortunately died
during his researches at Cairo.
Few of our readers are unacquainted with the travels
of Mr Park under the patronage of the society. For an
account of which see Africa. A second journey was
undertaken by the same gentleman within these three
years ; but as he has not been heard of for a long time,
the most serious apprehensions are entertained that he
and his companions have fallen victims either to the in¬
hospitable climate, or to the watchful jealousy of the
Moors. Another enterprising traveller, Mr Horneman,
was sent out by the society about 1800. He departed
from Cairo with a caravan, and reached Mourzouk, a
place situated south from Tripoli $ and from thence sent
a Communication to his constituents which has since been
published by the society. This is the last account that
was received of this traveller, from which it is feared
that he has also perished.
8. The Society of Antiquaries of London, was founded
about the year 1572 by Archbishop Parker, a munifi¬
cent patron of learned men. For the space of 20 years
it assembled in the house of Sir Robert Cotton 5 in 1589
they resolved to apply to Queen Elizabeth for a charter,
and a public building where they might hold their meet¬
ings ; but it is uncertain whether any such application
was ever made. In the mean time, the reputation of
the society gradually increased, and at length it excited
the jealousy of James I. who was afraid lest it should pre¬
sume to canvas the secret transactions of his government.
He accordingly dissolved it. But in the beginning of
the last century, the Antiquarian society began to re-
s o c
a number of gentlemen, eminent for their Societies
453 1
vive; and
affection to this science, had weekly meetings, in which for Promot-
they examined the antiquities and history of Great Bri-inJ-r Science
tain preceding the reign of James I. but without ex-aild I^Ura~
eluding any other remarkable antiquities that might be tU‘t'
offered to them. From this time the society grew in
importance j and in 1750 they unanimously resolved to
petition the king for a charter of incorporation. This
they obtained the year following, by the influence of
the celebrated earl of Hardwicke, then lord chancellor,
and Martin Folkes, Esq ; who was then their president.
Ihe king declared himself their founder and patron, and
empowered them to have a body of statutes, and a com¬
mon seal, and to hold in perpetuity lands, &c. to the
yearly value of Joool.
x he chief object of the inquiries and researches of
the society are British antiquities and history; not,
however, wholly excluding those of other countries. It
must be acknowledged, that the study of antiquity of¬
fers to the curious and inquisitive a large field for re¬
search and amusement. The inquirer in this branch
furnishes the historian with his best materials, while he
distinguishes from truth the fictions of a bold invention,
and ascertains the credibility of facts ; and to the philo¬
sopher he presents a fruitful source of ingenious specu¬
lation, while he points out to him the way of thinking,
and the manners of men, under all the varieties of as¬
pect in which they have appeared.
An antiquarian ought to be a man of solid judgment,
possessed of learning and science, that he may not be an
enthusiastic admirer of every thing that is ancient mere¬
ly because it is ancient; but be qualified to distinguish
between those researches which are valuable and impor¬
tant, and those which are trifling and useless. It is from
the want of these qualifications that some men have con¬
tracted such a blind passion for every thing that is an¬
cient, that they have exposed themselves to ridicule,
and their study to contempt. But if a regard to utility
were always to regulate the pursuits of the antiquarian,
the shafts of satire would no longer be levelled at him ;
but he would be respected as the man who labours to re¬
store or to preserve such ancient productions as are suited
to illuminate religion, philosophy, and history, or to im¬
prove the arts of life.
We by no means intend to apply these observations
to any particular society of antiquarians ; but we throw
them out, because we know that an assiduous study of
antiquity is apt, like the ardent pursuit of money, to
lose sight of its original object, and to degenerate into a
passion which mistakes the mean for the end, and con¬
siders possession without a regard to utility as enjoy¬
ment.
An association similar to that of the Antiquarian So¬
ciety of London was founded in Edinburgh in 1780,
and received the royal charter in 1783. A volume of
the Iransactions of this society has been published ; but
with the exception of two or three memoirs, it contains
little worthy of notice; and accordingly, it has never
attracted the attention of the public.
Besides these literary societies here mentioned, there
are a great number more in different parts of Europe,
some of which are noticed under the article Academy.
Those which are omitted are not omitted on account
of any idea of their inferior importance; but either be¬
cause
Societies
foe Encou¬
raging and
Promoting
Arts, Ma¬
nufactures,
See.
S O C [ 454 ] S O C
cause we have had no access to authentic information,
or because they resemble the societies already described
so closely, that we could have given nothing but their
names.
III. Societies for Encouraging and Promoting
Arts, Manufactures, &c.
i. London Society for the Encouragement of Arts,
Manufactures, and Commerce, was instituted in the year
*754 by Lord Folkstone, Lord Romney, Dr Stephen
Hales, and a few private gentlemen 5 but the merit of
this institution chiefly belonged to Mr William Shipley,
an ingenious mechanic ; who, though deriving no ad¬
vantages from learning, by unwearied personal attend¬
ance found means to engage a few persons of rank and
fortune to meet at Peele’s coffeehouse in Fleet-street,
and to adopt a plan for promoting arts and manufac-
tures.
The office-bearers of this society are a president, 12
vice-presidents, a secretary, and register. Their pro¬
ceedings are regulated by a body of rules and orders
established by the whole society, and printed for the use
of the members. All questions and debates are determi¬
ned by the holding up of hands, or by ballot if required $
and no matter can be confirmed without the assent of a
majority at two meetings. They invite all the world
to propose subjects for encouragement j and whatever is
deemed deserving of attention is referred to the consi¬
deration of a committee, which, after due inquiry and
deliberation, make their report to the whole society,
where it is approved, rejected, or altered. A list is
printed and published every year of the matters for
which they propose to give premiums; which premiums
are either sums of money, and those sometimes very
considerable ones ; or the society’s medal in gold or sil¬
ver, which they consider as the greatest honour they
can bestow. All possible care is taken to prevent par¬
tiality in the distribution of their premiums, by desiring
the claimants names to be concealed, and by appoint¬
ing committees (who when they find occasion call to
their assistance the most skilful artists) for the strict ex¬
amination of the real merit of all matters and things
brought before them, in consequence of their pre¬
miums.
The chief objects of the attention of the Society for
the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Com¬
merce, in the application of their revenues, are ingenuity
in the several branches of the polite and liberal arts,
useful discoveries and improvements in agriculture, ma¬
nufactures, mechanics, and chemistry, or the laying open
of any such to the public; and, in general, all such
useful inventions, discoveries, or improvements (though
not mentioned in the book of premiums) as may appear
to have a tendency to the advantage of trade and com¬
merce.
The following are some of the most important regula¬
tions of this society. It is required that the matters
for which premiums are offered be delivered in without
names, or any intimation to whom they belong ; that
each particular thing be marked in what manner each
claimant thinks fit, such claimant sending with it a pa¬
per sealed up, having on the outside a corresponding
mark, and on the inside the claimant’s name and ad¬
dress ; and all candidates are to take notice, that no
claim for a premium will be attended to, unless the con- Socieii-j
ditions of the advertisement are fully complied with, for Encoa.
No papers shall be opened but such as shall gain pre- asing and ^
t
miums, unless where it appears to the society absolutely t?'onioti,1S
necessary for the determination of the claim: all the nurfas’t‘ui^
rest shall be returned unopened, with the matters to &Ct
which they belong, if inquired after by the marks with- '
in two years ; after which time, if not demanded, they
shall be publicly burnt unopened at some meeting of the
society. All the premiums of this society are designed
for that part of Great Britain called England, the do¬
minion of Wales, and the town of Berwick upon
Tweed, unless expressly mentioned to the contrary.
No person shall receive-any premium, bounty, or encou¬
ragement, from the society for any matter for which he
lias obtained or proposes to obtain a patent. No mem¬
ber of this society shall be a candidate for or intitled to
receive any premium, bounty, or reward .whatever, ex¬
cept the honorary medal ol the society.
The respectability of the members who compose it
may be seen by perusing the list which generally accom¬
panies their Transactions. In the last volume (vol. xii.)
it occupies no less than 43 pages. Some idea may be
formed of the wealth of this society, by observing that
the list of their premiums fills 96 pages, and amounts to
250 in number. These consist of gold medals worth
from 30 tor 50, and in a few instances to 100 guineas;
and silver medals valued at 10 guineas.
This society is one of the most important in Great
Britain. Much money has been expended by it, and
many are the valuable effects of which it has been pro¬
ductive. Among these we reckon not only the disco¬
veries which it has excited, but the institution of other
societies on the same principles to which it has given
birth ; and we do not hesitate to conclude, that iuture
ages wdll consider the founding of this society as one of
the most remarkable epochs in the history o! the arts.
We contemplate with pleasure the beneficial ellects
which must result to this nation and to mankind by the
diffusion of such institutions; and rejoice in the hope
that the active minds of the people of Great Britain,
instead of being employed as formerly in controversies
about religion, which engender strife, or in discussions
concerning the theory of politics, which lead to the
adoption of schemes inconsistent with the nature and
condition of man, will soon be more generally united
into associations for promoting useful knowledge and
solid improvement, and for alleviating the distresses of
their fellow creatures. •
1. Society instituted at Bath for the Encouragement
of Agriculture, Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce. It
was founded in the year 1777 by several gentlemen who
met at the city of Bath. This scheme met with a very
favourable reception both from the wealthy and learnet.
The wealthy subscribed very liberally, and the learned
communicated many important papers. On application
to the London and provincial societies instituted lor the
like purposes, they very politely offered their assistance.
Seven volumes of their Transactions have already been
published, containing very valuable experiments and ob¬
servations, particularly respecting agriculture, which we
deserve the attention of all farmers in the kingdom-
We have consulted them with much satisfaction on se¬
veral occasions, and have frequently referred to them in
the course of this woik ; and therefore, with pleasure,
embrace
s o c
So-ties
for Ijcou-
rag ' and
Fronting
ArtrMa-
mifii-ii'es,
embrace the present opportunity of repeating our obli¬
gations. We owe the same acknowledgments to the
Society for the Improvement of Arts, &c. of London.
3. Society for working Mines, an association lately
formed on the continent of Europe. This institution
arose fiom the accidental meeting of several mineralo-
gists at Skleno near Schemnitz in Hungary, who were
collected in order to examine a new method of amalga¬
mation. Stiuck with the shackles imposed on minera¬
logy by monopolizers of new and useful processes, they
thought no method so effectual to break them, as form¬
ing a society, whose common labours should be directed
to fix mining on its surest principles j and whose memoirs,
spread all over Europe, might offer to every adventurer
the result' of the researches, of which they are the ob¬
ject. By these means they supposed, that there would
be a mass of information collected 5 the interests of in¬
dividuals would be lost in the general interest j and the
one would materially assist the other. Imposture and
quackery would, by the same means, be banished from
a science, which must be improved by philosophy and
experience j and the society, they supposed, would find,
in the confidence which they inspired, the reward and
the encouragement of their labours. They design, that
the memoirs which they publish shall he short and
clear; truth must be their basis, and every idle discus¬
sion, every foreign digression, must be banished 5 poli¬
tics and finance must be avoided, though the disserta¬
tions may seem to lead towards them j and they oblige
themselves to oppose the affectation of brilliancies, and
the ostentation of empty speculation, when compared
with plain, simple, and useful facts.
Hie object of the society is physical geography 5 mi¬
neralogy founded on chemistry; the management of ore
in the different operations which it undergoes ; subter¬
raneous geometry; the history of mining; founderies,
and the processes for the extraction of metals from the
ores, either by fusion or amalgamation, in every instance
applied to practice. Ihe end of this institution is to
collect, in the most extensive sense, every thing that can
assist the operations of the miner, and to communicate
it to the different members, that they may employ it
for the public good, in their respective countries. Each
member must consider himself as bound to send to the
society every thing which will contribute to the end of
its institution; to point out, with precision, the several
iacts and observations ; to communicate every experi¬
ment which occurs, even the unsuccessful ones, if the
relation may seem to be advantageous to the public ;
to communicate to the society their examination of
schemes, and their opinions on questions proposed by
It; and to pay annually two ducats (about 18s. 6d.) to
the direction every Easter. The society on the other
hand, is hound to publish every novelty that shall be
communicated to it ; to communicate to each member,
at the member’s expence, the memoirs, designs, models,
productions, and every thing connected with the insti¬
tution ; to answer all the necessary demands made, re¬
lating in any respect to mining; and to give its opinion
on every plan or project communicated through the me¬
dium of an honorary member.
fl ij11-6 ^at centre 0* a11 intelligence is to be at Zeller-
neld in Hartz, Brunswick; but the society is not fixed
to any one spot; for every particular state some practi¬
cal mineralogist is nominated as director. Among these
[ 455 ]
s o c
are the names of Baron Born, M. Pallas, M. Charpen-
tier, M. Prebra, and M. Henkel. Their office is to
propose the members; to take care that the views of the
society are pursued in the different countries where they
reside ; to answer the requests of the members of their
country who are qualified to make them; in case of the
death of a director, to choose another; and the majority
is to determine where the archives and the strong box
is to be placed.
All the eminent mineralogists in Europe are mem¬
bers of this society. It is erected on so liberal and so
extensive a plan, that we entertain the highest hopes of
its success ; and have only to add, that we wish much
to see the study of several other sciences pursued in the
same manner.
4. The Society for the Improvement of Maval Architec¬
ture, was founded in 1791. The object of it is to en¬
courage every useful invention and discovery relating to
naval architecture as far as shall be in their power, both
by honorary and pecuniary rewards. They have in view
particularly to improve the theories of floating bodies
and of the resistance of fluids ; to procure draughts and
models of different vessels, together with calculations of
their capacity, centre of gravity, tonnage, &c. ; to
make observations and experiments themselves, and to
point out such observations and experiments as appear
best calculated to further their designs, and most deserv¬
ing those premiums which the society can bestow. But
though the improvement of naval architecture in all its
branches be certainly the principal object of this institu¬
tion, yet the society do not by any means intend to con¬
fine themselves merely to the form and structure of ves¬
sels. Every subordinate and collateral pursuit will claim
a share of the attention of the society in proportion to its
merits; and whatever may have any tendency to render
navigation more safe, salutary, and even pleasant, will
not be neglected.
I his institution owes its existence to the patriotic dis¬
position and extraordinary attention of Mr Sewel a pri¬
vate citizen of London, who (though engaged in a line
of business totally opposite to all concerns of this kind)
has been led, by mere accident, to take such ocular no¬
tice of, and make such observations on, the actual state
of naval architecture in this country, as naturally occur¬
red to a man of plain understanding, zealous for the ho¬
nour and interest of his country, and willing to bestow a
portion of that time for the public good, which men of
a different description would rather have devoted to their
own private advantage. His attention was the more
seriously excited by finding that it was the opinion of
some private ship-builders, who, in a debate on the fail¬
ure of one of our naval engagements, pronounced, that
such “ would ever be the case while that business (the
construction of our ships of war) was not studied as a
science, but carried on merely by precedent; that there
had not been one improvement in our navy that did not
originate with the French, who had naval schools and
seminaries for the study of it ; and that our ships were
not a match for those of that nation either singly or in
a fleet,” &c. &c.
In a short time the society were enabled to offer very
considerable premiums for particular improvements in
the construction of our shipping, &c. &c. and also to
encourage our philosophers, mathematicians, and me¬
chanics, to make satisfactory experiments, tending to a&-
certain
Societies
for Encou¬
raging and
Promoting
Aits, Ma¬
nufactures,.
&c.
s o c r 456 ] s o e
Societies certain the laws of resistance of water to solids of difler-
for Encou- ent forms, in all varieties of circumstance. On this
raging and the reward is not less than one hundred pounds
Vrts^ivia- or a goltl medal. Other premiums of 50, 30, and 20
nut'actures, guineas, according to the importance or difficulty of the
See. ’ particular subject or point of investigation, are likewise
v "mv ’ ' offered, for different discoveries, inventions, or improve¬
ments. The terms of admission into the society are a
subscription of two guineas annually, or twenty guineas
for life.
5. Society of Artists of Great Britain, which consists
of directors and fellows, was incorporated by charter in
1765, and empowered to purchase and hold lands, not
exceeding 1000I. a-year. The directors of this society,
annually elected, are to consist of 24 persons, including
the president, vice-president, treasurer, and secretary j
and it is required that they be either painters, sculptors,
architects, or engravers by profession.
6. British Society for extending the Fisheries and Im¬
proving the Sea-Coasts of this Kingdom, was instituted
in 1786. The end and design of this society will best
appear from their charter, of which we present an ab¬
stract.
The preamble states, “ the great want of improve¬
ment in fisheries, agriculture, and manufactures, in the
Highlands and Islands of North Britain 5 the prevalence
of emigration from the want of employment in those
parts ; the prospect of a new nursery of seamen, by the
establishment of fishing towns and villages in that quar¬
ter. The act therefore declares, that the persons there¬
in named, and every other person or persons who shall
thereafter become proprietors of the joint stock men¬
tioned therein, shall be a distinct and separate body po¬
litic and coiporate, by the name of The British Society
for Extending the Fisheries and Improving the Sea-coasts
of this Kingdom: That the said society may raise a ca¬
pital joint stock not exceeding 150,000k to be applied
to purchasing orotherwise acquiring lands and tenements
in perpetuity, for the building thereon, and on no other
land whatever, free towns, villages, and fishing stations:
That the joint stock shall be divided into shares of 50I.
each : That no one person shall in his or her name pos¬
sess more than ten shares, or 500I.: That the society
shall not borrow any sum or sums of money whatsoever :
That the sums to be advanced for this undertaking, and
the profits arising therefrom, shall be divided proportion¬
ally to the sum subscribed 5 and that no person shall be
liable for a larger sum than he or she shall have respec¬
tively subscribed •, That one or two shares shall entitle
to one vote, and no more, in person or by proxy, at all
meetings of proprietors •, three or four shares to two
votes; five, six, or seven shares, to three votes; eight
or nine shar-es to four votes ; and ten shares to five votes
and no more : That more persons than one inclining to
hold in their joint names one or more shares shall be in-
titled to vote, by one of such persons, according to the
priority of their names, or by proxy : That bodies cor¬
porate shall vote by proxy under their seal: That all
persons holding proxies shall be proprietors, and that no
one person shall hold more than five votes by proxy:
That the affairs of the society shall be managed by a
governor, deputy governor, and 13 other directors, to
be elected annually on the 25th of March, from among
the proprietors of the society, holding at least one full
share, by signed lists of their names to be transmitted by
the proprietors to the secretary of the society : That fiVC Soiittin
proprietors, not being governor, director, or other clli- for Encou.
cer, shall be in like manner annually elected to auditr«g|DS
the accounts of the society : That there shall be one ge-
neral meeting of the proprietors annually on the 25th ol uufaeiiM,
March : That occasional general meetings shall be call- &c.
ed on the request of nine or more proprietors : That the II
general meetings of the proprietors shall make all bye- , ocl"ia”^
laws and constitutions for the government of the society,
and for the good and orderly carrying on of the business
of the same : That no transfer shall be made of the stock
of the society for three years from the ibth ot August
1786 : That the cash of the society shall be lodged in
the bank of England, bank of Scotland, or the royal
bank of Scotland : That no director, proprietor, agent,
or officer of the society, shall retain any sum or sums of
money in his hands beyond the space ol 30 days on any
account whatsoever : That all payments by the society
shall be made by drafts on the said banks, under the
hands of the governor or deputy-governor, countersign¬
ed by the secretary or his deputy, and two or more di¬
rectors : And that the books in which the accounts of
the society shall be kept shall be open to all the pro¬
prietors.1’
The institution of this public-spirited society was in
a great measure owing to the exertions ol the patriotic
John Knox ; who in the course of 23 years traversed
and explored the Highlands of Scotland not fewer than
16 times, and expended several thousand pounds or his
own fortune in pursuing his patriotic designs.
7. British Wool Society. See British Wool Society.
Society Isles, a cluster ol isles, so named by Captain
Cook in 1769. They are situated between the latitudes
of 16. 10. and 16. 55. south, and between the longi¬
tudes of 150. 57. and 152. west. They are eight in
number; namely, Otaheite, Huaheine, Ulietea, Otaha,.
Bolabola, Maurua, Toobouai, and labooyamanoo or
Saunders’s island. The soil, productions, people, their
language, religion, customs, and manners, are so nearly
the same as at Otaheite, that little need be added here
on that subject. Nature has been equally bountiful in
uncultivated plenty, and the inhabitants areas luxurious
and as indolent. A plaintain branch is the emblem ol
peace, and exchanging names the greatest token of
friendship. Their dances are more elegant, their dra¬
matic entertainments have something of plot and con¬
sistency, and they exhibit temporary occurrences as the
objects of praise or satire ; so that the origin ol ancient
comedy may be already discerned among them, rhe
people of Huaheine are in general stouter and fairer than
those of Otaheite, and this island is remarkable lor its
populousness and fertility. ri hose of Ulietea, on t ie
contrary, are smaller and blacker, and much less ordei )•
Captain Cook put on shore a Cape ewe at Bolabo a,
where a ram had been left by the bpaniards ; and a so
an English boar and sow, with two goats, at Llietea.
If the valuable animals which have been transported
thither from Europe should be suffered to multiply, no
part of the world will equal these islands in variety an
abundance of refreshments tor future navigators. . _
SOCINIANS, in church history, a sect of Christian
heretics, so called from their founder Eaustus Socinus
(see Socinus). They maintain, “ That Jesus Chris
was a mere man, who had no existence before he was
conceived by the Virgin Mary ; that the Holy Ghos is
2
8 O C ■ [ 457 1
no distinct person, but that the Father is truly and pro- at Sienna.
perly God. They own, that the name of God is given
in the Holy Scriptures to Jesus Christ; but contend,
that it is only a deputed title, which, however, invests
him with an absolute sovereignty over all created beings,
and renders him an object of worship to men and angels.
I hey deny the doctrines of satisfaction and imputed
righteousness; and say that Christ only preached the
truth to mankind, set before them in himself an example
of heroic virtue, and sealed his doctrines with his blood.
Original sin and absolute predestination they esteemscho-
lastic chimeras. They likewise maintain the sleep of the
soul, which they say becomes insensible at death, and is
raised again with the body at the resurrection, when the
good shall be established in the possession of eternal fe¬
licity, while the wicked shall be consigned to a fire that
will not torment them eternally, but for a certain dura¬
tion in proportion to their demerits.”
This sect has long been indignant at being styled So-
cimans. They disclaim every human leader ; and pro¬
fessing to be guided solely by the word of God and the
deductions of reason, they call themselves Unitarians,
and affect to consider all other Christians, even their
friends the Arians, as Uolytheists. Modern Unitaria-
nism, as taught by Dr Priestley, is, however, a very
different thing from Socinianism, as we find it in the
Racovian catechism and other standard works of the
sect, ihis far-famed philosopher has discovered, what
escaped the sagacity of all the fratres poloni, that Jesus
Christ was the son of Joseph as well as Mary ; that the
evangelists mistook the meaning of Isaiah’s prophecy,
that “ a virgin shall conceive and bear a son ;” that
the applying of this prophecy to the birth of our Savi¬
our, led them to conclude that his conception was mira¬
culous ; and that we are not to wonder at this mistake,
as the apostles were not always inspired, and were in ge¬
neral inconclusive reasoners. The modesty of the wri¬
ter in claiming the merit of such discoveries will appear
in its proper colours to all our readers : the truth of his
doctrine shall be considered in another place. See The¬
ology.
SOCINUS, LuELius, the first author of the sect of
the Socinians, was born at Sienna in Tuscany in 1525.
Being designed by his father for the law, he began very
early to search for the foundation of that science in the
Word of God ; and by that study discovered that the
Bemish religion taught many things contrary to revela¬
tion ; when, being desirous of penetrating farther into
the true sense of the scriptures, he studied Greek, He¬
brew, and even Arabic. In 1547^6 left Italy, to go
and converse with the Protestants ; and spent four years
in travelling through France, England, the Netherlands,
Germany, and Poland, and at length settled at Zurich.
He by this means became acquainted with the most
learned men of his time, who testified by their letters
the esteem they had for him : but as he discovered to
them his doubts, he was greatly suspected of heresy. He,
however, conducted himself with such address, that he
lived among the capital enemies of his opinions, without
receiving the least injury. He met with some disciples,
who heard his instructions with respect; these were Ita¬
lians who left their native country on account of religion,
and wandered about in Germany and Poland. He
communicated likewise his sentiments to his relations by
his writings, which he caused to be conveyed to them
Vol, XIX. Part II. ' f
s o c
He died at Zurich in 1562. Those who Socinus
■were of sentiments opposite to his, and were person- [|
ally acquainted with him, confess that his outward be- Socotora.
haviour was blameless. He wrote a paraphrase on the v
first chapter of St John ; and other works are ascribed
to him.
Socinus, Faustus, nephew of the preceding, and prin¬
cipal founder of the Socinian sect, was born at Sienna
J" I539* r^^ie letters which his uncle Lselius wrote to
his relations, and which infused into them many seeds
of heresy, made an impression upon him ; so that, know¬
ing himself not innocent, he fled as well as the rest when
the inquisition began to persecute that family. He was
at Lyons when he heard of his uncle’s death, and de¬
parted immediately to take possession of his writings.
He returned to Tuscany ; and made himself so agree¬
able to the grand duke, that the charms which lie found
in that court, and the honourable posts he filled there,
hindered him for twelve years from remembering that
he had been considered as the person who was to put the
last hand to the system of samosatenian divinity, of which
his uncle Laelius had made a rough draught. At last
he went into Germany in 1574, and paid no regard to
the grand duke’s advices to return. He staid three years
at Basil, and studied divinity there, and having adopted
a set of principles very different from the system of
Protestants, he resolved to maintain and propagate them;
for which purpose he uTote a treatise De lesu Christo
Servatore. In 1579 Socinus retired into Poland, and
desired to be admitted into the communion of the Uni¬
tarians ; but as he differed from them in some points,
on which he refused to be silent, he met with a repulse.
However, he did not cease to write in defence of their
churches against those who attacked them. At length
his book against James Paleologus furnished his enemies
with a pretence to exasperate the king of Poland against
him ; but though the mere reading of it was sufficient
to refute his accusers, Socinus thought proper to leave
Cracow, after having resided there four years. He then
lived under the protection of several Polish lords, and
married a lady of a good family ; but her death, which
happened in 1587, so deeply afflicted him as to injure
his health ; and to complete his sorrow, he was deprived
of his patrimony by the death of Francis de Medicis
great duke of Florence. The consolation he found in
seeing his sentiments at last approved by several mini¬
sters, was greatly interrupted in 1598; for he met with
a thousand insults at Cracow, and was with great diffi¬
culty saved from the hands of the rabble. His house was
plundered, and he lost his goods ; but this loss was not
so uneasy to him as that of some manuscripts, which he
extremely regretted. To deliver himself from such
dangers, he retired to a village about nine miles distant
from Cracow, where he spent the remainder of his days
at the house of Abraham Blonski, a Polish gentleman,
and died there in 1604. All Faustus Socinus’s works
are contained in the two first volumes of the Bibliotheca
Fratrum Folonoram.
SOCMANS, Sokemans, or Socmen (Socmanni), are
such tenants as hold their lands and tenements by so¬
cage tenure. See Socage.
SOCOTORA, an island lying between Asia and
Arabia Felix ; about 50 miles in length, and 22 in
breadth. It is particularly noted for its fine aloes, known
by the name of Socotrine Aloes. The religion of the
3 M natives
S' O C [ 458 ] s o c
Socotora, nativfs is a mixture of Mahometanism and Paganism •,
Socrates, but they are civil to strangers who call there in their
'■  s m J passage to the Past Indies. It abounds in fruit and
cattle ) and they have a king of their own, who is de¬
pendent on Arabia.
SOCRATES, the greatest of the ancient philoso¬
phers, was born at Alopece, a village near Athens, in
the fourth year of the 77th olympiad. His parents
were of low rank ; his father Sopbroniscus being a sta¬
tuary, and his mother Pham a ret a a midwife. Sopbro-
niscus brought up his son, contrary to his inclination,
in his own manual employment ; in which Socrates,
though his mind was continually aspiring after higher
objects, was not unsuccessful, for whilst he was a young
man, he is said to have formed statues of the habited
Graces, which were allowed a place in the citadel of
Athens. Upon the death of his father he was left in
such straitened circumstances as laid him under the ne¬
cessity of exercising that art to procure the means of sub¬
sistence, though he devoted, at the same time, all the lei¬
sure which he could command to the study ot philoso¬
phy. His distress, however, was soon relieved by Crito,
a wealthy Athenian *, who, remarking his strong pro¬
pensity to study, and admiring his ingenuous disposition
and distinguished abilities, generously took him under
his patronage, and intrusted him with the instruction of
his children. The opportunities which Socrates by this
means enjoyed of attending the public lectures of the
most eminent philosophers, so far increased his thirst
after wisdom, that he determined to relinquish his oc¬
cupation, and every prospect of emolument which that
might afford, in order to devote himself entirely to his
favourite pursuits. Under Anaxagoras and Archelaus
he prosecuted the study of nature in the usual manner
of the philosophers of the age, and became w'ell ac¬
quainted with their doctrines. Prodicus the sophist
was his preceptor in eloquence, Evenus in poetry, The-
odorus in geometry, and Damo in music. Aspasia, a
woman no less celebrated for her intellectual than her
personal accomplishments, whose house was frequented
by the most celebrated characters, had also some share
in the education of Socrates. Under such preceptors
it cannot reasonably be doubted but that he became
master of every kind of learning which the age in which
he lived could afford , and being blessed with very un¬
common talents by nature, he appeared in Athens, un¬
der the respectable characters of a good citizen and a
true philosopher. Being called upon by bis country to
take arms in the long and severe struggle between
Athens and Sparta, he signalized himself at the siege of
Potidtea, both by bis valour and by the hardiness with
which he endured fatigue. During the severity of a
Thracian winter, whilst others were clad in furs, he
wore only his usual clothing, and walked barefoot up¬
on the ice. In an engagement in which lie saw Alci-
BIADES falling down wounded, he advanced to defend
him, and saved both him and his arms: and though the
prize of valour was on this occasion unquestionably due
to Socrates, he generously gave his vote that it might
be bestowed upon Alcibiades, to encourage his rising
merit. He served in other campaigns with distinguish¬
ed bravery, and had the happiness on one occasion to
save the life of Xenophon, by bearing him, when co¬
vered with wounds, out of the reach of the enemy.
It was not till Socrates was upwards of 60 years of
age that he undertook to serve his country in any civil cocr!,te^ ^
office, when he was chosen to represent his own district, '—'V-—1 Jui-
in the senate of five hundreds In this office, though he
at first exposed himself to some degree of ridicule from
the want of experience in the forms of business, lie soon
convinced his colleagues that he was superior to them
all in wisdom and integrity. Whilst they, intimidated
by the clamours of the populace, passed an unjust sen¬
tence of condemnation upon the commanders, who,
after the engagement at the Arginusian islands, had
been prevented by a storm from paying funeral honours
to the dead, Socrates stood forth singly in their defence,
and to the last refused to give his suffrage against them,
declaring that no force should compel him to act con¬
trary to justice and the laws. Under the subsequent
tyranny he never ceased to condemn the oppressive and
cruel proceedings ot the thirty tyrants •, and when his
boldness provoked their resentment, so that his life was
in hazard, fearing neither treachery nor violence, he
still continued to support with undaunted firmness the
rights of his fellow citizens.
Having given these proofs of public virtue both in a
military and civil capacity, he wished to do still more
for his country. Observing with regret how much the
opinions of the Athenian youth were misled, and then-
principles and taste corrupted by philosophers who spent
all their time in refined speculations upon nature and
the origin of things, and by sophists who taught in
their schools the arts of false eloquence and deceitful
reasoning ; Socrates formed tire wise and generous de¬
sign of instituting a new and move useful method of in¬
struction. He justly conceived the true end of philo¬
sophy to be, not to make an ostentatious display of su¬
perior learning and ability in subtle disputations or in¬
genious conjectures, but to free mankind from the do¬
minion of pernicious prejudices j to correct their vices;
to inspire them with the love of virtue ; and thus con¬
duct them in the path of wisdom to true felicity. He
therefor e assumed the character ol a mor al philosopher ;
and, looking upon the whole city of Athens as his
school, and all who were disposed to lend him therE
attention as his pupils, he seized every occasion of com¬
municating moral wisdom to Iris fellow citizens. He
passed the greatt r part of his time in public ; and the me¬
thod of instruction oi which he chiefly made use was, to
propose a series ot rjuestions to the person ttrth whom he
conversed, in order to lead him to some unforeseen con¬
clusion. He first gained the consent of his respondent
to some obvious truths, and then obliged him to admit
others from their relation or resemblance to those to
which he had already assented. Without making use
of any direct argument or persuasion, he chose to tea<|_
the person he meant to instruct, to deduce the truths of
which he wished to convince him, as a necessary conse¬
quence from his own concessions. He commonly con¬
ducted these conferences with such address, as to con¬
ceal his design till the respondent had advanced too far
to recede. On some occasions he made use of ironies
language, that vain men might be caught in their owm
replies, and he obliged to confess their ignorance. He
never assumed the air of a morose and rigid preceptor,
but communicated useful instruction with all the ease
and pleasantry of polite conversation. '1 hough e”u'
nently furnished with every kind of learning, he prefer¬
red moral to speculative wisdom. Convinced that pj1
losoppy
s o c
tis. lo'Opiiy Is valuable, not as it furnislies tjiiestions lor the
schools, but as it provides men with a law of life, he
e< nsured his predecessors for spendiiig all then’ time in
abstruse researches into nature, and taking no pains
to render themselves useful to mankind. His favourite
maxim was, Whatever is above us doth not concern us.
He estimated the value of knowledge by its utility, and
recommended the study of geometry, astronomy, and
other sciences, only so Hr as they admit of a practical
application to the purposes o( human life. His great
object in all his conferences and discourses was, to lead
fnen into an acquaintance with themselves ; to convince
them of their follies and vices j to inspire them with the
love of virtue j and to furnish them with useful moral
instructions. Cicero might therefore very justly say of
Socrates, that he was the first who called down philo¬
sophy from heaven to earth, and introduced lifer into the
public walks and domestic retirements of men, that she
might instruct them concerning life and manners.
Th rough his whole life this good man discovered a
mind superior to the attractions of wealth and power.
Contrary to the general practice of the preceptors of
his time, he instructed his pupils without receiving from
them any gratuity. He frequently refused rich pre¬
sents, which were offered him by Alcibiades and others,
though importunately urged to accept them by bis
■wife. .The chief men of Athens were his stewards :
they sent him in provisions, as they apprehended he
Wanted them ; he took what his present wants required,
and returned the rest. Observing the numerous articles
of luxury which were exposed to sale in Athens, he cx-
daimed, “ How many things are there which I do not
want !” W ith Socrates, moderation supplied the place
of wealth. In his clothing and food, he consulted only
the demands of nature. He commonly appeared in a
neat but plain cloak, with his feet uncovered. Though
his table was only supplied with simple fare, he did not
scruple to invite men of superior rank to paitake of his
meals ; and when his wife, upon some such occasion, ex¬
pressed her dissatisfaction on being no better provided,
he desired her to give herself no concern for if his
guests were wise men, they would be contented with
whatever they found at his table 5 if oilier wise, they
were unworthy of notice. Whilst others, says he, live
to eat, wise men eat to live.
Though Socrates was exceedingly unfortunate in his
domestic connection, he converted this infelicity into an
occasion of exercising his virtues. Xantippe, concern¬
ing whose ill humour ancient writers relate many amu¬
sing tales, was certainly a woman of a high and uiima-
nageable spirit. Jlut Socrates-, while he endeavoured
to curb the violence of her temper, improved his own.
When Alcibiades expressed bis surprise that bis friend
ftould bear to live in the same bouse with so perverse
and quarrelsome a companion, Socrates replied, that be¬
ing daily inured to ill humour at home, he was the
better prepared to encounter perverseness and injury
abroad.
In the midst of domestic vexations and public disor¬
ders, Socrates retained such an unruffled serenity, that
lie was never seen either to leave his own house or to
return home with a disturbed countenance. In acqui¬
ring this entire dominion over his passions and appetites
he had the greater merit, as it was not effected without
a violent struggle against bis natural propensities. Zy-
f 459 ]
s o c
pyrus, an eminent physiognomist, declared, that he dis- <.
covered in the features of the philosopher evident traces '^l
of many vicious inclinations. The friends of Socrates
who were present ridiculed the ignorance of this pre¬
tender to extraordinary sagacity But Socrates himself
ingenuously acknowledged his penetration, and confess¬
ed that he was in his natural disposition prone to vice
hut that he had subdued bis inclinations by the power
of reason and philosophy.
i lirough the whole of bis life Socrates gave himself
up to the guidance ol unbiassed reason, which is suppo¬
sed by some to be all that be meant by the genius or
<kemo7i from which he professed to receive instruction.
But this opinion is inconsistent with the accounts given
by bis followers of that daemon, and even with the lan¬
guage in which he spoke of it himself. Plato some¬
times calls it his giiaT'dian, and Apuleius his^w/; and as
Xenophon attests that it was the belief of bis master
that the gods occasionally communicate to men the
knowledge of future events, it is by no means improbable
that Socrates admitted, w’ith the generality of his conn-
trymen, the existence of those intermediate beings called
desmans, of one of which he might fancy himself the pe¬
culiar care.
It was one of the maxims of Socrates, “ That a wise
man will worship the gotTs according to the institutions
of the state to which he belongs.” Convinced of the
weakness of the human understanding, and perceiving
that the pride of philosophy had ltd his predecessors in¬
to futile speculations on the nature and origin of things,
he judged it most consistent with true wisdom to speak,
with caution and reverence concerning the divine na¬
ture.
Ihe wisdom and the virtues of this great man, whilst
they procured him many followers, created him also
many enemies. 'Ihe Sophists *, whose knavery and ig- * See
norance he took every opportunity of exposing to pub- vhish
he contempt, became inveterate in their enmity against
so bold a reformer, and devised an expedient, by which
they hoped to check the current of his popularity. They
engaged Aristophanes, the first buffoon of the age, to
write a comedy, in which Socrates should be the princi¬
pal character. Aristophanes, pleased with so promising
an occasion of displaying his low and malignant wit,
undertook the task, and produced the comedy of The
Clouds, still extant in his works. In this piece, Socrates
is introduced hanging in a basket in the air, and thence
pouring forth absurdity and profaneness. But the phi¬
losopher, showing in a crowded theatre that he was
wholly unmoved by this ribaldry, the satire failed of its
effect 5 and when Aristophanes attempted the year fol¬
lowing to renew the piece with alterations and additions,
the representation Was so much discouraged, that he
W’as obliged to discontinue it.
from tins time Socrates continued for many years to
pursue without interruption bis laudable design of in¬
structing and reforming bis fellow-citizens. At length,
however, when the inflexible integrity with which be
had discharged the duty of a senator, and the firmness
with which he had opposed every kind of political cor¬
ruption and oppression, had greatly increased the num¬
ber of bis enemies, clandestine arts were employed to
raise a general prejudice against him. The people wi rti
industriously reminded, that Critias, who had been one
of the most cruel of the thirty tyrants, and Alcibiades,
3 ^ 2 who
S O C [ 460 ] s o c
Socrates, who ha«l insulted religion, by defacing the public sta-
——v—tues of Mercurv, and performing a mock representation
of the Eleusinian mysteries, had in their youth been dis¬
ciples of Socrates j and the minds ot the populace, ber
ing thus prepared, a direct accusation was preferred
against him before the supreme court of judicature. His
accusers were Anytus a leather-dresser, who had long
entertained a personal enmity against Socrates, tor re¬
prehending his avarice, in depriving his sons ot the be¬
nefits of learning, that they might pursue the gains of
trade ; Melitus, a young rhetorician, who was capable
of undertaking any thing for the sake of gain *, and Ly-
con, who was glad of any opportunity of displaying his
talents. The accusation, which was delivered to the se¬
nate under the name of Melitus, was this : “ Melitus,
son of Melitus, ot the tribe of Pythos, accuseth Sociates,
son of Sophroniscus, of the tribe of Alopece. Sociates
violates the. laws, in not acknowledging the gods which
the state acknowledges, and by introducing new divini¬
ties. He also violates the laws by corrupting the youth.
Be his punishment death.”
This charge was delivered upon oath to the senate j
and Crito a friend of Socrates became surety for his ap¬
pearance on the day of trial. Anytus soon afterwards
sent a private message to Socrates, assuring him that if
he would desist from censuring his conduct, he would
withdraw his accusation. But Socrates refused to com¬
ply with so degrading a condition $ and with his usual
spirit replied, “ Whilst I live I will never disguise the
truth, nor speak otherwise than my duty requires.”
The interval between the accusation and the trial he
spent in philosophical conversations with his friends,
choosing to discourse upon any other subject rather than
his own situation.
When the day of trial arrived, his accusers appeared
in the senate, and attempted to support their charge in
three distinct speeches, which strongly marked their re¬
spective characters. Plato, who was a young man, and
a zealous follower of Socrates, then rose up to address
the judges in defence of his master 5 but whilst he was
attempting to apologise for his youth, he was abruptly
commanded by the court to sit down. Socrates, how¬
ever, needed no advocate. Ascending the chair with all
the serenitv of conscious innocence, and with all the
dignity of superior merit, he delivered, in a firm and
in 1 !v tone, an unpremeditated defence of himself, which
si! need his opponents, and ought to have convinced Ins
judges. After tracing tin; progress of the conspiracy
which had been raised against him to its true source,
the jealousy and resentment of men whose ignorance he
had exposed, and whose vices he had ridiculed and re¬
proved, he distinctly replied to the several charges
brought against him by Melitus. To prove that he
had not been guilty of impiety towards the gods of his
country, he appealed to his frequent practice of attend¬
ing the public religious festivals. The crime of intro¬
ducing new divinities, with which be was charged, chief¬
ly as it seems on the ground of the admonitions which
lie professed to have received from an invisible power,
be disclaimed, by pleading that it was no new thing for
men to consult the gods and receive instructions from
them. To refute the charge ot bis having been a cor¬
rupter of youth, lie urged the example which he had
uniformly exhibited of justice, moderation, and tempe-
ancej the moral spirit and tendency of his discourses:
and the effect which had actually been produced by his Socrates.
doctrine upon the manners of the young. Then, dis- ’ .
daining to solicit the mercy of bis judges, he called
upon them for that justice which their office and their
oath obliged them to administer; and professing his
faith and confidence in God, resigned himself to their
pleasure.
The judges, whose prejudices would not suffer them
to pay due attention to this apology, or to examine with
impartiality the merits of the cause, immediately de¬
clared him guilty of the crimes of which he stood ac¬
cused. Socrates, in this stage of the trial, had a right
to enter his plea against the punishment which the ac¬
cusers demanded, and instead of the sentence of death,
to propose some pecuniary amercement. But he at first
peremptorily refused to make any proposal of this kind,
imagining tj,at it might be construed into an acknow¬
ledgement of guilt; and asserted, that his conduct nterit-
ed from the state reward rather than punishment. At
length, however, he was prevailed upon by his friends
to offer upon their credit a fine of thirty mince. The
judges, notwithstanding, still remained inexorable:
they proceeded, without farther delay, to pronounce
sentence upon him: and he was condemned to be put
to death by the poison of hemlock.
The sentence being passed, he was sent to prison:
which, says Seneca, he entered with the same resolu¬
tion and firmness with which he had opposed the thirty
tyrants; and took away all ignominy from the place,
which could not he a prison while he was there. He
lay in fetters 30 days ; and was constantly visited by
Crito, Plato, and other friends, with whom he passed
the time in dispute after his usual manner. Anxious to
save so valuable a life, they urged him to attempt his
escape, or at least to permit them to convey him away:
and Crito went so far, as to assure him that, by his in¬
terest with the jailor, it might he easily accomplished,
and to offer him a retreat in f liessaly ; hut Socrates
rejected the proposal, as a criminal violation of the
laws, and asked them, whether there was any place out
of Attica which death could not reach.
At length the day arrived when the officers to whose
care he was committed delivered to Socrates early in
the morning the final order for his execution, and im¬
mediately, according to the law, set him at liberty from
his bonds. His friends, who came thus early to the
prison that they might have an opportunity of conver¬
sing with their master through the day, found his wife
sitting by him with a child in her arms. Socrates, that
the tranquillity of his last moments might not he dis¬
turbed by her unavailing lamentations, requested that
she might he conducted home. With the most frantic
expressions of grief she left the prison. An interesting
conversation then passed between Socrates and his
friends, which chiefly turned upon the immortality ot the
soul. In the course of this conversation, he expressed
his disapprobation of the practice of suicide, and assur¬
ed his friends that his chief support in his present situa¬
tion was an expectation, though not unmixed with doubts,
of a happy existence after death. “ It would be inex¬
cusable in me (said he) to despise death, if I were not per¬
suaded that it will conduct me into the presence of t ie
gods, who are the most righteous governors, and into the
society of just and good men : hut I derive confidence
from the hope that something of man remains alter
denth*
s o c
Spates, death, and that the condition o( good men will then be
l-'v ' much better than that of the bad.” Crito afterwards
asking him in what manner he wished to be buried ?
Socrates replied with a smile, “ As you please, pro¬
vided I do not escape out of your hands.” Then, turn¬
ing to the rest of his friends, he said, “ Is it not strange,
after all that I have said to convince you that I am go¬
ing to the society of the happy, that Crito still thinks
that this body, which will soon be a lifeless corpse, is
Socrates P Tet him dispose of my body as he pleases,
but let him not at its interment mourn over it as if it
were Socrates.”
T owards the close of the day he retired into an ad¬
joining apartment to bathe ; his friends, in the mean
time, expressing to one another their grief at the pro¬
spect of losing so excellent a father, and being left to
pass the rest of their days in the solitary state of or¬
phans. After a short interval, during which he gave
some necessary instructions to his domestics, and took
his last leave of his children, the attendant of the prison
informed him that the time for drinking the poison
was come. The executioner, though accustomed to
such scenes, shed tears as he presented the fatal cup.
Socrates received it without change of countenance or
the least appearance of perturbation ; then offering up
a prayer to the gods that they would grant him a pros¬
perous passage into the invisible world, with perfect
| composure he swallowed the poisonous draught. His
friends around him burst into tears. Socrates alone re¬
mained unmoved. He upbraided their pusillanimity,
and entreated them to exercise a manly constancy wor¬
thy of the friends of virtue. He continued walking till
the chilling operation of the hemlock obliged him to lie
down upon bis bed. After remaining for a short time
silent, he requested Crito (probably in order to refute a
calumny which might prove injurious to his friends af-
ter his decease) not to neglect the offering of a cock
wnich he had vowed to Esculapius. Then, covering
himself with his cloak, he expired. Such was the fate .
of the virtuous Socrates ! A story, says Cicero, which I
never read without tears.
The friends and disciples of this illustrious teacher
of wisdom were deeply afflicted by his death, and at¬
tended his funeral with every expression of grief. Ap¬
prehensive, however, for their own safety, they soon af¬
terwards privately withdrew from the city, and took up
their residence in distant places. Several of them visit¬
ed the philosopher Euclid of Megara, by whom they
were kindly received. No sooner was the unjust con¬
demnation of Socrates known through Greece, than a
general indignation was kindled in the minds of good
men, who universally regretted that so distinguished an
advocate for virtue should have fallen a sacrifice to jea-
. ; lousy and envy. The Athenians themselves, so remark¬
able for their caprice, who never knew the value of
tneir great men till after their death, soon became sen¬
sible of the folly as well as criminality of putting to
oeath the man who bad been the chief ornament of
their city and of the age, and turned their indignation
against hi-> accusers; Melitus was condemned to death j
and Anytus, to escape a similar fate, went into volun¬
tary exile. To give a farther proof of the sincerity of
their regret, the Athenians for a while interrupted pub¬
lic business ; decreed a general mourning ; recalled the
exiled friends of Socrates j and erected a statue to his
[ 461 ]
SOD
memory in one of the most frequented parts of the city.
His death happened in the first year of the 96th olym¬
piad, and in the 70th year of his age.
Socrates left behind him nothing in writing j but
his illustrious pupils Xenophon and Plato have in some
measure supplied this defect. The Memoirs of Socra¬
tes, written by Xenophon, afford, however, a much
more accurate idea of the opinions of Socrates, and of
his manner of teaching, than the Dialogues of Plato,
who everywhere mixes his own conceptions and diction
with the ideas and language of his master. It is related,
that when Socrates heard Plato recite his Lysis, he said*
“ How much does this young man make me say which
I never conceived !”
His distinguishing character was that of a moral phi¬
losopher j and his doctrine concerning God and religion
was rather practical than speculative. But he did not
neglect to build the structure of religious faith upon
the film foundation of an appeal to natural appearances:
He taught that the Supreme Being, though invisible,
is. cleaily seen in his works : which at once demonstrate
his existence and his wise and benevolent providence.
He admitted, besides the one Supreme Deity, the ex¬
istence of beings who possess a middle station between
God and man, to whose immediate agency he ascribed
the ordinary phenomena of nature, and whom he sup¬
posed to he particularly concerned in the management
of human a-flairs. Hence he declared it to be the duty
of every one, in the performance of religious rites, to
follow the customs of his country. At the same time,
he taught, that the merit of all religious offerings de¬
pends upon the character of the worshipper, and that
the gods take pleasure in the sacrifices of none but the
truly pious.
Concerning the human soul, the opinion of Socrates,
according to Xenophon, was, that it is allied to the Di¬
vine Being, not by a participation of essence, but by a
similarity of nature ; that man excels all other animals
in the faculty of reason 5 and that the existence of good
men will he continued after death in a state in which
they will receive the reward of their virtue. Although
it appears that on this latter topic he was not wholly
free from uncertainty, the consolation which he profes¬
sed to derive from this source in the immediate prospect
of death, leaves little room to doubt that he entertained
a real expectation of immortality: and there is reason
to believe that he was the only philosopher of ancient
Greece whose principles admitted of such an expecta¬
tion (see Metaphysics, Part I] I. Chap. iv.). Of his
moral system, which was in a high degree pure, and
founded on the surest basis, the reader will find a’short
view in our article Moral Philosophy, N° 4.
Socrates was also the name of an ecclesiastical hi-
stonan.of Lie yth century, born at Constantinople in the
beginning of the reign of 1 lieodosius : he professed the
law and pleaded at the bar, whence he obtained the
name of Sckolasticus. He wrote an ecclesiastical history
from the year 309, where Eusebius ended, down to
440 ; and wrote with great exactness and judgment.
An edition of Eusebius and Socrates, in Greek and
Latin, with notes by Beading, was published at London
in 1720.
SODA, the name given by the French chemists to
the mineral alkali, which is found native in many parts
of the world : it is obtained also from common salt, ami
from
Socrates,
Soda.
SOI) r 462 1 s O F
Sotla from the ashes of the kali, a species of salsola. See CHE-
IS mistry Index, for an account ot its properties anti com-
Sodcr. binations : hut long after that article was written, so-
v , da and potash were decomposed by means ol galva¬
nism 5 and the alkalies, hitherto considered as simple
substances, appear, from the experiments ot Mr Davy,
who first made the discovery, to be compounds of oxy¬
gen and a metallic base. Mr Davy’s conclusions have
been controverted by some of the French chemists 5 and
as the subject may perhaps in a few months receive
some farther elucidation, we shall delay our account of
the whole till we come to describe the apparatus by
which the experiments are conductedi See 1 rough,
Galvanic.
Soda is also a name for a heat in the stomach, or
heart burn. See Medicine, N° 275.
SODOM, formerly a town of Palestine in Asia, fa¬
mous in Scripture for the wickedness of its inhabitants^
and their destruction by fire from heaven on account ot
that wickedness. The place where it stood is now co¬
vered by the waters of the Dead sea, or the lake As-
phaltites. See Asphaltites.
SODOMY, an unnatural crime, so called from the
city of Sodom, which was destroyed by fire for the
same. The Levitical law adjudged those guilty of this
execrable crime to death 5 and the civil law assigns the
same punishment to it. The law of England makes it
felony. There is no statute in Scotland against sodo¬
my ; the libel of the crime is therefore founded on the
divine law, and practice makes its punishment to be
burned alive.
SODOR, a name always conjoined with Man, in
mentioning the bishop ot Man’s diocese. Concerning
the origin and application of this word, very different
opinions have been formed by the learned. Buchanan
(lib. i. cap. 34.) says, that before his time the name of
Sadov was -given to a town in the isle ot Man. In
Gough’s edition of Camden’s Britannia (vol. iii. p. 701.)
it is said, that after the isle of Man was annexed to the
crown of England, this appellation was given to a small
island within musket-shot of Man, in which the cathe¬
dral stands, called hy the Norwegians the Holm, and
by the inhabitants the Peel. In support ol this bpihibtg
n charter is quoted A. D. 1505, in which Thomas earl
of Derby and lord of Man confirms to Huan Hesketh
bishop of Sodor all the lands, &c. anciently belonging
to the bishops of Man. “ Ecclesiam cathedralem sancti
Germani in Holm Sodor vcl Pile vocatam, ecclesiam
sancti Patricii ibidem, et locum prsef’atum in qUoeccle-
siae praefaUe sitte sunt.” The truth of either, or perhaps
of both, these accounts might he allowed but neither
of them is sufficient to account for the Constant con¬
junction of Sodor and Man* in charters, registers, and
histories. If Sodor was a small town or island belong¬
ing to Man, it cannot be conceived why it is always
mentioned before it, or rather why it should he men¬
tioned at all in speaking of a bishop’s diocese. To
speak of the bishopric of Sodor and Man in this case
would he as improper as it would be to call the bishop¬
ric of Durham the bishopric of Holy Island and Dur¬
ham, or the bishopric of Darlington and Dm ham \ the
former being a small island and the latter a town be¬
longing to the county and diocese of Durham. Neither
of these accounts, therefore, gives a satisfactory ac¬
count of the original conjunction of Sodor and Mam
5
The island of Iona, was the place where the bishop g0(jof
of the I-les resided, the cathedral church of which, it is Sofa,*
said, was dedicated to our Saviour, in Greek So ter,'——y—
hence Soiorenses, which might be corrupted into Sodo'
I'enses, a name frequently given hy Danish writers to
the western isles of Scotland. That We may be the
more disposed to accede to this Grecian etymology, the
advocates for this opinion tell us, that the name Icolum-
kiU, which is often applied to this Eland, is also of
Greek extraction, being derived from Colmnba, “ a
pigeon j” a meaning that exactly corresponds to the Cel¬
tic word Golum and the Hebrew word Iona. We must
confess, however, that we have very little faith in the
conjectures of etymologists, and think that upon no oc¬
casion they alone can establish any fact, though when
concurring with facts they certainly tend to confirm and
explain them. It is only from historical facts that wc
can know' to what Sodor was applied.
It appears from the history of the Orkneys, compiled
hy an old Icelandic writer, translated and enlarged by
Torfseus, that the iEbudee or Western isles of Scotland
were divided into two clusters, Nordureys and Sude-
reys. The Nordureys, which were separated from the
Sudereys hy the point of Ardnamurchan, a promontory
in Argyleshire, consisted of Muck, Egg, Rum, Canna,
Skye, Rasayj Barra, South Uist, North Uist, Benbc-
cula, and Lewis, including Harris, with a great num¬
ber of small isles. The Sudereys were, Man, Arran,
Bute, Cumra, Avon, Gid, Ha, Colonsay, Jura, Searba,
Mull, Iona, Tiree, Coll, Ulva, and other small islands.
All these, when joined together, and subject to the same
prince, made up the kingdom of Man and the Isles. In
the Norwegian language, Sudcr and Norder signify
southern and northern, and ei/ or ay an island. Yv hen
the iEbudse were under one monarch, the seat of em¬
pire was fixed in the Sudereys, and the Nordureys were
governed hy deputies •, hence the former are much of-
tener mentioned in history than the latter j hence, too,
the Sudereys often comprehend the Nordureys, as in
our days Scotland is sometimes comprehended under
England. Sudereys, or Suder, when anglicised, be¬
came Sodor j and all the Western isles of Scotland being
included in one diocese under the Norwegian princes,
the bishop appointed to superintend them w as called the
bishop of Man and the Isles, or the bishop of Sodor and
Mam Since Man Was conquered by Edward III. it
lias been separated from the other isles, and its bishops
have exercised no jurisdiction over them. Should it now
be asked, why then is the bishop of Man still called the
bishop of Sodor and Man ? we reply, that we have been
able to discover no reason ; hut suppose the appellation
to be continued in the same way, as the title king ot
France has been kept up by the kings of Great Britain,
for several centuries after the English were entirely ex¬
pelled from France.
SOFA, in the east, a kind of alcove raised half a
foot above the floor of a chamber or other apartment 5
and used as the place of state, where visitors of distinc¬
tion are received. Among the Turks the \vhole floor
of their state-rooms is covered with a kind of tapestry,
and on the window-side is raised a sofa or sopha, laid
with a kind of mattress, covered with a carpet much
richer than the other. On this carpet the lurks arc
seated, both men and women, like the tailors in Eng¬
land, cross-legged, leaning against the wall, which is
holstel'fcd
son
. bolstered with velvet, satin, or other staff suitable to the
season. Here they eat their meals; only laying a skin
^ over the carpet to serve as a tablecloth, and a round
wooden hoard over all, covered with plates, &c.
SOI ALA, or Cefala, a kingdom of Africa, lying
on the coast ot Mosambique, near Zanguebar. It is
hounded on the nortli by Monomotapa j on the east by
the Mosamoique sea j on the south by the kingdom of
Sabia ; and on the west by that of Manica. "it con¬
tains mines of gold and iron, and a great number of ele¬
phants. It is governed by a king, tributary to the Por¬
tuguese, who built a fort at theTprincipal town, which
is ot the same name, and ot great importance for their
trade to the Last Indies. It is seated in a small island,
near the mouth of a river. E. Long. 35. 40. S. Lat.
20. 20.
iSOf ,11 A, or Soffit, in Architecture, any timber
ceiling formed of cross beams of flying corniches, the
square compartiments or panuels of which are enriched
with sculpture, painting, or gilding; such are those in
the palaces ot Italy, and in the apartments of Luxem¬
bourg at Paris.
Sofftta, or Soffit, is also used for the underside or
lace of an architrave j and more particularly for that of
the corona or larmier, which the ancients called lacunar,
the 1 rench plafond, and we usually the drip. It is en¬
riched with compartiments of roses 5 and in the Doric
order has 1 8 drops, disposed in three ranks, six in each,
placed to the right of the guttas, at the bottom of the
triglyphs.
SOLI, or Sophi. See SoPHI.
S0F1LNING, in Painting, the mixing and dilut¬
ing of colours with the brush or pencil.
SOHO, the name ot a set of works, or manufactory
of a variety of hardwares, belonging to the late Mr
Boulton, situated on the borders of Staffordshire, within
two miles of Birmingham; now so justly celebrated as
to deserve a short historical detail.
.About 30 years ago the premises consisted of a small
mill and a few obscure dwellings. Mr Boulton, in con¬
junction with Mr Fothergill, then his partner, at an ex¬
pence of 9000I. erected a handsome and extensive edi¬
fice, with a view of manufacturing metallic toys. The
first productions consisted of buttons, buckles, watch-
chains, trinkets, and such other articles as were peculiar
to Birmingham. Novelty, taste, and variety, were
however always conspicuous; and plated wares, known
by the name of Sheffield plate, comprising a great va¬
riety of useful and ornamental articles, became another
permanent subject of manufacture.
To open channels for the consumption of these com¬
modities, all the northern part of Lurope was explored
by the mercantile partner Mr Fothergill. A wide and
extensive correspondence was thus established, the un¬
dertaking became well known, and the manufacturer,
>y becoming his own merchant, eventually enjoyed a
double profit.
. ImPe[led by an ardent attachment to the arts, and by
ttie patriotic ambition of forming his favourite Soho into
a seminary of artists, the proprietor extended his
[ 463 ]
s O I
views ; and men of taste and talents were new spught
for, and liberally patronised. A successful imitation of
thw Fiench 0! viouhse oriianients, consisting ot* vases,
tripods, candelabra, &c. &c. extended the celebrity of
the woiks. Services of plate and other works in silver,
both massive and airy, were added, and an assay office
was established in Birmingham.
Mr Watt, the ingenious improver of the steam-en¬
gine, was afterwards taken into partnership with Mr
Boulton ; and they carried on at Soho a manufactory of
steam-engines, not less beneficial to the public than lu¬
crative to themselves. This valuable machine, the na¬
ture and excellencies of which are described in another
place (see Steam-Engine), Mr Boulton proposed to ap¬
ply to the operation of coining, and suitable apparatus
was erected at a great expence, for the purpose of being
employed by government to make a new" copper-coinage
for the kingdom. Artists of merit were engaged, and
specimens of exquisite delicacy were exhibited; the
works were also employed upon highly finished medals
and private coins. To enumerate all the productions
of tnis manufactory would be tedious (a).
In a national view, Mr Boulton’s undertakings are
highly valuable and important. By collecting around
him artists of various descriptions, rival talents have
been called forth, and by successive competition have
been multiplied to an extent highly beneficial to the
public. The manual arts partook of the benefit, and
became proporlionably improved.
A barren heath has been covered with plenty and po¬
pulation ; and Mr Boulton’s works, which in their in¬
fancy were little known and attended to, now cover se¬
veral acres, give employment to more than 600 persons
and are said to he the first of their kind in Europe. ’
SOIL, the mould covering the surface of the earth
in which vegetables grow. It serves as a support for
vegetables, ai^l as a reservoir for receiving and commu¬
nicating nourishment.
Soils are commonly double or triple compounds of the.
several reputed primitive earths, except the barytic.
Ihe magnesian likewise sparingly occurs. The more
fcitile soils afford also a small proportion of coally sub¬
stance arising from putrefaction, and some traces of ma¬
rine acid and gypsum. The vulgar division into clay
chalk, sand, and gravel, is well understood. Loam de¬
notes any soil moderately adhesive ; and, according to
the ingredient that predominates, it receives the epithets
of clayey, chalky, sandy, or gravelly. The intimate
mixture of clay with the oxydes of iron is called till,
and is of a hard consistence and a dark reddish colour!
Soils are found by analysis to contain their earthy ingre-
dients in very different proportions. According to M.
Giobert, fertile mould in the vicinity of Turinr where*
the fall of rain amount? yearly to 40 inches, affords for
each 100 parts, from 77 to 79 of silex, from 8 to 14 of
argiil, and from 5 to 1 2 of lime ; besides about one-half
of carbonic matter, and nearly an equal weight of gas,
partly carbonic and partly hydrocarbonic. The same
experimenter represents the composition of barren soils
in similar situations to be from 42 to 88 per cent, of si-
S0J10,
Soil.
Uires ffi^oil'^lmt wp1!] f 'V-2"* t!mlt ^g‘“ton invented an expeditious method of copyino- pic--
W in 0J1 > 1>ut we tJa not know how far tins method has succeeded. j ^ 0 1
SOL [ 44 ] SOL
Sail lex, from 20 to 30 of argil!, and from 4 to 20 of lime.
11 The celebrated Bergman found rich soils in the valleys
Solan- 0f Sweden, where the annual quantity of rain is 24
S00- inches, to contain, for each 100 parts, 56 of siliceous
sand, 14 of argill, and 30 of lime. Tn the climate of
Paris, where the average fall of rain is 20 inches, fertile
mixtures, according to M. Tillet, vary from 46 to 52
per cent, of silex, and from 11 to 17 of argill, with 37
of lime. Mr Arthur Young discovered, that the value
of fertile lands is nearly proportioned to the quantities
of gas which equal weights of their soil afford by dis¬
tillation, and Sir Humphrey Davy concludes that the
fertility of soils is nearly in proportion to their power
of absorbing moisture. See Agriculture in this
work, and in the Supplement.
SOISSONS, an ancient, large, and considerable city
of France, in the department of Aisne and late province
of Soissonnois. It was the capital of a kingdom of the
same name, under the first race of the French monarchs.
It contained 8i8p inhabitants in 1800, and is a bishop s
see. The environs are charming, but the streets are
narrow, and the houses ill-built. Lhe fine cathedral has
one of the most considerable chapters in the kingdom;
and the bishop, when the archbishop of Rheims was ab¬
sent, had a right to crown the king. I he castle, though
ancient, is not that in which the kings of the first race
resided. Soissons is seated in a very pleasant and fertile
valley, on the river Aisne, 30 miles west by north of
Rheims, and 60 north-east of Paris. E. Long. 3. 24.
N. Lat. 49. 23.
SOKE, or Sok. See Socage.
SOKEMANS. See Soc and Socage.
SOL, in Music, the fifth note of the gamut, ut, re,
mi, fa, sol, la. See Gamut.
Sol, or Sou, a French coin made up of copper mixed
with a little sil ver, and is worth upwards of an English
halfpenny, or the 23d part of an English shilling. The
sol when first struck was equal in value to 12 deniers
Tournois, whence it was also called dowzain, a name it
still retains, though its ancient value be changed ; the
sol having been since augmented by three deniers, and
struck with a puncheon of a fleur-de-lis, to make it cur¬
rent for 15 deniers. Soon after the old sols were coined
over again, and both old and new were indifferently
made current for 15 deniers. In 1709, the value of
the same sols was raised to 18 deniers. Towards the
latter end of the reign of Louis XIV. the sol of 18 de¬
niers was again lowered to 15 ; and by the late king it
was reduced to the original value of 12. What it is at
present posterity may perhaps discover.
The Dutch have also two kinds of sols : the one of
.silver, called sols de gros, and likewise schding; the
other of copper, called also the stuyver.
Sol, the Sun, in Astronomy, Astrology, &c. See
Astronomy, passim.
Sol, in Chemistry, is gold ; thus called from an opi¬
nion that this metal is in a particular manner under the
influence of the sun.
Sol, in Heraldry, denotes Or, the golden colour in
the arms of sovereign princes.
SOLiEUS, or Soleus, in Anatomy, one of the ex¬
tensor muscles of the foot, rising from the upper and
hinder parts of the tibia and fibula2
SOLAN-goose. See Pelicanus, Ornithology
Index.
SOLANDRA, a genus of plants belonging to the Solandfs
class of monadelpbia, and to the order of polyandria ; || -
and in the natural system arranged under the 38th or- Solder,
der, Tricoceece. See Botany Index.
SOLANUM, a genus of the monogynia order, be¬
longing to the pentandria class of plants; and in the na¬
tural method ranking under the 28th order, Lundce.
See Botany Index.
SOLAR, something belonging to the Sun.
Solar Spots. See Astronomy Index.
SQLDAN. See Sultan.
SOLDANELLA, a genus of plants belonging to
the class of pentandria, and order of monogynia ; and
in the natural system arranged under the 21st order,
Free ice. See Botany Index.
SOLDER, Sodder, or Soder, a metallic or mineral
composition used in soldering or joining together other
metals.
Solders are made of gold, silver, copper, tin, bismuth,
and lead; usually observing, that in the composition
there be some of the metal that is to be soldered mixed
with some higher and finer metals. Goldsmiths usually
make four kinds of solder, viz. solder of eight, where
to seven parts of silver there is one of brass or copper;
solder of six, where only a sixth part is copper; solder
of four, and solder of three. It is the mixture of cop¬
per in the solder that makes raised plate come always
cheaper than flat.
As mixtures of gold with a little copper are found
to melt with less heat than pure gold itself, these mix¬
tures serve as solders for gold : two pieces of fine gold
are soldered by gold that has a small admixture of cop¬
per ; and gold alloyed with copper is soldered by such
as is alloyed with more copper : the workmen add a
little silver as well as copper, and vary the proportions
of the two to one another, so as to make the colour of
the solder correspond as nearly as may be to that of the
piece. A mixture of gold and copper is also a solder
for fine copper as well as for fine gold. Gold being
particulaily disposed to unite with iron, proves an ex¬
cellent solder for the finer kinds of iron and steel instru¬
ments.
The solder used by plumbers is made of two pounds
of lead to one of block-tin. Its goodness is tried by
melting it, and pouring the bigness of a crown-piece on
a table; for, if good, there will arise little bright shining-
stars therein. The solder for copper is made like that
of the plumbers ; only with copper and tin ; and for
very nice works, instead of tin, they sometimes use a
quantity of silver. Solder for tin is made of two-thirds
of tin and one of lead, or of equal parts of each ; but
where the work is anything delicate, as in organ-pipes,
where the juncture is scarce discernible, it is made of
one part of bismuth and three parts of pewter. The
pewterers use a kind of solder made with two parts of
tin and one of bismuth ; this composition melts with the
least heat of any of the solders.
Silver solder is that which is made of two parts ot
silver and one of brass, and used in soldering those me¬
tals. Spelter solder is made of one part of brass an
two of spelter or zinc, and is used by the braziers an
coppersmiths for soldering brass, copper, and iron* lS
solder is improved by adding to each ounce of ik011®
pennyweight of silver; but as it does not melt wit ou
a considerable degree of heat, it cannot be used w ea
3
ilder
S ° L [ 465 ]
it is inconvenient to heat the work red hot j in which Greek, roXoturfw
case copper and brass are soldered with silver.
Though spelter solder be much cheaper than silver-
solder, yet workmen in many cases prefer the latter.
And Mr Boyle informs us, that he has found it to run
with so moderate a heat, as not much to endanger the
melting of the delicate parts of the work to be soldered j
and if well made, this silver solder will lie even upon the
ordinary kind itself j and so fill up those little cavities
that may chance to be left in the first operation, which
is not easily done without a solder more easily fusible
than the first made use of. As to iron, it is sufficient
that it be heated to a white heat, and the two extremi¬
ties, in this state, be hammered together j by which
means they become incorporated one with the other.
SOLDERING, the joining and fastening together of
two pieces of the same metal, or of two different metals,
by the fusion and application of some metallic composi¬
tion on the extremities of the metals to be joined.
To solder upon silver, brass, or iron : Take silver, five
pennyweights ; brass, four pennyweights : melt them to¬
gether for soft solder, which runs soonest. Take silver,
five pennyweights; copper, three pennyweights : melt
them together for hard solder. Beat the solder thin,
and lay it on the place to be soldered, which must be
first fitted and bound together with wire as occasion re¬
quires 5 then take borax in powder, and temper it like
pap, and lay it upon the solder, letting it dry ; then
cover it with live coals, and blow, and it will run im¬
mediately j take it presently out of the fire, and it is
done. It is to be observed, that if any thing is to be
soldered in two places, which cannot well be done at one
time, you must first solder with the harder solder, and
then with the soft j for if it be first done with the soft,
it will unsolder again before the other is fastened. Let
it be observed, that if you would not have your solder
lun about the piece that is to be soldered, you must rub
such places over with chalk.—In the soldering either of
gold, silver, copper, or either of the metals above men¬
tioned, there is generally used borax in powder, and
sometimes rosin. As to iron, it is sufficient that it be
heated red hot, and the two extremities thus hammered
together, by which means they will become incorporated
with each other. For the finer kinds of iron and steel
instruments, however, gold proves an excellent solder.
This metal will dissolve twice or thrice its weight of
iron in a degree of heat very far less than that in which
iron itself melts ; hence if a small plate of gold is warp¬
ed round the parts to be joined, and afterwards melted
by a blow-pipe, it strongly unites the pieces together
without any injury to the instrument, however delicate.
SOLDIER, a military man listed to serve a prince
or state in consideration of a certain daily pay.
Soldier-Crab. See Cancer, Entomology Index.
Fresh-Water Soldier. See Stratiotes, Botany
Index.
SOLE, in the manege, a sort of horn under a horse’s
foot, which is much more tender than the other horn that
encompasses the foot, and by reason of its hardness is
properly called the horn or hoof.
Sole. See Pleuronectes, Ichthyology Index.
SOLEA. See Sandal and Shoe.
. SOLECISM, in Grammar, a false manner of speak¬
ing, contrary to the rules of grammax*, either in respect
of declension, conjugation, or syntax—The word is
Vol. XIX. Part II. 4.
SOL
. derived from the So/i, a people of Solechm
Attica, who being transplanted to Cilicia, lost the pu- f)
u'ty of their ancient tongue, and became ridiculous to
f^H for the improprieties into which they
SOLEMN, something performed with much pomp,
ceremony, and expence. Thus we say, solemn feasts,
solemn funerals, solemn games, &c.—In law, solemn
signifies something authentic, or what is clothed in all
its formalities.
SOLEN, Razor-sheath, or Knife-handle Shell;
a genus belonging to the class of vermes, and order of
testacea. See Concholog y Index.
SOLEURE, a canton of Swisserland, the nth in
rank in the Helvetic confederacy, into which it was ad¬
mitted in the year 1481. It stretches partly through
the plain, and partly along the chajns of the Jura. It
contained in 1815 about 48,600 inhabitants, upon 385
square miles. Ihe soil for the most partis exceedingly
fertile in corn $ and the districts within the Jura abound
in excellent pastures. '1 fie trade of the town and canton
is of little value, although they are commodioosly situat¬
ed for commerce. It is divided into 11 bailiwicks, the
inhabitants of which are all Roman Catholics, except
those of the bailiwick of Buckegberg, who profess the
reformed religion. Ihe sovereign power x'esides in the
great council, which, comprising the senate or little
council of 36, consists of 102 members, chosen by the
senate in equal proportions from the 11 tribes or com¬
panies into which the ancient burghers are distributed.
A melancholy catastrophe took place in this canton
on the 13th July 1813. The river Birse, swelled by
the rains, overflowed its banks at Dornach, and under¬
mined a house, which was thrown down and buried a
number of persons in its ruins. An ancient tower,
which was occupied as the prison, experienced a similar
fate, fell on the bridge, broke it in the centre, and
precipitated a gi-eat crowd of persons collected upon it
into the torrent. By this accident 150 of the inhabi¬
tants lost their lives.
Soleure, an ancient and extremely neat town of
Swisserland, capital of the canton of the same name. It
contains about 4000 inhabitants, and is pleasantly seat¬
ed on the Aar, which here expands into a noble river.
Among the most x’cmarkable objects of curiosity in this
town is the new church of St Urs, which was begun
in 1762 and finished in 1772? a noble edifice of a
whitish grey stone or coarse marble, which admits a
polish. This building cost at least 8o,oool. a consider¬
able sum for such a small republic, whose revenue scarce¬
ly exceeds 1 2,oool. a-year. Soleure is surrounded by
regular stone fortifications, and is 20 miles north-north¬
east of Bern, 27 south-south-west of Basle, and 43 west
of Zurich. E. Long. 7. 10. N. Lat. 47. 15. -
SOLFAING, in Music, the naming or pronouncing
the several notes of a song by the syllables ut, re, mi,
fa, sol, &c. in learning to sing it.
Of the seven notes in the French scale ut, re, mi, fa,
sol, la, si, only four are used among us in singing, as
mi, fa, sol, la: their office is principally, in singing,
that by applying them to every note of the scale, it°may
not only be pronounced with more ease, but chiefly
that by them the tones and semitones of the natural
scale may be better marked out and distinguished. This
design is obtained by the four syllables fa} sol, la, mi.
3 N
Thus
SOL [ 466 ] SOL
Smlfaing, Thus from fa to sol is a tone, also from sol to la, and
Soltaterra. from la to mi, without distinguishing the greater or less
v——v—— tone •, but from la to fa, also from mi to fa, is only a
semitone. If then these be applied in this order,/a, sol,
la, fa, sol, la, mi, fa, &c. they express the natural series
from C } and if that be repeated to a second or third
octave, we see by them how to express all the different
orders of tones and semitones in the diatonic scale ; and
still above will stand fa, sol, la, and below it the same
inverted la, sol, fa, and one mi is always distant from
another an octave 5 which cannot be said of any of the
rest, because after mi ascending come always fa, sol,
la, which are repeated invertedly descending.
To conceive the use of this, it is to be remembered,
that the first thing in learning to sing, is to make one
raise a scale of notes by tones and semitones to an oc¬
tave, and descend again by the same ; and then to rise
and fall by greater intervals at a leap, as thirds and
fourths, &c. and to do all this by beginning at notes of
different pitch. Then those notes are represented by
lines and spaces, to which these syllables are applied,
and the learners taught to name each line and space
thereby, which makes what we call solfling; the use
whereof is, that while they are learning to tune the de¬
grees and intervals of sound expressed by notes on a
line or space, or learning a song to which no words are
applied, they may not only do it the better by means
of articulate sounds, but chiefly that by knowing the
degrees and intervals expressed by those syllables, they
may more readily know the places of the semitones, and
the true distance of the notes. See the article SlNG-
IN’G.
SOLTATERRA, a mountain of Italy in the king¬
dom of Naples, and Terra di Lavoro. 'Ihis mountain
appears evidently to have been a volcano in ancient
times-, and the Soil is yet sc hot, that the workmen em¬
ployed there in making alum need nothing else besides
the heat of the ground for evaporating their liquids.
Of this mountain we have the following account by Sir
William Hamilton. “ Near Astruni (another moun¬
tain, formerly a volcano likewise) rises the Solfaterra,
which not only retains its cone and crater, but much
of its former heat. In the plain within the crater,
smoke issues from many parts, as also from its sides :
here, by means of stones and tiles heaped over the cre¬
vices, through which the smoke passes, they collect in
an awkward manner what they call sale armoniaco;
and from the sand of the plain they extract sulphur and
alum. This spot, well attended to, might certainly
produce a good revenue, whereas I doubt if they have
hitherto ever cleared 200I. a year by it. The hollow
sound produced by throwing a heavy stone on the plain
of the crater of the Solfaterra, seems to indicate that it
is supported by a sort of arched natural vault j and one
is induced to think that there is a pool of water be¬
neath this vault (which boils by the heat of a subter¬
raneous fire still deeper), by the very moist steam that
issues from the cracks in the plain of the Solfaterra,
which, like that of boiling water, runs off a sword or Solfaterra
knife, presented to it, in great drops. On the outside ||
and at the foot of the cone of the Solfaterra, towards
the lake of Agnano, water rushes out of the rocks so' ’ ^
hot as to raise the quicksilver in Fahrenheit’s thermo¬
meter to the degree of boiling water (a) ; a fact of
which 1 was myself an eye-witness. This place, well
worthy the observation of the curious, has been taken
little notice of; it is called the Pisciarelli. The com¬
mon people of Naples have great faith in the efficacy of
this water; and make much use of it in all cutaneous dis¬
orders, as well as for another disorder that prevails here.
It seems to be impregnated chiefly with sulphur and
alum. When you approach your ear to the rocks of
the Pisciarelli, from whence this water oozes, you hear
a horrid boiling noise, which seems to proceed from
the huge cauldron that may be supposed to be under
the plain of the Solfaterra. On the other side of the
Solfaterra, next the sea, there is a rock which has com¬
municated with the sea, till part of it was cut away to
make the road to Puzzole ; this was undoubtedly a con¬
siderable lava, that ran from the Solfaterra when it was
an active volcano. Under this rock of lava, which is
more than 70 feet high, there is a stratum of pumice
and ashes. This ancient lava is about a quarter of a
mile broad ; you meet with it abruptly before you come
in sight of Puzzole, and it finishes as abruptly within
about ico paces of the town. The ancient name of
the Solfaterra was Forum Volcani; a strong proof of
its origin from subterraneous fire. The degree of heat
that the Soltaferra has preserved for so many ages,
seems to have calcined the stones upon its cone -and in
its crater, as they are very white and crumble easily
in the hottest parts.
SOLICITOR, a person employed to take care of
and manage suits depending in the courts of law or
equity. Solicitors are within the statute to be sworn,
and admitted by the judges, before they are allowed to
practise in our courts, in like manner as attorneys.
There is also a great officer of the law, next to the
attorney-general, who is styled the king’s solicitor-ge¬
neral ; who holds his office by patent during the king’s
pleasure, has the care and concern of managing the
king’s affairs, and has fees for pleading, besides other
fees arising by patents, &c. He attends on the privy-
council ; and the attorney-general and he were ancient¬
ly reckoned among the officers of the exchequer; they
have their audience, and come within the bar in all
other courts.
SOLID, in Philosophy, a body whose parts are so
firmly connected together, as not easily to give way or
slip from eacli other; in which sense solid stands oppo¬
sed io fluid.
Geometricians define a solid to be the third species
of magnitude, or that which has three dimensions, viz.
length, breadth, and thickness or depth.
Solids are commonly divided into regular and irregu¬
lar. The regular solids are those terminated by regular
and
(a) “ I have remarked, that after a great fall of rain, the degree of heat in this water is much less;
which will account for what Padre Torre says (in his book, intitled Histoire et Phenomenes du Vesuve'), tha
when he tried it in company with Monsieur de la Condamine, the degree of heat, upon Reaumur’s thermometer,
was 68°. 1
Mid
II
S -man
SOL £ ^57
and equal planes, and are only five in number, viz. the
tetrahedron, which consists of four equal triangles ; the
■ cu^e or hexahedron, of six equal squares $ the octahe¬
dron, of eight equal triangles; the dodecahedron, of
twel ve 5 and the icosahedron, of twenty equal triangles.
. irregular solids are almost infinite, comprehend¬
ing all such as do not come under the definition of re¬
gular solids j as the sphere, cylinder, cone, parallelo¬
gram, prism, parallelepiped, &c.
Solids, in Anatomy, are the bones, ligaments, mem¬
branes, muscles, nerves and vessels, &c.
The solid parts of the body, though equally compo¬
sed of vessels, are different with regard to their consist¬
ence ; some being hard and others soft. The hard, as
the bones and cartilages, give firmness and attitude to
the body, and sustain the other parts: the soft parts,
either alone or together with the hard, serve to execute’
the animal functions. See Anatomy.
SOLIDAGO, a genus of plants belonging to the
'class ofsyngenesia, and to the order of poiygamia su-
perflua ; and in the natural system ranging under the
49th order, Compositce. See Botany Index.
SOLIDITY, that property of matter, or body, by
which it excludes all other bodies from the place which
itself possesses ; and as it would he absurd to suppose
that two bodies could possess one and the same place at
the same time, it follows, that the softest bodies are
equally soiid with the hardest. See Metaphysics
N° 44, 173, &c-
Among geometricians, the solidity of a body denotes
the quantity or space contained in it, and is called also
its solid content.
. The.solidity of a cube, prism, cylinder, or parallele¬
piped is had by multiplying its basis into its height,
i he solidity of a pyramid or cone is had by mul-
tiplying either the whole base into a third part of the
height, or the whole height into a third part of the
base.
SOLILOQL1, a reasoning or discourse which a
man holds with himself; or, more properly, according
to Papias, it is a discourse by way of answer to a ques¬
tion that a man proposes to himself.
Soliloquies are become very common on the modern
stage ; yet nothing can be more inartificial, or more un¬
natural, than an actor’s making long speeches to him¬
self, to convey his intentions to the audience. Where
such discoveries are necessary to be made, the poet
should rather take care to give the dramatic persons
such confidents as may necessarily share their inmost
thoughts ; by which means they will he more-naturally
conveyed to the audience ; yet even this is a shift which
nn accurate poet would not have occasion for. The
0 lowing lines of the duke of Buckingham concerning
*ie use and abuse of soliloquies deserve attention : °
Soliliquies had need be very few,
Extremely short, and spoke in passion too.
Our lovers talking to themselves, for want
Of others, make the pit their confidant:
Nor is the matter mended yet, if thus
They trust a friend, only to tell it us.
S?fLIM^N IX- emPeror of the Turks, surnamed
ie Magnificent, w'as the only son of Selim I. whom he
succeeded in 1520. He was educated in a manner ve-
different from the Ottoman princes in general \ for
] SOL
he was instructed in the maxima of politics and the se¬
crets of government. He began his reign by restoring
those persons their possessions whom his father had urn
justly plundered. He re-established the authority of the '
tribunals, which was almost annihilated, and bestowed
the government of provinces upon none but persons of
wealth and probity: “ I would have my viceroys the
used to say) resemble those rivers that fertilize the fields
through which they pass, not those torrents which svveen
every thing before them.” i
. concluding a truce with Ismael Sophy of Per¬
sia, and subduing Gozeli Bey, who had raised a rebel¬
lion in Syria, he turned his arms against Europe. Bel¬
grade was taken in 1522, and Rhodes fell into his
hands the year following, after an obstinate and enthu¬
siastic defence. In 1526 he defeated and slew the king
of Hungary in the famous battle of Mohatz. Three
years after he conquered Buda, and immediately laid
sie^e to \ lenna itself. But after continuing 20 days
lefore that city, and assaulting it 20 times, he was obl'i-
ged to retreat with the loss of 80,000 men. Some time
alter he was defeated by the Persians, and disappointed
in his hopes of taking Malta. He succeeded, however,
in dispossessing the Genoese of Chio, an island which had
belonged to that republic for more than 200 years.
He died at the age of 76, while he was besieging Si-
geth a town in Hungary, on the 30th August 1566.
. wasJ a.Pnnce the strictest probity, a lover of
justice, and vigorous in the execution of it j but he tar-
mshed all his glory by the cruelty of his disposition.
her the battle of Mohatz he ordered 1500 prisoners,
most of them gentlemen, to be ranged in a circle, and
beheaded in presence of his whole army.
Soliman thought nothing impossible’which he com¬
manded : A general having received orders to throw a
bridge over the Brave, wrote him, that it was impos¬
sible. I he sultan sent him a long band of linen with
hese words written on it: “The emperor Soliman,
thy master, orders thee to build a bridge over the Brave
in spite of the difficulties thou mayest meet with. He
informs thee at the same time, that if the bridge be not
finished upon his arrival, he will hang thee with the
very Imen which informs thee of his will.”
SOLIPUGA, or Soli fug a, in Natural History, the
name given by the Romans to a small venomous insect
of the spider-kind, called by the Greeks heliocentros ;
both words signifying an animal which stings most in
the country and seasons where the sun is most hot.
Solinus makes this creature peculiar to Sardinia ; but
this is contrary to all the accounts given us by the an¬
cients. It is common in Africa and some parts of Eu¬
rope. Almost all the hot countries produce this veno¬
mous little creature. It lies under the sand to seize
other insects as they go by ; and if it meet with any
uncovered part of a man, produces a wound which
proves very painful ; it is said that the bite is absolutely
mortal, but probably this is not true. Solinus writes
the word solifuga, and so do many others, erroneously
deriving the name from the notion that this animal flies
from the sun’s rays, and buries itself in the sand.
SOLIS, Antonio de, an ingenious Spanish writer
of an ancient and illustrious family, born at Placenvl
... OU Castile, in .6,0. He was intended f„r ,He
Jaw ; but his inclination toward poetry prevailed and
he cultivated it with great success. Philip IV. 0f spaia
3N2 mad*
Solmifl*
II
Solis.
Solis
H
Solon.
SOL [468
made him one of his secretaries', and after his death the
queen-regent appointed him historiographer of the In¬
dies, a place of great profit and honour : his History
' of the Conquest of Mexico shows that she could not
have named a fitter person. He is better known by this
history at least abroad, than by his poetry and dramatic
writings, though in these he was also distinguished. He
turned priest at 57 years of age, and died in 1686.
SOLITARY, that which is remote from the com¬
pany or commerce of others of the same species.
SOLITARIES, a denomination ot nuns of St Peter
of Alcantara, instituted in 1676, the design of which
was to imitate the severe penitent life of that saint.
Thus they are to keep a continual silence, never to
open their mouths to a stranger j to employ their time
wholly in spiritual exercises, and leave their temporal
concerns to a number of maids, who have a particular
superior in a separate part of the monastery • they al¬
ways go bare-footed, without sandals ^ gird themsei\es
with a thick cord, and wear no linen.
SOLO, in the Italian music, is frequently used in
pieces consisting of several parts, to mark those that aie
to perform alone j as Jlciuto .so/o, vtohno solo. It is also
used for sonatas composed for one violin, one German
flute, or other instrument, and a bass y thus we say,
Corelli's solos, GeminianVs solos, &c. When two or
three parts play or sing separately Irom the grand choius,
they are called a dot soli, a tre soli, &c. Solo is some¬
times denoted by S.
SOLOMON, the son of David king of Israel, re¬
nowned in Scripture for his wisdom, riches, and magni¬
ficent temple and other buildings. rewards the end
of his life he sullied all his former glory by his apostasy
from God j from which cause vengeance was denoun¬
ced against his house and nation. He died about 975
B. C.
Solomon's Seal, a species of Convallaria, which
gee, Botany Index.
SOLON, one of the seven wise men of Greece, was
horn at Salamis, of Athenian parents, who were de¬
scended from Codrus. His lather leaving little patri¬
mony, he had recourse to merchandise for his subsist¬
ence. He had, however, a greater thirst alter know¬
ledge and fame than after riches, and made his mercan¬
tile voyages subservient to the increase of his intellec¬
tual treasures. He very early cultivated the art of poe¬
try, and applied himself to the study of moral and civil
wisdom. When the Athenians, tired out with a long
and troublesome war with the Megarensians, for the re¬
covery of the isle of Salamis, prohibited any one, under
pain of death, to propose the renewal of their claim to
that island, Solon thinking the prohibition dishonourable
to the state, and finding many of the younger citizens de¬
sirous to revive the war, feigned himself mad, and took
care to have the report of his insanity spread through the
city. In the mean time he composed an elegy adapted
to the state of public affairs, which he committed to
memory. Every thing being thus prepared, he sallied
forth into the market place with the kind of cap on his
head which was commonly worn by sick persons, and,
ascending the herald’s stand, he delivered, to a nume¬
rous crowd, his lamentation for the desertion of Salamis.
The verses were heard with general applause 5 and 1 i-
sistratus seconded his advice, and urged the people to
renew the war. The decree was immediately repealed }
] SOL
the claim to Salamis was resumed 5 and the conduct of Solon,
the war was committed to Solon and Pisistratus, who, Solstice
by means of a stratagem, defeated the Megarensians,v—
and recovered Salamis.
His popularity was extended through Greece in con¬
sequence of a successful alliance which he formed among
the states in defence>of the temple at Delphos against the
Cirrha*ans. When dissensions had arisen at Athens be¬
tween the rich creditors and their poor debtors, Solon
was created archon, with the united powers of supreme
legislator and magistrate. He soon restored harmony
between the rich and poor : He cancelled the debts
which had proved the occasion of so much oppression j
and ordained that in future no creditor should be allow¬
ed to seize the body of the debtor for his security ; He
made a new distribution of the people, instituted new
courts of judicature, and framed a judicious code of
laws, which afterwards became the basis of the laws of
the twelve tables in Rome. Among his criminal laws
are many wise and excellent regulations j but the code
is necessarily defective with respect to those principles
which must be derived from the knowledge of the true
God, and of pure morality, as the certain foundations of
national happiness. Two of them in particular were
very exceptionable ; the permission of a voluntary exile
to persons that had been guilty of premeditated mur¬
der, and the appointment of a less severe punishment
for a rape than for seduction. Those who wish to see
accurately stated the comparative excellence of the laws
of Moses, of Lycurgus, and Solon, may consult Prize
Dissertations relative to Natural and Revealed Religion
by Tevler’s Theological Society, vol. ix.
The interview which Solon is said to have had with
Croesus king of Lydia j the solid remarks of the sage
after surveying the monarch’s wealth j the recollection of
those remarks by Croesus when doomed to die, and the
noble conduct of Cyrus on that occasion, are known to
every schoolboy. Solon died in the island of Cyprus
about the 8otli year of his age. Statues were erected
to his memory both at Athens and Salamis. His thirst
after knowledge continued to the last: “ I grow old
(said he) learning many things.” Among the apoph¬
thegms and precepts which have been ascribed to Solon,
are the following : Laws are like cobwebs, that en¬
tangle the weak, but are broken through by the strong.
He "who has learned to obey, will known how to cony
mand. In all things let reason be your guide. Dili¬
gently contemplate excellent things. In every thing
that you do, consider the end.
SOLSTICE, in Astronomy, that time when the sun
is in one of the solstitial points that is, when he 15
his greatest distance from the equator; thus called e
cause he then appears to stand still, and not to c ange
his distance from the equator for some timej an aPPe.ar,
ance owing to the obliquity of our sphere, and w nc
those living under the equator are strangers to..
The solstices are two in each year ■, the sestiva of
summer solstice, and the hyemal or winter solstice. >
summer solstice is when the sun seems to descri e
tropic of cancer, which is on June 22. when he ma'
the longest day : the winter solstice is when the sun en
ters the first degree, or seems to describe the ^l0PlC, .
capricorn, which is on December 22. when he ma
the shortest day. This is to be understood as in 0^
northern hemisphere j for in the southern, the ?u^ncQ
SOM ' [ 469 ] SOM
Ulstioe trance into capricorn makes the summer solstice, and
f] that into cancer the winter solstice. The two points
imers- of the ecliptic, wherein the sun’s greatest ascent above
the equator, and his descent below it, are terminated,
are called the solstitial points; and a circle, supposed to
pass through the poles of the world and these points, is
called the solstitial colure. The summer solstitial point
is in the beginning of the first degree of cancer j and is
called the crstival or summer point; and the winter sol¬
stitial point is in the beginning of the first degree of
capricorn, and is called the winter point. These two
points are diametrically opposite to each other.
SOLUTION, in Chemistry, denotes an intimate
union of solid with fluid bodies, so as to form a transpa¬
rent liquor. See Chemistry passim.
SOLVENT, that which dissolves a solid body into
a transparent fluid.
SOLWAY moss. See Moving Moss.
SOMBRERO, the name of an uninhabited island in
the West Indies in the form of a hat, whence the name
is derived. It is also the name of one of the Nicobar
islands in the East Indies.
Wonderful Plant of Sombrero, is a strange kind of
sensitive plant growing in the East Indies, in sandy
bays and in shallow water. It appears like a slender
straight stick ; but when you attempt to touch it, im¬
mediately withdraws itself into the sand. Mr Miller
PJisopW-£‘ves an account it i*1 his description of Sumatra.
m&ram- He says, the Malays call it lolan lout, that is, sea grass.
He never could observe any tentacula; but, after many
to-.ivih. unsuccessful attempts, drew out a broken piece about a
j ’ foot long. It was perfectly straight and uniform, and
resembled a worm drawn over a knitting needle. When
dry it appears like a coral.
SOMERS, John, lord high chancellor of England,
was born at Worcester in 1652. He was educated at
Oxford, and afterwards entered himself at the Middle-
Temple, where he studied the law with great vigour. In
1688 he was one of the counsel for the seven bishops at
j their trial, and argued with great learning and eloquence
against the dispensing power. In the convention which
met by the prince of Orange’s summons, January 22.
1689, he represented Worcester; and was one of the
managers for the House of Commons, at a conference
with the House of Lords upon the word abdicated.
Soon after the accession of King William and Queen
Mary to the throne, he was appointed solicitor-general,
and received the honour of knighthood. In 1692 he
was made attorney-general, and in 1693 advanced to
the post of lord keeper of the great seal of England. In
1695 he proposed an expedient to prevent the practice
of clipping the coin. In 1697.116 was created Lord
Somers, baron of Evesham, and made lord high chan¬
cellor of England. In the beginning of 1700 he was
removed from his post of lord chancellor, and the year
after was impeached of high crimes and misdemeanors
by the House of Commons, of which he was acquitted
upon trial by the House of Lords. He then retired
to a studious course of life, and was chosen president of
the Royal Society. In 1706 he proposed a bill for the
regulation of the law ; and the same year was one of
the principal managers for the union between England
and Scotland. In 1708 he was made lord president of
the council ; from which post he was removed in 1710,
upon the change of. the ministry. In the latter end of
Queen Anne’s reign his lordship grew very infirm in sonjcrs
his health ; which is supposed to be the reason that he []
held no other post than a seat at the council-table, alter Somerton^
the accession of King George I. He died of an apo-' 
plectic fit in 1716. Mr Addison has drawn his cha¬
racter very beautifully in the Freeholder.
SOMERSETSHIRE, a county of England, taking
its name from Somerton, once the capital, between 50°
and 510 27' north latitude, and between i° 25' and *059'
west longitude. It is bounded on the west by Devon¬
shire, on the south by Dorsetshire, on the north by
Bristol channel or the Severn sea, on the north-east by
a small part ol Gloucestershire, and on the east by Wilt¬
shire. It is one of the largest counties in England, ex¬
tending in length from east to west about 68 miles; in
breadth, from south to north, about 47 ; and 240 in
circumference. It is divided into 42 hundreds, in which
are 3 cities, 32 market-towns, 1700 villages, 385 pa¬
rishes, of which 132 are vicarages, containing more than
1,000,000 of acres, and in 1811 there were 303,180
souls. It sends 18 members to parliament, viz. two for
the county, two for Bristol, two for Bath, two for Wells,
two for launton, two for Bridgewater, two for Uches-
ter, two for Mil bourn-port, and two for Minehead.
The air of this county is very mild and wholesome,
especially that of the hilly part. The soil in general is
exceeding rich, so that single acres very commonly
produce forty or fifty bushels of wheat, and there have
been instances of some producing sixty of barley. As
there is very fine pasture both for sheep and black cat¬
tle, it abounds in both, which are as large as those of
Lincolnshire, and their flesh of a finer grain. In conse¬
quence of this abundance of black cattle, great quanti¬
ties of cheese are made in it, of which that of Cheddar
is thought equal to Parmesan. In the hilly parts are
found coal, lead, copper, and lapis calaminaris. Wood
thrives in it as well as in any county of the kingdom.
It abounds also in pease, beans, beer, cyder, fruit, wild¬
fowl, and salmon; and its mineral waters are celebrated
all over the world.
The riches of this county, both natural and acqui¬
red, exceed those of any other in the kingdom, Middle¬
sex and Yorkshire excepted. The woollen manufac¬
ture in all its branches is carried on to a very great ex¬
tent ; and in some parts of the county great quantities
of linen are made. If to these the produce of various
other commodities in which it abounds is added, the
amount of the whole must undoubtedly be very great.
Its foreign trade must also be very extensive ; it has a
large trade for sea-coal, and possesses, besides other
ports, that of Bristol, a town of the greatest trade in
England, next to London and Liverpool.
Besides small streams, it is well watered and supplied
with fish by the rivers Severn, Avon, Parrel, Froome,
Ax, Torre, and Tone. Its greatest hills are Mendjp,
Pouldon, and Quantock, of which the first abounds in
coal, lead, &c. The rivers Severn and Parrel breed
very fine salmon. The chief town is Bristol. See
Somersetshire, Supplement.
SOMERTON, an ancient town in Somersetshire,, ,
from whence the county derives its name. It is 123
miles from London ; it has five streets, containing 251
houses, which are mostly built of the blue stone from
the quarries in the neighbourhood. It is governed by
constables, and has a hall for petty sessions. The mar*- -
ket
SON [ 470 ] SON
ket foi* corn is considerable, and it has several fairs for
cattle. The church has, what is not very frequent, an
octangular tower with six hells. It contained 14?^ ^n"
habitants in 1811. N. Lat. 51. 4. W. Long. 1. 53.
SOMME, a department in the north-west of France,
comprising the greater part of the ancient Picardy.
The soil yields corn, flax, hemp, legumes, and excellent
pasturage, but no vines or maize. Sheep are pretty
numerous. The manufactures are, especially those of
woollens, among the most extensive in France. 1 he
territorial extent is 604,456 hectares, and the popula¬
tion in 1817 was 495,058. Amiens is the chief town.
SOMNAMBULI, persons who walk in their sleep.
See Sleepwalkers.
SOMNER, William, an eminent English antiqua¬
ry, was born at Canterbury in 1606. His first treatise
was The Antiquities of Canterbury, which he dedicated
to Archbishop Laud He then applied himself to the
study of the Saxon language j and having made himself
master of it, he perceived that the old glossary prefixed
to Sir Roger Twisden’s edition of the laws of King
Henry I. printed in 1644, was faulty in many places j
he therefore added to that edition notes and observa¬
tions valuable lor their learning, with a very useful
glossary. His Treatise of Gavelkind was finished a-
bout 1648, though not published till 1660. Our
author ivas zealously attached to King Charles 1.5 and
in 1648 he published a poem on his sufferings and
death. His skill in the Saxon tongue led him to in¬
quire into most of the European languages ancient and
modern. He assisted JDugdale and Hodsworth in com¬
piling the Monasticon Anglicanum. His Saxon Dic¬
tionary was printed at Oxford in 1659. ^'et* ‘n 1669-
SON, an appellation given to a male child considered
in the relation he bears to his parents. See Parent
and Filial Piety.
SONATA, in Music, a piece or composition, intend¬
ed to be performed by instruments only *, in which sense
it stands opposed to cantata, or a piece designed for the
voice. See Cantata.
The sonata then, is properly a grand, free, humorous
composition, diversified with a great variety of motions
and expressions, extraordinary and bold strokes, figures,
&c. And all this purely according to the fancy of the
composer; who, without confining himself to any ge¬
neral rules of counterpoint, or to any fixed number or
measure, gives a loose to his genius, and runs from one
mode, measure, &c. to another, as he thinks fit. This
species of composition had its rise about the middle of
the 17th century ; those who have most excelled in it
were Bassani and Corelli. We have sonatas of 1, 2, 3,
4, 5, 6, 7, and even 8 parts, but usually they are per¬
formed by a single violin, or with two violins, and a
thorough bass for the harpsichord ; and frequently a
more figured bass for the bass viol, &c.
There are a thousand different species of sonatas ;
but the Italians usually reduce them to two kinds. Su-
onate de chiesa, that is, sonatas proper for church music,
which usually begin with a grave solemn motion, suit¬
able to the dignity and sanctity of the place and the
service, after which they strike into a brisker, gayer,
and richer manner. These are what they more pecu¬
liarly call sonatas, tiuonate de camera, or sonatas for
the chamber, are properly serieses of several little
pieces, for dancing, only composed to the same tune.
They usually begin with a prelude or little sonata,
serving as an introduction to all the rest : afterwards
come the allemand, pavane, courant, and other serious
dances; then jigs, gavots, minutes,chacons, passtcailles,
and other gayer airs : the whole composed in the same
tune or mode.
SONCHUS, So tv-THISTLE, in Botany, a genus of
plants belonging to the class of syngenesia, and to the or¬
der oi polygamia aqualis. There are 13 species ; four
of these are natives of Britain.—1. Palustris, marsh
sow-thistle. The stem is erect, from six to ten feet high,
branched and hairy towards the top : the leaves are
firm, broad, half pinnated, serrated, and sharp-pointed;
the lower ones sagittate at the base: the flowers are of
a deep yellow, large, and dispersed on the tops of the
branches : the calyx is rough. It is frequent in marshes,
and flowers in July or August.— 2. Arvensis, corn sow¬
thistle. The leaves are alternate, runcinate, and heart-
shaped at the base ; the root creeps under ground ; the
stem is three or four feet high, and branched at the top.
It grows in corn-fields, and fhnvers in August.—3.
Oleraceus, common sow-thistle. The stalk is succulent,
pistular, and a cubit high or more; the leaves are
broad, embracing the stem, generally deeply sinuated,
smooth, or prickly at the edges ; the flowers are of a
pale yellow, numerous, in a kind of umbel, and terminal;
the calyx is smooth. It is frequent in waste places and
cultivated grounds.—4. Alpinus, blue-flowered sow¬
thistle. The stem is erect, purplish, branched, or simple,
from three to six feet high : the leaves are large, smooth,
and sinuated ; the extreme segment large and triangu¬
lar : the flowers are blue, and grow on hairy viscid pe¬
dicles, in long spikes : the calyx is brown. This species
is found in Northumberland.
SONG, in Poetry, a little composition, consisting of
easy and natural verses, set to a tune in order to be sung.
See Poetry, N° 120.
Song, in Music, is applied in general to a single piece
of music, whether contrived for the voice or an instru¬
ment. See Air.
Song of Birds, is defined by the honourable Daines
Barrington to be a succession of three or more diflerent
notes, which are continued without interruption, during
the same interval, with a musical bar of four crotchets in
an adagio movement, or whilst a pendulum swings four
seconds.
It is affirmed, that the notes of birds are no more in¬
nate than language in man, and that they depend upon imi¬
tation, as far as their organs will enable them to imitate
the sounds which they have frequent opportunitiesol hear¬
ing : and their adhering so steadily, even in a wild state,
to the same song, is owing to the nestlings attending only
to the instruction of the parent bird, whilst they disre¬
gard the notes of all others that may perhaps be singing
round them.
Birds in a wild state do not commonly sing above 10
weeks in the year, whereas birds that have plenty ot
food in a cage sing the greatest part ot the year; and
we may add, that the female of no species of birds ever
sings. This is a wise provision of nature, because her
song would discover her nest. In the same manner, we
may rationally account for her inferiority in plumage.
The faculty of singing is confined to the cock birds;
and accordingly Mr Hunter, in dissecting birds ot se¬
veral species, found the muscles of the larynx to be
stronger
SON
r. stronger in tlie nightingale than in any other bird of
the same size 5 and in all those instances where he dis¬
sected both cock and hen, the same muscles were strong¬
er in the cock. To the same purpose, it is an observa¬
tion as ancient as the time of Pliny, that a capon does
not crow.
Some have ascribed the singing of the cock-bird in
the spring solely to the motive of pleasing his mate du¬
ring incubation ; others, who allow that it is partly for
this end, believe it is partly owing also to another
cause, viz. the great abundance of plants and insects in
the spring, which, as well as seeds, are the proper food
of singing birds at that time of the year.
Mr Barrington remarks, that there is no instance of
any singing bird which exceeds our blackbird in size j
and this, he supposes, may arise from the difficulty of
its concealing itself, if it called the attention of its ene¬
mies, not only by its bulk, but by the proportionable
loudness of its notes. This writer farther observes, that
some passages of the song in a few kinds of birds corre¬
spond with the intervals of our musical scale, of which
the cuckoo is a striking and known instance; but
the greater part of their song cannot be reduced to a
musical scale ; partly, because the rapidity is often so
great, and it is also so uncertain when they may stop,
that we cannot reduce the passages to form a musical
bar in any time whatsoever j partly also, because the
pitch of most birds is considerably higher than the
most shrill notes of those instruments which have the
greatest compass ; and principally, because the inter¬
vals used by birds are commonly so minute, that we
cannot judge of them from the more gross intervals
into which we divide our musical octave. This writer
apprehends, that all birds sing in the same key; and
in order to discover this key, he informs us, that the
following notes have been observed in difi'erent birds,
A, B flat, C, D, F, and G; and therefore K only is
wanting to complete the scale : now these intervals, he
says, can only be found in the key of F with a sharp
third, or that of G with a flat third ; and he supposes
it to be the latter, because admitting that the first mu¬
sical notes were learned from birds, those of the cuckoo,
which have been most attended to, form a flat third,
and most of our compositions are in a flat third, where
music is simple, and consists merely of melody. As a
farther evidence that birds sing always in the same key,
it has been found by attending to a nightingale, as well
as a robin which was educated under him, that the notes
reducible to our intervals of the octave were always
precisely the same.
Most people, who have not attended to the notes
of birds, suppose, that every species sing exactly the
same notes and passages: hut this is by no means true ;
uiough it is admitted that there is a general resemblance.
f_hus the London bird-catchers prefer the song of the
Kentish goldfinches, and Essex chaffinches; and some of
the nightingale fanciers prefer a Surrey bird to those of
Middlesex.
Of all singing birds, the song of the nightingale has
been most universally admired : and its superiority ("de¬
duced from a cage-bird) consists in the following parti¬
culars its tone is much more mellow than that of any
other bird, though at the same time, by a proper exer¬
tion oi its musical powers, it can be very brilliant. Ano¬
ther point of superiority is its continuance of song with-
L 471 ]
s o o
out a pause, which is sometimes no less than 20 seconds;
and when respiration becomes necessary, it takes it with
as much judgment as an opera singer.' The sky-lark in
this particular, as well as in compass and variety, is only
second to the nightingale. The nightingale also sings
(il the expression maybe allowed) with superior judge¬
ment and taste. Mr Barrington has observed, that his
nightingale, which was a very capital bird, began softly
like the ancient orators, reserving its breath to swell cer¬
tain notes, which by these means had a most astonish¬
ing effect. This writer adds, that the notes of birds,
which are annually imported from Asia, Africa, and*
America, both singly and in concert, are not to be
compared to those of European birds.
1 lie following table, formed by INfr Barrington,
agreeably to the idea of M. de Files in estimating the
merits of painters, is designed to exhibit the compara¬
tive merit of the British singing birds ; in which 20 is
supposed to be the point of absolute perfection.
Song
II
Spontabur-
dar.
Nightingale
Sky lark
Wood-lark
Tit-lark
Linnet
Goldfinch
Chaffinch
Greenfinch
Hedge-sparrow
Aberdavine or siskin
Red-poll
Thrush
Blackbird
Robin
Wren
Reed -sparrow
Black cap, or Norfolk
mock nightingale
by
4
18
12
12
4
4
4
6
2
0
4
4
6
o
o
*4
r9
4
12
16
19
12
4
o
4
4
4
4
16
12
4
o 2.
*9
4
12
12
4
4
4
6
o
o_
4
o
12
o
o
14 12 12 14 14
J9
18
12
12
l6
I 2
8
4
4
4
4
4
2
12
4
2
J9
18
8
12
18
12
8
6
4
4
4
4
2
J4
2
2
Philosophi¬
cal Trans¬
actions,
vol. Ixiii.
SONNA, a book of Mahometan traditions, which
the orthodox mussulmans are required to believe.
SONNERATIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of icosandria, and to the order of monogynia. See
Botany Index.
SONNET, in Poetryy a composition contained in 14
verses, viz. two stanzas or measures of four verses each,
and two of three, the first eight verses being all in three’
rhimes.
. SONNITES, among the Mahometans, an appella¬
tion given to the orthodox mussulmans or true believers;
in opposition to the several heretical sects, particularly
the Shiites, or followers of Ali.
SOOJU, or Soy. See Dolichos.
SOON IABURDAR, in the East Indies; an at¬
tendant, who carries a silver bludgeon in his hand about
two or three feet long, and runs before the palanquin.
He is inferior to the chubdar; the propriety of an In¬
dian newaury requiring two soontaburdars for every
chubdar in the train. The chubdar proclaims the ap¬
proach of visitors, &c. Fie generally carries a large sil¬
ver
SOP
t 472 ]
SOP
Soontabnr-ver staff about five feet long in his hands *, and among
dar. tlie Nabobs he proclaims their praises aloud as he runs
II before their palanquins.
Sophism. ^ SOOT, a volatile matter arising from wood and other
‘ ‘ ^uej aiong w;th the smoke ; or rather, it is the smoke
itself condensed and gathered to the sides of the chim¬
ney. Though once volatile, however, soot cannot be
again resolved into vapour j but, it distilled by a stioug
fire, yields a volatile alkali and empyreumatic oil, a con-
siderable quantity of fixed matter remaining at the bot¬
tom of the distilling vessel. It burnt in an open fire, it
flames with a thick smoke, whence other soot is produ¬
ced. It is used as a material for making sal ammoniac,
and as a manure. See Ammonia, muriate of. Che¬
mistry Index.
Soor-Black. See CoLOVR-Making.
SOPHI, or SoFI, a title given to the emperor of
Persia, importing as much as wise, sage, or plnloso-
pher* • • r
The title is by some said to have taken its rise from
a young shepherd named Sopht, who attained to the
crown of Persia in 1370 •, others derive it from the s»-
phoi or sages anciently called magt. V ossius gives a dif¬
ferent account of the word sophi in Arabic, he ob¬
serves, signifies wool; and he adds, that it was applied
by the Turks out of derision to the kings of Persia
ever since Ishmael’s time , because, according to their
scheme of religion, he is to wear no other covering on
his head but an ordinary red woollen stufi j whence the
Persians are also called he’zelbascha, q. d. red-heads. l>ut
Bochart assures us, that sophi in the original Persian
language, signifies one that is pure in his religion, and
who prefers the service of God in all things : and de¬
rives it from an order of religious called by the same
name. The sophis value themselves on their illustrious
extraction. They are descended in a right line from
Houssein, second son of Ali, Mahomet’s cousin, and I a-
tima, Mahomet’s daughter.
Sophis, ov Sofees, a kind of order of religious among
the Mahometans in Persia, answering to what are other¬
wise called dervises, and among the Arabs and Indians
faquirs. Some will have them called sophis Irom a kind
of coarse camblet which they wear, called souf from the
city Souf in Syria, where it is principally manufactured.
The more eminent of those sophis are complimented
with the title schiek, that is, reverend, much as in Ro¬
mish countries the religious are called reverend fathers.
Schick Sophi, who laid the foundation of the gran¬
deur of the royal house of Persia, was the founder, or
) rather the restorer of this order : Ishmael, who conquer¬
ed Persia, was himself a sophi, and greatly valued him¬
self on his being so. He chose all the guards of his
person from among the religious of this order j and would
have all the great lords of his court sopbis. The king
of Persia is still grandmaster of the order; and the lords
continue to enter into it, though it be now fallen under
some contempt.
SOPHISM, in Logic, a specious argument having
the appearance of truth, but leading to falsehood. So¬
phisms are reduced by Aristotle into eight classes, an ar¬
rangement so just and comprehensive, that it is equally
proper in present as in former times. \ .Ignoratio elcnchi,
in which the sophist seems to determine the question,
while he does it only in appearance. Thus the question,
“ Whether the excess of wine be hurtful?” seems to be
2
determined by proving, that wine revives the spirits and Sopliisia
gives a man courage: but the principal point is here kept Sophi*'
out of sight j for still it may be hurtful to health, to for- '
tune, and reputation. 2. Petitioprincipii, a begging of
the question, or taking for granted that which remains
to be proved, as if any one should undertake to prove
that the soul is extended through all the parts of the
body, because it resides in every member. rl his is af¬
firming the same thing in different words. 3. Reasoning
in a circle j as when the Roman Catholics prove the
Scriptures to be the word of God by the authority of
the church, and the authority of the church from the
Scriptures. 4. Non causa pro causa, or the assigning of
a false cause to any effect. Thus the supposed prin¬
ciple, that nature abhors a vacuum, was applied to ex¬
plain the rising of water in a pump before Galileo
discovered that it wras owing to the pressure of the
atmosphere. In this way the vulgar ascribe accidents
to divine vengeance, and the heresies and infidelity
of modern times are said to be owing to learning.
5. Fallacia accidentis, in which the sophist represents
what is merely accidental as essential to the nature of
the subject. This is nearly allied to the former, and is
committed by the Mahometans and Roman Catholics,
The Mahometans forbid wine, because it is sometimes
the occasion of drunkenness and quarrels and the Ro¬
man Catholics prohibit the reading of the Bible, be¬
cause it has sometimes promoted heresies. 6. By dedu¬
cing an universal assertion from what is true only in par¬
ticular circumstances, and the reverse : thus some men
argue, “ transcribers have committed many errors in
copying the Scriptures, therefore they are not to be de¬
pended on.” 7. By asserting any thing in a compound
sense which is only true in a divided sense5 so when the
Scriptures assure us, that the worst of sinners may be
saved, it does not mean that they shall be saved while
they remain sinners, but that if they repent they may lie
saved. 8. By an abuse of the ambiguity of words.
Thus Mr Hume reasons in his Essay on Miracles:
“ Experience is our only guide in reasoning concerning
matters of fact j now we know from experience, that
the laws of nature are fixed and invariable. On the
other hand, testimony is variable and often false •, there¬
fore since our evidence for the reality of miracles icsts
solely on testimony which is variable, and our evidence
for the uniformity of the laws of nature is invariable,
miracles are not to be believed.” 1 he sophistry of this
reasoning depends on the ambiguity of the word expe¬
rience, which in the first proposition signifies the ma¬
xims which we form from our own observation and re¬
flection ; in the second it is confounded with testimo¬
ny ; for it is by the testimony of others, as well as our
own observation, that we learn whether the laws of na¬
ture are variable or invariable. The Essay on Miracles
may be recommended to those who wish to see more ex
amples of sophistry, as we believe most of the eig
species of sophisms which we have mentioned are wel
illustrated by examples in that essay.
SOPHIST, an appellation assumed in the early pe¬
riods of Grecian history by those who devoted their
time to the study of science. 'I his appellation appear
ing too arrogant to Pythagoras, he declined it, an
wished to be called a philosopher; declaring that, thougn
he could not consider himself as a wise man, he was in
deed a lover of wisdom. True wisdom and mo
SOP
r pll
1 I!
Skint'
ist generally uniterl. The example of Pythagoras was fol-
lowed by every man of eminence ; while the name so-
P?l/st was retained only by those who witli a pompof words
made a magnificent display of wisdom upon a very slight
foundation of knowledge. Those men taught an arti¬
ficial structure of language, and a false method of rea¬
soning, by which, in argument, the worse might be made
to appear the better reason (see Sophism). In Athens
they were long held in high repute, and supported, not
only by contributions from their pupils, hut by a regular
salary from the state. They were among the bitterest
enemies of the illustrious Socrates, because he embraced
“very opportunity of exposing to contempt and ridicule
their vain pretensions to superior knowledge, and the
pernicious influence of their doctrines upon the taste
and morals of the Athenian youth.
SOPHISTICATION, the mixing of any thing
Tfith what is not genuine ; a practice too common in
the making up of medicines for sale ; as also among
vintners, distillers, and others, who are accused of so¬
phisticating their wines, spirits, oils, &c. by mixing
with them cheaper and coarser materials j and in many
cases the cheat is carried on so artfully as to deceive
the best judges.
SOPHOCLES, the celebrated Greek tragic poet, '
the son of Sophilus an Athenian, was horn at Co-
lonos, ami educated with great attention. Superior vi¬
gour and address in the exercises of the palestra, and
skill in music, were the great accomplishments of young
men in the. states of Greec#. In these, Sophocles ex¬
celled ; nor was he less distinguished by the beauty of
bis person. He was also instructed in the noblest of all
sciences, civil polity and religion : from the first of
these he derived as unshaken love of his country, which
lie seived in some embassies, and in high military com¬
mand with Pericles j from the latter he was impressed
^vith a pious reverence for the gods, manifested by the
inviolable integrity of his life. But his studies were
early devoted to the tragic muse ; the spirit of Eschy-
lus lent a fire to his genius, and excited that noble emu¬
lation which led him to contend with, and sometimes to
bear away the prize from, his great master. He wrote
43 tragedies, of which y only have escaped the ravages
of time : and having testified his love of his country by
refusing to leave if, though invited by many kings 5
and having enjoyed the uninterrupted esteem and affec¬
tion ef his fellow citizens, which neither the gallant ac¬
tions and sublime genius of Eschylus, nor the tender
spirit and philosophic virtue of Euripides, could secure
to them, he died in the 91st year of his age, about 406
years before Christ. rlhe burial-place of his ancestors
was at Decelia, which the Lacedaemonians had at that
time seized and fortified : by Lysander, the Spartan
chief, permitted the Athenians to* inter their deceased
poet ; and they paid him all the honours due to his love
or his country, integrity of life, and high poetic excel-
ence. .Eschylus had at once seized the highest post of
honour in the field of poetry, the true sublime ; to that
eminence his claim could not he disputed. Sophocles
had a noble elevation of mind, but tempered with so
fine a taste, and so chastened a judgment, that lie ne-
ver passed the bounds of propriety. Under his conduct
the tragic muse appeared with the chaste dignity of some
noble matron at a religious solemnity ; harmony is in
her voice, and grace in all her motions. From him the
V©£. XIX. Fart II. a-
I 4-73 1
S O R
theatre received some additional embellishments ; and
the drama the introduction of a third speaker, which
made it more active and interesting : hut his distin¬
guished excellence is in the judicious disposition of the
fa'ole, and so nice a connection and dependence of the
parts on each other, that they all agree to make the
event not only probable, but even necessary. This is
peculiarly admirable in his “ Oedipus King of Thebes;”
and in this important point lie is far superior to every
other dramatic writer.
The ingratitude of the children of Sophocles is well
known. They wished to become immediate masters of
their father’s possessions; and therefore tired of his
long life, they accused him before the Areopagus of
insanity. 1 he only defence the poet made was to read
his tragedy of Oedipus at Colonos, which he had lately
finished ; and then he asked his judges, whether the au¬
thor of such a performance could be taxed with insani¬
ty ! The father upon this was acquitted, and the child¬
ren returned home covered with shame and confusion.
The seven tragedies of Sophocles which still remain, to-
gethei with the Greek Scholia which accompany them,
have been translated into Latin by Johnson, and into
English by Dr Franklin and Mr Potter.
SOPHORA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of decandria, and to the order of monogynia ; and in
the natural system arranged under the 32d order, Papi-
lionacece. See Botany Index.
SOPORIFIC, or Sopor 1 ferous, a medicine that
produces sleep. Such are opium, laudanum, the seed
of poppies, &.c. . The word is formed from the Latin
sopor, “sleep.” I he Greeks in place of it use the word
hypnotic.
SORBONNE, or Sorbon, the house or college of
the faculty of theology established in the university of
Paris. It was founded in 1252 by St Louis, or rather
by Robert de Sorbon his confessor and almoner, first ca¬
non of Cambray, and afterwards of the church of Paris ;
who gave his own name to it, which he himself took
from the village of Sorbon or Serbon, near Sens, where
he was born. The foundation was laid in 1250; Queen
Blanche, in the absence ol her husband, furnishing him
with a house which had formerly been the palace of
Julian the apostate, of which some remains are still
seen. Afterwards the king gave him all the houses he
had in the same place, in exchange for some others.
J he college has been since magnificently rebuilt by the
cardinal de Richelieu. The design of its institution was
lor the use of poor students in divinity. There are
lodgings in it for 36 doctors, who are said to be of the
society of the Sorbonne ; those admitted into it without
being doctors, are said to he of the hospitality of the Sor¬
bonne. Six regent doctors formerly held lectures every
day for an hour and a half each ; three 111 the morning,
and three ifi the afternoon.
Sorbonne, is also used in general for the whole fa¬
culty of theology at Paris ; as the assemblies of the
whole body are held in the house of the Sorbonne ;
and the bachelors of the other houses of the faculty,
as the house of Navarre, &c. come hither to hold their
sorbnnniqire, or act for beiny admitted doctor in divinity.
SORBUS, Service-tree, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class of icosandria, and to the order of tri-
gynia. See Botany Index.—The aucuparia, mountain-
ash, quicken-tree, quick-beam, or roan tree, rises with
-3 O *
Sorbus,
Sorcery.
SOR [ 474 ] S O R
a straight upright stem and regular branching head,
twenty or thirty ieet high or more, covered with a
smooth grayish brown bark \ pinnated leaves of eight or
ten pair of long, narrow, serrated tolioles, and an odd
one, smooth on both sides j and large umbellate clusteis
of white flowers at the sides and ends ot the branches,
succeeded by clusters of tine red berries, ripe in autumn
and winter. There is a variety with yellow striped
leaves. This species grows wild in many parts of this
island, in mountainous places, woods, and hedge-rows,
often growing to the size ot timber j and is admitted in¬
to most ornamental plantations, for the beauty of its
growth, foliage, flowers, and fruit} the latter, in paiti-
cular, being produced in numerous red large bunches all
over the tree, exhibit a fine appearance in autumn and
winter, till devoured by the birds, especially the black¬
bird and thrush, which are so allured by this fruit as to
flock from all parts and feed on it voraciously.—In the
island of Jura the juice of the berries is employed as an
acid for punch. It is probable that this tree was in high
esteem with the Druids j for it is more abundant than
any other tree in the neighbourhood of those Druidical
circles of stones, so common in North Britain. It is still
believed by some persons, that a branch of this tiee can
defend them from enchantment or witchcraft. Even
the cattle are supposed to be preserved by it from dan¬
ger. The dairy-maid drives them to the summer pas¬
tures with a rod of the roan-tree, and drives them home
again with the same. In Strathspey, we aie told, a
hoop is made of the wood of this tree on the 1st of
May, and all the sheep and lambs are made to pass
through it.
The domestica, or cultivated service-tree, with eat¬
able fruit, grows with an upright stem, branching 30
01' 40 feet high or more, having a brownish bark, and
the young shoots in summer covered with a mealy down j
pinnated leaves of eight or ten pair of broadish deeply
serrated lobes and an odd one, downy underneath 5 and,
large umbellate clusters of white flowers at the sides and
ends of the branches, succeeded by bunches of large,
fleshy, edible red fruit, of various shapes and sizes.
This tree is a native, of the southern warm parts of
Europe, where its fruit is used at table as a dessert,
and it is cultivated here in many of our gardens, both
as a fruit-tree and as an ornament to diversify hardy
plantations.
SORCERY, or Magic ; the power which some per¬
sons were formerly supposed to possess of commanding
the devil and the infernal spirits by skill in charms and
invocations, and of soothing them by fumigations. Sor¬
cery is therefore to be distinguished from witchcraft j
an art which was supposed to be practised, not by com¬
manding evil spirits, but by compact with the devil.
As an instance of the power of bad smells over daemons
or evil spirits, we may mention the flight of the evil
spirit mentioned inTobit into the remote parts of Egypt,
produced, it is said, by the smell of the burnt liver of a
fish. Lilly informs us, that one Evans having raised a
spirit at the request of Lord Bothwell and Sir Kenelm
Digby, and forgetting a fumigation, the spirit, vexed
at the disappointment, pulled him without the circle,
and carried him from his house in the Minories into a
field near Battersea Causeway.
King James, in his Dcemonologia, has given a very
full account of the art of sorcery. “ Two principal
4
things (says he) cannot well in that errand be wanted:
holy water (whereby the devill mockes the papists), and l-
eome present of a living thing unto him. I here are
likewise certaine daies and homes that they observe in
this purpose. These things being all ready and pre¬
pared, circles are made, triangular, quadrangular, round,
double, or single, according to the forme of the appari¬
tion they crave. When the conjured spirit appeares,
which will not he while after many circumstances, long
prayers, and much muttering and murmurings of the
conjurors, like a papist priest dispatching a hunting
masse—how soone, I say, he appeares, it they have
missed one jote of all their rites j or if any of their feete
once slyd over the circle, through terror of his fearfull
apparition, he pales himself at that time, in his owne
hand, of that due debt which they ought him, and other¬
wise would have delaide longer to have paled him : I
mean, he carries them with him, body and soule.” How
the conjurors made triangular or quadrangular circles,
his majesty has not informed us, nor does he seem to
imagine there was any difficulty in the matter. Me
are therefore led to suppose, that he learned his mathe¬
matics from the same system as Dr Sachevereli, who, in
one of his speeches or sermons, made use of the follow¬
ing simile : “ They concur like parallel lines, meeting
in one common centre.”
Another mode of consulting spirits was by the beryl,
by means of a speculator or seer 5 who, to have a com¬
plete sight, ought to be a pure virgin, a youth who had
not known woman, or at least a person of irreproach¬
able life and purity of manners. The method of sucli
consultation is this : The conjuror having repeated the
necessary charms and adjurations, with the litany or in¬
vocation peculiar to the spirits or angels he wishes to
call (for every one has his particular form), the seer
looks into a crystal or beryl, wherein he will see the
answer, represented either by types or figures ; and
sometimes, though very rarely, will hear the angels or
spirits speak articulately. Their pronunciation is, as
Lilly says, like the Irish, much in the throat. Lilly
describes one of these beryls or crystals. It was, he
says, as large as an orange, set in silver, with a cross
at the top, and round about engraved the names of the
angels Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel. A delineation of
another is engraved in the frontispiece to Aubery s
Miscellanies.
These sorcerers or magicians do not always employ
their art to do mischiefj but, on the contrary, frequent¬
ly exert it to cure diseases inflicted by witches; to dis¬
cover thieves j recover stolen goods j to foretel future
events, and the state of absent friends. On this account
they are frequently called white witches. See Magic,.
Witchcraft, &c.
Our forefathers were strong believers when they en¬
acted, by statute 33 Hen. VIII. c. 8. all witchcraft and
sorcery to be felony without benefit of clergy j and
again, by statute 1 Jac. I. c. 12. that all persons invok¬
ing any evil spirit, or consulting, covenanting with, en¬
tertaining, employing, feeding, or rewarding any evil
spirit', or taking up dead bodies from their graves to
be used in any witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchant¬
ment ; or killing or otherwise hurting any person by
such infernal arts ', should be guilty of felony without
benefit of clergy, and suffer death. And if any person
should attempt by sorcery to discover hidden treasure.
Sorcery.
son
or to restore stolen goods, or to provoke unlawful love,
or to hurt any man or beast, though the same were not
eftected, he or she should suffer imprisonment and pil¬
lory for the first offence, and death for the second.
These acts continued in force till lately, to the terror
of all ancient females in the kingdom 3 and many poor
wretches were sacrificed thereby to the prejudice of their
neighbours and their own illusions, not a few having
by some means or other confessed the fact at the gal¬
lows. But all executions for this dubious crime are now
at an end; our legislature having at length followed the
wise example of Louis XIV. in France, who thought
proper by an edict to restrain the tribunals of justice
from receiving informations of witchcraft. And accord¬
ingly it is with us enacted, by statute 9 Geo. II. c. 5.
that no prosecution shall for the future be carried on
against any person for conjuration, witchcraft, sorcery,
or inchantment: But the misdemeanor of persons pre¬
tending to use witchcraft, tell fortunes, or discover stolen
goods, by skill in the occult sciences, is still deservedly
punished rvith a year’s imprisonment, and standing four
times in the pillory.
SOB LX, the Shrew, a genus of animals belonging
to the class of mammalia, and order oi ferce. See
Mammalia Index.
SORITES, in Logic, a species of reasoning in which
a great number of propositions are so linked together,
that the predicate of the one becomes continually the
subject of the next following, till at last a conclusion is
formed by bringing together the subject of the first pro¬
position and the predicate of the last. Such was that
merry argument of Themistocles, to prove that his little
son under ten years old governed the whole world.
Thus: My son governs his mother ; his 7mAher me; l
the Athenians; the Athenians the Greeks; Gi'ccce com¬
mands Europe; Europe the whole woi'ld; therefore 7ny
son commands the whole world. See Logic, N° 96, 97.
SORNING, in Scots Law. See Law, N° clxxxvi.
33‘
SORREL, in Botany, a species of the rumex, which
grows in pastures and meadows, and is well known. The
natives of Lapland boil large quantities of the leaves in
water, and mix the juice when cold with the milk of
the rein-deer, which they esteem an agreeable and
wholesome food. The Dutch are said to cultivate this
plant for its usefulness in the dyeing of woollen cloths
black ; and we know that by means of the common
broad-leaved sorrel an excellent black colour is, in many
places of Scotland, given to woollen stuffs without the
aid ol copperas. As this mode of dyeing does not in
the smallest degree injure the texture of the cloth, which
continues to the last soft and silky, without that hard¬
ness to the touch which it acquires when dyed black by
means ol copperas, our readers will probably thank us
for the following receipt, with which we have been fa¬
voured by a learned physician :
Let the stufl to be dyed be well washed with soap
and water, and afterwards completely dried. Then of
ttie common broad-leaved sorrel boil as much as shall
make an acid decoction of sufficient quantity to let the
stuff to be dyed lie in it open and easy to be stirred. The
greater quantity of sorrel that is used, the better will
the colour be 3 and therefore if the pot or cauldron will
not hold enough at once, when part has been sufficiently
boiled, it must be taken out and wrung, and a fresh
[ 475 1
son
quantity be boiled in the same juice or decoction. When
the liquor is made sufficiently acid, strain it from the
sorrel through a sieve, put the cloth or yarn into it, and
let it boil for two hours, stirring it frequently. If stock¬
ings be among the stuff to be dyed, it will be expe¬
dient, after they have been an hour in the boiling li¬
quor, to turn them inside out, and at the end of the
second hour let the whole be poured into a tub or any
other vessel. The pot or cauldron must then be washed,
and water put into it, with half a pound of logwood
chips for every pound of dry yarn or cloth. The log¬
wood and water should boil slowly for four hours ; and
then the cloth or yarn being wrung from the sour liquor,
and put into the logwood decoction, the whqje must be
suffered to boil slowly for four hours, stockings, if there
be any, being turned inside, out at the end of two hours.
Ol this last decoction there must, as of the former, be
enough to let the cloth lie open and easy to be stirred
W'bile boiling. At the end ol the lour hours the cloth
must be taken out, and among the boiling liquor, first
removed from the fire, must be poured a Scotch pint or
hall an English gallon ol stale urine lor every pound of
dry cloth or other stuff to be dyed. When this com¬
pound liquor has been stirred and become cold, the cloth
must be put into it and suffered to remain well covered
for 12 hours, and then dried in the shade 3 it is then
washed in cold water, and dried for use.
IF-ml-Sorrel. See Oxalis, Botany Index.
So hue L-Colour, in the manege, is a reddish colour,
generally thought to be a sign of a good horse.
SORRENTO, sea-port town of Naples ; seated in
a peninsula, on the bay of Naples, at the foot of a moun¬
tain ol the same name, and 15 miles south-east of Naples.
Sorrentum was famous in ancient times for its beautiful
earthen vessels, particularly goblets and drinking cups 3
and claims the honour of being the birth-place of Tor¬
quato Tasso. E. Long. 14. 24. N. Lat. 40. 40.
SORTILEGE, {Sortilegium) a species of divination
performed by means of sortes or lots.
I he sortes Prenestinee, famous in antiquity, consisted
in putting a number of letters, or even whole w'ords,
into an urn 3 and then, after shaking them together,
they were thrown on the ground 3 and whatever sen¬
tences could be made out of them, constituted the an¬
swer ol the oracle, ffo this method of divination suc¬
ceeded that which has been called the sortes IIo77ie7'ia?Ke
and sortes Vi/giliance, a mode of inquiring into futurity,
which undoubtedly took its rise from a general custom
ol the oracular priests ol delivering their answers in
verse 3 it subsisted a long time among the Greeks and
Romans 3 and being from them adopted by the Chris¬
tians, it was not till alter a long succession of centuries
that it became exploded. Among the Romans it con¬
sisted in opening some celebrated poet at random, and
among the Christians the Scriptures, and drawing, from
the first passage which presented itself to the eve, a
prognostic ol what would befal one’s self or others, or
direction for conduct when under any exigency. There
is good evidence that this was none of the vulgar errors;
the greatest persons, philosophers of the best repute,
admitted this superstition. Socrates, when in prison,
hearing this line of Homer,
Within three days I Phthia’s shore shall see,
immediately said, within three days I shall be out of the
3 O 2 world 3
Sortilege.
* /Eneid,
3jb. xi.
s- o n r 476 ] sou
world •, gathering it from the double meaning of the
word Phthia, which in Greek is both the name of a
country and signifies corruption or death. This predic¬
tion, addressed to /Eschines, was not easily forgotten,
as it was verified.
When this superstition passed from Paganism into
Christianity, the Christians had two methods of consult¬
ing the divine will from tiie Scriptures 5 the one, casual¬
ly, to open the divine writings, and take their direction,
as above mentioned 5 the other, to go to church with a
purpose of receiving, as a declaration of the will of hea¬
ven, the words of the Scripture, which were singing at
the instant of one’s entrance.
This unwarrantable practice of inquiring intofuturky
prevailed very generally in England till the beginning
of the 18th century 5 and sometimes the books of
Scripture, and sometimes the poems of Vjrgil were con¬
sulted for oracular responses. One remarkable instance
is that of King Charles I. -who, being at Oxford during
the civil wars, went one day to see the public library,
where he was shown, among other books, a Virgil no¬
bly printed and exquisitely bound. The lord Falkland,
to divert the king, would have bis majesty make a trial
of bis fortune by the Sortes Vir^iliarue. Whereupon
the king opening the book, the passage which happened
to come up was this :
At, hello audacis populi vcxatus ct nr mis,
Finib its extorris, complexu avulsus luli,
Auxilium implorct ; videatque indigna svorum
Funera: nec, cum se sub leges pads iniqiuu
Fradiderctty regno out optata luce fruatur;
Sed cadat ante diem, mediaque inhumatvs arena.
^l,neid, lib. iv«
Yet let a race, untamed and haughty foes,
IIis peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose j
Oppressed with numbers in the unequal field,
II is men discouraged, and himself expelled,
Let him for succour sue from place to place,
Torn from his subjects, and his son’s embrace:
First let him see his friends in battle slain,
And their untimely fate lament in vain ;
And when at length the cruel war shall cease,
On hard conditions may he buy his peace.
Nor let him then enjoy supreme command,
But fall untimely by some hostile hand,
And lie unburied on the barren sand.
Lord Falkland observing that the king was concern¬
ed at this accident, would likewise try his own fortune
in the same manner, hoping he might fall upon some
passage that would have no relation to his case, and
thereby di\ert the king’s thoughts from any impression
which the other might have upon him j but the place
he stumbled upon was as much suited to his destiny as
the other had been to the king’s ; being the lamenta¬
tion of Evander for the untimely death of his son Pal¬
las* : for this lord’s eldest son, a young man of an
amiable character, had been slain in the first battle of
Newbury.
We have ourselves known several, whose devotion has
not always been regulated by judgment, pursue this me¬
thod of divination j and have generally observed, that
the consequence has been despair or presumption. To
wd beg leave to recommend one passage in Scrip-,
ture which will never disappoint them : Thou shalt not
tempt the Lord thy God.
SOTFRIA, in antiquity, sacrifices offered to the
gods for delivering a person from danger ; as also poeti¬
cal pieces composed for the same purpose.
SOUBISE, a town of France, in the department of
Lower Clvarente, and late territory of Saintonge. It is
seated on the river Cbarente, 22 miles south of Rochelle,
in W. Long. 1. 2. N. Lat. 45. 57.
HOP DAN, a kingdom of Africa, situated between
ii° and 16° N. Lat. and 26° and 30° E. Long. See
Dar Fur.
SOUGH, among miners, denotes a passage dug un¬
der ground, to convey off waters from mines. See
Mine.
SOVEREIGN, in matters of government, is applied
to the supreme magistrate or magistrates of an indepen¬
dent government or state ; because their authority is
only bounded by tbe laws of God and the laws of the
state: such are kings, princes, &c. See Prero¬
gative, &.C.
Sovereign Power, or Sovereignty, is the power of
making laws j for wherever that power resides, all others
mu-t conform to it, and be directed by it, whatever ap¬
pearance the outward form and administration of the go¬
vernment may put on. For it is at anytime in the op¬
tion of the legislature to alter that form and administra¬
tion by a new edict or rule, and to put the execution of
the laws into whatever hands it pleases : and all the
other powers of the state must obey the legislative pow¬
er in the execution of their several functions, or else the
constitution is at an end. In our constitution the law
ascribes to the king the attribute of sovereignty : but
that is to be understood in a qualified sense, i. e. as su¬
preme magistrate, not as sole legislator ; as the legisla¬
tive power is vested in the king, lords, and commons,
not in any of the three estates alone.
SOU. Sec Sou.
SOUFFRIERE, a small town, situated at the bot¬
tom of a bay, near tbe leeward extremity of the island
of St Lucia. Of itself it is not entitled to much notice,
but the adjacent ground is very remarkable. The de¬
clivities of the surrounding hills are cultivated, and af¬
ford sugar-cane of a good quality.
The extremity of the south side of Souffriere haysruns
into two steep hills of a conical shape, and nearly per¬
pendicular, reckoned the^highest on the island, and
known by the appellation of the Sugar-I^oaf Hills. It
is impossible to ascend them 5 for although it was once
attempted by two negroes, it is said that they never re¬
turned. Passing the hills to the windward of Souftriere,
a fine level country presents itself, extending from 15
to 20 miles from the back, of the Sugar-Loaf Hills along
the sea coast, being wholly cultivated, and divided into
rich estates. It is intersected by numerous rivers oi 'try
clear water, which, by art, are made subservient to the
purpose of sugar-making. The rains here are less ire-
quent than on any other part of the island, and the wind
blows from the sea, or nearly so.
J here is a volcano in the vicinity of this town. Af¬
ter passing one or two small hills, the smell of sulphur is
sensibly felt before any vestige of the place is perceived..
rl he first thing discerned is a rivulet of black running
water, sending forth streams nearly in a state of ebulli¬
tion, from which the volcano soon comes into view, si¬
tuated
| If
N
sou
tuated in a hollow, and surrounded by hills on every
side, 'i here are many pits in the hollow, of a black
and thick boiling matter, which appears to work with
great force. Lava xs ejected by slow degrees, and tbeie
is a large mass of it in the centre of the hollow, forming
a soil, of mil. i he lava is said to be a sulphur mixed
with calcareous earth and some saline body. Small
quantities of alum have been found in a perfect state;
and (here is a rivulet of good water in the opening, at
the north side of the hollow. When the bottom of it is
stirred, the water is very hot, so much so as not to he
touched. The liquid running from the pits is strongly
impregnated with sulphur, and very much resembles
the preparation sold in the shops, called aqua sulphu-
rata.
>SOc I, the principle of perception, memory, intel¬
ligence, and volition, in man ; which, since the earliest
era of philosophy, has furnished questions of difficult in¬
vestigation, and materials of keen and important con¬
troversy (see Metaphysics, Part III. chap. ii. iii. iv.
V. ; and Resurrection, N° 42—48.). In the 4th vo¬
lume of the memoirs of the Literary and Philosophical
Society of Manchester, the reader will find a veiy va¬
luable paper by Dr Perrier, proving by evidence ap¬
parently complete, that every part of the brain has
been injured without affecting the act of thought. An
abridgement of that memoir would weaken its reason-
ing ; which, built on matters of fact and experience,
appears to us to have shakeu the modern theory of the
Materialists from its very foundation.
Soul of Brutes. See Brutes.
SOUND, in Physics, a tefni which expresses a sim¬
ple idea; it is that primary information which we ob¬
tain of external things by means of the sense of hear¬
ing. See Acoustics.
Sound, in Geography, denotes in general any strait
or inlet of the sea between two headlands. It is given
by way of eminence to the strait between Sweden and
Denmark, joining the German ocean to the Baltic, be¬
ing about three miles over. See Denmark, N° 32.
and Elsinore.
Sound-Board, the principal part of an organ, and
that which makes the whole machine play. It is a re¬
servoir info which the wind, drawn in by the bellows,
is conducted by a port-vent, and thence distributed into
the pipes placed over the holes of its upper part. The
wind enters them by valves, which open by pressing on
the keys, after the registers are drawn, by which the
air is prevented from going into any of the other pipes,
besides those in which it is required.
S0UND-Boa 1 'd also denotes a thin broad hoard placed
ovei the head of a public speaker, to enlarge or extend
and strengthen his voice.-
. bound-boards are found by experience to he of no use
in theatres, as their distance from the speaker is too
great to he impressed with sufficient force. But sound¬
boards over a pulpit have frequently a trnod effect, when
the case is constructed of a proper thickness, and ac-
conhng to particular principles.
bouND-Post, is a post placed in the inside of a violin,
&c. as a prop between the back and belly of the instru-
ment, and nearly under the bridge.
SOUNDING, the operation of trying the depth of
uie sea, and the nature of the bottom, "by means of a
plummet sunk from a ship to the bottom.
h 477 1
SOU
I here are two plummets used for this purpose in na- s0uiHbnr
yigation ; one of which is called the hand-lead, weigh¬
ing about 8 or 9 pounds ; and the other the deep-sea-
W, which weighs from 25 to 30 pounds; and both
are shaped like the frustum of a cone or pyramid. The
former is used in shallow waters, and the latter at a
great distance from the shore ; particularly on approach¬
ing the land after a sea voyage. Accordingly the lines
employed for this purpose are called the deep-sea lead¬
line, and the hand lead-line.
I lie hand lead-line, which is usually 20 fathoms in
length, is marked at every two or three fathoms ; so
that the depth of the water may be ascertained either in
the day or night. At the depth of two or three fa¬
thoms there are marks of black leather ; at 5 fathoms,
there is a white rag; at 7, a red rag; at io, black
leather ; at 13, black leather; at 15, a white rag; and
at 17, a red ditto.
Sounding with the hand lead, which is called heaving
the lead by seamen, is generally performed by a man who
stands in ihe main-chains to windward. Having the
line quite ready to run out without interruption, be holds
it nearly at the distance of a fathom from the plummet;,
and having swung the latter backwards and forwards
tbree or four times, in order to acquire the greater ve¬
locity, he swings it round his head, and thence as far
forward as is necessary ; so that by the lead’s sinking
t\hiist the ship advances, the line may be almost perpen¬
dicular when it reaches the bottom. The person sound¬
ing then proclaims the depth of the water in a kind of
song resembling the cries of hawkers in a city. Thus
if the mark of five fathoms is close to the surface of the
water, he calls, ‘ By the mark five !’ and as there is no
mark at four, six, eight, &c. he estimates those numbers,
and calls, By the dip four,’ &c. If he judges it to be
a quarter or an half more than any particular number,
he calls, ‘ And a quarter five ! and a half four,’ &c. If
he conceives the depth to be three quarters more than a
particular number, he calls it a quarter less than the
next: thus, at four fathoms and three fourths he calls,
‘ A quarter less five ! and so on.
I he deep-sea-lead is marked with two knots at 20
fathoms, three at 30, ami 4^ 40, and so on to the end.
It is also marked with a single knot in the middle of*'
eadi interval, as at 23, 35, 45,fathoms, &c. To use
this lead more effectually at sea, or in deep water on the
sea coast, it;is usual previously to bring to the ship
order to retard her course : the lead is"" then thrown as
far as possible from the ship on the line of her drift, so
that, as it sinks, the ship drives more perpendicularly
over it. The pilot, feeling the lead strike the bottom,
readily discovers the depth of the water by the mark on .
the line nearest its surface. The bottom of the lead be¬
ing also well rubbed over with tallow, retains the di¬
stinguishing marks of the bottom, as shells, ooze, gravel,
&c. which naturally adhere to it.
I he depth of the water, and the nature of the ground,
which is called the soundings, are carefully marked in
the log-book, as well to determine the distance of
the place from the shore, as to correct the observations
of former pilots.
A machine for the same purpose has been invented
by Mr Massey, of which the following description is*
given :
“ The impoi tance of obtaining true soundings at sea mnstr
sou
[ 478 ]
sou
Soundinn;. be admitted by every seamen ; and it is rather singular,
' v'~" 1 that no other method than the common lead has hither¬
to been brought into use 5 as its imperfections are very
generally acknowledged.
“ Many vessels have been lost, by depending upon the
soundings taken in the usual way. The difficulty of ob¬
taining the true perpendicular, and the uncertainty as to
the exact moment when the lead strikes the bottom, up¬
on which the accuracy of the result depends, must al¬
ways prevent the possibility of obtaining the true depth,
while the ship has any considerable way upon her. In-
tleed, it has been acknowledged by experienced seamen,
during some experiments, made at various times, in the
river Mersey, that they could not depend upon the com¬
mon lead, when going five or six knots in the hour, in
ten or twelve fathoms of water. When the depth is
considerable, the vessel must be hove to, which is an
operation attended with great loss of time, and some¬
times considerable injury to the sails ; and during a
chase, this inconvenience must be particularly felt.
“ True soundings may be taken rvith this machine in
thirty fathoms water, without the trouble of heaving the
vessel to, although she may be going at the rate of six
miles in the hour. True soundings may also thus be
obtained in very deep water, where it is not possible to
take them by the common lead.
Plate “ Fig. i. represents the sounding machine, a is the
ccccxcvii. sounding weight, containing a register, 1, 2, with two
fig- 1‘ dials: the hand of the dial 1 makes one revolution when
the weight has descended twenty fathoms, the other re¬
volves once when the descent amounts to five hundred
fathoms. A rotator, b, similar to that attached to the
log, communicates with the wheel work of the dials
3,2, by means of the rod c, on which there are three
universal joints, 3, 4, and 5. This rod is supported du¬
ring the descent of the weight, by the drop, d, at the
end of which is a fork, 6, and a friction wheel, 7.
“When the machine is to be used, a sounding line is
fastened to the ring, e ; and one of the vanes of the ro¬
tator is slipped into the spring 8: the rotator will then
be in the position indicated by the dotted lines, ,r. The
indices must be set at o, and the cover or lid, /’, be shut.
The machine must then be projected perpendicularly
into the sea. As soon as it reaches the surface, the re¬
sistance of the water forces the dotted rotator, x, out of
the spring 8, and it assumes its perpendicular direction
as represented by the rotator b. As the machine de¬
scends, it is evident the rotator will revolve, and its mo¬
tion be communicated freely past the friction wheel 7,
and the universal joint 5, to the wheel work of the dials-
I, 2, and thus indicate the space passed through in fa¬
thoms. When the machine has arrived at the bottom,
the rotator, as it is no longer buoyed up by the reaction
of the water, will fall to the bottom, quitting the fork
of the drop d, which will also fall from its horizontal
position, and in its descent, by means of the locking rod
9, prevent the rotator from revolving as the machine is
drawn up. When at the ’bottom, the rotator will be in
the position of the dotted lines y.
“ This machine, simple in its construction, and scarce¬
ly more liable to accident than the common lead, ascer¬
tains, with the utmost precision, the perpendicular depth,
by the mere act of descent through the water. No mis¬
take can arise from that common source of error, the
drift or lee-way of the ship during the time of descent}
nor does an operation of such importance depend upon Soundin*
the uncertain sensation caused by the lead striking the -yi-
bottom, on which the accuracy of the common log al¬
together depends, and which, it is well known, frequent¬
ly and materially misleads the best seaman : for though
a thousand fathoms of line were laid out, in the smallest
depth of water, no inaccuracy could arise, as the perpen¬
dicular depth, at the point of heaving, would be regi¬
stered on the index. The only inconvenience experi¬
enced would be the additional labour necessary for haul¬
ing in the excess of line. The most inexperienced per¬
son may use this machine, without risk of error, in the
most turbulent sea, and during the night.
“ The advantages already enumerated would render
the sounding machine of great importance ; but there
are other properties of still more consequence.
“ To heave a ship to, in order to obtain soundings, on
a lee shore, in stormy weather, is a very disagreeable
operation, attended with much trouble, and loss of way •,
also with considerable danger to the ship’s sails j indeed,
it would often, under such circumstances, be attended
with great hazard to the safety of the ship. To avoid
these unpleasant consequences, the master sometimes
adopts a measure, which he conceives to be the less ex¬
ceptionable alternative, by running on without sounding
at all.
“ To prove how much inconvenience and danger are
avoided by Massey’s lead, it is enough to state, that
soundings maybe taken in depth from 60 to 80 fathoms,
while the ship is under way, at the rate of three miles
an hour ; and as the rate of sailing may be still materi¬
ally reduced, without entirely stopping the vessel, or al¬
tering her course, so may soundings be had, to any
depth required, while she is under way.
“ In order more clearly to show the superiority of tins
machine, and make it apparent, that the quantity of
stray-line veered out does not at all affect the truth of the
result: suppose the common lead thrown from the nuzen
chains of the ship, which may be represented by the
point a of the triangle ab c, (fig. 2.) ; and that the ship FiS1 J'
has moved forwards through the space equal to the line
b r, while the lead has descended through the line ac;
it is evident, that it is impossible, in this case, to ascer¬
tain the exact depth, as a quantity of line, equal to ab,
■would be paid out, whereas the true depth is equal only
to the line ac, which is much less. But the case is very
different when the patent sounding machine is used, as
the operation ceases when it has reached the bottom }
nor is the stray-line, a b, whatever its length, at all ta¬
ken into the account.
“ It has been extremely difficult, and sometimes im¬
possible, to obtain soundings in very deep water with tne
common lead, which may perhaps be thus accounted for.
The common line which is used for sounding, though, if
left to itself, it would sink in water, yet its descent would
be much slower than that ol the lead, separately it
consequently follows, that the lead must be so much im¬
peded by carrying the line with it, that when it does
reach the bottom, there will he scarcely any sensible
check to enable the seaman to know the precise mo¬
ment. Indeed, if he can ascertain even this to a cer¬
tainty, he still cannot depend upon the truth of his
soundings *, for if there be the least drift or current, the
line itself will assume a curve, similar to that of the 1m®
of a kite in the air. These two causes will always ope-
rate
A
S!
SOU [
Si ‘ding, rate against the perfection of the common mode
tup. sounding.
uf^—' “After so fully describing tbe principle of the patent
sounding machine, it is scarcely necessary to prove that
it is liable to neither of the foregoing objections ; and it
may he sufficient to say, that, as it will certainly find its
way to the bottom, if a sufficient portion of stray-line
be allowed to guard against its being checked in its
progress, and the certainty of its having reached the
bottom may be ascertained by the arming, there can be
no doubt of the practicability of its obtaining soundings,
in any depth, and no reasonable doubt of their correct¬
ness when obtained.
“ From the construction of this machine, it might he
imagined, that the rotator would impede its motion
through the water, and that it could not descend so ra¬
pidly as the common lead ; but during repeated trials,
in thirteen fathoms water, in which the rotator was fre¬
quently detached, and the lead suffered to descend alone,
there was no difference perceptible in the time of their
descent, though an excellent quarter-second stop watch
was used during the experiment, to detect any change.
The following table shows how very uniformly the times
of descent corresponded with the depths in fathoms, du¬
ring a series oi trials made on the river Mersey, with
the patent lead, weighing 14 pounds.
“ Flie manner of conducting these experiments was
* Nicf>
Joiirru,;
«i-
479 ] sou
of meat is then to be boiled a second time in other water j
and the two decoctions, being added together, must be
left to cool, in order that the fat may be exactly sepa¬
rated, 1 he soup must then be clarified with five or six
whites of eggs, and a sufficient quantity of common salt
added. The liquor is then strained through flannel,
and evapoiated on the water-bath to the consistence of
a very thick paste; after which is is spread rather thin
upon a smooth stone, then cut into cakes, and lastly
dried in a stove until it becomes brittle j these cakes are
kept rn well closed bottles. Tlhe same process may be
used to make a portable soup of the flesh of poultry j and
aromatic herbs may he used as a seasoning, if thought
proper. /
*1 hese tablets or cakes may be kept four or five
years. When intended to be used, the quantity of half
an ounce is jnit into a large glass of boiling water,
which is to be covered, and set upon hot ashes for a
quarter of an hour, or until the whole is entirely dis¬
solved. It forms an excellent soup, and requires no
addition but a small quantity of salt.
SOUR-croute. See Croute.
Sour-Gourd, or African Calabash-tree. See Adan-
sonia, Botany Index.
SOUTH, Or Robert, an eminent divine, was the
son of Mr William South a merchant of London, and
was born at Hackney near that city in 1633. He stu-
1 .1 . /. /. 0 1   IJGCH ujiiL Liny 111 1 Uss• -tie Sill-
such as is deserving of perfect reliance. Two pilots, of ‘ died at Westminster school, and afterwards in Christ-
well-known ability and experience, were employed:
one threw the lead, and the other, the moment he found,
by the slackening of the rope, that the weight had ar¬
rived at the bottom, cried ‘ stop,’ to a third person who
held the watch.
Time of descent.
2 seconds
3
5
Si
6
6
Fathoms.
2-4
3
4
8
81
Time of descent. Fathoms.
74: seconds III
IO
lO
Il4
75
■ 75
74
74
8
iil
12
I24
J3
L34
10
“Taken when under sail, at upwards of five knots in
the hour.
“ Several captains and masters in the navy have made
trial of the log and sounding machine, and given very
favourable reports of their performance 5 and it has been
adopted by order of the Navy Board in the British
navy
SOUP, a strong decoction of flesh or other sub¬
stances.
Portable or dry soup is a kind of cake formed bv
boiling the gelatinous parts of animal substances till the
watery parts are evaporated. This species of soup is
chiefly used at sea, and has been found of great advan¬
tage. The following receipt will show how it is pre¬
pared. r
Of calves feet take 45 leg of beef 12 lbs. 5 knuckle
ot veal 3 lbs.; and leg of mutton 10 lbs. These are
to be boiled in a sufficient quantity of water, and the
scum taken off as usual; after which the soup is to be
separated from the meat by straining and pressure. The
church college, Oxford. In 1654, ^ie wrote a copy of
Latin verses to congratulate Cromwell upon the peace
concluded with the Dutch ; and the next year a Latin
poem, entitled ALusicci Incantans. In 1660 he wras elect¬
ed public orator of the university ; and the next year
became domestic chaplain to Edward earl of Clarendon,
lord-high chancellor of England. In 1663 he was in!
stalled prebendary of Westminster, admitted to the de¬
gree of doctor of divinity, and had a sinecure bestowed
on him in Wales by his patron the earl of Clarendon ;
after whose retirement into France in 1667 he became
chaplain to the duke of York. In 1670 he was instai-
len canon of Christ church in Oxford ; and in 1676 at¬
tended as chaplain to Laurence Hyde, Esq. ambassador
extraordinary to the king of Poland. In 1678 he was
presented to the rectory of Islip in Oxfordshire; and
in 1680 rebuilt the chancel of that church, as he after¬
wards did the rectory-house belonging to it. After tire
revolution he took the oath of allegiance to King Wil¬
liam and Queen Alary, though he excused himself from
accepting a great dignity in the church, vacated by the
personal refusal of that oath. His health began to de¬
cline several years before his death, which happened in
I7i6. He was interred in Westminster Abbey, where
a monument is erected to his memory. He published,
1. Animadversions on Dr Sherlock’s Vindication of the
Holy and Ever Blessed Trinity. 2. A Defence of his
Animadversions. 3. Sermons, 8 vols 8vo. And after
his decease were published his Opera Posthuma Latina,
and his posthumous English works. Dr South was re¬
markable for his wit, which abounds in all his writino-s,
and particularly in his sermons; but at the same time
they equally abound in ill-humour, spleen, and satire.
He was remarkable for being a time-server. During
the life of Cromwell he was a staunch Presbyterian, and
then railed against the Independents : at the Restora¬
tion
fjtflltll
sou r
tlon he everted his pulpit-eloqnence against the Pre.sby-
terlans j and in the reign of Queen Anne, was a warm
Southern, advocate for Sacheverel.
J South, one of the four cardinal points from which
the winds blow.
South Sea, or Ptictfic Ocean, is that vast body of
water interposed between Asia and America. It does
not, however, strictly speaking, reach quite to the con¬
tinent of Asia, excepting to the northward of the pe¬
ninsula of Malacca : for the water interposed between
the eastern coast of Africa and the peninsula just men¬
tioned has the name of the Indian ocean. The South
sea then is bounded on one side by the western coast ot
America, through its whole extent, from the unknown
regions in the north to the straits of Magellan and
Terra del Fuego, where it communicates with the sou¬
thern part of the Atlantic. On the other side, it is
bounded by the coast ol Asia, from the northern pro¬
montory of Tschukotskoi Noss, to the peninsula ot Ma¬
lacca already mentioned. Thence it is bounded to the
southward by the northern coasts of Borneo, Celebes,
Macassar, New Guinea, New Holland, and the other
islands in that quarter, which divide it from the Indian
ocean. Then, washing the eastern coast of the great
island of New Holland, it communicates with that vast
Tody of water encompasing the whole southern part of
the globe, and which has the general name of the Sou¬
thern ocean all round. Thus does this vast ocean occu¬
py almost the semicircumference of the globe, extend¬
ing almost from one pole to the other, and about the
equatorial parts extending almost i8o° in longitude, or
i 2,500 of our miles.
The northern parts of the Pacific ocenn ate entirely
destitute of land ; not a single island having yet been
discovered in it from the latitude ot qo° north and up¬
wards, excepting such as are very near the coast either
of Asia 01 America ; but in the southern part there
are a great number.
Till very lately the South sea was in a great measure
Unknown. From the great extent of ice which covers
the southern part of the globe, it was imagined that
much more land existed there than in the northern re¬
gions : but that this could not be justly inferred mere¬
ly from that circumstance, is plain from what has been
advanced under the article America, N0 3—24. ; and
the southern continent, long known by the name o
Terra Australis, has eluded the search ot the most ex¬
pert navigators sent out from Britain and France by
roval authority. See Terra Australis.
South Sea Compumj. See Company.
SOUTHAMPTON, a sea-port town of Hampshire
in England j is seated on an arm of the sea ; is a place
of good trade, and in 1801 contained nearly 8000 in¬
habitants. It is surrounded by walls and several watch-
towers, and had a strong castle to defend the harbour,
now in ruins. It is a corporation and a county of itself,
with the title of an earldom, and sends two members to
parliament. W. Long. I. 24. N. Lat. 50. 54.
SOUTHERN, Thomas, an eminent dramatic wri¬
ter, was born at Dublin in 1660, and received bis
education in tbe university there. He came young to
London to study law j but instead of that devoted
himself to poetry and the writing of plays. His Per¬
sian Prince, or Loyal Brother, was introduced in 1682,
when the Tory interest was triumphant in England \
S
J
SPA
and the character of the Loyal Brother being intended Sonti
to compliment James duke of York, ne rewarded the
author when he came to the throne with a commission
in the army. On the Revolution taking place, he re¬
tired to his studies, ami wrote several plays, from which
he is supposed to have deriwd a very handsome subsist¬
ence, being the first who raised the advantage of play-
writing to a second and third night. The most finished
of all his plays is Oroonoko, or the Royal Slave, which
is built on a true story related in one of Mrs Behn’s no¬
vels. Mr Southern died in 1746, in the 86th year
his age j the latter part of which he spent in a peaceful
serenity, having by his commission as a soldier, and the
profits of his dramatic works, acquired a handsome for¬
tune j and being an exact economist, he improved what
fortune he gained to the best advantage. He enjoyed
the longest life of all our poets 5 and died the richest of
them, a very few excepted. His plays are printed in
two volumes 1 21110.
Southeiin Continent. See America, N® 3-—24,
and Terra Australis.
SOUTHERNWOOD. See Artemisia, Botany
Index.
SOUTHWARK, a town of Surrey, and a suburb
of the city of London, being separated from that me¬
tropolis only by the Thames. See London, N° 96.
SOW. See Sus, Mammalia Index.
Sow, in the iron works, the name of the block or
lump of metal they work at once in the iron furnace.
Sow-Thistle. See Sonchus, Botany Index.
SOWING, in Agriculture and Gardening, the depo¬
siting anv kind of seed in the earth for a future crop.
See Agriculture.
Drill-Sowing. See DRiLL-Sowing.
SOY. See Dolichos.
SOZOMENUS, HeRMIAS, an ecclesiastical histo¬
rian of the 5th century, was born in Bethelia, a towft
of Palestine. He was educated for the law, and be¬
came a pleader at Constantinople. He wrote an A-
bridgemeut of Ecclesiastical History, in two books, from
the ascension of our Saviour to the year 323* I ins
compendium lost ; but a continuation of it in nine
books, written at greater length, down to the year
440, is still extant. He seems to have copied Socrates,
who wrote a history of the same period. The style of
Sozomenus is perhaps more elegant j but in other re¬
spects he falls far short of that writer, displayingthrough-
out his whole book an amazing credulity and a super¬
stitious attachment to monks and the monastic life.
The best edition of Sozomenus is that of Robert Stephen
in 1544. He has been translated and published by Va-
lesius, and republished with additional notes by Reading
at London, 1720, in 3 vols folio.
SPA, a town of Germany, in the circle of Westpha¬
lia and bishopric of Liege, famous for its mineral wa¬
ter, lies in E. Long. 5. 50. N. Lat. 50. 30. about 21
miles south-east from Liege, and 7 south-west liom
Lomburg. It is situated at one eitxl of a deep valley,
on the hanks of a email rivulet, and is surrounded on all
sides by high mountains. The sides of these mountains
next to Spa are rude and uncultivated, presenting a
rugged appearance as if shattered by the convulsions 0
earthquakes •, but as they are strewed with tall oaks ana
abundance of shrubs, the country around forms a wih >
romantic, and beautiful landscape. The access to the
town
S p A t 4
town Is very beautiful. The road winds over the
mountains till it descends to their bottom, when it
runs along a smooth valley for a mile or a mile and a
half.
The town consists of four streets in form of a cross,
and contains about 400 inhabitants. Spa has no wealth
to boast of. It can scarcely furnish the necessaries of
life to its own inhabitants during the winter, and almost
all the luxuries which are requisite for the great con¬
course of affluent visitors during the summer are car¬
ried from Liege by women. Its only source of wealth
is its mineral waters. No sooner does the warm season
commence, than crowds of valetudinarians arrive, as
well as many other persons who are attracted solely* by
the love of amusement, and some from less honourable
motives. 1 he inhabitants, who spend seven or eight
months of the year without seeing the face of a stranger,
wait for the return of this period with impatience. The
welcome sound of the carriages brings multitudes from
the town, either to gratify their curiosity, or to offer
their seivices in the hopesof securing your employment
while you remain at Spa. Immediately after your ar¬
rival, your name and designation is added to the print¬
ed li'it of the annual visitors ; for which you pay a stated
sum to the booksellers, who have a patent for this pur¬
pose from the prince bishop of Liege. This list not on¬
ly enables one to know at a glance whether any friends
or acquaintance are residing there, but also to distin¬
guish peisons of rank and fashion from adventurers, who
seldom have the effrontery to insert their names.
. Tliere are two. different ways of accommodating the
visitors at Spa with lodging and necessaries. People
may either lodge at a hotel, where every thing is fur¬
nished them in a splendid and expensive style for they
may take up their residence in private lodgings, from
which they may send for provisions to a cook’s shop.
Among the people who visit Spa, there are many
persons of the fiist rank and fashion in Europe* Per¬
haps indeed there is no place in Europe to which so
many kings and princes resort j but it is also visited by
many self-created nobility, who, under the titles of
counts, barons, marquises, and knights, contrive by
81 1 SPA
their address, and artifices* to prey upon the rich and
unexperienced.
The manners established at Spa are conducive both
to health and amusement. Every body rises early in
the morning, at six o’clock or before it, when a great
many horses stand ready saddled for those who choose
to drink the Sauveniere or Geronstere waters at a little
distance irom Spa. After this healthy exercise a part
ot the company generally breakfast together at Vaux-
hall, a magnificent and spacious building. At this
place a number of card-tables are opened every fore¬
noon, round which many persons assemble and play for
stakes to a very considerable amount. A ball too is ge¬
nerally held once a week at Vauxhall, besides two balls
at the assembly rooms near the Poulion in the middle of
the town.
The most remarkable waters at Spa are, 1. The Pou-
hon, situated in the middle of the town ; 2. The Sau¬
veniere, a mile and a half east from it j 3. Groisbeck,
near to the Sauveniere; 4. Tonnelet, situated a little to
the lelt of the road which leads to the Sauveniere ; c
Geronstere, two miles south from Spa; 6. Wartroz.
near to the Tonnelet; 7. Sarts or Niveset, in the dis-
tnct of Sarts ; 8. Chevron or Bru, in the principality
of Slavelot; 9. Couve ) 10. Beverse; 11. Sige; 12.
Geremonr. These four last are near Malmedy.
^J' hu-ownrigg was the first person who discovered
that fixed air, or, as it is now generally called, carbo¬
nic aculgas, \orms a principal ingredient in the compo-
sition of the Spa waters, and actually separated a quan¬
tity of this elastic fluid, by exposing it to different de¬
grees of heat from 1 io° to 170° of Fahrenheit. From
20 ounces 7 drams and 14 grains apothecaries weight
ot the 1 ouhon water, he obtained 8 ounces 2 drams and
50 grains. Since June 1765, when Dr Brownrigg
read a paper on this subject before the Royal Society of
London, the waters of Spa have been often analysed
but perhaps by none with more accuracy than by Dr
Ash, who published a book on the chemical and medi¬
cinal properties of these waters in 1788. We* shall
present the result of his analysis of the five principal
springs in the following table :
Fountains.
Pouhon
Geronstere
Sauveniere
Groisbeck
Tonnelet
Quantity
of Wa¬
ter
Ounces
33-
32.75
3 2-5°
32.25
32.
Ounce | Solid
measures contents,
of Gas. I
Aerated Aerated
lame. Magne
35-75
24-75
33-5°
35-50
4°-75
Grains.
16.25
5-50
3-75
5-25
2.00
2-75
2.50
I-5°
1.50
0.25
9-50
Aerated
Mineral
Alkali.
2.25
I-75
o-75
1.
0-75
Aerated
iron.
I-75
o-75
O. CO
o-75
i.
Selenite.
O.50
Aerated
Vepetab,
Alkali.
The Pouhon spring rises from the hill to the north
of Spa, which consists of argillaceous schistus and fer-
rugineous slate. The other fountains rise from the sur¬
rounding hills to the south-east, south, west, and north-
west of the town; and this ridge of mountains is form¬
ed of calcareous earths mixed with siliceous substances.
Die surface of the mountains is covered with woods,
interspersed with large boggy swamps filled with mud
and water. The Pouhon is considered as the principal
spring at Spa, being impregnated with a greater quan¬
tity of iron than any of the rest, and containing more
Vol. XIX. Part II. b f
Spa>
fixed air than any except the Tonnelet. It is from tbi*
spring that the Spa water for exportation is bottled ;
for winch the demand is so great, that, according to
the best information that Mr Thicknesse could obtain Thick-
the quantity exported amounts to 200,000 or 2co oooncsse's
bottles annually. This exported water is inferior in its
virtue to that which is drunk on the spot; for the ves-fAe f4s
sels into which it is collected are injudiciously exposed-&«*•
to the sun, rain, wind, and dust, for several hours before
they are corked, by which means a considerable part of
its volatile ingredients must be evaporated; for it has
3 P been
SPA
[ 48
been fouml bv experiment, that by exposing it to a gen-
j ,le beat, air-bubbles ascend in great numbers. It rs in
its greatest perfection when collected in cold dry wea¬
ther; it is then pellucid, colourless, and without smell,
and almost as light as distilled water. It varies m its
heat from <;20or 530 to 67° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
The Geronstere is a much weaker chalybeate water
than the Pouhon *, and as it is exceedingly nauseous,
and tastes and smells like rotten eggs, it certainly con¬
tains some hepatic gas. This is a circumstance which
Dr Ash seems not to have attended to suthciently. a he
Sauveniere water also, when newly taken from the well,
smells a little of sulphur. The Groisbeck contains more
alkali, and almost as much gas as the 1 ouhon, and has
been celebrated for its good effects in the case of calcu¬
lous concretions. The Tonnelet contains more gas
than any of the rest. Dr Ash informs us, that in the
nemhbourhood of this well, the cellars, on any approach-
ing”change of weather, are found to contain much fixed
air; amfthe best prognostic which they have of rain is
the aversion which cats show to be carried into these
cellars.
The Spa waters are diuretic, and sometimes purga¬
tive. They exhilarate the spirits with an influence much
more benign than wine or spirituous liquors ; and they
are more cooling, and allay thirst more effectually, than
common water. They are found beneficial in cases
of weakness and relaxation, either partial or universal j
in nervous disorders ; in obstructions of the liver and
Extent.
2 ] SPA
spleen 4, in cases where the blood is too thin and pu¬
trescent ; in cases of excessive discharges proceeding
from weakness ; in the gravel and stone ; and in most
cases where a strengthening remedy is wanted. Kut they
are hurtful in confirmed obstructions attended with fe¬
ver where there is no free outlet to the matter, as in
ulcerations of the lungs. They are al$o injurious to bi¬
lious and plethoric constitutions, when used before the
body is cooled by proper evacuations.
SPACE. See Metaphysics, Part II. Chap. iv.
Space, in Geometry, denotes the area of any figure,
or that which fills the interval or distance between the
lines that terminate it.
SPADIX, in Botany, anciently signified the recep¬
tacle of the palms. It is now used to express every
flower-stalk that is protruded out of a spatha or sheath.
The spadix of the palms is branched ; that of all
other plants simple. This last case admits of some va¬
riety ; in calla, dracontium, and potkos, the florets co¬
ver it on all sides; in arum, they are disposed on the
lower part only : and in %ostera on one side. See Bo-
TAN Y.
SPAGFRIC art, a name given by old authors to
that species of chemistry which works on metals, and
is employed in the search of the philosopher’s stone.
SPAHIS, horsemen in the Ottoman army, chiefly
raised in Asia. The great strength of the grand seig¬
nior’s army consists in the janisaries, who are the foot;
and the spahis, who are the horse.
SPAIN.
Spain.
x
Sitnation
and boan-
dary.
THE kingdom of Spain, which occupies by far the
greater portion of the south-western peninsula of
Europe, is hounded on the north by the bay of Biscay
and Pyrenean mountains,which separate it from France;
on the east bv the Mediterranean sea ; on the south by
the straits of Gibraltar, which divide it from the Afri¬
can kingdom of Morocco ; and on the west, partly by
the Atlantic ocean, but chiefly by the narrow kingdom of
Portugal. This last is the only artificial boundary of
the Spanish territory, and consists of ideal lines, except
in three parts, where the river Minho to the north, and
the Douro and the Chanca, till its junction with the
Guadiana to the east, form rather more natural limits.
From Cape Ortegal in N. Lat. 430 44', to the rock
of Gibraltar, in N. Lat. 350 57', the continent of
Spain extends through nearly 8° of latitude, while As
extent from west to east, viz. from Cape I inisterre in
Long. 90 17'’ W. from Greenwich to Cape Creus, or
Croix, in Long. 30 30' E. from the same meridian,
comprehends nearly 130 of longitude. ]n British miles,
its length from north to south, viz. from Cape Penas to
Gibraftar, may be estimated at 550 miles, while its me¬
dium breadth may be computed at 440. According to
De Laborde, its superficial extent, exclusive of xortu-
gal, is 25,137 square French leagues, or about 21,000
square English leagues. ... ,
Besides the continental part of Spain, this monaichy
comprehends several islands in the Mediterranean, espe¬
cially Majorca, Minorca, and Iviga ; the Canary islands, Spain-
and several places on the north-western coast ot Africa; ‘-1
the Philippine and Ladrone islands; together with an
immense territory both in North and South Ameiica,
comprehending Mexico or New Spain, New Mexico,
the island of Cuba, Porto Rico, &c. in North America,
and in the southern part of that continent, the greatest
portion of Terra Firma, Peru, Chili, almost the whole
of Paraguay, with an extensive territory lying on the
banks of the river Plate. . . 3
The usual division of the Spanish continent is intoDivisj(«,
fourteen provinces, viz. those of Catalonia, Aragon,
and Navarre, on the confines of I ranee ; Biscay,
Asturias, and Gallicia, on the shores of the At¬
lantic; Leon and Estremadura, on the side ol Por¬
tugal ; Andalusia chiefly on the straits of Gibraltar;
Granada, Murcia, and Valencia, on the shores
of the Mediterranean ; Old and New Castile in the
centre. . „ T
The latest writer on the geography of Spam, De l>a-
borde, reckons only 13 provinces, as he includes Gra¬
nada under Andalusia. In the following table we have
brought together the most important circumstances re¬
specting each of these provinces, viz. the Subdivisions,
extent in square British miles, population at the en 0
the 18th century, and chief towns; and we iave
arranged the provinces in the order followed y ^
horde..
Published b v Constable £ C'. Edmbnra/, mg.
483
SPAIN.
Provinces.
Province of Catalonia.
kingdom of Valencia.
Subdivisions.
County of Roussillon 1
   — Cerdagne j
’rovince of Estremadura.
Vovince of Andalusia.
angdom of Murcia.
-ingdom of Aragon.
ingdom of Navarre.
rovince of Biscay.
rincipality of the Asturias.
ngdom of Old Castile.
Ingdom of New Castile.
ingdom of Gallicia.
ngdom of Leon.
Extent in
square miles,
10,400
7,800
16,000
Kingdom of Seville
    Granada
Cordova
Jaen
Biscay Proper
Alava
Guipuzcoa
}
I2,6oo
4>Jo°
1,080
2,400
8,812
16,500
2,287
4,000
Oviedo
Santillana
Leon T
Palencia (
Zamora T
Salamanca J
Burgos 1
Avila »
Segovia _ 1
Toledo
gdom of MxVjorca.
^‘nd of Minorca.
Cuenga
Lamanca
Islands of Majorca
• — Cabrera
  Ivi^a
3>375 7
1,200J
11,500
10,800
Population,
814,412
93 2,15°
416,922
754,293
661,661
236,016
177,!36
337,686
623,308
287,382
116,042
74,000
12,076
350,000
Chief Towns.
1,350,000
22,000
I,44°|
no J
665,432
1,190,180
1,146,809
Barcelona, Tarragona, Urgel, Lerida, Ge-
rona, Salsona, Vicli,Tortosa,Figueras, &c.
Valencia, Alicant, Elche, Orihuela, Cas¬
tellan, Alzira, Carcaxente, Gandia, Xaci-
va, Otiniente, Alcoy, Segorbe, &c.
Badajoz, Placencia, Coria, Merida, Trux-
illo, Xera de los Cavalleros, Llerina,
Almatona, Zafra, &c.
Seville, Xeres de la Frontera, Arcos, Ca¬
diz, Real Ejo, Ayamonte, Nivela, &c.
Granada, Malaga, Loxa, Santa Fe, Anti-
iquera, Ronda, Guadix, Baza, &c.
Cordova, and Archidona, &c.
Jaen, Ubeda, Baeza, Anduxar, &c.
Murcia, Carthagena, Lorca, Chinchilla, Al¬
ba Cete, Villena, Almanza, &c.
Zaragoza, laca, Barbastro, Huesca, Tara-
zona, Albarrazin, Teruel, &c.
Pampeluna, Tudela, &c.
BlLBOA, Vermijo, &c.
ViTTORlA, Trevino, Gnate, &c.
St Sebastian, Fuenaraba, Tolosa, Placen¬
tia, &c.
OviEDO, Aviles, Luarca, Gijon, &c.
Santillana, San Vincente, Riva de Sella,
&c.
San Jago de Compostella, Bayona, Lu¬
go, Orense, Mondonedo, Corunna, Vigo,
&c.
Leon, Duero, Astorga, Salamanca, Zamora,
&c.
Burgos, Osma, Siguenza, Avila, Vallado¬
lid, Segovia, Calahorra, Soria, &c.
360
136,000
27,000
10,308, i?o5
Madrid, Toledo, Aranjuez, Talavera della
Reyna, &c.
Cuenca, Guete, Alacon, &c.
Ocana, Hucles, Laguardia, Tarrazona, &c.
Palma, Alcudia, &c.
Ivi^a.
Mahon, Cittadella.
Some account of these provinces will be found under
the articles Andalusia, Aragon, Asturias, Bis¬
cay, Castile, Catalonia, Estremadura, Galli¬
cia, Granada, Leon, Murcia, Navarre, Valen¬
cia, Ivica, Majorca, and Minorca 5 but for the
best view of their present state, we must refer our read¬
ers to I)e Laborde’s View of Spain, vols. i. ii. and iii. or
to Playfair’s Geography, vol. i.
In its general appearance, Spain presents a pleasing
variety of hill and dale, mountain and valley. It must 4
be regarded as a mountainous country, its plains being ®,ace
few in number and of small extent. The most remark-COUUtr^'
able of these occupies the centre of the kingdom, especi¬
ally New Castile, which forms the most elevated tract
of level country to be found in Europe, having a mean
elevation of more than 300 fathoms above the level of
the sea. The country is well wooded, and abounds with
rivers j but these are often very deficient in water, and
3 E 2 Spainy
SPAIN.
484
Spain. Spain, especially on its eastern coast, is remarkable for
the dryness of its soil. Notwithstanding this aridity,
however, most parts of the kingdom teem with fertility,
and native verdure and high cultivation render the sce¬
nery delightful. Here and there, indeed, occurs a
tract of desert utterly incapable of cultivation ; hut, in
general, nature has done much more for the country
than the labour of its inhabitants.
Soil. 1 The soil is said to be in general light, and easily
wrought; hut on many parts of the eastern coast it is
composed chiefly of a stiff loam or clay. The most fer¬
tile parts of the kingdom are in Valencia, on the coast
of Granada, in the kingdom of Old Castile, and in se¬
veral parts of those of New Castile and Leon. The soil
of Catalonia is very discouraging, except in the valleys,
and the same may he said of all the provinces bordering
on the Pyrenees •, the soil of Estremadura, though na¬
turally good, has been so long abandoned to itself, that
it has almost ceased to produce, and that of Andalusia
has a very mixed character. rl he soil of Murcia is un¬
commonly arid ; that of the Asturias cold } that of Gal-
licia extremely wet. In the neighbourhood of Cartha-
gena there is an extensive tract, which is so covered
with stones as to form a degert as sterile and untame-
6 able as any on the sandy plains of Africa or Arabia.
Mountains. We have said that Spain is a mountainous country.
The chain of the Pyrenees, common to it and I ranee,
is by no means the most considerable in point either of
elevation or extent j though that chain may he regard¬
ed as the common root or origin of all the rest. From
the western corner of the Pyrenees a vast ridge branch¬
es ofi through Navarre, Biscay, Asturias and Gallicia,
terminating only at Cape Finisterre, and Cape Ortegal.
This ridge is the Cantabrian mountains, and is distin¬
guished into several subordinate groups, denominated
from the principal towns situated in their vicinity. Thus
we have the mountains of Mondonedo in Gallicia. In
general, these groups are called Sierras, from the jag¬
ged or serrated appearance of their tops ; as the Sierra
de la Asturias, Sierra d'Avila, &c. The subordinate
mountains that extend from the Sierra of the Asturias
in the north, to the Alpuxaras in the south, run in pa¬
rallel lines ; and the same direction prevails in the
mountains of Saint Andero, which join the Pyrenees.
From the mountains of Biscay arises a main ridge,
which, after proceeding a little to the south, divides in¬
to three or four branches. Ot these the most northerly
chain separates the provinces of Old Castile and New'
Castile, extending to the confines of Portugal, and cal¬
led the mountains of Guadarrama. A second branch
divides the principal part of New Castile from the pro-
yince of La Mancha, running from the north-east to the
south-west, as far as Badajos in Estremadura. The
most remarkable part of this chain is the Sierra of Gua¬
dalupe. South of these runs the Sierra Morena, or
Sable mountains, rendered classical by the inimitable
pen of Cervantes. This is the last chain till w-e reach
the Alpuxaras, that extend through the provinces of
Granada and Andalusia.
Of these mountains there are two points, which, in
elevation, exceed Mont Perdu, the highest of the Py¬
renees, viz., the Pico de Venleta, in the Sierra Nevada,
or snowy mountains of Granada, which is elevated more
than 1781 fathoms above the level of the ocean, and
the peak of Mulahasen, in the same chain, raised above
1824 fathoms, which is within 76 fathoms of the peak Spa;B
of Teneriffe. '“'V ■*
The principal capes and promontories of the Spanish 7
continent are. Cape Creus, Cape St Antoine, opposite
the island of Ivi$a ; Cape Palas, near Carthagena j |.ies> °n ^
Cape de Gatte, near Almeria, and the promontory on
which stands the town of Gibraltar, all on the coast of
the Mediterranean j and Cape Machicaco, Cape Penas,
Cape Ortegal, the promontory of Ferrol, Cape Fini¬
sterre, and Cape Trafalgar, on the coasts of the Atlan¬
tic. • , s
The principal hays and gulfs on the coast of Spain, Bays and
pursuing the same course, are the following j the bay gulfs,
of Valencia, the bay of Alicant, the gulf of Carthage-
na, the hay of Almeria, the hay of Gibraltar, the har¬
bour of Cadiz, the hay of Corunna, commonly called
the Groyne, and the hay of Biscay. ^
The rivers of Spain are intimately connected with the Rivers,
mountains from which they derive their source, and be¬
tween the chains of which they generally flow. The
most important are, the Ebro, rising in the mountains
of Santillana in the Asturias, and running in a south¬
eastern direction betw'een the Castiles and S' alencia on
the one hand, and the provinces of Navarre, Aragon,
and Catalonia, on the other, till it reaches the Mediter¬
ranean, at a small distance from Tortosa ; the Xacar,
rising in the Sierra of Cuenca in New Castile, and flow
ing into the Mediterranean considerably to the south¬
ward of Valencia; the Segura, rising in a mountain of
the same name, traversing the province of Murcia, and
meeting the Mediterranean about midway in the capital
of that province, and Alicant. 1 hese flow into the
Mediterranean, and there are several other rivers of less
note, which pour their waters into the same sea, and
which Tve can merely enumerate. These are the Ter
at Gerona, the Lobregate at Barcelona, and the Mi-
jares, passing by Segorbe. rI he rivers which flow into
the Atlantic are, the Guadalquiver, rising at the foot of
Mount Segura, from the opposite side of which origi¬
nates the river of the same name, flowing with a slug¬
gish course through the province of Andalusia, and meet¬
ing the Atlantic a little to the north-west of Xeres; the
Guadiana, rising among some lakes to the north-west of
Alcaraz in New Castile, and passing between the Sierra
Morena and the Sierra de Guadalupe, till, near Bada¬
jos, it enters the kingdom ol Portugal, and runs nearly
in a southerly direction, till it meets the Atlantic at
Ayamonte ) the Tagus, rising among the mountains of
Alhara^in in New Castile, and running westerly till, at
Alcantara, it becomes a river of Portugal j the Fouro,
rising in Old Castile near Soria, and passing by Valla¬
dolid and Zamora, near which it forms a part of the
boundary of Portugal ; the Minho, rising in the moun¬
tains of Gallicia, and running to the south-west, till it
meets the Atlantic to the north of Camina. The only
other river of any importance in this direction is the
Lima, supposed to be the Lethe of the poets, which
rises in Gallicia, and flows into the sea below Viara. 10
If we except the series of small lakes from which lyej^tes.
have said the river Guadiana takes its rise, there are, in
Spain, few lakes that merit particular notice. The most
re mar kable of these is the lake of Albufera, in the pro¬
vince of Valencia. This lake begins near the village of
Catarroija, about a league south of the city of Valencia,
and extends nearly four leagues as far as Cullera. M her>
I
II
rests.
SPAIN.
. it is full, it is about four leagues long, two in breadth
—'and six in circumference; but it is so shallow, that
small boats can scarcely float in it. To supply the de¬
ficiency of water, an engine is employed, by which the
neighbouring waters are drawn into the bed of the lake;
and any superabundant water occasioned by heavy rains
is carried off into the sea by means of an artificial open¬
ing. Ibis lake contains a great many fish, and nume¬
rous aquatic birds make it their haunt. On certain
days in the year the inhabitants of Valencia make in¬
cursions hither to shoot the birds, and the surface of
the lake is at these times covered with boats.
Many parts of the kingdom of Spain abound in large
tracts of wood. Extensive forests are found in Cataio-
nia, the Asturias, Gallicia, and in the Sierra Morena.
It is in the mountainous chains that the forests of Spain
are most remarkable; and there are few of these heights,
except in the snowy regions of the Sierra Nevada, but
what are covered with wood almost to their summits.
The climate of Spain is as delightful as that of any
part of Europe ; and though at certain seasons of the
year the eastern coast is subject to excessive heat and
drought, and the north-western to almost perpetual
rains, the temperature is in general mild, and the air
salubrious.
I he climate of Spain has been admirably depicted by
M. A. de Humboldt ; and we shall here present to our
readers the substance of his remarks, as they are relat¬
ed by He Laborde, in his View of Spain.
No country of Europe presents a configuration so
singular as Spain. It is this extraordinary form which
accounts for the dryness of the soil in the interior of
the Castiles, for the power of evaporation, the want of
rivers, and that difference of temperature which is ob¬
servable between Madrid and Naples, tyvo towns situ¬
ated under the same degree of latitude.
1 he interior of Spam is, as we have seen, an elevated
plane, which is higher than any of the same kind in
Europe, occupying so large an extent of country. The
mean height of the barometer at Madrid is 26 inches
2j- lines. It is therefore Trq: lower than the mean height
of the mercury at the level of the ocyan. This is the
difference of the pressure of the atmosphere that is expe¬
rienced by all bodies exposed to the air at Madrid, and at
Cadiz, and Bourdeaux. At Madrid the barometer falls
as low as 25 inches 6 lines, and sometimes even lower.
The following is a table of the variations in the height
of the barometer during the first nine months of the
year 1793.
Months.
179?.
January,
February,
March,
April,
May,
June,
July,
August,
September,
Maxinmm.
Inches. Janes
26 5.8
Minimum.
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
5-3
4-7
2.4
4.6
4-
4-3
3*2
4-3
Inches.
25
2 5
25
25
25
2 5
26
25
25
Janes.
9.8
6.2
6.
6.9
10.5
11.8
°-7
J1’5
11.
M ean Height
oCtlie M ercuiv
Indies.
26
26
25
2 5
26
26
26
26
26
Hines
2.6
1.6
11.6
11.6
0.8
1.6
2.4
1.4
I-7
From the mean height of the barometer at Madrid,
we find that capital to be elevated 3^9x5- fathoms above
the level of the ocean. Madrid, consequently, stands
as high as the town of Inspruck, situated on one of the
highest defiles of the lyrol, while its elevation is 13
times greater than that of Faris, and three times <>reater
than that of Geneva.
According to M. Thai acker, the mineralogist, who
has taken several heights with the barometer in the en¬
virons of Madrid, the elevation of the king’s palace at
San Ildefonso is 593 fathoms, which is higher than the
edge of the crater of Mount Vesuvius, and is, strictly
speaking, in the regions of the clouds, which generally
float from 550 to 600 fathoms high.
The height of the plain of the Castiles has an evident
effect on its temperature. We are astonished at not
finding oranges in the open air under the same latitude
as that of Tarentum, part of Calabria, Thessaly, and
Asia Minor ; but the mean temperature of Madrid is
very little superior to that of Marseilles, Paris, and
Berlin, and is nearly the same with that of Genoa and
Borne. The following table shews the mean tempera¬
ture at Madrid and at Rome, during the first nine
months of the years 1793 and 1807.
fAt Madrid.
iManths.
January,
February,
March,
April,
May,
June,
July,
August,
September,
Deg. of Fahrenheit,
39 3
43 24
47 54
52 19 30"
59 4 3°
72 32 15
77 J3 3°
81 34 30
65 45
At Home.
Deg of Fahrenheit
4O0 11' 13"
47 49 3°
5° !5 45
54 34 3°
65 56 15
72 30
79 J5
79 J5
72 34 3°
llius, the mean temperature at Madrid appears to
be 39° of Fahrenheit, while that of the coasts of Spain,
from the 410 to the 36° of Lat. is between 6^™ and
68° of Fahrenheit. In the former climate we find that
orange trees will not flourish in perfection, while in the
latter we see banana trees, heliconias, and even sugar-
canes, growing in situations that are sheltered from the
cold winds.
Spain presents few species of animals that are not
found in the other parts of southern Europe. Amono-
the quadrupeds, we may remark, as peculiar to Spain,
the genet (vwerra genetta). The bear is found in se¬
veral parts of the great Pyrenean chain, especially on
some of the mountains of Aragon, as well as those of
Occar and Reynosa in Old Castile. Wolves are met
with in all the higher and mountainous parts of the
country, and wild hoars on the mountains of Navarre,
on the Pinar, and the Sierra de Carascoy, in the king¬
dom of Valencia. The roebuck is found on some of
the mountains of Navarre, and the lynx and the ibex
on those of Cuenca in New Castile, in the valleys of
Aure and Gistau, as well as in the Pyrenees. The
glory of Spanish zoology is the horse, for which this
kingdom has been famous in all ages. The Spanish
horses
. r-I
Animals,
486
SPA IN.
Spain, horses have probably originated from the Barbs of the
l—north of Africa, supposed to be the immediate offspring
of the Arabian breed. The Spanish mules are also ex¬
cellent, and the ass is here no ignoble animal, though
not equal to those of Arabia. There is little remark¬
able in the breed of cattle •, but the Merino sheep have
long been distinguished, and are perhaps superior to any
in the world for the beauty of the fleece, if not for the
delicacy of the mutton. The flocks of Merino sheep
are sometimes extremely large, and Mr Townsend men¬
tions one nobleman who possessed not fewer than 14,000.
The whole number in the kingdom may be estimated
at about 5,000,000. These animals were, by a special
code, called the Mesta, authorised to travel from one
province to another, according as the season presented
the best pasturage in the mountains or the plains. The
fleece of the Merino sheep is esteemed double in value
to that of any other breed.
Of the birds more peculiarly found in Spain, the vul-
tur percmpterus, the cuculus glandariusy cuculvs tn-
dactyla, motacilla hispanica, hirundo mellia, and hirun-
do 7'upestris, are the most remarkable.
Fresh-water Ashes are very plentiful in the Spanish
rivers •, but those in most esteem are from the small
river Tormes in Old Castile, where have been taken
trout of 20 lbs. weight. The tench of the lakes near
Tobar in New Castile, are remarkably flne and deli¬
cate, and are taken in great abundance every year, dur¬
ing the months of May and June. The Ash taken on
the coasts are much the same as those of the other coun¬
tries bordering on the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.
The tunny was formerly taken on the eastern coast,
where it formed a particular branch of the Ashery, but
is now, we believe, little regarded.
Among the Spanish insects, the most remarkable are,
the cantharides, {pneloe vesicatorius')y and the kermes in¬
sect {coccus ilicis'). The latter insect is much cultivated
as an article of dyeing, especially in the territory of
Bujalance, and of Fernan Nunes in the kingdom of
Cordova, as also in the vicinity of the town of I)e las
Aguas, four leagues from Alicant, and near the river
Henares, in New Castile. The evergreen oaks on
which these animals feed, present in the spring, a most
singular appearance, from the red nidi of the kermes,
14 with which the leaves are covered.
Vegetables. No country of Europe of the same extent, furnishes
such an ample Aeld for the researches of the botanist, as
Spain •, and indeed its botany constitutes a very impor¬
tant part of its natural history. The mountainous dis¬
tricts are clothed with the evergreen oak, the common
oak, the chesnut, and in some places various species of
pine; but their most useful production is the corktree.
The smaller heights produce the wild olive, the almond,
the shumac, the laurel, the bay, the cypress, Canary
and Portugal broom, the yellow jessamine, and the
Provence rose. The vine, the palm tree, the orange,
the lemon and the olive, are so nearly naturalized as to
require but little cultivation ; and the same may be said
of the kali {salsola soda), which is produced in large
quantities on the coasts, and furnishes the best kind of
kelp, commonly called barilla^ used in the manufacture
of soap and glass. The plains and valleys are covered
with many of those plants which form some of the
greatest ornaments of our flower gardens, as the tulip,
several species of iris, the peeony, the passion flower, the
* 3
orange and martagon lily, the jonquil, several species of Spain,
narcissus and hyacinth, and above all the rhododendron.
The mountains, however, exhibit the greatest variety
of botanical riches. Those most worthy of the visits and
researches of the enterprising botanist, are, the Sierra de
Guadalupe in Estremadura; the mountains of Moncayo
in Aragon ; of Pineda, Guadarrama, and Cuenca, in
New Castile ; of Caroscoy, in the kingdom of Murcia ;
of Pena-Colosa, Mongi, Aytona, and Mariola, in the
kingdom of Valencia, and the Pyrenees.
The sugar-cane was, before the discovery oftheWest
India islands, one of the most important objects of Spa¬
nish cultivation, and numerous sugar mills were esta¬
blished along the coast of the Mediterranean, especially
in the kingdom of Granada. At the conquest of that
Moorish kingdom, not fewer than fourteen sugar plan¬
tations and two mills, were found within the province.
Some sugar canes are still cultivated in the kingdom of
Valencia, but the manufacture of sugar is discontinued,
and the canes are used only for distillation. There is,
we believe, still a manufactory for sugar from Spanish
canes in Granada. j.
Spain has long been celebrated for the riches of its Minerals,
mineral kingdom, and it may still be considered as the
Mexico and Peru of Europe. There are few metals
which may not be found in this kingdom; and, till the
discovery of America put the Spaniards in possession of
mines which far surpass their own in produce, the gold
and silver mines of Spain were thought to be nearly the
richest in the world. At present, no gold mines are
wrought, but grains of that metal are found dissemina¬
ted in ferruginous quartz, forming a vein that passes
through a mountain near the village of San Ildefonso in
Old Castile. Spangles of gold are found intermixed
with emery, in a mine near Alocer in Estremadura,
and in the territory of Molena in Aragon ; and this
metal is occasionally found in the sand of two rivers ;
the Agneda, in the kingdom of Leon, which rises from
the mountains of Xalamo, and the Tagus in New Cas¬
tile, especially in the vicinity of Toledo.
Silver is much more abundant, but most of its mines
have also been abandoned. We believe the only silver
mine now in work is that of the Sierra de Guadalupe,
near the village of Logrozen, where the silver is found
mixed with micaceous schistus. rlhe most remarkable
silver mines formerly worked are those of Alrodoval del
Campo; of Zalamea on the road to Alocer in Estrema¬
dura ; of Almazaron near Carthagena ; three in the
Sierra Morena, about a league from Guadalcanal, in
the kingdom of Seville, and another about two leagues
from Linarez, in the kingdom of Jaen. This last mine
Avas well knoAvn both to the Carthaginians and the
Romans; while Spain was under the dominion of the
former it belonged to Himilca, the wife of Asdrubal.
After having been long abandoned, it Avas again wrought
in the 17th century, when a vein of ore Ave feet in dia¬
meter was discovered; at present, however, it is no lon¬
ger in a state of activity. _
Mines of copper are found near Pampeluna in Na¬
varre, near Salva Tierra in Alava ; near Escarray, an
at the foot of the mountains of Guadarrama in Old Cas¬
tile; near Lorea in Murcia; near the Chartreuse oft e
Val de Christo in Valencia ; in the Sierra de Guadalupe
in Estremadura; in the mountains near Cordova; neat
lliotinto, and at la Canada de los Conejos in Sevi e;
7 in
min
Mineijir
"a kr
SPA
in the distnct of Albuladm in Granada, and near JLe-
— narez in the kingdom of Jaen.
There are numerous lead mines, especially near Tor-
' tosa in Catalonia j at Zoma, Benasques, and Plan in
Aragon 5 near Logrosen and Alcoser in Estremadura :
in the mountain Guadarrama in Old Castile; near los
A!ombres and Lorca in Murcia ; at Alcaniz and Con-
stantia in Seville, and at the district of Linarez in
Jaen.
Ihe mines of iron are abundant, and need not be
enumerated. Of antimony there are two mines, both
in the district of La Mancha. One of these is atAlen-
dia, near Almodovar ; the other at the foot of the Sier¬
ra Morena. i here is only one mine of cobalt, viz. in
- rtIie province of Aragon, found in the valley of Geston.
There are two mines ofcinnkbar in Valencia ; one about
two leagues from Alicant in the limestone mountains of
Alcoray ; the other between Valencia and San Felipe;
and two others in the same province, that produce native
mercury, but none of these are worked. The most a-
bundant mine of mercury and cinnabar united is in the
district of La Mancha, on the borders of Cordova. It
is^ situated in a hill of sandstone which rests on slate
The whole length of the hill is traversed by two princi¬
pal veins, both of which w^ere wrought by the Romans.
The whole of this mine was lately wrought by the agents
of the king, and its produce was very abundant.
Plumbago is found in a thick vein intermixed with
feldspar, about a league from the village of Real Mo-
nasterio, in the kingdom of Seville, Mines of sulphur
occur, both in Aragon and Murcia ; jet has been found
m the district of Old Colmenar, in Old Castile ; and
there is good evidence of the presence of coal at several
places in Catalonia, in the Asturias, New Castile, and
Aragon ; but it is said that no coal mines have as yet
been opened. J
I he marbles of Spain are very numerous and valuable.
A black marble, veined with white, is procured near
Joarcelona ; many dendritic marbles occur nearTortosa
Near the town of Molina, in Aragon, is found a gra-
nular marble spotted with red, yellow, and white At
the village of Salinos, in the district of Guipuzcoa, is a
beautiful bine pyrit.cal marble, containing marine shells.
*rom Monte Segarra, near Segorbia, in the province of
Va enca, are procured several fine marbles, which were
held in great estimation even by the Romans. The pro¬
vince of Granada, however, contains more valuable va¬
rieties of this beautiful mineral than all the rest of Spain •
of these some of the principal are the following. A
pure white statuary marble, of which the whole moun¬
tain of r ilabra, near Almeria, is composed ; a flesh-co¬
loured marble from a mountain near Antiquera; an
exquisitely beautiful wax-coloured alabaster, from the
vicinity of the city of Granada ; and a finely veined
maible from the Sierra Nevada.
Or the Spanish mineral waters the following are the
most celebrated.' The principal cold springs are, a he¬
patic water m the town of Huron, in Valencia; a car¬
bonated water at Gerona, in Catalonia ; a saline purga-
ue water at \ acia-Madrid, three leagues from the ca¬
pital, and another of a similar nature near Toledo.
Ihe principal hot springs are, the baths of Abu-Zu-
ena at Javal-Cohol, near Baeza ; a hepatic spring used
for bathing near All,an,a de Granada; another near
Almeria, m the province of Granada, to which are at-
I N.
tached both bathing and vapour baths : all these were
discovered or at least brought into general use, by the
Moors. A very copious hot spring near Merida, in
Lstremadui a, made use of by the Romans. The Calda
de Sonar, m the neighbourhood of Leon, a spring of
tepid water frequented by tbq Romans, and still exhi¬
biting the ruins of baths and ancient inscriptions. A
very hot spring near Orense, in Gallicia. A spring at
Afhama, near Calataynd, in Aragon, formerly mnth
liequented, but now in a state of neglect. The Fuente
^ huzot> near Alicant, a saline spring of the tempera¬
ture of 104 Fahrenheit. A very copious and hot
spring at Archena, near Murcia, where still remain the
rums of Roman and Moorish baths. A hepatic spring
near Arnedillo, in Old Castile. b
Among the natural curiosities of Spain, we may parti-v » I7i
Montskr-T rr'" “f ‘ i" Catalomf (see coriositLs
i,I°NTSERRAT) ; the insulated hill of rock salt near the
town ol Cardona, in Catalonia (see Geology, N° 102) •
the subterranean lake contained within a cave, in the
neighbourhood of the. Cava Perella, in the island of
Minorca; the stalactitic cave called St Michael’s, on
the west side of the rock of Gibraltar, and the river
Criiadiana, which appears ahd disappears several times
in the course of its progress to the sea.
The various groups of islands that are subject to Spain Snanisb
have long been distinguished by particular names. Thus binds,
j Minorca, Cabrera and Dragonera, were called
’ and are sti]1 named
e Baleaiic hies ; while Ivi?a and Feromentara form
a lesser group, denominated the Pityase hies. Of these
1^ amis, the latter were taken possession of by the Car¬
thaginians nearly 700 years before the Christian era ;
and about 200 years after that enterprising people made
themselves masters of the Balearic isles. After the fall
ol Carthage all these islands long maintained a state of
piratical independence, and only Majorca was ever com¬
pletely subject to the Romans. In the time of Augustus
we are to d that the Balearic isles were so infested with
1 ab iits, that the inhabitants sent deputies to Rome for
assistance to destroy these formidable invaders of their
plantations. In the year 426 of the Christian era, these
k- amis came into the possession of the Vandals, from
whom they were taken at the end of the 8th century
>y ie African Moors. At the beginning of the nth
century they were seized on by a fleet sent into the Me¬
diterranean by Charlemagne; but they were soon after
reconquered by the Moors, who maintained the sove-
reignty in these islands till, in 1228, they were finally
dispossessed by Don James grandson of Alphonse IT.
king of Aragon.
Thougl, Spain appears to have been known to the K.mlf.f
i ucemcians nearly 1000 years before the birth of Christ Spain.
U seems to have been little regarded by the Greeks till
after the period when Herodotus composed his history.
Some part of this country was probably the Tarshish of
ci jpture, from which the Phoenicians imported gold
’ rL °tUeV ])recioi,s commodities into Judea!
ten tne Greeks bad established a colony at Marseilles
they must have been well acquainted with at least the’
northern part of this peninsula, to which they gave the
names of Iberia and Celtiberia, from two nations who
then inhabited the country, and of Hesperia, from its
extreme situation in the west of the then known world.
I he name Hispama, from which its modern appellation
488
20
Original
population.
21
Spain in¬
vaded by
the Cartha¬
ginians.
An. 240.
B. C.
22
State of
Spain at
the Homan
conquest.
V
SPAIN.
is derived, was bestowed on it by the Romans j but the
etymology of this name is uncertain.
The Aborigines of Spain were doubtless a Celtic tribe,
which probably passed into this peninsula from the ad¬
joining continent of Gaul, though at a very early period
they appear to have been mixed with a colony of Matt-
ritani, or Moors from the coast of Africa. 1 he Celtic
inhabitants, orCeltiberi, seem to have possessed the north¬
east of the peninsula, while the Mauritani occupied the
southern and south-western districts.
Nothing certain is known respecting the early state
of Spain, till the commencement of the first Punic war
between the Romans and the Carthaginians, in the mid¬
dle of the third century before Christ. Not long be¬
fore this date, probably at the beginning of the century,
the latter people had possessed themselves of Catalonia,
when their general Hamilcar Barcas is said to have
founded the city of Barceno, the modern Barcelona.
The Carthaginian colony, however, seems to have been
rather a mercantile than a warlike settlement, and the
Celtiben were more the allies than the subjects of toeir
African neighbours. Of the contests carried on be¬
tween the Carthaginians and the Romans, till the final
subjugation of the former, and the consequent occupa¬
tion of all their territories by the Roman republic, we
have given an account under the articles Carthage
and Rome. We shall here briefly consider the state of
Spain at the time of its occupation by the Romans, and
relate the events to which that occupation gave rise,
and which are less connected with the more immediate
transactions of the Punic wars.
At the time of the Roman conquest, Spain, though
prodigious quantities of silver had been carried out of
it by the Carthaginians and Tyrians, was yet a very
rich country. In the most ancient times, indeed, its
riches are said to have exceeded what is related of the
most wealthy country in America. Aristotle assures us,
that when the Phenicians first arrived in Spain, they
exchanged their naval commodities for such immense
quantities of silver, that their ships could neither con¬
tain nor sustain its load, though they used it for ballast,
and made their anchors and other implements of silver.
When the Carthaginians first came to Spain, they found
the quantity of silver nothing lessened, since the inha¬
bitants at that time made all their utensils, and even
mangers, of that precious metal. In the time of the
Romans this amazing plenty was very much diminish¬
ed *, however, their gleanings were by no means despi¬
cable, since in the space of nine years they carried oft
1x1,542 pounds of silver, and 4095 of gold, besides an
immense quantity of coin and other things of value (a).
The Spaniards were always remarkable for their brave¬
ry, and some of Hannibal’s best troops were brought
from thence; but as the Romans penetrated farther
into the country than the Carthaginians had done, they
met with nations whose love of liberty was equal to
their valour, and whom the whole strength of their em¬
pire was scarcely able to subdue. Of these the most for¬
midable were the Numantines, Cantatmans, and Astu- Spain, ]
rians.
In the time of the third Punic war, one Viriathus, a„
celebrated hunter, and afterwards the captain of a gang0f
of banditti, took upon him the command of some na-thusagai
tions who had been in alliance with Carthage, and ven-tl»eIlo-
tured to oppose the Roman power in that part of Spain maus•
called Lusitania, now Portugal. The praetor named
Vctilius, who commanded in those parts marched against
him with io,odo men ; but was defeated and killed*
with the loss of 4000 of his troops. The Romans im¬
mediately dispatched another praetor with 10,000 foot
and 1300 horse : but Viriathus having first cut off a de¬
tachment of 4000 of them, engaged the rest in a pitch¬
ed battle ; and having entirely defeated them, reduced
great part of the country. Another praetor, who was
sent with a new army, met with the same fate; so that*
after the destruction of Carthage, the Romans thought
proper to send a consul named Quintus Fabitts, who de¬
feated the Lusitanians in several battles, and regained
two important places which had long been in the hands
of the rebels. After the expiration of Fabius’s consu¬
late, Viriatbus continued the war with his usual success, .
till the senate thought proper to send against him the
consul Q. Csecilius Metellus, an officer of great valour
and experience. With him Viriathus did not choose to
venture a pitched battle, hut contented himself with
acting on the defensive ; in consequence of which the
Romans recovered a great many cities, and the whole
of Tarraconian Spain was obliged to submit to their
yoke. The other consul, named Servilianus, did not
meet with the same success ; his army was defeated in
the field, and his camp was nearly taken by Viriathus.
Notwithstanding the good fortune of Metellus, how¬
ever, he could not withstand the intrigues of his coun¬
trymen against him, and he was not allowed to finish
the war he had begun with so much success. In re¬
sentment for this he took all imaginable pains to weak¬
en the army under his command : he disbanded the
flower of his troops, exhausted the magazines, let the
elephants die, broke in pieces the arrows which had
been provided for the Cretan archers, and threw them
into a river. Yet, after all, the army which he gave
up to his successor Q. Pompeius, consisting of 30,000
foot and 2oco horse, was sufficient to have crushed Vi¬
riathus if the general had known how to use it. But,
instead of opposing Viriathus with success, the impru¬
dent consul procured much more formidable enemies.
The Termantines and Numantines, who had hitherto
kept themselves independent, offered very advantageous
terms of peace and alliance with Rome ; hut Pompeius
insisted on their delivering up their arms. Upon this
war was immediately commenced. The consul with
great confidence invested Numantia; but being repulsed
with considerable loss, he sat down before lermantia,
where he was attended with still worse success. The
very first day, the Termantines killed 700 ^e‘
gionaries ; took a great convoy which was coming to
(a) In this account we must allow something for the exaggerations of fabulous historians. There is no doubt,
however, that Spain was at this time immensely rich, and if we may believe Strabo, there was then a nunq near
Carthage which yielded every day 25,000 drams of silver, or about 300,000k per annum.
S P
^ the Roman camp : and having defeated a considerable
body of their horse, pushed them from post to post till
they came to the edge of a precipice, where they all
tumbled down, and were dashed to pieces. In the mean
'■A
e Ro¬
ns sur- . - I  ...V-d..
jiindedoii time aervihus, who had been continued in his command
sides, with the titie of proconsul, managed matters so ill, that
^ h mthus surrounded him on all sides, and obliged him
i eace to SUe *°r P155106, The terms offered to the Romans
diViri- were very moderate; being only that Viriathus should
keep the country he at that time possessed, and the Ro
rriiUis lerriciin nutsters of all tli6 rest. This peace the
proconsul was very glad to sign, and afterwards pro¬
cured its ratification by the senate and people of Rome.
Ihe next year Q. Pompeius was continued in his
command against the Numantines in Farther Spain,
while Q. Servilius Caepio, the new consul, had for his
province Hither Spain, where Viriathus had established
his new state. Pompeius undertook to reduce Numan-
tia by turning aside the stream of the Hurius, now the
Uouro, by which it was supplied with water j but, in
attempting this, such numbers of his men were cut off,
that, finding himself unable to contend with the enemy,
he was glad to make peace with them on much worse
terms than they had offered of their own accord. The
peace, however, was ratified at Rome ; but in the mean
tune Caepio, desirous of showing his prowess against the
renowned Viriathus, prevailed on the Romans to de¬
clare war against him without any provocation. As
Caepio commanded an army greatly superior to the Lu-
,, sitanians, V iriathus thought proper to sue for peace ; but
Vij Jins ”n(l‘ng ^Iat Caepio would be satisfied with nothing less
treiue- ^,an a surrender at discretion, he resolved to stand his
toi m,lt- g^und. In the mean time, the latter having bribed
some of the intimate companions of Viriathus to murder
him in his sleep, he by that infamous method put an end
to a war which had lasted 14 years, very little to the
honour of the republic.
After the death of Viriathus, the Romans with like
treachery ordered their new consul Popilius to break the
treaty with the Numantines. His infamous conduct
met with the reward it deserved ; the Numantines sal¬
lying out, put the whole Roman army to flight with
such Slaughter, that they were in no condition to act
during the whole campaign. Mancinus, who succeeded
I opilius, met with still worse success ; his great army,
consisting of 30,000 men, was utterly defeated by 4000
Numantines, and 20,000 of them killed in the pursuit.
he remaining 10,000, with their general, were pent
up by the Numantines in such a manner that they could
neither advance nor retreat, and would certainly have
been all put to the sword or made prisoners, had not
the Numantines, with a generosity which their enemies
never possessed, offered to let them depart upon condition
t iat a treaty should be concluded with them upon very
moderate terms. This the consul very willingly pro¬
mised, but found himself unable to perform. On the
contrary,-the oeople not satisfied with declaring his
treaty null and void, ordered him to be delivered up to
t ie Numantines. 7"he latter refused to accept him, un-
ess he had along with him the 10,000 men whom they
bad relieved as before related. At last, after the consul
bad remained a whole day before the city, his successor
-cunus, thinking this a sufficient recompense to the Nu¬
mantines for breaking the treaty, ordered him to be re¬
ceived again into the camp. However, Furius did not
Vol. XIX. Part II.
dei
Tli o-
makie.
feat* by
the 1-
Waimja.
A 1 N.
choose to engage with such a desperate and resolute
enemy as the Numantines had showed themselves ; and
the war with them was discontinued till the year 133
489
Spam.
B. C. when Scipio AEmilianus, the destroyer of CarAjjF"^
thage, was sent against them. Against this renowned
commander the Numantines with all their valour weregainst
not able to contend. Scipio, having with the utmost care them,
introduced strict discipline among his troops, and re- An. 133.
formed the abuses which his predecessors had suffered C.
in their armies, by degrees brought the Romans to face
their enemies, which at his arrival they had absolutely
refused to do. Plaving then ravaged all the country
round the town, it was soon blocked up on all sides,
and the inhabitants began to feel the want of pro¬
visions. At last they resolved to make one desperate
attempt for their liberty, and either to break through
their enemies, or perish in the attempt. With this view
they marched out in good order by two gates, and fell
upon the works of the Romans with the utmost fury.
The Romans, unable to stand this desperate shock, were
on the point of yielding, when Scipio, hastening to the
places attacked, with no fewer than 20,000 men, the
unhappy Numantines were at last driven into the city,
where they sustained for a little longer the miseries of
famine. Finding at last, however, that it was altoge¬
ther impossible to hold out, it was resolved by the ma¬
jority to submit to the pleasure of the Roman comman- .g
der. But this resolution was not universally approved. Miserabl#
Many shut themselves up in their houses, and died ofendoftke
hunger, while even those who had agreed to surrenderpeop1*-
repented their offer, and setting fire to their houses
perished in the flames with their wives and children, so
that not a single Numantine was left alive to grace the
triumph of the conqueror of Carthage.
After the destruction of Numantia, the whole of Spain
submitted to the Roman yoke; and nothing remarkable
happened till the times of the Cimbri, when a praetorian
army was cut off in Spain by the Lusitanians. From
tins time nothing remarkable occurs in the history of
Spain till the civil war between Marius and Sylla. The
latter having crushed the Marian faction, as related un¬
der the article Rome, proscribed all those that bad sided
against him, whom be could not immediately destroy.
A mong these was Sertorius, a man of consummate va- SertorLs
lour and experience in war. He had been appointed supports*
prtetor of Spain by Marius; and upon the overthrow the Mariau
o! Marius, retired to that province. Sylla no sooner 'a
heard of his arrival in that countiy, that he sent tbi- ^paii3,
ther one Cains Annins with a powerful army to drive
him out. As Sertorius had but few troops along with
him, he dispatched one Julius Salinntor with a body
of 6000 men to guard the passes of the Pyrenees, and
to prevent Annius from entering the country. But Sa-
linator having been treacherously murdered by assassins
hired by Annius for that purpose, he no longer met
with any obstacle ; and Sertorius was obliged to em- js
bark for the coast of Africa with 3000 men, being all out, and
fie had now remaining. With these he landed in Mau-undergoe*
ritania ; but as his men were straggling carelessly about, inany hard-
great numbers of them were cut off by the Barbarians.
This new misfortune obliged Sertorius to re-embark for
Spain ; but finding the whole coast lined with the
troops of Annius, he put to sea again, not knowing
what course to steer. In this new voyage he met with
a small fleet of Cilician pirates ; and having prevailed
^ 3 Q with
4 9°
S P A I N.
3\
T>Tnds in
successful
w ir in that
eouutry.
with them to join him, he made a descent on the coast
of Ivi^a, overpowered the garrison left there by -An¬
nins, and gained a considerable booty. On the news
of this victory Annins set sail for Ivi^a, with a consi¬
derable squadron, having $000 land torces on hoard.
Sertorius, not intimidated by the superiority of the
enemy, prepared to give them battle. But a violent
storm arising, most of the ships were driven ou shore
and dashed to pieces, Sertorius himself with great dilli-
cultv escaping with the small remains of Ins fleet. I* or
some time he continued in great danger, being pievent-
ed from putting to sea by the fury of the waves, and
from landing, by the enemy $ at last, the storm abating,
lie passed the straits of Gades, now Gibraltar, and land¬
ed near the mouth of the river Bsetis. Here he met
with some seamen newly arrived from the Atlantic or
Fortunate Islands j and was so charmed with the account
which they gave him of those happy regions, that he
resolved to retire thither to spend the rest of his hie in
quiet and happiness. But having communicated this
design to the Cilician pirates, they immediately aban¬
doned him, and set sail for Africa, with an intention to
assist one of the barbarous kings against his subjects
who had rebelled. Upon this Sertorius sailed thither
Africa, and also, but took the opposite side and having defeated
carries on a tj1e king named Ascalis, obliged him to shut himself up
 in the city of Tingis, now Tangier, which he closely
besieged. But in the mean time Pacianus, who had
been sent by Sylla to assist the king, advanced with a
considerable army against Sertorius. Upon this the lat¬
ter, leaving part of bis forces before the city, marched
with the rest to meet Pacianus, whose army, though
greatly superior to his own in number, he entirely de¬
feated } killed the general, and took all his forces pri¬
soners.—'fhe fame of this victory soon reached Spain j
and the Lusitanians, being threatened with a new war
Returns to from Annius, invited Sertorius to head their armies.
d’oSts^c With this request he readily complied, and soon became
AAnc " very formidable to the Romans. Titus Didius, governor
of that part of Spain called Bcetica, first entered the
lists with him •, but he being defeated, Sylla next dis¬
patched Metellus, reckoned one of the best commanders
in Rome, to stop the progress of this new enemy. But
Metellus, notwithstanding all his experience, knew not
how to act against Sertorius, who was continually chan¬
ging his station, putting his army into new forms, and
contriving new stratagems. On his arrival he sent for
L. Domitius, then praetor of Hither Spain, to his as¬
sistance ; but Sertorius being informed of his march,
detached Hirtuleius, or Herculeius, his quaestor, against
him, who gave him a total overthrow. Metellus then
dispatched Lucius Lollius praetor of Narbonne Gaul
against Hirtuleius; but he met with no better success, be¬
ing utterly defeated, and his lieutenant-general killed.
The fame of these victories brought to the camp of
sitania jut'0 Sertorius such a number of illustrious Roman citizens
a republic. °f tbe Marian faction, that he formed a design of erect¬
ing Lusitania into a republic in opposition to that of
Rome. Sylla was continually sending fresh supplies to
Metellus *, hut Sertorius with a handful of men, ac¬
customed to range about the mountains, to endure hun¬
ger and thirst, and live exposed to the inclemencies of
the weather, so harassed the Roman armv, that Me¬
tellus himself began to he quite discouraged. At last,
‘Sertorius hearing that Metellus had spoken disrespect-
32
Romans
there.
33
Spain,
,34
Obliges
fully of his courage, challenged his antagonist to end
the war by single combat ; but Metellus very pru¬
dently declined the combat, as being advanced in years j
vet ibis refusal brought upon him the contempt of the
unthinking multitude, upon w iich Metellus resolved to
retrieve his reputation by some signal exploit; and jletellus tr)
therefore laid siege to Lacobriga, a considerable city in raise the '
those parts. This he hoped to reduce in two days, assiegeofLa-
there was but one well in the place; but Sertorius !iav-cobriSa-
ing previously removed all tho»e who could be of no
service during the siege, and conveyed 6000 skins full of
water into the city, Metellus continued a long time be¬
fore it without making any impression. At last, bis
provisions being almost spent, he sent out Aquinas at
the head of 600c men to procure a new supply ; but
Sertorius falling unexpectedly upon them, cut in pieces^
or took the whole detachment ; the commander himself
being the only man who escaped to carry the news ot
the disaster: upon which Metellus was obliged to raise
the siege with disgrace. 35
And now Sertorius, having gained stome intervals
ease in consequence of the many advantages be had °b-tanjanSi
tained over the Romans, began to civilize his new sub¬
jects. Their savage and furious manner ot fighting he
changed for the regular order and discipline of a well-
formed army ; he bestowed liberally upon them gold and
silver to adorn their arms, and by conversing familiarly
with them, prevailed with them to lay aside their own
dress for the Roman toga. He sent lor all the children
of the principal people, and placed them in the great
city of Osca, now Huesca, in the kingdom ol Ara¬
gon, where he appointed them masters to instruct them
in the Roman and Greek learning, that they might, as
he pretended, be capable of sharing with him the go¬
vernment of the republic. Thus he made them really
hostages for the good behaviour of their parents; how¬
ever, the latter were greatly pleased with the care he
took of their children, and all Lusitania were in the
highest degree attached to their new sovereign. Ihis
attachment he took care to heighten by the power ot
superstition ; for having procured a young hind of a
milk-white colour, he made it so tame that it followed
him wherever lie went; and Sertorius gave out to the
ignorant multitude, that this hind was inspired by Dia¬
na, and revealed to him the designs of his enemies, ot
which he always took care to be well informed by the
great number of spies w hom he employed.
While Sertorius was thus employed in establishing his
authority, the republic of Rome, alarmed at his success,
resolved to crush him at all events. Sylla was now dead, ^
and all the eminent generals in Rome solicited this ho* pompeythe
nourable though dangerous employment. After m'1,1 Great sent
debate a decree was passed in favour of Rompey the against
Great, but without recalling Metellus. In the mean iiim.
time, the troops of one Perpenna, or Perperna, had
in spite of all that their general could do, abandoned
him, and taken the oath of allegiance to Sertorius.
This was a most signal advantage to Sertorius; for Per¬
penna commanded an army of 33,000 men, and ha
come into Spain with a design to settle there as Serto¬
rius had done ; but as he was descended from one 0
the first families of Rome, he thought it below his dig'
nity to serve under any general, however eminent m
might be. But the troops of Perperna were of a di -
ferent opinion ; and therefore declaring that they wou
L 7 0 serve
' J 3s
T :s and
bu i it in
tli iirlit of
Ffflicy.
9
Dd ts
Pojtey on
tbe .nks
of
serve none but a general who could defend himself,
they to a man joined Sertorius; upon which Perperna
himself, finding he could do no better, consented to
serve also as a subaltern.
On the arrival of Pompey in Spain, several of the
cities which had hitherto continued faithful to Serto-
I’ius began to waver : upon which the latter resolved,
by some signal exploit, to convince them that Pompey
could no more screen them from his resentment than Me-
tcllus. With this view he laid siege to Lauron, now
Linas, a place of considerable strength. Pompev, not
doubting hut he should be able to raise the siege, march¬
ed quite up to the enemy’s lines, and found means to
inform the garrison that those who besieged them were
themselves besieged, and would soon be'obliged to re¬
tire with Joss and disgrace. On hearing this message,
I will teach Sylla’s disciple (said Sertorius), that it is
the duty of a general to look behind as well as before
him. Having thus spoken, lie sent orders to a de¬
tachment of 6000 men, who lay concealed among the
mountains, to come down and fall upon his rear if he
should offer to force the lines. Pompey, surprised at
their sudden appearance, durst not stir out of his
camp ; and in the mean time the besieged, despairing
of relief, surrendered at discretion ; upon which Serto¬
rius granted them their lives and liberty, but reduced
their city to ashes.
■While Sertorius was thus successfully contending
with Pompey, his questor Hirtuleius was entirely de¬
feated by Metellus, with the loss of 40,000 men ; upon
winch Sertorius advanced with the utmost expedition to
the. banks of the Sucro in Tarraconian Spain, with a
design to attack Pompey before he could be joined by
Metellus. Pompey, on his part, did not decline the
combat: but, fearing that Metellus might share the
g.o.ry of the victory, advanced w.th the greatest expe¬
dition. Sertorius put off the battle till towards the
evening; Pompey, though he knew that the night would
prove disadvantageous to him, whether vanquished or
victoiious, because his troops were unacquainted with
the country, resolved to venture an engagement, espe¬
cially as he feared that Metellus might arrive in the
mean time, and rob him of part of the glory of con¬
quering so great a commander. Pompey, who com¬
manded his own right wing, soon obliged Perperna,
who commanded Sertorins’s left, to give way. Here-
upon Sertorius himself, taking upon him the command
of that wing, brought back the fugitives to the charo-e,
and obliged Pompey to fly in his turn. In his flightlie
was overtaken by a gigantic African, who had al¬
ready lifted up his hand to discharge a blow at him
with his broadsword ; but Pompey prevented him by
cutting off his right hand at one blow. As he still
continued his flight, he was wounded and thrown from
ins horse ^ so that he would certainly have been taken
prisoner, had not the Africans who pursued him quar¬
relled about the rich furniture of his horse. This crave
an opportunity to the general to make his escape"; so
t.iat at length he reached his camp with much difficul-
ty. Rut in the mean time Afranius, who commanded
roe left wing of the Roman army, had entirely defeated
Wie wing which Sertorius had left, and even pursued
them so close that he entered the camp along with
them. Sertorms, returning suddenly, found the Ro¬
mans busy in plundering the tents; when taking advan¬
SPAIN.
tage of their situation, lie drove them out with great
slaughter, and ictook the camp. Next day he offered
battle a second time to Pompey : but Metellus then co¬
ming up with all his forces, he thought proper to de-
- - - i e*».u uc- 40
cline an engagement with both commanders. In a few Pompey
days, however, Pompey and Metellus agreed to attackdefeaUtI R
the camp of Sertorius. The event was similar to that of!^01ld
the former battle 5 Metellus defeated Perperna, and Ser-
torius routed Pompey. Being then informed of Per-
perna’s misfortune, he hastened to his relief; rallied the
fugitives, and repulsed Metellus in his turn, wounded
him with his lance, and would certainly have killed
him, livid not the Romans, ashamed to leave their gene¬
ral in distress, hastened to his assistance, and renewed
the fight with great fury. At last Sertorius was obli¬
ged to quit tiie field, and retire to the mountains. Pom- Pompey
pey and Metellus hastened to besiege him ; but whileand Metet-
they were forming their camp, Sertorius broke through lus d™
their lines and escaped into Lusitania Here he soon by‘LST
raised such a powerful army, that the Roman generals,rius.
with their united forces, did not think proper to ven¬
ture an engagement with him. They could not, how¬
ever, resist the perpetual attacks of Sertorius, who
now drove them from place to place, till he obliged them
to separate ; the one went into Gaul, and the other to
the foot of the Pyrenees.
I bus md this celebrated commander triumph over allScrl°n»4
the power of the Romans; and there is little doubt but'reacher'
he would have continued to make head against ail theSmUr'
other generals whom the republic could have sent, had
he not been assassinated at an entertainment by the in¬
famous treachery of Perperna, in 73 B. C. 'after he
had made head against the Roman forces for almost 10
years. Pompey was no sooner informed of his death
than, without waiting for any new succours, he marched
against the traitor, whom he easily defeated and took
prisoner ; and having caused him to be executed, thus
put an end, with very little glory, to a most dangerous
\va r. o
An 7?,
b. e.
Many of the Spanish nations, however, still conti¬
nued to bear the Roman yoke with great impatience ;
and as the evil wars which took place first between
JuIius Caesar and Pompey, and afterwards between Qc-
tavianus and Antony, diverted the attention of the re-
poohe from Spain, by the time that Augustus had be¬
come, sole master of the Roman empire, they were a-
gain m a condition to assert their liberty, the Cay
tabrians and Asturians were the most powerful and
valiant nations at that time in Spain ; hut after incre¬
dible efforts, they were obliged to lay down their arms
or rather were almost exterminated by Agrippa, us re¬
lated under these articles.
When the Romans first became masters of the western sDain'L
peninsula of Europe, to which, as we have said, they dl the Ro-
gave the name of Hispan.a, it was divided into two pro- mans,
vinces, called Citerior and Ulterior, which were Go¬
verned, sometimes by praetors, and sometimes by pro¬
consuls. In the distribution of the empire by Augustus
Htspania Citerior contained the modern provinces of
Galhcia, the Asturias, Biscay, Navarre, Leon, the two
Lastiles, Aragon, Catalonia, Murcia, and Valencir • and
was denominatedProwVzc/fl Tarraconensis, from ihc Uti y
of Tarragona in Catalonia, which was then the seat of
government. Hispania Ulterior was subdivided into
uetica, including the provinces now called Granada
3 Q 2 and
44
State of
Roman
Spain.
SPA
and Andalusia ; and Lusitania, comprehending the great¬
est part of Estremadura, and the modern kingdom of
Portugal. The province called Tarraconensis was then
inhabited by the following tribes, viz. the Ausetam,
occupying the sea-coast, at the north-east, between the
Ter and the Lobregat, and having for their capital
Germa; the Ceretani, inhabiting the district of Cerda-
na, at the foot of the Pyrenees, whose capital was Julia,
the modern Llivia ; the Valetani, occupying the sea
coast between the rivers Ter and Lobregat, in the im¬
mediate neighbourhood ot the Ausetam, and whose ca¬
pital was Barcelona ; the Casetam to the left of the
mouth of the Ebro, with Tarragona for their capital ;
the Locetani, on the left bank of the river Sicoris ; the
Ulergetes, extending from that river to the small stream
Gal lego, which joins the Ebro near Zaragoza, whose
capital was Lenda ; the Jacetum in the northern extie-
mity of Aragon, having their seat of government at
Jaca ; the Vascones in Navarre, and the Jardun in the
modern Guipuzcoa. These nations occupied the south¬
ern and eastern parts of the province. The northern
was possessed by the Caristi, the Ostregones, both in
Biscay ; the Cantabri, cantoned near the source of the
Ebro; and along the bay of Biscay ; the Astures in As¬
turias and part of Leon ; the Callceci in Gallicia ; the
Vacceni along the Eouro ; the Arebaci in Old Castile ;
the Celtiberi, between the Ebro and the source ol the
Tagus, and many others of interior note.
Lusitania was held by three principal tribes, the Lu-
sitani, occupying the greater part ot the province, and
having for their capital the modern Lisbon ; the Vvlto-
nes and the Ccltici.
.Btetica was inhabited by the Turdetam, the Turdu-
li, the Bastitani, and the Bastuli.
All these districts, with their principal towns, are
minutely treated of by Dr Playtair, in the first volume
of his geography.
When incorporated with the Homan empire, Spain
partook of its tranquillity, and received in exchange
for her liberty, at least wise laws and a mild govern¬
ment. If she could not prevent herself from falling un¬
der the dominion of the masters of the world, she was at
least the most powerful, the richest, and the happiest
province of their empire. Columella has left us an in¬
teresting account of her agriculture under the first empe¬
rors. The tradition of her ancient population is proba¬
bly exaggerated, but the ruins of several towns prove it
to have been considerable. It was increased by a great
many Roman families after the conquest; several legions
were established in Spain; 25 colonies were distributed
in the most fert ile parts of the country, and intermarried
with the inhabitants. After a while the Spaniards, see¬
ing in their masters only countrymen, were the first to
solicit the rights of Roman citizens, by which they were
completely consolidated. Some municipal towns went
so far as to desire permission to take the title of colonies,
though in the change they lost their independence, near¬
ly in the same manner as certain proprietors of lands un¬
der the feudal system converted their domains into fiefs,
in order to enjoy the honours attached to them. The
government was, in general, milder in Spain than in
the other Roman provinces. The administration was
carried on in the towns by magistrates named by them¬
selves, and the different provinces were under the super-
I N.
intendance of praetors, proconsuls, and legates or depu- Spain,
ties, according to the different eras of the Roman em-1—-v—1
pire; those in their respective departments took care of
all the works of public utility, the aqueducts, baths,
circuses, and highways, whose magnificent ruins are
still existing ; but they were principally employed in
collecting the revenues of the state, which were singu¬
larly analogous to those of the present times. They
principally arose from dues, fines, or alienations of pro¬
perty, and the produce of the mints. Spain at that
time drew from her own mines the same riches she now
draws from the new world, and they were distributed in
nearly the same manner. One part belonged to the state,
and the other to the inhabitants of the country, who
paid a certain duty on the metals which they procured
from the mines. Their returns went on increasing, and.
depended entirely on the number of hands which eoubl
be devoted to work in the mines. An employment,
so laborious, however, which required a numerous popu¬
lation, tended to diminish that population by the exces¬
sive fatigues which it occasioned. Agriculture also suf¬
fered by the accumulation of estates in the hands of a
few wealthy landholders. By the little attention paid
to it by the proprietors, and by the defects inseparable
from the system of cultivation by means ol slaves, com¬
merce and industry languished; and Spain, after having
shared in the splendour of the Roman empire, was begin¬
ning to participate in its decline, when a new calamity,
by completing her ruin, prepared her regeneration.
This calamity was the irruption of the northern
hordes, which soon involved Spain in the general at¬
tack. This province was invaded first by the Franks,
who in the third century had entered Gaul with a for¬
midable force. 45.
The Rhine, though dignified by the title of Safeguard
of the Provinces, was an imperfect, barrier against ^ietjie
daring spirit ot enterprise with which the I ranks were ^
actuated. Their rapid devastations stretched from the
river to the foot of the Pyrenees ; nor were they stop¬
ped by those mountains. Spain, which had never dread¬
ed, was unable to resist the inroads of the Germans
During 12 years, the greatest part of the reign of Gal-
lienus, that opulent country was the theatre ot unequal
and destructive hostilities. Tarragona, the flourishing
capital of a peaceful province, was sacked and almost
destroyed; and so late as the days of Orosius, who wrote
in the 5th century, wretched cottages, scattered amidst
the ruins of magnificent cities, still recorded the rage of
the barbarians. When the exhausted country no longer
supplied a variety of plunder, the I ranks seized on some
vessels, and retreated to Mauritania. 4^
The situation of Spain, separated, on all sides, ^lon|
the enemies of Rome, by the sea, by the mountains, an
by intermediate provinces, had secured the long tran-
quillity of that remote and sequestered country; and we
may observe, as a sure symptom of domestic happiness,
that, in a period of 400 years, Spain furnished very few
materials to the history of the Roman empire. The
footsteps of the Barbarians, who, in the reign of Gal-
lienus, had penetrated beyond the Pyrenees, were soon
obliterated by the return of peace ; and in the 4^ ^ei]'
tury of the Christian era, the cities of Emerita or Meri¬
da, of Cordoba, Seville, Bracara, and Tarragona, were
numbered with the most illustrious of the Roman wor .
. The
4
*^WfrGal,icia’ su^m*^ t° the barbarian yoke
S P A
in. The various plenty of the animal, the vegetable, anti
 ' the mineral kingdoms, was improved and manufactured
by the skill of an industrious people ; and the peculiar
advantages of naval stores contributed to support an ex¬
tensive and profitable trade. The arts and sciences flou¬
rished under the protection of the emperors ; and if the
character of the Spaniards was enfeebled by peace and
servitude, the hostile approach of the Germans, who had
spread terror and desolation from the Rhine to the Py¬
renees, seemed to rekindle some sparks of military ar¬
dour. As long as the defence of the mountains was in¬
trusted to the hardy and faithful militia of the country,
they successfully repelled the frequent attempts of the
Bai bai lans. But no sooner had the national troops been
compelled to resign their post to the Honorian bands,
in the service of Constantine, than the gates of Spain
were treacherously betrayed to the pnblic enemy, about
ten months before the sack of Rome by the Goths. The
consciousness of guilt, and the thirst of rapine, prompted
the mercenary guards of the Pyrenees to desert their
station ; to invite the arms of the Suevi, the Vandals,
and the Alani j and to swell the torrent which was
poured with irresistible violence from the frontiers of
Gaul to the sea of Africa. The misfortunes of Spain
may be oesciibed in the language of its most eloquent
historian, who has concisely expressed the passionate, and
perhaps exaggerated, declamations of contemporary
writers. “ The irruption of these nations was followed
by the most dieadful calamities j as the Rarbarians ex¬
ercised their indiscriminate cruelty on the fortunes of the
Romans and toe Spaniards 5 and ravaged with equal fu-
ly the cities and the open country. Che progress of
famine reduced the miserable inhabitants to feed on the
flesh of their fellow-creatures 5 and even the wild beasts,
who multiplied, without controul, in the desert, were
exasperated, by the taste of blood, and the impatience of
hunger, boldly to attack and devour their human prey.
Pestilence soon appeared, the inseparable companion of
famine ; a large proportion of the people was swept
away ; and the groans of the dying excited only the
envy of their surviving friends. At length the Barba¬
rians satiated with carnage and rapine, and afflicted by
the contagious evil which they themselves had introdu¬
ced, fixed their permanent seats in the depopulated coun¬
try. The ancient Galljcia, whose limits included the
kingdom of Old Castile, was divided between the Suevi
and the \ andals ; the Alani were scattered over the
provinces of Carthagena and Lusitania, and from the
Mediterranean to the Atlantic ocean ; and the fruitful
territory of Btetica was allotted to the Silingi, another
branch of the Vandalic nation. After regulating this
partition, the conquerors contracted with their new sub¬
jects some reciprocal engagements of protection and obe¬
dience: the lands were again cultivated; and the towns
and villages were again occupied by a captive people,
i he greatest part of the Spaniards was even disposed to
prefer this new condition of poverty and barbarism, to
the severe oppressions of the Roman government; yet
there were many who still asserted their native freedom,
and who refused, more especially in the mountains of
I N.
493
Spain.
*
pan. i;i;
An. ^
The important present of the heads of Jovinus and
Sebastian, had approved the friendship of Adolphus,
and restored Gaul to the obedience of his brother Ho-
nonus. Peace was incompatible with the situation and
temper of the king of the Goths. He readily accepted
the proposal of turning his victorious arms against the » -
barbarians of Spain; the troops of Constantius intercept¬
ed his communication with the sea-ports of Gaul, and
gently pressed his march towards the Pyrenees. He
passed the mountains, and surprised, in the name of the
emperor, the city of Barcelona. The fondness of Adol¬
phus for his Roman bride, Placidia, was not abated by
time or possession ; and the birth of a son, surnamed,
from his illustrious grandsire, Theodosius, appeared to
fix him for ever in the interest of the republic. The loss
of that infant, whose remains were deposited in a silver
coflin in one of the churches near Barcelona, afflicted
his parents; but the grief of the Gothic king was su¬
spended by the labours of the field : and the course of
his victories was soon interrupted by domestic treason.
He had imprudently received into his service one of the
followers of Sarus ; a barbarian of a daring spirit, but
of a diminutive stature ; whose secret desire of reveng¬
ing the death of his beloved patron, was continually ir¬
ritated by the sarcasms of his insolent master. Adoi- An. 415.
phus was assassinated in the palace of Barcelona; the
laws of the succession were violated by a tumultuous
faction ; and a stranger to the royal race, Singeric, the
brother of Sarus himself, was seated on the Gothic
throne. rI he first act of his reign was the inhuman mur¬
der of the six children of Adolphus, the issue of a former
marriage, whom he tore, without pity, from the feeble
arms ot a venerable bishop. The unfortunate Placidia,
instead of the respectful compassion, which she might
have excited in the most savage breasts, was treated
with cruel and wanton insult. The daughter of the em¬
peror Iheodosius, confounded among a crowd of vulgar
captives, was compelled to march on foot above 12 miles
before the borse of a barbarian, the assassin of a hus¬
band whom Placidia loved and lamented. ^
But 1 lacidia soon obtained the pleasure of revenge ; Conquered
and the view of her ignominious sufferings might roused 1116
an indignant people against the tyrant, who was assassi-G°ths'
nated on the seventh day of his usurpation. After the _ ^g5'
death of Singeric, the free choice of the nation bestowed 4’ ’
the Gothic sceptre on Wallia, whose warlike and ambi¬
tious temper appeared, in the beginning of bis reign, ex¬
tremely hostile to the republic. He marched, in arms,
from Barcelona to the shores of the Atlantic ocean,
which the ancients revered and dreaded as the boundary
of the world. But when he reached the southern pro¬
montory of Spain, and, from the rock now covered by
the fortress ef Gibraltar, contemplated the neighbouring
and fertile coast of Africa, Wallia resumed the designs of
conquest, which had been interrupted by the dea'th of
Alaric. The winds and waves disappointed the en-
teiprises of the Goths; and the minds of a supersti¬
tions people were deeply affected by the repeated disas¬
ters oi storms and shipwrecks. In this disposition, the
successor or Adolphus no longer refused to listen to a
Roman ambassador, whose proposals were enforced by
the real, or supposed, approach of a numerous army,
under the conduct of the brave Constantius. A solemn
treaty was stipulated and observed : Placidia -was ho¬
nourably restored to her brother ; 600,000 measures of
wheat were delivered to the hungry Goths; and Wallia
engaged to draw his sword in the service of the empire.
A bloody war was instantly excited among the barbari¬
ans of Spain ; and the contending princes are said to
have
494
Spain.
An. 42S*
SPAIN.
have addressed tiiexr letters, tlieir ambassadors, and their
hostages, to the throne of the western emperor, exhort-
ins him to remain a tranquil spectator of their contest j
the events of which must be favourable to the Homans,
by the mutual slaughter of their common enemies. The
Spanish wrar was obstinately supported, during three
campaigns, with desperate valour and various success $
and the martial achievements of Wallia diffused through
the empire the superior renown of the Gothic hero. He
exterminated the Silingi, who had irretrievably ruined
the elegant plenty of the province of Baetica. He slew
in battle the king of the Alani ; and the remains of
those Scythian wanderers, who escaped from the field,
instead of choosing a new leader humbly sought a re¬
fuge under the standard of the Vandals, with whom
they were ever afterwards confounded. TUie \ andals
themselves, and the Suevi, yielded to the efforts of the
invincible Goths. The promiscuous multitude of bar¬
barians, whose retreat had been intercepted, were driven
into the mountains of Gallicia, where they still conti¬
nued in a narrow compass, and on a barren soil, to ex¬
ercise their domestic and implacable hostilities. In the
pride of victory, Wallia was faithful to his engage¬
ments ; he restored his Spanish conquests to the obedi¬
ence of Honorius } and tbe tyranny of the imperial offi¬
cers soon reduced an oppressed people to regret the time
of their barbarian servitude. While the event of the
war was still doubtful, the first advantages obtained by
the arms of Wallia, had encouraged the court of Ra¬
venna to decree the honours cf a triumph to their feeble
sovereign. He entered Rome like tbe ancient conquer¬
ors of nations , and if the monuments of servile corrup¬
tion bad not long since met with the fate which they
deserved, we should probably find that a crowd of poets,
and orators, of magistrates and bishops, applauded the
fortune, the wisdom, and the invincible courage of tbe
emperor Honorius.
After the retreat of the Goths, the authority of Ho¬
norius had obtained a precarious establishment in Spain }
except only in the province of Gallicia, where the Suevi
and the Vandals had fortified their camps, in mutual
discord, and hostile independence. The Vandals pre¬
vailed } and their adversaries were besieged in the Ner-
vascan hills, between Leon and Oviedo, till the ap¬
proach of Count Asterius compelled, or rather provoked,
the victorious barbarians to remove the scene of the war
to the plains of Bretica. The rapid progress of the
Vandals soon required a more effectual opposition ; and
the master-general Costinus marched against them with
a numerous army of Romans and Goths. Vanquished
in battle by an inferior enemy, Costinus fled with disho¬
nour to Tarragona and this memorable defeat, which
has been represented as the punishment, was most pro¬
bably the effect, of his rash presumption. Seville and
Carthagena became the reward, or rather the prey, of
the ferocious conquerors ; and the vessels which they
found in the harbour of Carthagena, might easily trans.
port them to the isles of Majorca and Minorca, where
the Spanish fugitives, as in a secure recess, had vainly
concealed their families and their fortunes. The expe¬
rience of navigation, and perhaps the prospect of Africa,
encouraged the Vandals to accept the invitation which
they received from Count Boniface ; and the death of
Gonderic served only to forward and animate the bold
enterprise. In the room of a prince, net conspicuous
1
for any superior powers of the mind or body, fhet ac-
quired his bastard brother, the terrible Genseric j a —■
name wbicb, in tbe destruction of the Roman empire,
has deserved an equal rank with the names of Alaric
and Attila. Almost in the moment of his departure he
was informed, that Hermanric, king of the Suevi, had
presumed to ravage the Spanish territories, which he
was resolved to abandon. Impatient of tlie insult, Gen-
seric pursued tire hasty retreat of the Suevi as far as Me¬
rida 5 precipitated tbe king and his army into the river
Anas, and calmly returned to the sea shore, to embark
his victorious troops. The vessels which transported tbe
Vandals over the modern straits of Gibraltar, a channel
only twelve miles in breadth, were furnished by the
Spaniards, who anxiously wished their departure; and
by the African general, who had implored their formid¬
able assistance.
When Theodoric king of the Visigoths encouraged An. 45(5.
Avitus to assume the purple, he offered his person and.
his force, as a faithful soldier of tlie republic. The ex¬
ploits of Theodoric soon convinced the world, that he
had not degenerated from the warlike virtues ofhis an¬
cestors. After the establishment of the Goths in Aqui-
tain, and the passage of the Vandals into Africa, the
Suevi who had fixed their kingdom in Galiicia, aspired
to the conquest of Spain, and threatened to extinguish
the feeble remains of the Roman dominion. The pro¬
vincials of Carthagena and Tarragona, afflicted by an
hostile invasion, represented their injuries and their ap¬
prehensions- Count Fronto was dispatched, in the name
of the emperor Avitus, with advantageous offers of
peace and alliance ; and Theodoric interposed his
weighty mediation, to declare that, unless his brother-
in-law', the king of the Suevi, immediately retired, he
should be obliged to arm in the cause of justice and of
Rome. “ Tell him,” replied the haughty Rechiarius,
“ that I despise his friendship and his aims ; but that I
shall soon try, whether he will dare to expect my arri¬
val under the walls of Thoulouse.” Such a challenge
urged Theodoric to prevent the bold designs of his ene¬
my : He passed the Pyrenees at the head of the A isi-
goths ; the Franks and Burgundians served under his
standard; and though he professed himself the dutiful
servant of Avitus, he privately stipulated, for himself
and his successors, the absolute possession of his Spanish
conquests. The twm armies, or rather the two nations,
encountered each other on the banks of the river Urbi-
cus, about 1 2 miles from Astorga ; and the decisive vic¬
tory of the Goths appeared for a while to have extirpa¬
ted the, name and kingdom of the Suevi. From the field
of battle Theodoric advanced to Braga, their metropo¬
lis, which still retained the splendid vestiges of its an¬
cient commerce and dignitv. His entrance was not pol¬
luted with blood, and tbe Goths respected the chastity
of their female captives, more especially oftheconse-
crated virgins ; but the greatest part of the clergy and
people were made slaves, and even the churches and al¬
tars w'ere confounded in the universal pillage. 1 he un¬
fortunate king of the Suevi had escaped to one of the
ports of the ocean ; but the obstinacy of the winds op¬
posed his flight : he was delivered to bis implacable ri¬
val ; and Rechiarius, who neither desired nor expected
mercy, received, with manly constancy, tbe death which
he would probably have in flicted. After this bloody
sacrifice to policy or resentment, Theodoric carried his
victorious
, ^ct?rIo?s arms as ^ as Merida, the principal town of
-Lusitania, without meeting any resistance, except from
flip m i **a I i* Ci j T ^ ii* , . *
SPAT N.
Irbduc-
ti of
C itiani
tv
A:i:86.-
iS
I - . J v>v. 9 IJ Util
the miraculous powers ot St Eulalia ; hut he was stop¬
ped in the lull career of success, and recalled from
bpam, before he could provide for the security of his
conquests. In his retreat towards the Pyrenees he
revenged ins disappointment on the country through
winch he passed ; and in the sack of Pallentia and A-
storga, he shewed himself a faithless ally, as well as a
cruel enemy.
. Ptfca,red waf pje first Catholic king of Spain. He had
imbibed the faith of his unfortunate brother, and he
supported it with more prudence and success. Instead of
- revolting against his father, Recared patiently expected
the hour of his death. Instead of condemning his me¬
mory, he piously supposed, that the dying monarch had
abjured the errors of Arianism, and recommended to
his son the conversion of the Gothic nation. To ac¬
complish that salutary end, Recared convened an assem-
bly ot the Anan clergy and nobles, declared himself a
Lathohc, and exhorted them to imitate the example of
their prince. The laborious interpretation of doubtful
texts or the curious pursuit of metaphysical arguments,
wou.d have excited endless controversy j and the mo¬
narch discreetly proposed to his illiterate audience, two
substan tial and visible arguments,the testimony of Earth
and of Heaven. The Eart/i had submitted to the Ni-
cene synod j the Romans, the Barbarians, and the inha¬
bitants of bpam, unanimously professed the same ortho¬
dox creed ; and the Visigoths resisted, almost alone, the
consent of the Christian world. A superstitious age
was prepared to reverence, as the testimony of Heaven
the preternatural cures which were performed by the
sk. l or virtue of the Catholic clergy ; the baptismal
lonts ot Osset in Bsetica, which were spontaneously re¬
plenished each year, on the vigil of Easter > and the
miraculous shrine of St Martin of Tours, which had al-
leady converted the Suevic prince and people ofGalli-
cia. l he Catholic king encountered some difficulties
on tins important change of (he national religion. A
conspiracy, secretly fomented by the queen-dowager,
was formed against his life ; and two counts excited a
dangerous revolt in the Narbonnese Gaul. But Reca¬
red disarmed the conspirators, defeated the rebels, and
executed severe justice ; which the Arians, in their turn,
might brand with the reproach of persecution. Eight
bisnops, whose names betray their Barbaric origin, ab
respectfully offered on the threshold of the Vatican his
lich present of gold and gems: they accepted, as a lu¬
crative exchange, the hairs of St John the Baptist; a
cross, which inclosed a small'piece of the true wood;
and a key, that contained some particles of iron which
had been scraped from the chains of St Peter*.
After their conversion from idolatry or heresy, the
Franks and the Visigoths were disposed to embrace,
with equal submission, the inherent evils, and the acci¬
dental benefits of superstition. But the prelates of
I ranee, long before the extinction of the Merovingian
race, had degenerated into fighting and hunting barba¬
rians. They disdained the use of synods, forgot the
Jaws of temperance and chastity, and preferred the in¬
dulgence of private ambition and luxury, to the greatest
interest of the sacerdotal profession. The bishops of
opain respected themselves, and were respected by the
public : their indissoluble union disguised their vices
and confirmed their authority; and the regular disci’
pline of the church introduced peace, order, and stabi-
hty into the government of the state. From the reign
ot Recared, the first Catholic king, to that of Witiza,
the immediate predecessor of the unfortunate Roderic’
sixteen national councils were successively convened!
i he six metropolitans, Toledo, Seville, Merida, Braga
larragona and Narbonne, presided according tn tbob-
* Q.bbon's
Home, to,
vo). iii.
P- 54S-
.49
Legislafi
asseml) . s
of the
Goths in
Spain.
• , . .  j .7a, origin, un-
jured their errors ; and all the books of Arian theology
were reduced to ashes, with ih*. ...i • i. ..
eie reduced to ashes, with the house in which they
bad been purposely collected. The whole body of the
Jsigoths and Suevi were allured or driven into the pale
or the Catholic communion ; the faith, at least, of the
ris.ng generation was fervent and sincere ; and the de¬
vout liberality of the Barbarians enriched the churches
and monasteries of Spain. Seventy bishops assembled in
‘e CH,,!1Cil of Toledo, received the submission of their
conquerors ; ^nd the zeal of the Spaniards improved the
aene creed by declaring the procession of the Holy
Ghost from the Son, as well as from the Father; a
Jtig ity point of doctrine, which produced, long after-
wards, the schism of the Greek and Latin churches.
ne royal proselyte immediately saluted and consulted
J^ope Gregory, surnamed the Great, a learned and holy
P date, whose reign was distinguished by the conversion
leretics aad infidels. The ambassadors of Recared
a rr agon a and Narbonne, presided according to their
respective seniority; the assembly was composed of their
sullragan bishops, who appeared in person, or by their
proxies ; and a place was assigned to the most holy, or
opulent, ot the Spanish abbots. During the first three
days of the convocation, as long as they agitated the
ecclesiastical questions of doctrine and discipline, the
profane laity was excluded from their debates; which
were conducted, however, with decent solemnity. But
on the morning of the fourth dav, the doors were thrown
open for the entrance of the great officers of the palace,
. . oukes and counts of the provinces, the judges of the
cities, and the Gothic nobles ; and the decrees of Hea¬
ven were ratified by the consent of the people. The
same rules were observed in the provincial assemblies,
the annual synods, which were empowered to hear com¬
plaints, and to redress grievances; and a legal govern¬
ment was supported by the prevailing influence of the
Spanish clergy. The bishops who, in each revolution,
W'ere prepared to flatter the victorious, and to insult the
prostrate, laboured, with diligence and success, to kindle
the flames of persecution, and to exalt the mitre above
the crown. Yet the national councils of Toledo, in
which the free spirit of the Barbarians was tempered
and guided by episcopal policy, have established some
prudent laws for the benefit of the king and people.
I he vacancy of the throne was supplied by the choice
of the bishops and palatines ; and alter the failure of the
line ot A fane, the regal dignity was still limited to the
puie and noble blood of the Goths. The clergy, who
anointed their lawful prince, always recommended, and
sometimes practised, the duty of allegiance ; and the
spiritual censures were denounced on the heads of the
impious subjects, who should resist his authority, eon-
spire against his life, or violate, by an indecent union,
the chastity even of his widow. But the monarch him-’
sell, when he ascended the throne, was bound by a re¬
ciprocal oath to God and his people, that he would
faithfully execute his important trust. The real or
imaginary faults of his administration were subject to
the
496 SPA
Spain, the centroul of si powerful aristocracy ; ami the bishops
and palatines were guarded by a fundamental privi¬
lege that they should not be degraded, imprisoned,
tortured, nor punished with death, exile, or confisca¬
tion, unless by the free and public judgment of their
peers.
One of these legislative councils of Toledo, examined
and ratified the code of laws which had been compiled
by a succession of Gothic kings, from the fierce Eunce,
to the devout Egica. As long as the Visigoths them‘
selves were satisfied with the rude customs of their an¬
cestors, they indulged their subjects of Aquitaine and
Spain in the enjoyment of the Roman law. Their gra¬
dual improvements in arts, in policy, and at length in
religion, encouraged them to imitate, and to supersede,
these foreign institutions, and to compose a code of civil
and criminal jurisprudence, for the use of a great and
united people. The same obligations, and the same
privileges, were communicated to the nations of the
Spanish monarchy 5 and the conquerors, insensibly re¬
nouncing the Teutonic idiom, submitted to the restiaints
of equity, and exalted the Romans to the participation
of freedom. The merit of this impartial policy was en¬
hanced by the situation of Spain, under the reign of the
Visigoths. The provincials were long separated from
their Arian masters, by the irreconcileable difference of
religion. After the conversion of Recared had removed
the prejudices of the Catholics, the coasts, both ol the
ocean and Mediterranean, were still possessed by the
Eastern emperors, who secretly excited a discontented
people to reject the yoke of the barbarians, and to assert
the name and dignity of Roman citizens. The alle¬
giance of doubtful subjects is indeed most effectually se¬
cured by their own persuasion, that they hazard more
in a revolt, than they can hope to obtain by a revolu¬
tion } but it has appeared so natural to oppress those
whom we hate and fear, that the contrary system well
deserves the praise of wisdom and moderation.
The Gothic princes continued to reign over a consi¬
derable part of Spain till the beginning of the 8th cen¬
tury, when their empire was overthrown by the Sara¬
cens. During this period, they had entirely expelled
51 the eastern emperors from what they possessed in Spain,
The Gothic an{j even ma{]e considerable conquests in Barbary ; hut
overthrown towards the end of the 7th century the Saracens over-
bv the Sa- ran that part of the world with a rapidity which no-
raceus. thing could resist j and having soon possessed themselves
of the Gothic dominions in Barhary, they made a de-
'711' scent upon Spain about the year 711 or 712. The
king of the Goths at that time was called Roderic, and
by his had conduct had occasioned great disaffection
among his subjects. He therefore determined to put
all to the issue of a battle, knowing that he could not
depend upon the fidelity of his own people if he allow¬
ed the enemy time to tamper with them. The two ar¬
mies met in a plain near Xeres in Andalusia. The
Goths began the attack with great fury j but though
they fought like men in despair, they were at last de¬
feated with excessive slaughter, and their king himself
was supposed to have perished in the battle, being never
more heard of.
By this battle the Moors in a short time rendered
themselves masters of almost all Spain. The poor re¬
mains of the Goths were obliged to retire into the
5°
Code of
tlie Vui-
goths.
I N.
mountainous parts of Asturias, Burgos, and Biscay: Spain,
the inhabitants of Aragon, Catalonia, and Navarre, '——*
though they might have made a considerable stand a-
gainst the enemy, chose for the most part to retire into 5j
France. In 718, however, the power of the Goths be-Tht powe-
gan again to revive under Don Pelagio or Pelayo,
prince of the royal blood, who headed those that had
retired to the mountains after the fatal battle of Xeres. Pelagio.
The place where he first laid the foundation of his go- ^ s
vernment was in the Asturias, in the province of Lie- '
bana, about nine leagues in length and four in breadth.
This is the most inland part of the country, full of
mountains enormously high, and so much fortified by
nature, that its inhabitants are capable of resisting al¬
most any number of invaders. Alakor the Saracen go¬
vernor was no sooner informed of this revival of the Goth¬
ic kingdom, than he sent a powerful army, under t!i«
command of one Alchaman, to crush Don Pelagio be- ^
fore he had time to establish his power. The king,He gue*
though his forces were sufficiently numerous (every onetheSata'
of his subjects arrived at man’s estate being a soldier),dreadfrf
did not think proper to venture a general engagement overthrew,
in the open field j but taking post with part of them
himself in a cavern in a very high mountain, he con¬
cealed the rest among precipices, giving orders to them
to fall upon the enemy as soon as they should perceive
him attacked by them. These orders were punctually
executed, though indeed Don Pelagio himself had re¬
pulsed his enemies, but not without a miracle, as the
Spanish historians pretend. The slaughter was dread-
fid ; for the troops who lay in ambuscade joining the
rest, and rolling down huge stones from the mountains
upon the Moors (the name by which the Saracens were
known in Spain), no fewer than 124,000 of those un¬
happy people perished in one day. T he remainder fled
till they were stopped by a river, and beginning to coast
it, part of a mountain suddenly fell down, stopped up
the channel of the river, and either crushed or drowned,
by the sudden rising of the water, almost every one of
that vast army. _ Another
The Moors were not so much disheartened by tl”* army cnt i»
disaster, hut that they made a second attempt againstpjecel or
Don Pelagio. Their success was as had as ever, the taken,
greatest part of their army being cut in pieces or
taken ; in consequence of which, they lost all the
Asturias, and never dared to enter the lists with Pelagio
afterwards. Indeed, their bad success had in a great
measure taken from them the desire of conquering a
country where little or nothing was to be gained ; and
therefore they rather directed their force against Iiance,
where they hoped for more plunder. Into this coun¬
try they poured in prodigious multitudes j but wers
utterly defeated, in 732, by Charles Martel, with the
loss of 300,000 men, as the historians of those times
pretend.
The subsequent history of Spain is rendered so confu¬
sed by the numerous kingdoms that were established ei¬
ther bv the Christians or the Moors, that some chrono¬
logical guide is necessary to make it intelligible. Bc"
fore pursuing the thread of the narration, we shall lav
before our readers the following chronological table 0
the cotemporarv monarchs from Pelagio to lerdinan
VII.
Chronological
jwin.
s P A I
Chronological Table of the
N.
Kings of Spain.
Year. Asturias and Leon.
Castile.
718
737
739
755
758
768
774
783
788
9»
7 79
Pelagius.
Favila.
Alphonso I.
Froila I.
Aurelio.
Silo.
Mauregat.
Bermudo I.
Alphonso II.
Aragon.
822
845
851
853
862
880
886
888
9°5
910
912
913
923
924
926
927
950
956
961
967
976
978
982
994
999
Ramiro I.
Ordogno I.
Alphonso III.
Garcias.
Ordogno II.
Froila II.
Alphonso IV.
Ramiro II.
Ordogno III.
Sancho.
Ramiro III.
Bermudo II.
Alphonso V.
1000
1014
1027 | Rermudo III.
I035 , o
Sancho I.
1037 | Ferdinand I. of
Castile.
ro54 '
io63
1067 I Sancho II.
I073
1076
I094
1104
1109
Alphonso VI.
Urraca.
Alphonso VII.
III2
"^HirAIX. Fart II.
Ferdinand I.
Sancho I.
Alphonso I.
Ramiro I.
Sancho.
Pedro I.
Navarre.
Alphonso II.
Alphonso I.
Saracens.
Abdoulrahman I.
Hissem.
Hachem.
Garcias Ximenes.
Fortunio I.
Sancho I.
Garcias II.
Sancho II.
Garcias III.
Abdoulrahman II
Mahomet.
Almundar.
Abdallah.
Abdoulrahman III
Alhacan.
Hissem.
f'tffnf s i
Sancho III.
Garcias IV.
Sancho IV.
Sancho V.
Pedro I.
Alphonso I.
3 R
Cordova overthrown
1112
SPAIN.
Asturias and Leon.
1126
1134
i»37
1150
”57
1158
1162
1188
1194
1196
1213
1214
1217
”34
1236
1252
”53
1270
”73
”74
1276
1284
1285
1291
”95
1302
1304
1310
1312
1315
1316
1322
1 326
1327
1328
I333
*336
I349
I35°
1354
1369
T374
I379
1387
139°
1392
!395
1396
Alphonso VIII.
Fertlinand II.
Alphonso IX.
I4°4
1408
1412
1416
*423
1425
1427
M32
1441
M45
Castile.
Alphouso III.
Sancho II.
Alphonso IV.
Henry.
Berenger. Ferd. I.
Alphonso V.
Sancho III.
Ferdinand II.
Alphonso VI.
Pedro.
Henry II.
John.
Henry III.
Aragon.
Ramiro II.
Petronxlla.
Alphonso II.
Pedro II.
James I.
Navarre.
Garcias V.
Sancho VI.
Sancho VII.
Pedro HI.
Alphonso HI.
James II.
Thibaut I.
Thibaut II.
Henry.
Joanna.
Alphonso IV.
Pedro IV.
John II.
Martin.
Ferdinand I.
Alphonso V.
Lewis
Philip.
Charles.
Joanna II.
Charles II.
Charles HI.
Saracens.
Mahomet.
Muley.
Mahomet II.
Nazer.
Ismael.
Mahomet III.
JuzafI.
Lago I.
Mahomet IV.
Mahomet V.
Blanche.
John.
Juzaf II.
Baiba.
Juzaf III.
Elaziri.
Zagair.
Juzaf IV.
Ben Osmin.
Spain.
I4J©
SPAIN.
jpain.
Year,
1
M50
*453
x4J8
J4S9
I474
J475
*479
M83
^85
J504
1 co6
1516
lSS3
*556
J572
JipS
Asturias and Leon.
Castile.
Henry IV.
Isabella and Ferdi
nand V.
Joan.
Philip. I.
Charles I.
Philip II.
Philip III.
Aragon.
John II.
Ferdinand II.
49S
Navarre.
Eleonora.
Francis.
Catherine.
John.
Henry.
Joanna III.
Anthony.
Henry.
Saracens.
Ismael.
Abilhussan.
Abouabdalla.
Spain.
Kings of Spain*
A#
Years.
1 ;i6
*598
1621
1665
1700
1723
1724
1746
T759
1788
1808
Monarchs.
House of Austria.
Charles I. (V.).
Philip II.
Philip III.
Philip IV.
Charles II.
House of Bourbon.
Philip V.
Louis [.
Philip V, again.
Ferdinand VI.
Charles HI.
Charles IV.
Ferdinand VII.
37- Hon Pelagio died in 737 j and soon after his death
such intestine divisions broke out among the Moors, as
greatly favoured the increase of the Christian power.
. 745 Hon Alonso the Catholic, son-in-law to Pela¬
gio, in conjunction with his brother Froila passed the
mountains, and fell upon the northern part of Gallicia-
Conn, ( fiml !vith liUle resistance> l,e recovered almost
flfthe £ ,e whole ot that Province in a single campaign. Next
stian,, par I’O invaded the plains of Leon and Castile j and
An. £> before the Moors could assemble any force to oppose
him, he reduced Astorgas, Leon, Saldagna, Montes de
Yca’ Amaya, Alava, and all the country at the foot of
the mountains. The year following he pushed his con-
quests as far as the borders of Portugal, and the next
campaign ravaged the country as far as Castile. Being
sensible, however, that he was yet unable to defend the
hat country which he had conquered, he laid the whole
of it waste, obliged the Christians to retire to the
mountams, and carried oft' all the Moors for slaves
ihu, secured by a desert frontier, he met with no in-
ten option for some years; during which time, as his
kingdom advanced strength, he allowed his subjects
gradually to occupy part of the flat country, and to re-
build Leon and Astorgas, which he had demolished.
He died ,n 758, and was succeeded by his son Hon
* .* I!1 ,us t,me Abdoulrahman, the khaliff’s vice-The W-
roy in bpain, threw off the yoke, and rendered him-ceilsiu
sell independent fixing the seat of his government atS£i.nthT
Cordova. Thus the intestine division, among the Moors .“fit'll’:.'
were composed ; yet their success seems to have been lifts,
little better than before j for, soon after, Frpila encoun- An. 758.
tered the Moors with such success, that 54,000 of them
were killed on the spot, and their general taken prisoner.
Soon after he built the city of Oviedo, which he made
3R* th*
500
Spain.
57
History of
the king¬
dom of
Navarre.
An 850.
SPAIN.
Conquests
of Charles
the Great.
An. 921.
59
Exploits of
Almanzor
a Saracen
general.
An, 979.
the capital of his dominions, in order to he in a better
condition to defend the fiat country, which he now de¬
termined to people. ' . j
In the year 850, the power of the Saracens received
another blow by the rise of the kingdom of Navarre,
this kingdom, we are told, took its origin from an ac¬
cidental meeting of gentlemen, to the number of 600,
at the tomb of an hermit named John, who had died
among the Pyrenees. At this place, where they had
met on account of the supposed sanctity of the decea¬
sed, they took occasion to converse on the cruelty of the
Moors, the miseries to which the country was exposed,
and the glory that would result from throwing oft their
yoke ; which, they supposed, might easily be done, by
reason of the strength of their country. On mature
deliberation, the project was approved j one Don Garcias
Ximenes was appointed king, as being of illustrious
birth, and looked upon as a person of great abilities.
He recovered Ainsa, one of the principal towns of the
country, out of the hands of the infidels, and his suc¬
cessor Don Garcia? Inigas extended his territories as far
as Biscay : however, the Moors still possessed Portugal,
Murcia, Andalusia, Valencia, Granada, Tortosa, with
the interior part of the country as tar as the mountains
of Castile and Zaragoza. Their internal dissensions,
which revived after the death of Abdoulrahman, con¬
tributed greatly to reduce the power of the infidels in
general. ' In 778, Charles the Great being invited by
some discontented Moorish governors, entered Spain
with two great armies j one passing through Catalonia,
and the other through Navarre, where he pushed his
conquests as far as the Ebro. On his return he was
attacked and defeated by the Moors •, though this did
not hinder him from keeping possession of all those
places he had already reduced. At this time he seems
to have been master of Navarre : however, in 831 Count
Azner, revolting from Pepin son to the emperor Louis,
asserted the independency of Navarre 5 but the sove¬
reigns did not assume the title of kings till the time of
Don Garcias, who began to reign in 857.
In the mean time, the kingdom founded by Don
Pelagio, now called the kingdom of Leon and Oviedo,
continued to increase rapidly in strength, and many
advantages were gained over the Moors, who having
two enemies to contend with, lost ground every day.
In 921, however, they gained a great victory over the
united forces of Navarre and Leon, by which the whole
force of the Christians in Spain must have been entirely
broken, had not the victors conducted their affairs so
wretchedly, that they suffered themselves to be almost
entirely cut in pieces by the remains of the Christian
army. In short, the Christians became at length so ter¬
rible to the Moors, that it is probable they could not
long have kept their footing in Spain, had not a great
general, named Mohammed Ehn Amir Alman'zor, ap¬
peared, in 979, to support their sinking cause. This
man was visir to the king of Cordova, and being ex¬
ceedingly provoked against the Christians on account of
what his countrymen had suffered from them, made war
with the most implacable fury. He took the city of
Leon, murdered the inhabitants, and reduced the houses
to ashes. Barcelona shared the same fate } Castile was
reduced to a desert} Gallicia and Portugal ravaged }
and he is said to have overcome the Christians in fifty
different engagements. At last, having taken and
3
demolished the city of Compos^ella, and carried off in Spain,
triumph the gates of the church of St James, a flux
happened to break out among his troops, which the su¬
perstitious Christians supposed to be a divine judgment
on account of his sacrilege. Taking it for granted,
therefore, that the Moors were now entirely destitute of ^
all heavenly aid, they fell upon them with such fury in He ii &.
the next engagement, that all the valour and conduct of feated, anc
Almanzor could not prevent a defeat. Overcome with
shame and despair at this misfortune, he desired his fol-^a^
lowers to shift for themselves, while he himself retired An,
to Medina Cceli, and put an end to his life by abstinence
in the year 998. ... <Ji
During this period a new Christian principality ap-Rise of tk
peared in Spain, namely that of Castile, which is nowkiugdomof
divided into the Old and New Castile. The Old0®1^ ^
Castile was recovered long before that called the New. "*Ie37,
It was separated from the kingdom of Leon on one side
by some little rivers} on the other, it was bounded by
the Asturias, Biscay, and the province of Rioja. On
the south it had the mountains of Segovia and Avila }
thus lying in the middle between the Christian king¬
dom of Leon and Oviedo, and the Moorish kingdom of
Cordova. Hence this district soon became an object of
contention between the kings of Leon and those of
Cordova } and as the former were generally victorious,
some of the principal Castilian nobility retained their
independence under the protection of the Christian
kings, even when the power of the Moors was at its
greatest height. In 884, we first hear of Don Rodri¬
guez assuming the title of count of Castile, though it
does not appear that either his territory or title were
given him by the king of Leon. Nevertheless, this
monarch having taken upon him to punish some of the
Castilian lords as rebels, the inhabitants made a formal
renunciation of their allegiance, and set up a new kind
of government. The supreme power Avas now vested
in two persons of quality styled judges ; however, this
method did not long continue to give satisfaction, and
the sovereignty was once more vested in a single person.
By degrees Castile fell entirely under the power of the
kings of Leon and Oviedo } and, in 1037* Don San-
cho bestowed it on his eldest son Don Ferdinand, with
the title of king; and thus the territories of Castile
were first firmly united to those of Leon and Oviedo,
and the sovereigns were thenceforth styled kings oj Leon
and Castile. 61
Besides all these, another Christian kingdom was set Rise of
up in Spain about the beginning of the nth
This Avas the kingdom of Aragon. The inhabitants
were very brave, and lovers of liberty, so that it is pro¬
bable they had in some degree maintained their inde¬
pendence, even when the power of the Moors Ayas
greatest. The history of Aragon, however, during
its infancy, is much less known than that of any 0 g.
the others hitherto mentioned. We are only assuie ,state of
that about the year 1035, Don Sancho, surnamed the Spain»
Great, king of Navarre, erected Aragon into a
dom in favour of his son Don Ramiro, and after war sIlt|ceB-
it became very powerful. At this time, then, avc maytttrV,
imagine the continent of Spain divided into Iavo unequa
parts by a straight line drawn from east to west, from
the coasts of Valencia to a little beloAV the mouth of t le
Douro. The country north of this belonged to t e
Christians, avIao, as yet, had the smallest and least vaji-
able share, and all the rest to the Moors.
' wealth and real power, both by land and sea, the
Moors were much superior ; but their continual dis¬
sensions greatly weakened them, and every day facili¬
tated the progress of the Christians. Indeed, had either
of the parties been united, the other must soon have
yielded ; for though the Christians did not make war
upon each other constantly as the Moors did, their mu¬
tual feuds were yet sufficient to have ruined them, had
their adversaries made the proper use of the advantages
thus afforded them. But among the Moors almost eve¬
ry city was a kingdom 5 and as these petty sovereign¬
ties supported one another very indifferently, they fell
a prey one after another to their enemies. In 1080,
the king of Toledo was engaged in a war with the king
of Seville, another Moorish potentate 5 which being ob¬
served by Alphonse king of Castile, he also invaded his
TiWo and territories ; and in four years made himself master of
M rid ta- the city of Toledo, with all the places of importance in
CIStLnse itS neiHllbouihootl J from thenceforth making Toledo
the capital of his dominions. In a short time the whole
province of New Castile submitted j and Madrid, the
present capital of Spain, fell into the hands of the
Christians, being at that time but a small place.
I he Moors were so much alarmed at these conquests,
that they not only entered into a general confederacy
against the Cnnstians, but invited to their assistance
Mahomet Ben Joseph the sovereign of Barbary. He
accordingly came, attended by an incredible multitude j
SPAIN.
In point of sacrifice his associates. Accordingly he invited the king
of Navarre, and some of the principal nobility of the
same party, to a feast at Rouen, where he betrayed
them to his father. ^ he most obnoxious were execu-
501
Spain.
Cl tians
Ai eSc.
A dial
.del jut
gai
the oors
AbJ
An. 36.
Kuglji |
'Qtert -si
theS
8®tir
^rbut was utterly defeated by the Christians in the defiles
of the Black Mountain, or Sierra Morena, on the bor¬
ders of Andalusia. I his victory happened on the 16th
of July 1212, and the anniversary is still celebrated at
Toledo. This victory was not improved 3 the Chris¬
tian army immediately dispersed themselves, while the
Moors of Andalusia were strengthened by the remains
of the African army ; yet, instead of being taught, by
their past misfortunes, to unite among themselves, their
dissensions became worse than ever, and the conquests of
the Christians became daily more rapid. In 1236, Don
Ferdinand of Castile and Leon took the celebrated city
of Cordova, the residence of the first Moorish kings3 at
the same time that James I. of Aragon dispossessed
them of the island of Majorca, and drove them out of
Valencia. Two years after, Ferdinand made himself
master of Murcia, and took the city of Seville; and in
I3°3 Ferdinand IV. reduced Gibraltar.
In the time of Edward HI. we find England, for the
Mi, . time’ interfering in the affairs of Spain, on the fol¬
lowing occasion. In the year 1 284 the kingdom of Na¬
varre had been united to that of France by the mar¬
riage of Donna Joanna queen of Navarre with Philip
the lair of I ranee. In 1328, however, the kingdoms
were again separated, though the sovereigns of Navarre
were still related to those of France. In 1350, Charles
surnamed the tricked, ascended the throne of Navarre’
and married the. daughter of John king of France!.
Notwithstanding this alliance, and that he himself was
related to the royal family of France, he secretly enter¬
ed into a negociation with England against the French
monarch, and even drew into his schemes the dauphin
Charles, afterwards surnamed the Wise. The young
pnnee, however, was soon after made fully sensible of
the danger and folly of the connections into which he
had entered; and, by way of atonement, promised to
ted, and the king of Navarre was thrown into prison. The king of
In this extremity, the party of the king of Navarre hadNavar»«
recourse to England. The prince of Wales, surnamedimprisoned
the Black Prince, invaded France, defeated King John
at Poictiers, and took him prisoner*; which unfortunate France,
event produced the most violent disturbances in that * See
kingdom. The dauphin, now about 19 years of a<re,jF/ran<*>
naturally assumed the royal power during his father’s ^°
captivity : but possessed neither experience nor autho¬
rity sufficient to remedy the prevailing evilsi In order
to obtain supplies, he assembled the states of the king¬
dom : but that assembly, instead of supporting his ad¬
ministration, laid hold of the present opportunity to de¬
mand limitations of the prince’s power, the punishment
of past malversations, and the liberty of the king of Na¬
varre. Marcel, provost of the merchants of Paris, and
first magistrate of that city, put himself at the head of
the unruly populace, and pushed them to commit the
most criminal outrages against the royal authority. They
detained the dauphin in a kind of captivity, murdered
in his presence Robert de Clermont and John de Con-
flans, mareschals of France ; threatened all the other
ministers with the like fate ; and when Charles, who
had been obliged to temporize and dissemble, made his
escape from their hands, they levied war against him,
and openly rebelled. The other cities of the kingdom,
in imitation of the capital, shook off the dauphin’s au¬
thority, took the government into their own hands, and
spread the contagion into every province. <53
Amidst these disorders, the king of Navarre made hisEscape*,
escape from prison, and presented a dangerous leaderand lieads
to the furious malecontents. He revived his pretensions ^ F,,cnc,l
to the crown of France: hut in all his operations hetents?°n
acted more like a leader of banditti than one who aspi¬
red to be the head of a regular government, and who
was engaged by his station to endeavour the re-establish¬
ment of order in the community. All the French,
therefore, who wished to restore peace to their country,
turned their eyes towards the dauphin ; who, though
not remarkable for his military talents, daily gained by
his prudence and vigilance the ascendant over his ene¬
mies. Marcel, the seditious provost of Paris, was slain
in attempting to deliver that city to the king of Na¬
varre. 1 he capital immediately returned to its duty :
toe most, considerable bodies of the mutinous peasants
were dispersed or put to the sword ; some bands of mi¬
litary robbers underwent the same fate ; and France
began once more to assume the appearance of civil go¬
vernment.
John was succeeded in the throne of France by his
son Charles V. a prince educated in the school of adver¬
sity, and well qualified, by his prudence and experience,
to repair the losses which the kingdom had sustained
from the errors of his predecessors. Contrary to the
practice of all the great princes of those times, who held
nothing in estimation but military courage, he seems to
have laid it down as a maxim, never to appear at the
head of his armies ; and he was the first Eurpean mo¬
narch that showed the advantage of policy and foresight
over a rash and precipitate valour.
Before Charles could think of counterbalancing so
greatr
cornpa-
ttians.
SPA
{rreat a power as England, It was necessary for him to
j remedy tbe many disorders to which his own kingdom
69 was exposed. He accordingly turned his arms against
Is defeated, tjie kjna. 0f jsjavarre, the great disturber of France du-
«»1 I'erieteated that prince, and redn-
hte terms ced him to terms, by the valour and conduct ot tfer-
j-.resctibed trand du Guesclin, one of the most accomplished cap*
l,y Charles taing of ti,ose t;meS) vvl10m Charles had the discernment
°f to choose as the instrument of his victories. He also
settled the affairs of Britanny, by acknowledging the
title of Mountfort, and receiving homage for his do¬
minions. But much was yet to be done. On the con¬
clusion of the peace of Bretigni, the many military ad¬
venturers who had followed the fortunes of Edward, be¬
ing dispersed into the several provinces, and possessed
of strong holds, refused to lay down their arms, or relin¬
quish a course of life to which they were nowaccustom-
70 ed, and hv which alone they could earn a snbistence.
Account of They associated themselves with the banditti, who were
the banditti a|rea(|y ;nured to the habits of rapine and violence 5 and,
orW2" under the name of companies companions, became a
terror to all the peaceable inhabitants. Some English
and Gascon gentlemen of character were not ashamed
to take the command of these ruffians, whose number
amounted to near 40,000, and who bore the appear¬
ance of regular armies rather than bands of robbers.
As Charles was not able by power to redress so enor¬
mous a grievance, he was led by necessity, as well as by
the turn of his character, to correct it by policy ; to dis¬
cover some method of discharging into foreign countries
this dangerous and intestine evil j and an occasion now
offered.
Alphonso XL king of Castile, who took the city of
Algczira from the Moors, after a famous siege of two
’years, during which artillery are said first to have been
used by the besieged, had been succeeded by his son
Pedro I. surnamed ihe Cruel; a prince equally perfidi¬
ous, debauched, and bloody. He began his reign with
the murder of his father’s mistress, Leonora de Gusman :
his nobles fell every day the victims of his severity : he
put to death his cousin and one of his natural brothers,
from groundless jealousy •, and he caused his queen
Blanche de Bourbon, of the blood of France, to be
thrown into prison, and afterwards poisoned, that he
might enjoy in quiet the embraces of Mary de Padella,
with whom he was violently enamoured.
Henry count of Trastamara, the king’s natural bro¬
ther, alarmed at the fate of his family, and dreading his
own, took arms against the tyrant; hut having failed
in the attempt, he lied to France, where lie found the
minds of men much inflamed against Pedro, on account
of the murder of the French piincess. He asked pei-
smle^em- mission of Charles to enlist the companies in his service,
ployed a- and to lead them to Castile against his brother. The
•gainst him French king, charmed with the project, employed du
Guesclin in negociating with the leaders of these ban¬
ditti. The treaty was soon concluded ; and du Gues¬
clin having completed his levies, led the army first to
Avignon, where the pope then resided, and demanded,
sword in hand, absolution for bis ruffian soldiers, who
bad been excommunicated, and the sum of 200,000
]ivies for their subsistt nee. The first was readily pro¬
mised him, but some difficulty being m ade with regard
Ho the second, du Guesclin replied, “ My fellows, I bc-
5
. 71
Ileign of
Pedro the
Cruel, king
«!' Castile.
I N.
lieve, may make a shift to do without your absolutlou, Spaj^
but the money is absolutely necessary.” His holiness ' y —
then extorted from the inhabitants of the city and its
neighbourhood the sum of 100,000 livres, and offered it
to du Guesclin. “ It is not my purpose (cried that ge¬
nerous warrior) to oppress the innocent people. The
pope and his cardinals can spare me double the sum from
their own pockets. I therefore insist, that this money
be restored to the owners *, and if I hear they are de¬
frauded of it, I will myself return from the other side
of the Pyrenees, and oblige you to make them restitu¬
tion.” The pope found the necessity of submitting, and
paid from his own treasury the sum demanded. ^
A body of experienced and hardy soldiers, conducted He isdrj.
by so able a general, easily prevailed over tbe king of^n e,lt-
Castile, whose subjects were ready to join the enemy
against their oppressor. Pedro fled from bis dominions, slack
took shelter in Guienne, and craved the protection of Prince^
the prince of Wales, whom his father had invested with
the sovereignty of the ceded provinces, under the title
of the principality of Aquitaine. The prince promised
his assistance to the dethroned monarch j and having ob¬
tained his father’s consent, he levied an army, and set
out on his enterprise.
The first loss which Henry of Trastamara suffered
from the interposition of the prince of Wales, was the
recalling of the companies from his service $ and so
much reverence did they pay to the name of Edward,
that great numbers of them immediately withdrew from
Spain, and enlisted under his standard. Henry, how¬
ever, beloved by his new subjects, and supported by the
king of Aragon, was able to meet the enemy with an
army of 100,000 men, three times the number of those
commanded by the Black Prince : yet du Guesclin, and
all his experienced officers, advised him to delay a deci¬
sive action ; so high was their opinion ot the valour and
conduct of the English hero ! But Henry, trusting to
his numbers, ventured to give Edward battle on the
banks of the Ebro, between Najara and Navarette > ^
where the French and Spaniards were defeated, with The Spa*
the loss of above 20,000 men, and du Guesclin and™^*^
other officers of distinction taken prisoners. All Castile
submitted to the victor 5 Pedro was restored to theatored,
throne, and Edward returned to Guienne with his u.-ual
glory 5 having not only overcome, the greatest general
of his age, hut restrained the most blood-thirsty tyrant
from executing vengeance on his prisoners.
This gallant warrior had soon reason to repent of bis
connection with a man like Pedro, lost to all sense of
virtue and honour. The ungrateful monster refused the
stipulated pay to the English iorees. Edward abandon¬
ed him : he treated his subjects with the utmost baiba-
rity •, their animosity was roused against him ; and du
Guesclin having obtained his ransom, returned to Castile
with the count of Trastamara, and some forces levied
anew in France. They were joined by the Spanish
makcontents ; and having no longer the Black Irince 75
to encounter, ihev gained a complete victory over ^>e^rols avy,IQp
in the neighbourhood of Toledo. The tyrant now
refuge in a castle, wheie he was soon alter besieged ^yaDdputte
the victors, and taken prisoner in endeavouring to make death.
bis escape He was conducted to bis brother Henry J
against whom he is said to have rushed in a transport of
rage, disarmed as he was. Henry slew him with his
own
out
SPA
own hand, m resentment of his cruelties ; and, though
a bastard, was placed on the throne of Castile, which he
transmitted to his posterity.
There is little doubt that the character of Pedro has
been greatly misrepresented, and that what is considered
by most historians as tyranny and wanton cruelty, was
only an inflexible regard to justice, necessary perhaps, in
those days of anarchy and rebellion. Perhaps that un¬
fortunate monarch owes to the hatred of those he meant
to reduce to order, much of the obloquy which has been
so plentifully bestowed upon him by historians, who
have painted him to us as a tyrant so bloody, so wicked
as almost to exceed the bounds of probability. In An-
t alusia, where he fixed his residence and seemed most to
rnemory ,s not held in the same abhorrence,
ine oevillian writers speak of him very differently:
-and. instead of his usual appellation of Pedro el cruel
distinguish him by that of eljusticiero. It is certain that
his bastard-brother and murderer, Henry of Tiastama-
ra, was guilty of crimes fully as atrocious' as any of those
imputed to Don Pedro j but as he destroyed him, his
family and adherents, the friends of the new spurious
race of monarchs were left at full liberty to blacken the
characters of the adverse party, without the fear of being
cal.ed to an account for calumny, or even contradicted.
Iruth ,s now out of our reach j and for want of proper
proois to the contrary, we must sit down contented with
what history has left usj and allow Don Pedro to have
been one of the most inhuman butchers that ever dis¬
graced a throne.
After the death of Pedro the Cruel, nothing remark-
able happened in Spain for almost a whole century; hut
the debaucheries of Henry IV. of Castile roused the re¬
sentment of his nobles, and produced a most singular in¬
surrection, which led to the aggrandizement of the Spa¬
nish monarchy. r
This prince surnamed the Impotent, though conti¬
nually surrounded with women, began his unhappy reign
in ie was totally enervated by his pleasures;
and every thing in his court conspired to set the Casti-
lians an example of the most abject flattery and most
abandoned licentiousness. The queen, a daughter of
ortugal lived as openly with her parasites and her gal-
fants as the king did with his minions and his mistresses.
leasure was the only object, and effeminacy the only
recommendation to favour : the affairs of the state went
every day into disorder; till the nobility, with the
archbishop of Toledo at their head, combining against
the weak and flagitious administration of Henry, arro-
gattd to themselves, as one of the privileges of their or-
t!.,e "ght of trying and passing sentence on their
denied k’hiltor1 ^ eXeCUted in a manner unprece-
mdlj^o "V! m16 malecon.tent nobility were summoned to meet
H ‘ at. .Av',a1: a spacious theatre was erected in a plain
Wi houi the walls of the town : an image, representing
the kmg, was seated on a throne, clad in royal robes,
itb a crown omits head, a sceptre in its hand, and
the sword of justice by its side. The accusation against
_ 6 ry vvas read> and the sentence of deposition pro-
unced, in presence of a numerous assembly. At^be
lTd°„ .‘5 rStJartic',e °f ,,,e Cl'ar«e> of
thp I dyanced> an‘l tore the crown from the bead of
image ; at the close of the second, the Conde de
Jacentia snatched the sword of justice from its side; at
5C3
Spain.
I N.
the close of tne third, the Conde de Kenavente wrested
the sceptre from ids hand ; and at the close of the last, ' 
Don Diego Lopez de Stuniga tumbled it headlong
from the throne. At the same instant, Don Alphon-
so, Henry’s brother, a boy of about twelve years of a^e,
was proclaimed king of Castile and Leon in his stead.
Hus extraordinary proceeding was followed by a ci-
, war> which did not cease till sometime after the
death ol the young prince, on whom the nobles bad
bestowed the kingdom. The archbishop and his party
then continued to carry on war in the name of Isabella
the king s sister, to whom they gave the title oUnfan-
to; and Henry could not extricate himself out of these
troubles, nor remain quiet upon his throne till he had
signed one of the most humiliating treaties ever extort-
ed from a sovereign; he acknowledged his sister Isabel-Is obliged
la (l»e only lawful heiress of his kingdom, in preiudice to ackn nv~
to the rights of his reputed daughter Joan, whom the ‘-^7 lia
malecontents affirmed to be the offspring of an adulter-bella to be
ous commerce between the queen and Don la Cueva. heiress to
Ihe grand object of the malecontent party now was thetlie kinS:*
marriage of the princess Isabella, upon.which, it was^
evident, the security of the crown and the happiness of
t ie people must in a great measure depend. The al¬
liance was sought by several princes : the king of Por¬
tugal oflered her his hand ; the king of France de¬
manded her for his brother, and the king of A,a,on 79
foi his son kerdinand. The malecontents very wiselyShe is mar-i-
preferred the Araironian nrinr-» i / ried to Ker>
J5
Rei of
He the
An-ke.
He
it ir.
preferred the Aragonian prince, and Isabella prudent- rCd
y made the same choice: articles were drawn up; andAmgol
they were privately married by the archbishop of To- '
Henry was enraged at this alliance, which he fore¬
saw would utterly ruin his authority, by furnishing his
rebellious subjects with the. support of a powerful neigh-
hounng pnnee He disinherited his sister, and esta¬
blished the rights ol h.s daughter. A furious civil war
desolated toe kingdom. The names of Joan and Isa¬
bella resounded from every quarter, and were every¬
where the summons to arms. But peace was at lengfl,
irought about. Henry was reconciled to bis sister and
eiainand ; toough it does not appear that he ever re¬
newed Isabella s right to the succession: for he affirmed
in his last moments, that he believed Joan to be bis own
daughter. I he queen swore to the same effect; and
enry left a testamentary deed, transmitting the crown
to this princess, who was proclaimed queen of Castile at So
acentia. But the superior fortune and superior arms Uni'on of
of .Ferdinand and Isabella prevailed; the king of Por tile ki,'s'
tugal was obliged to abandon his niece and intendedd0m “‘A’
bride, a. ter many ineffectual struggles,and several yearsEJ w"4
of war. Joan l etired into a convent; and the death of -Leon and
1 erdinand s lather, winch happened about this time Caslile.
added the kingdoms of Aragon and Sicily to those of An. i474.
Leon and Castile. 94'4
Ferdinand and Isabella were persons of great pru-Admini-
dence, and, as sovereigns, highly worthy of imitation *tlatio’>'of
but they do not seem to have merited aii the praisesFc’rdinan<lj
bestowed upon them by the Spanish historians. They fin Isa'
did not live like man and wife, having all things m d’
common under the direction of the husband; but like
two princes in dose alliance ; they neither loved nor
bated each other ; were seldom in company together •
had each a separate council; and were frequently jea¬
lous of one another in the administration. But they-
W.e,
SPAIN.
s in Were inseparably united in their common interests ; al-
v, . - —; Ways acting upon the same principles, and forwarding
the same ends. Their first object was the regulation
of their government, which the civil wars had thrown
into the greatest disorder. Rapine, outrage, and mur¬
der were become so common, as not only to interrupt
commerce, hut in a great measure to suspend all
course between one place and another. These evils the
joint sovereigns suppressed by their wise policy, at the
same time that they extended the royal prerogative. .
Institution About the middle of the 13th century, the cities in
of the Holy the kingdom of Aragon, and after their example those
Brother- in Castile, had formed themselves into an association,
koodl distinguished by the name of the Holy Brotherhood.
They exacted a certain contribution from each ol the
associated towns ; they levied a considerable body of
troops, in order to protect travellers and pursue crimi¬
nals ; and they appointed judges, who opened courts
in various parts of the kingdom. Whoever was guilty
of murder, robbery, or any act that violated the public
peace, and was seized by the troops of the Brother¬
hood, was carried before their judges j who, without
paying any regard to the exclusive jurisdiction which
the lord of the place might claim, who was generally
the author or abettor of the injustice, tried, and con¬
demned the criminals. The nobles often murmured
against the salutary institution *, they complained of it
as an encroachment on one of their most valuable pri¬
vileges, and endeavoured to get it abolished. But fer-
dinand and Isabella, sensible of the beneficial effects of
the Brotherhood, not only in regard to the police of
their kingdom, but in its tendency to abridge, and by
degrees annihilate, the territorial jurisdiction of the no¬
bility, countenanced the institution upon every occasion,
and supported it with the whole force of royal autho¬
rity j by which means the prompt and impartial admi¬
nistration of justice was restored, and with it tranquillity
8 and order returned*
and of the But at the same time that their Catholic majesties
Inquisition, (for such was the title they now bore) were giving vi¬
gour to their civil government, and securing their sub¬
jects from violence and oppression, an intemperate r.eal
led them to establish an ecclesiastical tribunal, equally
contrary to the natural rights of humanity and the mild
spirit of the gospel. This was the court of inquisition j
which decides upon the honour, fortune, and even the
life, of the. unhappy wretch who happens to fall under
the suspicion of heresy, or a contempt of any thing pre¬
scribed by the church, without his knowing, being con¬
fronted W’ith his accusers, or permitted either defence or
appeal. Six thousand persons were burnt by order of
this sanguinary tribunal within four years after the ap¬
pointment of Torquemada, the first inquisitor-general $
and upwards of 100,000 felt its fury. The same furious
and blinded zeal which led to the depopulation of Spain,
led also to its aggrandizement.
C 4st of ^ie kingdom of Granada now alone remained of all
Granada, the Mahometan possessions in Spain. Princes equally
An. 1492. zealous and ambitious were naturally disposed to turn
their eyes to that fertile territory, and to think of In- Spain,
creasing their hereditary dominions, by expelling the <■-" v
enemies of Christianity, and extending its doctrines.
Every thing conspired to favour their project: the
Moorish kingdom was a prey to civil wars ; when Fer¬
dinand, having obtained the bull of Sixtus IV. autho¬
rizing a crusade, put himself at the head of his troops,
and entered Granada. He continued the war with ra¬
pid success: Isabella attended him in several expedi¬
tions ; and they were both in great danger at the siege
of Malaga; an important city, which was defended
with great courage, and taken in Baza was re¬
duced in 1489, after the loss of 20,000 men. Gaudix
and Almeria were delivered up to them by the Moorish
king Alzagel, who had first dethroned his brother Al-
boacen, and afterwards been chased from his capital by
his nephew Abdali. That prince engaged in the ser¬
vice of Ferdinand and Isabella 5 who, after reducing
every other place of eminence, undertook the siege of
Granada. Abdali made a gallant defence but all com¬
munication with the country being cut oft, and all hopes
of relief at an end, he capitulated, after a siege of eight
months, on condition that he should enjoy the revenue
of certain places in the fertile mountains of Alpuxarras 5
that the inhabitants should retain the undisturbed pos¬
session of their houses, goods, and inheritances j the use
of their laws, and the free exercise of their religion (b)>
Thus ended the empire of the Arabs in Spain, after it
had continued about 800 years. They introduced the
arts and sciences into Europe at a time when it was lost
in darkness j they possessed many of the luxuries ol life,
when they were not even known among the neighbour¬
ing nations; and they seem to have given birth to that
romantic gallantry which so eminently prevailed in the
ages of chivalry, and which, blending itself with the ve¬
neration of the northern nations for the softer sex, still
particularly distinguishes ancient from modern manners.
But the Moors, notwithstanding these advantages, and
the eulogies bestowed upon them by some writers, ap¬
pear always to have been destitute ol the essential qua¬
lities of a polished people, humanity, generosity, and
mutual sympathy.
The overthrow of the last Moorish kingdom rvas soort
followed by the expulsion of the Saracens from Spain.
This expulsion did not entirely take place till the 17th
century. Vast number’s of the Moors, indeed, oppressed
by their conquerors, abandoned a countr^ where ^hey
could not reside with comfort and with freedom. Irom
the reign of Ferdinand of Castile, to that of 1 hilip IH*
of Spain, more than 3,000,000 of those people quitted
Spain, and carried with them, not only a great P31*- 0
their acquired wealth, but that industry and love of la¬
bour which are the foundation of national prosperity. JjLd
The state of Spain has never been so flourishing
any period of its civilization, as during the period when
it was chiefly possessed by the Moors. The first Sara-jg, t|,e
cen invaders/ and the twenty successive lieutenants 0 Moorish
the caliphs of Damascus, were attended by a numerous omnu
train of civil and military followers, who preferred a
distant
(b) The particulars of the conquest of Granada are involved in much obscurity. If we were to credit the nar¬
rative of Giles Perez, as related by Mr Swinburne, the circumstances which led to that conquest were of a mos
romantic nature. See Swinburne’s Travels, Letter xxi.
•psm.
! 5
.Tc expe]
ledpom
SPA
distant fortune to narrow circumstances at home; the
private and public interest was promoted by the esta¬
blishment of faithful colonies, and the cities of Spain
were proud to commemorate the tribe or the country
of their eastern progenitors. Ten years after the con¬
quest, a map of the province was presented to the ca¬
liph, shewing the seas, the rivers, and the harbours, the
inhabitants and cities, the climate, the soil, and the mi¬
neral productions of the earth. In the space of two
centuries the gifts ot nature were improved by agri¬
culture, the manufactures, and the commerce of an in¬
dustrious people ; though the effects of their diligence
have been magnified by the idleness of their fancy. The
first ot the Ommiades who reigned in Spain solicited
the support of the Christians j and in his edict of peace
and protection, he contents himself with a modest im¬
position of 10,000 ounces of gold, 10,000 pounds of sil¬
ver, 10,000 horses, as many mules, 1000 cuirasses, with
an equal number of helmets and lances. The most
powerful of his successors derived from the same king¬
dom the annual tribute of 12,04^,000 dinars or pieces
of gold, about ,6,000,000!. of sterling money j a sura
which, in the 10th century, most probably surpassed the
united revenues of the Christian monarchs. His royal
seat of Cordova contained 600 mosques, goo baths, and
200,000 houses 5 he gave laws to 80 cities of the first,
to 300 of the second and third order 5 and the fertile
banks of the Guadalquiver were adorned with 12,000
villages and hamlets, 'i he Arabs might exaggerate the
truth 5 but they created, and they describe, the most
prosperous era of the riches, the cultivation, and the
populousness of Spain (c)
The conquest of Granada was followed by the expul¬
sion, or rather the pillage and banishment, of the Jews,
who had engrossed all the wealth and commerce of Spain.
rlhe inquisition exhausted its rage against these unhappy
I N.
people, many of whom pretended t« embrace Christia¬
nity, in order to preserve their property. About the
same time their Catholic majesties concluded an al¬
liance with the emperor Maximilian, and a treaty 0flJ,*C0ve,7
marriage for their daughter Joan with his son Phil ip,
archduke of Austria, and sovereign of the Netherlands.
About this time also the contract was concluded with
Christopher Columbus for the discovery of new coun¬
tries j and the counties of Roussillon and Cerdagne were
agreed to be restored by Charles VIII. of France, be¬
fore his expedition into Italy. The discovery of Ame¬
rica was soon followed by extensive conquests in that
quarter, as is related under the articles Mexico, Peru,
Chili, See. which tended to raise the Spanish monarchy
above any other in Europe. g8
On the death ot Isabella, which happened in 1306,•^ccess>ort
Philip archduke of Austria came to Castile in order toot thas
take possession of that kingdom as heir to his mother- An* ISl6‘
in-law j but he dying in a short time after, his son
Charles V. afterwards emperor of Germany, became
heir to the crown of Spain. His father at his death
left the king of France governor to the young prince,
and Ferdinand at his death left Cardinal Ximenes sole
regent of Castile, till the arrival of his grandson. This
man, whose character is no less singular and illustrious,
who united the abilities of a great statesman with the
abject devotion of a superstitious monk, and the magni¬
ficence of a prime minister with the severity of a men¬
dicant, maintained order and tranquillity in Spain, not¬
withstanding the discontents of a turbiilent and high-
spirited nobility. When they disputed his right to the
regency, he coolly showed them the testament of Ferdi¬
nand, and the ratification of that deed by Charles; but
these not satisfying them, and argument proving inef¬
fectual, he led them insensibly towards a balcony, whence
they had a view of a large body of troops under arms,
and
(c) Abdoulrahman III. monarch of Cordova, surpassed all his predecessors in splendour, riches, and expence;
and his subjects vied with each other in profusion and magnificence. Some idea may be entertained of the opu-
ience and grandeur of the Moors of Cordova in the icth century, by perusing the following enumeration of the
presents made to Abdoulrahman by Abumelik bis grand vizier, on his appointment to that office. We are told
that the minister caused to be brought before the throne, and laid at the feet of his master,
*1.00 lbs. of virgin gold.
Ingots of silver to the value of 420,000 sequins.
400 lbs. of lignum aloes, one piece weighing 140 lbs.
500 oz. of ambergris.
300 oz. of camphor.
30 pieces of gold tissue, so rich that none but the caliph could wear it.
10 suits of Khorassan sables.
100 suits of fur of a less valuable sort.
48 sets of gold and silk long trappings for horses.
4000 lbs. of silk.
30 Persian carpets.
800 iron ceats-of-mail for war horses.
■icoo shields.
100,000 arrows.
15 led horses of Arabia, as richly caparisoned as those on which the caliph was wont to ride.
100 horses of an inferior price.
20 mules with all their accoutrements.
40 young men, and 20 girls of exquisiie beauty, and most sumptuously apparelled. This display of riches was
bis horn1”161 ^ a ,nj”st ^atter,.ng poem, composed by the minister in praise of his sovereign, who in return for
Vol. XIX "plrt H m a PenS1°n 100,000 pieCeS °f g0ld’ ab°Ut S°’0001'Ster]ing*
’ ai * f 3 S
SPAIN.
5°6
Spain an<i a formidable train of artillery. “ Behold (said th«
v—ly-L-; cardinal) the powers which I have received from his
Catholic majesty : by these I govern Castile and will
govern it, till the king, your master and mine, shall
come to take possession ot his kingdom.” A declara¬
tion so bold and determined silenced all opposition *, and
Ximenes maintained his authority till the arrival of
S9 Charles in 1517-
Disgrace The young king was received with universal acclama-
aud death tjons of joy .tebut Ximenes found little cause to rejoice.
Ximeiies lie was seized with a violent disorder, supposed to be
the effect of poison 5 and rvhen he recovered, Charles,
prejudiced against him by the Spanish grandees and his
Flemish courtiers, slighted his advice, and allowed him
every day to sink into neglect. I he cardinal did not
bear this treatment with his usual fortitude of spirit.
He expected a more grateful return from a prince to
whom he delivered a kingdom more flourishing than it
had been in any former age, and authority more exten¬
sive and better established than the most illustrious of his
ancestors had ever possessed. Conscious of his own in¬
tegrity and merit, he could not therefore refrain from
giving vent, at times, to indignation and complaint.
He lamented the fate of his country, and foretold the
calamities to which it would be exposed horn the inso¬
lence, the rapaciousness, and the ignorance ol strangers.
Butin the mean time he received a letter from the king,
dismissing him from his councils, under pretence ol eas¬
ing his age of that burden which he had so long and so
ably sustained. This letter proved latal to the minister j
90 for he expired in a few hours after reading it.
Maximilian While Charles was taking possession of the throne of
arf ®™Pls t0 Spain, in consequence of the death of one grandfather,
elected em! another vvas endeavouring to obtain for him the impe-
peror. rial crown. With this view Maximilian assembled a
diet at Augsburg, where he cultivated the favour of the
electors by many acts of beneficence, in order to engage
them to choose that young prince as his successor. But
Maximilian himself never having been crowned by the
pope, a ceremony deemed essential in that age, as well
as in the preceding, he was considered only as king of
the Romans, or emperor elect; and no example occur¬
ring in history of any person being chosen successor to
a king of the Romans, the Germans, always tenacious of
their forms, obstinately refused to confer upon Charles a
dignity for which their constitution knew no name.
But though Maximilian- could not prevail upon the
German electors to choose his grandson of Spain king
of the Romans, he had disposed their minds in favour
of that prince 5 and other circumstances, on the death
of the emperor, conspired to the exaltation of Charles.
The imperial crown had so long continued in the Au¬
strian line, that it began to be considered as hereditary
in that family, and Germany, torn by religious dis¬
putes, stood in need of a powerful emperor, not only to
preserve its own internal tranquillity, but also to protect
it against the victorious arms of the Turks, who under
Selim I. threatened the liberties of Europe. This fierce
and rapid conqueror had already subdued the Mame¬
lukes, and made himself master of Egypt and Syria.
The power of Charles appeared necessary to oppose
that of Selim. The extensive dominions of the house
of Austria, which gave him an interest in the preserva¬
tion of Germany •, the rich sovereignty of the Nether¬
lands and Franche Compte *, the entire possession of the
great and warlike kingdom of Spain, together with that Spain,
of Naples and Sicily, all united to hold him up to the'—1
first dignity among Christian princes j and the new
world seemed only to be called into existence that its
treasures might enable him to defend Christendom
against the infidels. Such was the language of his par¬
tisans. 9r
Francis I, however, no sooner received intelligence of Francis L
the death of Maximilian, than he declared himself a can-aspires to
didate for the empire •, and with no less confidence of^same
success than Charles. He trusted to his superior years lsnity'
and experience his great reputation in arms j and it
was farther urged in his favour, that the impetuosity of
the French cavalry, added to the firmness ot the Ger¬
man infantry, would prove irresistible, and not only be
sufficient, under a warlike emperor, to set limits to the
ambition of Selim, but to break entirely the Ottoman
power, and prevent it from ever becoming dangerous
again to Germany.
Both claims were plausible. The dominions of Fran¬
cis were less extensive, but more united than those of
Charles. His subjects were numerous, active, brave,
lovers of glory, and lovers of their king. These were
strong arguments in favour of his power, so necessary at
this juncture: but he had no natural interest in the Ger¬
manic body j and the electors, hearing so much of mili¬
tary force on each side, became more alarmed for tbeis
own privileges than the common safety. They deter¬
mined to reject both candidates, and oflered the impe¬
rial crown to Frederic, surnamed the Wise, duke of
Saxony. But he, undazzled by the splendour of an
object courted with so much eagerness, by two mighty
monarchs, rejected it with a magnanimity no less singu¬
lar than great. 91
“ In times of tranquillity (said Frederic), we wish for Speech of
an emperor who has no power to invade our liberties;^'™
times of danger demand one who is able to secure ourg!|xonjhi
safety. The Turkish armies, led by a warlike and vic-faT0Ur 0f
torious monarch, are now assembling: they are ready Charles,
to pour in upon Germany with a violence unknown in
former ages. New conjunctures call for new expedients.
The imperial sceptre must be committed to some hand
more powerful than mine or that of any other German
prince. We possess neither dominions, nor revenues,
nor authority, which enable us to encounter such a for¬
midable enemy. Recourse must be had, in this exigen¬
cy, to one of the rival monarchs. Each of them can
bring into the field forces sufficient for our defence. But
as the king of Spain is of German extraction, as he is a
member and prince of the empire by the territories which
descend to him from his grandfather, and as his domi¬
nions stretch along that frontier which lies most exposed
to the enemy, his claim, in my opinion, is preferable to
that of a stranger to our language, to our blood, and to ^
our country.” Charles-was elected inconsequenceofUeisclect-
1 ■ 1 • edincun*-
this speech in the year 15 20. _ nc(,0f
The two candidates had hitherto conducted their r‘'bjjs speech,
valship with emulation, but without enmity. Ihey had ^D. ijic.
even mingled in their competkion many expressions of
friendship and regard. Francis in particular declared
with his usual vivacity, that his brother Charles and lie
were fairly and openly suitors to the same mistress:
“The most assiduous and fortunate (added he) will win
her j and the other must rest contented.” But the pre¬
ference was no sooner given to his rival, than Francis
- discovered
a Spain
SPA
discovered all the passions natural to disappointed ambi-
■~y  t.1011- cou]d not suppress his chagrin and indigna¬
tion at being baulked in his favourite pursuit, and re¬
jected, in the face of all Europe, for a youth yet un-
f nitual known t0 fame- The spirit of Charles resented such
) redtakescontempt j and from this jealousy, as much as from op-
f e be- position of interests, arose that emulation between those
i7r]aesandtW0 great monarchs which involved them in almost
1 atis. perpetual hostilities, and kept their whole age in con¬
stant agitation.
Charles and Francis had many interfering claims in
Italy; and the latter thought himself hound in honour
to restore the king of Navarre to his dominions, unjustly
95 seized by the crown of Spain. They immediately be-
I N.
guest; and Charles, during his short stay, had the ad-
xucj immeaiaieiy be-
i a.coun t negociate ; and as Henry VIII. of England was
'"-- the third prince of the age in power and in dignity, his
Trimirlcliirv tito o ..1 1. _ .1 t i r* > .
si ifHen . . 1 — “6^ «»u in uigiiuy, nis
ijr'III. of inendship was eagerly courted by each of the rivals.
Tnjiann. T^roc thr» nrtf«Tvr.l    J !  C 11
E and.
i - —v'-u ui we rivals.
He was the natural guardian of the liberties of Europe.
Sensible of the consequence which his situation gave
him, and proud of his pre-eminence, Henry knew it to
be his interest to keep the balance even between the
contending powers, and to restrain both, bv not joining
entirely with either : but he was seldom able to reduce
his ideas to practice. \ anity and resentment were the
great springs of all his undertakings; and his neighbours
by touching these, found an easy way to draw him into
their measures, and force him upon many rash and in¬
considerate enterprises.
All the impolitic steps in Henry’s government must
not, however, be imputed to himself; many of them
were occasioned by the ambition and avarice of his
prime minister and favourite Cardinal Wolsey. This
man, who, by his talents and accomplishments, had risen
from one of the lowest conditions in life to the highest
employments both in church and state, enjoyed a greater
degree of power and dignity than any English subject
ever possessed, and governed the haughty, presumptu¬
ous, and untractable spirit of Henry, with absolute au¬
thority. Francis was equally well acquainted with the
character of Henry and of his minister. He had suc¬
cessfully flattered \\ blsey’s pride, by honouring him with
particular marks of his confidence, and bestowing upon
him the appellations of Fat/wr, Tutor, and Governor;
and he had obtained the restitution of Tournay, by
adding a pension to those respectful titles. He now
Ani r. Sr° , .ted. a!a illterview with the king of England near
dewjro. . a aiS’ tin ^°Pes being able, by familiar conversation.
’lew o. ' _ r—-- —uj la.iimicu uunversauon,
jeot<be- t0 a“ach him to his friendship and interest, while he
0* T* H f i 11 o ri I- Vi n l ^ «    . i rv% i • ■ •
tvee gratified the cardinal’s vanity, by affording him an op-
g undportumty of displaying his magnificence in the presence
of two courts, and of discovering to the two nations his
influence oyer their monarchs. Charles dreaded the
eifects of this projected interview between two gallant
princes, whese hearts were no less susceptible of friend¬
ship than their manners were of inspiring it. Finding
it impossible, however, to prevent a visit, in which the
vanity of all parties was so much concerned, he endea¬
voured to defeat its purpose, and to pre-occupy the fa¬
vour of the English monarch, and of his minister, by
ClJL fn act of complaisance still more flattering and more
ffciL-y “ncommon- Relying wholly upon Henry’s generosity
laEBlid.i0r .,us safety, he landed at Dover, in his way from
bpam to the Low Countries. The king of England
. 0 was 011 his way to France, charmed with such an
instance of confidence, hastened to receive his royal
' '7 - t) ^ OI'a't7 ? A 4 cl Li LliC ttU-
dress not only to give Henry favourable impressions of
Ins character and intentions, but to detach Wolsey en¬
tirely from the interest of Francis. The tiara had at¬
tracted the eye of that ambitious prelate; and as the
emperor knew that the papacy was the sole point of
elevation, beyond his present greatness, at which he
could aspire, he made him an offer of his interest on
the first vacancy.
I he day of Charles’s departure, Henry went over to Henryvisits
Calais with his whole court, in order to meet Francis. Fr*ncis in
Iheir interview was in an open plain between Guisneaf
and Ardres; where the two kings and their attendants
displayed their magnificence with such emulation and
profuse expence, as procured it the name of the Field of
the Cloth of Gold. Here Henry erected a spacious
bouse of wood and canvas, framed in London, on
winch, under the figure of an English archer, was the
following motto, “ He prevails whom I favour ;” al-
uding to his own political situation, as holding in his
bands the balance of power among the potentates of
Hurope. Feats of chivalry, however, parties of <ral-
iantry, and such exercises as were in that age reckoned
manly or elegant, rather than serious business, occupied
the two courts during the time that they continued to¬
gether, which was 18 clays.
. . jA‘ft0rT.takmS leave of this scene of dissipation, the
king of England paid a visit to the emperor and Margaret
°*. ,7?^ at Graydines, and engaged them to go along
with him to Calais ; where the artful and politic Charlel
completed the impression which he had begun to make
on Henry and his favourite, and effaced all the friend¬
ship to which the frank and generous nature of Francis
had given birth . He renewed his assurances of assisting
Wolsey in obtaining the papacy; and he put him in
present possession of the revenues belonging to the sees
of Badajoz and Palencia in Spain. He flattered
Henry’s pride, by convincing him of his own importance,
and of the justness of the motto which he had chosen ;
ollering to submit to his sole arbitration any difierence
that might arise between him and Francis.
Tim important point being secured, Charles repaired Char?,?, in.
to Aix-ta-Lhapelle, where he was solemnly invested vested with
with the crown and sceptre of Charlemagne, in presencetIle impe-
of a more splendid and numerous assembly than hadrial c!'owa
appeared on any former inauguration. About the same cwTl!*'
time Solyman the Magnificent, one of the most accom- *
pushed, enterprising, and victorious of the Turkish
princes, and a constant and formidable rival to the
emperor, ascended the Ottoman throne.
1 he first act of Charles’s administration was to ap¬
point a diet of the empire, to be held at Worms, in or¬
der to concert with the princes proper measures for
checking the progress of “those new and dangerous
opinions which threatened to disturb the peace of Ger¬
many, and to overturn the religion of their ancestors.”
1 le opinions propagated by Luther and his followers
were here meant. But all his efforts for that purpose
wei e insufficient, as is related under the articles Luther
and Reformation.
In 1521, the Spaniards, dissatisfied with the depar-w I?°
ture of their sovereign, whose election to the empire tween °"
they foresaw would interfere with the administration of Francis and
ms own kingdom, and incensed at the avarice of thecharles-
Flemings, to whom the direction of public affairs had4"'152t*
3^ S 2 been
SPA
been committed since the death of Cardinal Ximenes,
several grandees, in order to shake oft this oppression,
entered into an association, to which they gave the name
of the Sancta Juncta; and the sword was appealed to
as the means of redress. This seemed to Francis a fa¬
vourable juncture for reinstating the family ot John
d’Albert in the kingdom of Navarre. Charles was at
a distance from that part of his dominions and the
troops usually stationed there had been called away to
quell the commotions in Spain. A French army, tincer
Andrew da Foix, peedily conquered Navarre ; but that
young and inexperienced nobleman, pushed on by mi i-
tary ardour, ventured to enter Castile. I he Spaniards,
though divided among themselves, united against a fo¬
reign enemy, routed his forces, took him prisoner, and
recovered Navarre in a shorter time than he had spent
in subduing it. .
Hostilities thus begun in one quarter, between the ri¬
val monarchs, soon spread to another. The king of
France encouraged the ddke of Bouillon to make \wi
against the emperor, and to invade Luxembourg. Charles,
after humbling the duke, attempted to enter France )
but was repelled and worsted before Mezieres by the fa¬
mous Chevalier Bayard, distinguished among his cotem¬
poraries by the appellation of The Knight withoutjear
and without reproach; and who united the talents of a
great general to the punctilious honour and romantic
gallantry of the heroes of chivalry. Francis broke into
the Low Countries, where, by an excess of caution, an
error not natural to him, he lost an opportunity of cut¬
ting oft' the whole imperial army ; and, what was of still
more consequence, he disgusted the constable Bourbon,
by giving the command ot the van to the duke ol Alen-
$on.
During these operations in the field, an unsuccessful
congress was held at Calais, under the mediation of
Henry VIII. It served only to exasperate, the parties
which it was intended to reconcile. A league was
Soon after concluded, by the intrigues of Wotsey, be¬
tween the Pope, Henry, and Charles, against I ranee.
Leo had already entered into a separate league with the
emperor, and the French were fast losing ground in
Italy.
The insolence and exactions of Marfesbal de Lautree,
governor of Milan, had totally alienated the affections
of the Milanese from France. They resolved to expel
the troops of that nation, and put themselves under the
government of Francis Slorza, brother to Maximilian
their late duke. In this resolution they were encoura¬
ged by the pope, who excommunicated Lautrec, and
l01 took into his pay a considerable body of Swiss. I he
miestsof"" papal army, commanded by Prosper Colonna, an expe-
Charles. rienced general, was joined by supplies from Germany
and Naples } while Lautrec, neglected by his court, and
deserted by the Swiss in its pay, was unable to make
head against the enemy. The city of Milan was be¬
trayed by the inhabitants to the confederates j Parma
and Placentia were united to the ecclesiastical state ;
and of their conquests in Lombardy, only the town ot
Cremona, the castle of Milan, and a few inconsiderable
forts, remained in the hands ol the French.
Leo X. received the accounts of this rapid success
with sUcb transports of joy, as are said to have brought
on a fever, which occasioned his death, I he spirit ot
the confederacy was broken, and its operation suspend-
I N.
ed by this accident. The Swiss were Recalled j some spahe
other mercenaries disbanded for want ol pay j and only ^t—H
the Spaniards, and a few Germans in the emperor’s ser¬
vice, remained to defend the duchy of Milan. But
Lautrec, who with the remnant of his army had taken
shelter in the Venetian territories, destitute both of men
and money, was unable to improve this favoutable op¬
portunity as lie wished. All his efforts were rendered
ineffectual by the vigilance and ability of Colonna and
his associates.
Meantime much discord prevailed in the conclave.
Wolsey’s name, notwithstanding all the emperor’s mag¬
nificent promises, was scarcely mentioned there. Julio
de Medici, Leo’s nephew, thought himself sure of the
election; when, by an unexpected turn ol fortune,
Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, Charles’s preceptor, who
at that time governed Spain in the emperor’s name,
was unanimously raised to the papacy, to the astonish¬
ment of all Europe and the great disgust of the Ita¬
lians. . . „, . . . I0.1
Francis, roused by the rising consequence ot his rival, Francis in-
resolved to exert himself with fresh vigour, in order to vades Italy,
wrest from him his late conquests in Lombardy. Lau¬
trec received a supply ol money, and a reinfoicement of
10,000 Swiss. With this reinforcement he was enabled
once more to act offensively, and even to advance within
a few miles of the city of Milan ; when money again
failing him, and the Swiss growing mutinous, he was
obliged to attack the imperialists in their camp at Bi-
cocca, where he was repulsed with great slaughter, hav¬
ing lost his bravest officers and best troops. Such of
the Swiss as survived set out immediately for their own
country, and Lautrec, despairing of being able to keep
the field, retired into France. Genoa, which still re¬
mained subject to Francis, and made it easy to execute
any scheme for the recovery of Milan, was soon alter
taken by Colonna : the authority of the emperor and
his faction was everywhere established in Italy. The
citadel of Cremona was the sole fortress which remained
in the hands of the French. . .
The affliction of Francis for such a succession of mis¬
fortunes was augmented by the unexpected arrival of an
English herald, who in the name of his sovereign de¬
clared war against France. The courage of this excel¬
lent prince, however, did not forsake him though ms
treasury was exhausted by expensive pleasures, no less
than by hostile enterprises, he assembled a considerable
army, and put his kingdom in a posture of defence lor
resisting this new enemy, without abandoning any ot
the schemes which Ire was forming against the empe¬
ror. He was surprised, but not alarmed, at such a de¬
nunciation. I03 .
Meanwhile Charles, willing to draw as much advan-Charles «-
meanwnire vnawco, wnmig ^ -  7: , . P
tage as possible from so powerful an ally, paid asecoii sit^E
visit to the court of England in his way to Xt,ain’ COI1(i tiiue.
where his presence was become necessary. His success
exceeded his most sanguine expectations. He not omy
gained the entire friendship of Henry, who publicly ia
lifted the treaty of Bruges 5 but disarmed the resent men
of Wolsey, by assuring him of the papacy on Adrians
death ; an event seemingly not distant, by reason 0 is
age and infirmities. In consequence ol these negocia
tions an English army invaded I ranee, under the com
nvand of the earl of Surrey ; who, at the en 0 ^
campaign, was obliged to retire, with his forces
irun.
Spa
reiTuced, without being able to make himself master of
'one place witum the french 1 ron tier. Charles was more
foitunate in Spain : he soon quelled the tumults which
had there arisen in his absence.
I N.
/Vom entertaining any thoughts of marching into Italy.
Lot before his enemies were able to strike a blow,
Irancis had assembled a great army, with which he ho¬
ped to disconcert all the emperor’s schemes, by march-
IOf)
'vere.tlu,s**•«»*.!<«* >»!.™„i».o
other s strength, Solyman the Magnificent entered Hun¬
gary, and made himself master of Belgrade, reckoned
the chiel barrier ot that kingdom against the Turkish
power. Encouraged by this success, he turned his
victorious arms against the island of Rhodes, at that
time the seat of the knights of St John of Jerusalem ;
*°4 ap1 ,tll0u^1 every Pr'nce in that age acknowledged
I desta- Rhodes to.be the great bulwark of Christendom in the
J ,i! ° east’ 80 vloIe.nt was t!5e‘r animosity against each other,
that they suffered Solyman without disturbance to carry
on his operations against that city and island. Lisle
Adam, the grand master, made a gallant defence 5 but
after incredible efforts of courage, patience, and military
cbnduct, during a siege of six months, he was obliged to
surrender the place, having obtained an honourable ca¬
pitulation from the snltan, who admired and respected
Ins heroic qualities (see Rhodes and Malta). Charles
and Francis were equally ashamed of having occa¬
sioned such a loss to Christendom by their contests; and
the emperor, by way of reparation, granted to the
knights of St John the small island of Malta, where
they fixed their residence, and continued long to retain
their ancient spirit, though much diminished in power
and splendour.
Adrian VI. though the creature of the emperor, and
devoted to his interest, endeavoured to assume the im¬
partiality which became the common father of Christen¬
dom, and laboured to reconcile the contending princes
that they might unite m a league against Solvman,,
whose conquest of Rhodes rendered him more formida-
hie than ever to Europe. The Italian states were no
less desirous of peace than the pope : and so much re-
gard was paid by the hostile powers to the exhortations
otlus holiness, and to a bull which he issued, requiring
all Christian princes to consent to a truce for three
years, that the imperial, the French, and the English
ambassadors at Rome, were empowered to treat of that
matter; but while they wasted their time in fruitless
negociatiens, their masters were continuing their prepa¬
rations for war; and other negociations soon took place.
Ihe confederacy against France became more formida-
5 me than ever.
lraevr,T,te1 Vet*tIms, 'vbo had hitherto adhered to the
i !'rench intm>sV formed engagements with the emperor
. for securing Irancis Sforza in the possession of the
tichy of Milan ; and the pope, from a persuasion that
the ambition of the French monarch was the only ob¬
stacle to peace, acceded to the same alliance. ' The
I lorentines, the dukes of Ferrara and Mantua, and all
the Italian powers, followed this example. Francis was
Jeft Without a single ally, to resist the efforts of a mul¬
titude of enemies, whose armies everywhere threatened,
and whose territories encompassed his dominions. The
emperor in person menaced France with an invasion on
the side of Gmenne ; the forces of England and the Ne-
therlands hovered over Ficardy, and a numerous body
of t>ermans was preparing to ravage Burgundy.
Ihe dread of so many and such powerful adversaries
, wfs ^ught, would have obliged Francis to keep
wiofly on the defensive, or at least have prevented him
more formidable because unexpected, could scarcely'have rharcltf:s to-
A Pferful
tonf
hau.
failed of the desired effect, had it been immediately car-^ j*
ried into execution. But the discovery of a domesticged to re."
conspiracy, which threatened the destruction of his turn by a
kingdom, obliged Francis to stop short at Lyons. domestic
Charles duke of Bourbon, lord high constable 0fccllsPiracy,k
Trance, was a prince of the most shining merit: his
great talents equally fitted him for the council or the
field, while his eminent services to the crown entitled
him to its first favour. But unhappily Louisa duchess
of Angouleme, the king’s mother, bad contracted a
violent aversion against the house of Bourbon, and had
taught her son, over whom she had acquired an absolute
ascendant, to view all the constable’s actions with a jea¬
lous eye. After repeated affronts he retired from court,
and began to listen to the advances of the emperor’s
ministers. Meantime the duchess of Bourbon died; and
as lire constable was no less amiable than accomplished,
the duchess of Angouleme, still susceptible of the tender
passions, formed the scheme of marrying him. But
Bourbon, who might have expected every thing to
which an ambitious mind can aspire, from the doating
fondness of a woman who governed her son and the
kingdom, incapable of imitating Louisa in her sudden
transition from hate to love, or of meanly counterfeit-
mg a passion for one who had so long pursued him with
unprovoked malice, rejected the match with disdain, and
turned the proposal into ridicule. At once despised and
insulted by the man whom love only could have made
her cease to persecute, Louisa was filled with all the
rage ot disappointed woman; she resolved to ruin, since
she could not marry Bourbon. For this purpose she
commenced an iniquitous suit against him ; and by the
chicanery of Chancellor du Prat, the constable wasstrip-
ped of his whole family estate. Driven to despair by
so many injuries, he entered into a secret correspond¬
ence with the emperor and the king of England; ami
he proposed, as soon as Francis should have crossed the
Alps, to raise an insurrection among his numerous vas¬
sals, and introduce foreign enemies into the heart of
France.
Happily Francis got intimation of this conspiracy
before he left the kingdom ; but not being sufficiently
convinced of the constable’s guilt, he suffered so danger¬
ous a foe to escape; and Bourbon entering into the em¬
peror’s service, employed all the force of his enterflrR
smg genius, and his great talents for war, to the preju¬
dice of his prince and his native country.
In consequence of the discovery of this plot, and the
escape of the powerful conspirator, Francis relinquished
his intention of leading his army in person into Italy.
He was ignorant how far the infection had spread among
his subjects, and afraid that his absence might encourage
them to make some desperate attempt jn favour of a man r -
so much beloved. He did not, however, abandon his A French
design on the Milanese, but sent forward an army of a,’my enters
30,000 men, under the command of Admiral Bonnivet.
Colonna, who was entrusted with the defence of that
duchy, was in no condition to resist such a force ; ami
the city of Milan, on which the whole territory de¬
pends,
loS
to enter
Italy in
person.
SPA
pefids, most have fallen into thfe hands of the French,
had not Bonnivet, who possessed none of the talents oi
a general, wasted his time in frivolous enterprises, till
the inhabitants recovered from their consternation. The
imperial army was reinforced. Colonna died ; and
Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, succeeded him in the com¬
mand : but the chief direction of military operations
was committed to Bourbon and the marquis de 1 escara,
the greatest generals of their age. Bonnivet, destitute
of troops to oppose this new army, and still more of the
talents which could render him a match for its leaders,
after various movements and encounters, was reduced
to the necessity of attempting a retreat into 1 ranee.
Defeated at JJe was followed by the imperial generals, and routed
Biagrassa. aj. gjagrassa, wdiere the famous Chevalier Bayard was
killed.
The emperor and his allies were less successful in
their attempts upon France. They were baffled in
every quarter : and Francis, though stripped of his
Italian dominions, might still have enjoyed in safety
the glory of having defended his native kingdom against
one half of Europe, and have bid defiance to all his ene¬
mies ; but understanding that the king of England, dis¬
couraged by his former fruitless enterprises, and disgust-
Francfs de-ed with the emperor, was making no preparations for
tenuines any attempt on Picardy, his ancient ardour seized him
for the conquest of Milan, and he determined, notwith¬
standing the advanced season, to march into Italy.
The French army no sooner appeared in Piedmont,
than the whole Milanese was thrown into consternation.
The capital opened its gates. The forces of the empe¬
ror and Sforza retired to Lodi: and had Francis been
so fortunate as to pursue them, they must have abandon¬
ed that post, and been totally dispersed 5 but his evil
ito genius led him to besiege Pavia, a town of consider-
I* defeated able strength, well garrisoned, and defended by An-
and taken tonio de Leyva, one of the bravest officers in the Spa-
prisoner at n;sh service *, before which place he w*as defeated and
^An^i -2 taken prisoner on the twenty-fourth day of February
n' I;>24' 1524.
The captivity of Francis filled all Europe with alarm.
Almost the whole French army was cut off; Milan was
immediately abandoned ; and in a few weeks not a
Frenchman was left in Italy. The power of the em¬
peror, and still more his ambition, became an object of
universal terror j and resolutions were everywhere taken
to set bounds to it. Meanwhile Francis, deeply im¬
pressed with a sense of his misfortune, vrrote to Iiis mo¬
ther Louisa, whom he had left regent of the kingdom,
the following short but expressive letter: “ All, Madam,
Hypocriti- *s ^ost honour.” The same courier that carried this
cal conduct letter, carried also dispatches to Charles ; who received
of Charles, the news of the signal and unexpected success which had
crowned his arms with the most hypocritical moderation.
He would not suffer any public rejoicings to be made on
account of it; and said, he only valued it, as it would
prove the occasion of restoring peace to Christendom.
Louisa, however, did not trust to those appearances; if
she could not preserve what was yet left, she determined
at least that nothing should be lost through her negli¬
gence or weakness. Instead of giving herself up to
such lamentations as were natural to a woman so re¬
markable for maternal tenderness, she discovered all
the foresight, and exerted all the activity, of a consum¬
mate politician. She took every possible measure for
2
I N.
putting the kingdom in a posture of defence, while she slmin
employed all her address to appease the resentment1-
and to gain the friendship of England; and a ray of
comfort from that quarter soon broke in upon the French
affairs.
Though Henry VIII. had not entered into the war
against France from any concerted political views, he
had always retained some imperfect idea of that balance
of power which it was necessary to maintain between
Charles and Francis; and the preservation of which he
boasted to be his peculiar office. By his alliance with
the emperor, he hoped to recover some part of those
territories on the continent which had belonged to his
ancestors; and therefore willingly contributed to give
him the ascendency above his rival ; but having never
dreamt of any event so decisive and fatal as the victory
at Pavia, which seemed not only to have broken, but to
have annihilated the power of Francis, he now became
sensible of his own danger, as well as that of all Europe,
from the loss of a proper counterpoise to the power of m
Charles. Instead of taking advantage of the distressed France as-
condition of Fiance, Henry therefore determined to^ted ^
assist her in her present calamities. Some disgusts also
had taken place between him and Charles, and still more
between Charles and Wolsey. The elevation of the
cardinal of Medici to St Peter’s chair, on the death of
Adrian, under the name of Clement ^ II. had made the
English minister sensible of the insincerity of the empe¬
ror’s promises, while it extinguished all his hopes of the
papacy ; and he resolved on revenge. Charles, too,
had so ill supported the appearance of moderation which
he assumed, when first informed of his good fortune,
that he had already changed his usual style to Henry;
and instead of writing to him with his own hand, and
subscribing himself “ your affectionate son and cousin,”
he dictated his letters to a secretary, and simple sub¬
scribed himself “ Charles.” Influenced by all these
motives, together with the glory of raising a fallen ene¬
my, Henry listened to the flattering submissions of Loui¬
sa ; entered into a defensive alliance with her as regent
of France, and engaged to use his best offices in order
to procure the deliverance of her son from a state of
captivity.
Meanwhile Francis was rigorously confined ; and se'
Jiv JL C tl liVvlillt X 1 Cl n A O tAO J J J* Wi. WHOJ y v ^ 7     .
vere conditions being proposed to him as the price of^.scon.
his liberty, he drew his dagger, and, pointing it at InSq^ror.
breast, cried, “ ’Twere better that a king should die
thus !” His hand was withheld : and flattering him¬
self, when he grew cool, that such propositions could
not come directly from Charles, he desired that he
might he removed to Spain, where the emperor then
resided. His request was complied with ; but he lan¬
guished long before he obtained a sight of his conquer¬
or. At last he was favoured with a visit; and the em¬
peror dreading a general combination against him, or
that Francis, as he threatened, might, in the obstinacy
of his heart, resign his crown to the dauphin, agreed to
abate somewhat of his former demands. A treaty was
accordingly concluded at Madrid ; in consequence 0
which Francis obtained his liberty. The chief article
in this treaty was, that Burgundy should be restored to
Charles as the rightful inheritance of his ancestors, an ^4
that Francis’s two eldest sons should be immediately de-js at ^
livered up as hostages for the performance of the con-rale95
ditions stipulated. The exchange of the captive mo¬
narch
”5
i fuses to
SPA
narch for lus children was made on the borders between
r ranee and Spain. The moment that Francis entered
his own dominions, he mounted a Turkish horse, and
putting- it to its speed, waved his hand, and cried aloud
several times, “ I am yet a king! I am yet a king !”
, cute the i #^rallci® never meant to execute the treaty of Ma-
< ditions <1.,ld: ^ hf1 eyen 1f(t a protest in the hands of nota-
i :is rc- r.1^s before he signed it, that his consent should be con-
1 c. sidered as an involuntary deed, and be deemed null and
void. Accordingly, as soon as he arrived in France
he assembled the states of Burgundy, who protested
against the article relative to their province ; and Fran¬
cis coldly replied to the imperial ambassadors, who urged
the immediate execution of the treaty, that he would
religiously perform the articles relative to himself, but in
those alxecting the French monarchy, he must be direct¬
ed by the sense of the nation. He made the highest ac¬
knowledgments to the king of England for his friendlv
interposition, and oftered to he entirely guided by his
counsels. Charles and his ministers saw that they were
over-reached in those very arts of negociation in which
they so much excelled, while the Italian states observed
with pleasure, that Francis was resolved not to execute
a treaty which they considered as dangerous to the li¬
berties of Europe. Clement absolved him from the oath
which he had taken at Madrid 5 and the kings of France
and England, the pope, the Swiss, the Venetians, the
Florentines, and the duke of Milan, entered into an al¬
liance, to which they gave the name of the Holy League
because his Holiness was at the head of it, in order to
oblige the emperor to deliver up Francis’s two sons on
the payment of a reasonable ransom, and to re-establish
oiorza in the quiet possession of the Milanese.
In consequence of this league, the confederate army
took the add, and Italy once more became the scene
of war. But Francis, who it was thought would have
tniused spirit and vigour into the whole body, had gone
through such a scene of distress, that he was become
diffident of himself, distrustful of his fortune, and de¬
sirous of tranquillity. He flattered himself, that the
dread alone of such a confederacy would induce Charles
to listen to what was equitable, and therefore neglected
to send due reinforcements to his allies in Italy. Mean¬
time the duke of Bourbon, who commanded the Impe-
nahsts had made himself master of the whole Milanese
Ot which the emperor had promised him the investiture •
am hlS E™ ^ * a* ~ '
I R
ii
1 m.
aonu t- , .. , ...... min tue investiture;
ken b he and ,11S trooPs beginning to mutiny for want of pay,
,lnper4ts, . them to Rome, and promised to enrich them
with the spoils of that city. He was as good as his
word j for though he himself was slain in planting a
scaling ladder against the walls, his soldiers, rather en¬
raged than discouraged by his death, mounted to the
assault with the utmost ardour, animated by the great¬
ness of the prize, and, entering the city sword in hand,
plundered it for several days.
Never did Rome in any age suffer so many calami-
ies, not even fiom the Barbarians, by whom she was
often subdued, the Huns, Vandals, or Goths, as now
From the subjects of a Christian and Catholic monarch.
natever was respectable in modesty, or sacred in reli¬
gion, seemed only the more to provoke the rage of the
soldiery. Virgins suffered violation in the arms of their
parents, and upon those altars to which they had fled
or safety. Venerable prelates, after enduring every in¬
anity and. every torture, were thrown into dungeons
cmel|y:
Pluaded.
and menaced with the most cruel death, in order to
make them reveal their secret treasures. Clement him-
se i, who had neglected to make his escape in time, was
taken prisoner, and found that the sacredness of his cha¬
racter could neither procure him liberty nor respect.
He was confined till he should pay an enormous ransom Th “8
imposed by the victorious army, and surrender to theccX^
™ a t ie places of length belonging to the
Charles received the news of this extraordinary event Shameful
with equal surprise and pleasure; but in order to con-h>’Pocrisycf
cea Ins joy from his Spanish subjects, who were filled Charles-
with horror at the insult offered to the sovereign pon-
ti.f, and to lessen tne indignation of the rest of Europe
he expressed the most profound sorrow for the success
of his arms He put himself and his court into mourn,
ing, stopped the rejoicings for the birth of his son Phi-
Jip, and ordered prayers to be put up in all the churches
of Spain for the recovery of the pope’s liberty, which
generals immediateI^ have Poured by a letter to his
calImitv0ofTl',’ eXPrMSS<!‘i by F™ci8 for the
calamity of their ally was more sincere. Alarmed at
the progress of the imperial arms, they had, even before
the taking of Borne, entered into a closer alliance and
agreed to invade the Low Countries with a powerful
army ; but no sooner did they hear of the pope’s cap¬
tivity, than they changed, by a new treaty, th/scene ff
the piojected war from the Netherlands to Italy, and
“I? ttake yg^ous measures for restoring
m to liberty. Henry, however, contributed only mo? T
ney. A French army entered Italy, under the*rnm-A r 1.
mand of Marshal Lautrec ; Clement obtained his free-armyTntert
j > an(! war was for a time carried on by the confe IUl]y- but is
derates with success; but the death of Lautrec, and the’11-611/
revolt of Andrew Doria, a Genoese admiral in the ser C
Thl F FTCe’ entirdy chanSed the of affairs.
Ihe French army was utterly ruined; and Francis
discouraged and almost exhausted by so many unsuc¬
cessful enterprises, began to think of peace, and of ob-
rSo^oftrm^ MS S°nS ^ C°~S’
At the same time Charles, notwithstanding the ad-
vantages he had gained, had many reasons to wish lor
an accommodation Sultan Solyman having overrun
Hungary, was ready to break in upon the Austrian ter-
ntoues with the whole force of the East; and the nm-
gress of the Reformation in Germany threatened the
tianqndlity of the empire. In consequence of this si-
tua ion of affairs, though pride made both parties con¬
ceal or dissemble their real sentiments, two ladies were
AuTtr! C|t0 rf°re peace, i° Eur0Pe- Margaret of Peace'con- -
Austna, Charles s aunt, and Louisa, Francis’s mother eluded at
met m 1529 at Cambray, and settled the terms of ac-Cajllbra7-
commodation between the French king and the empe¬
ror. Francis agreed to pay two millions of crowns as
the lansom of his two sons, to resign the sovereignty of
landers and Artois, and to forego all his Italian claims;
and Charles ceased to demand the restitution of Bur?
gundy*
All the steps of this negociation had been communi¬
cated to the king of England; and Henry was, on that
occasion, so generous to his friend and ally Francis
he sent him an acquittal of near six hundred thousand
crowns, m order to enable him to fulfil his agreement
with
512
Spain.
122
Charles
goes into
Germany.
123
lie under¬
takes an
expedition
against the
states of
Barbary.
An. 1541.
SPA
with Charles. But Francis’s Italian confederates were
less satisfied with the treaty of Cambray. Ihey were
almost wholly abandoned to the will of the emperor 5
and seemed to have no other means ol security lett but
his equity and moderation. Of these, from his past con¬
duct, they had not formed the most advantageous idea.
But Charles’s present circumstances, more especially in
regard to the Turks, obliged him to behave with a ge¬
nerosity inconsistent with his character. I he 1 loren-
tines alone, whom he reduced under the dominion ot
the family of Medici, had reason to complain ol Ins se¬
verity. Sforza obtained the investiture ol Milan and
his pardon : and every other power experienced the le¬
nity of the conqueror. _ „ ,
After having received the imperial crown rrom the
hands of the pope at Bologna, Charles proceeded on
his iourney to Germany, where his presence was become
highly necessary *, for although the conduct and valour
of his brother Ferdinand, on whom he had conferred
the hereditary dominions of the house ol Austria, and
who had been elected king of Hungary, had obliged
Solyman to retire with infamy and loss, his return was
to be feared, and the disorders of religion were daily
increasing-, an account of which, and of the emperor’s
transactions with the Protestants, is given under the ar¬
ticle Reformation.
Charles having exerted himself as much as he could
against the reformers, undertook his first expedition
against the piratical states of Africa. Barbary, or toat
part of the African continent lying along the coast of
the Mediterranean sea, yvas then nearly in the same con¬
dition which it is at present. Morocco, Algiters, and
Tunis, were its principal states} and the two last were
nests of pirates. Barbarossa, a famous corsair, had suc¬
ceeded his brother in the kingdom of Algiers, which
he had formerly assisted him to usurp. He regulated
with much prudence the interior police of his kingdom,
carried on his piracies with great vigour, and extended
]fis conquests on the continent ol Africa } but perceiv¬
ing that the natives submitted to his government with
impatience, and fearing that his continual depredations
would one day draw upon him a general combination of
the Christian powers, he put his dominions under the
protection of the grand seignior. Solyman, flattered by
such an act of submission, and charmed with the bold¬
ness of the man, offered him the command of the Turk¬
ish fleet. Proud of this distinction, Barbarossa repaired
to Constantinople, and made use ol his influence with
the sultan to extend his own dominion. Partly by
force, partly by treachery, he usurped the kingdom of
Tunis and being now possessed of greater power, he
carried on his depredations against the Christian states
with more destructive violence than ever.
Daily complaints of the piracies and ravages com¬
mitted by the galleys of Barbarossa were brought to
the emperor by his subjects, both in Spain and Italy :
and all Christendom seemed to look up to him, as its
greatest and most fortunate prince, for relief from this
new and odious species of oppression. At the same
time Muley-Hascen, the exiled king of Tunis, finding
none of the African princes able or willing to support
him in recovering his throne, applied to Charles lor as¬
sistance against the usurper. Equally desirous of deli¬
vering his dominions from the dangerous neighbourhood
ef Barbarossa, of appearing as the protector of an un-
I N.
fortunate prince, and of acquiring the glory annexed in Spain,
that age to every expedition against the Mahometans, v—"
the emperor readily concluded a treaty with Muley Has-
cen, and set sail for Tunis with a formidable armament.
The Goletta, a sea port town, fortified with 300 pieces
of cannon, was taken, together with all Barbarossa s
fleet: he was defeated in a pitched battle, and 10,000 124
Christian slaves, having knocked ofi their letters, and I unis tsr
made themselves masters of the citadel, Tunis was P*e*
paring to surrender. But while Charles was deliberating lants cruf
on the conditions, his troops, fearing that tiny wouldiymassa,
be deprived of the booty which they had expected, cred.
broke suddenly into the town, and pillaged and mas¬
sacred without distinction. Thirty thousand persons
perished by the sword, and 10,000 were made pri¬
soners. The sceptre was restored to Muley Hascen, on
condition that he should acknowledge himself a vassal ot
the crown ot Spain, put into the emperor s ^hands all
the fortified sea ports in the kingdom ot Tunis, and
pay annually 1 2,ooc3 crowns for the subsistence of the
Spanish garrison in the Goletta. ihese points being
settled, and 20,000 Christian slaves freed from bondage
either by arms or by treaty, Charles returned to Eu¬
rope, where his presence was become necessary 5 while
Barbarossa, who had retired to Bona, recovered new
strength, and ’again became the tyrant of the ocean. I4?
The king of France took advantage of the emperorV"'
absence to revive his pretensions in Italy. The treaty yaJn {0 re.
of Cambray had repressed but not extinguished the vive lis
flames of discord. Francis in particular, who waited pretwsion*
only for a favourable opportunity of recovering the tei-t0 ^
ritories and reputation which he had lost, continued to
negociate against Ins rival with diherent com Is. But
all his negociations were disconcerted by unforeseen ac¬
cidents. The death of Clement VII. (whom he had
gained by marrying his son the duke of Oilcans, after¬
wards Henry 11. to Catharine of Medici, the niece ot
that pontiff), deprived him of all the support which he
hoped to receive from the court of Rome. The king
of England, occupied with domestic cares and projects,
declined engaging in the affairs of tne continent j ant
the Protestant’ princes, associated by the league ol Smal-
kalde, to whom Francis had also applied, and who
seemed disposed at first to listen to him, filled with in¬
dignation and resentment at the cruelty with which
some of their reformed brethren had been treated in
France, refused to have any connection with the enemy
of their religion.
Francis was neither cruel nor bigotted : he was too
indolent to concern himself about religious disputes j
but bis principles becoming suspected, at a time w ien
the emperor was gaining immortal glory by his expedi¬
tion against the infidels, he found it necessary to up 1 ^
cate himself by some extraordinary demonstration 0 ie g;si,ari)S-
verence for the established faith. The indiscreet zeal ot^ t0 tk<
some Protestant converts furnished him with the occa- protes-
sion. They had affixed to the gates of the Louvre and tauts.
other public places papers containing indecent re ec
tions on the rites of the Romish church. pix 0 ,
persons concerned in this rash action were seizec ; am
the king, pretending to be struck with horror at tien
blasphemies, appointed a solemn procession, m 01 er
avert the wrath of heaven. The holy sacrament wa
carried through the city of Paris in great pomp - r!*
cis walked uncovered before it, bearing a tcltll^n^.
SPA
Spain, lisiul j the princes of the hlooci supported the canopy
over jt j the nobles walked behind. In jiresence of this
numerous assembly, the king declared, that ifoneof his
bands were infected with heresy, he would cut it off
with the other j “ and I would sacrifice (added he.)
even my own children, if found guilty of that crime.”
As an awful proof of his sincerity, the six unhappy per¬
sons who had been seized were publicly burnt, before
the procession was finished, and in the most cruel man¬
ner. They were fixed upon a machine which descend-
i 3sr.
5*3
Spain,
had been.still possible to terminate their differences in
an amicable manner; and Charles, finding him so eager v  
to run into the snare, favoured the deception, and, by
seeming to listen to his proposals, gained yet more time
loi the execution of his ambitions projects.
If misfortunes had rendered Francis too diffident, sue- Charles ac¬
cess had made Charles too sanguine. He presumed on tempu to
nothing less than the subversion of the French monar-su*)vert ^!e
c hy; nay, he considered it as a certain event. Ha vino-Frenc!l
chased the forces of his rival out of Piedmont and Sr- °
wses an
tor
im h to¬
ed into the flames, and retired alternately, until they' he pushed ffi^d • 7 °T 1 ^ ^ SaV°-V’
expired.—No wonder that the Protestant princes were to tL r, 1 ’ n - at the ,iea4 of50>°00 «nen, contrary
incensed at such barharitv ' P WCie tlle ^v.ce of Ins most experienced ministers and gene-
la^, to invade the southern provinces of France; while
I /-it- I \ s .'am .. —. -a— --- - - 1 • - *
Cc va
thr.s o(T
the:ike of
two other armies were ordered to enter it, the one on
the side of Picardy, the other on the side of Champagne.
tie thought it impossible that Fiancis could resist s0
many unexpected attacks on such different quarters ;
but he found himself mistaken
. ^ .^r?nt^. monarcfi fixed on the most effectual Kut if dis¬
pan oi efeating the invasion of a powerful enemy ; appointed
and lie prudently persevered in following it, thoutrhin bis de”
contrary to his own natural temper and to the geniussisns*
of his people. He determined to remain altogether
upon the defensive, and to deprive the enemy of subsist¬
ence by laying waste the country before them. The
execution of this plan was committed to the mareschal
incensed at such barbarity !
Francis, though unsupported by any ally, command-
llt0 ed ,us army ^ advance towards the frontiers of Italy
iisltaly "nder Pretence of chastising the duke of Milan for a
breach of the law of nations, in putting to death his
ambassador. Ihe operations of war, however, soon took
a new direction. Instead of marching directly to the
Milanese, Francis commenced hostilities against the
duke of Savoy, with whom he had cause to be dissatis¬
fied, and on whom he had some claims; and before the
end of the campaign, this feeble prince saw himself
stripped of all his dominions, except the province of
Piedmont. To complete his misfortunes, the city of
■Hwe oi ,, cne'(a> the sovereignty of which he claimed, and where execution ot this plan was committed t tl i i
tbe adjacent territory. tW. „,rn an
non, at the confluence of the Rhone and Durance, where
be assembled a considerable army; while the king, with
another body of troops, encamped at Valence, higher
up the Rhone. Marseilles and Arles were the only-
towns he thought it necessary to defend ; and each of
these he furnished with a numerous garrison of his best
troops. The inhabitants of the other towns were com¬
pelled to abandon their habitations : the fortifications
of such places as might have afforded shelter to the ene¬
my were thrown down ; corn, forage, and provisions of
every kind, were carried off or destroyed; the mills and
ovens were ruined, and the wells filled up or rendered
useless.
This devastation extended from the Alps to Mar¬
seilles, and from the sea to the confines of Dauphiny •
so that the emperor, when he arrived with the van of
*S»tV
takes
se«io
'Milan 1
lYcakfl
91 '"ran
the adjacent territory. Geneva was then an imperial
city, and till lately remained entirely free *.
In this extremity the duke of Savoy saw no resource
but m the emperor’s protection ; and as his misfortunes
were chiefly occasioned by his attachment to the impe¬
rial interest, he had a title to immediate assistance. Rut
Charles, who was just returned from his African expe¬
dition, was not able to lend him the necessary support.
His treasury was entirely drained, aad he was oblio-ed
to disband his army till he could raise new supplies
Mean time the death of Sforza duke of Milan entirely
changed the nature of the war, and afforded the empe-
ror full leisure to prepare for action. The French mo¬
narch s pretext for taking up arms was at once cut off;
but as tbe duke died without issue, all Francis’s rights
to the duchy of Milan, which he had yielded only to
biorza and bis descendants, returned to him in full force.
He instantly renewed his claim to it; and if he had or¬
dered liis army immediately to advance, he might have
made himselt master of it. But he unfortunately wasted
his time in fruitless negociations, while his more politic
nva! took possession of the duchy as a vacant fief of the
empire; and though Charles seemed still to admit the
equity oi Francis’s claim, he delayed granting the in¬
vestiture under various pretences, and as secretly taking
every possible measure to prevent him from regaining
footing in Italy. 6
During the time gained in this manner, Charles had
recruited his finances, and of course his armies ; and
finding himself in a condition for war, he at last threw
off tne mask under which he had so long concealed his
designs from the court of France. Entering Rome with
Rreat pomp, he pronounced before the pope and car¬
dinals, assembled in full consistory, a violent invective
against Francis, by way of reply to his propositions con-
cerrung tbe investiture of Milan. Yet Francis, by an
unaccountable fatality, continued to negotiate, as if it
Vol.XIX. Part'll. & t
, . , ' me vtill
Ins army on the confines of Provence, instead of thaj:
rich and populous country which he expected to enter
beheld nothing but one vast and desert solitude. He,
did not, however, despair of success, though he saw
that lie would have many difficulties to encounter; and
as an encouragement to his officers, he made them libe-
lal promises of lands and honours in France. Rut all
the land which any of them obtained was a grave, and
their master lost modi honour by this rash and pre-
sumptuous enterprise. After unsuccessfully investing
Marseilles and Arles, after attempting in vain to draw
Montmorency from his camp at Avignon, and not
daring to attack it, Charles having spent two inglorious
months in Provence, and lost one half of his troops by
disease or by famine, was under the necessity of ordering
a retreat; and though he was some time in motion be¬
fore the enemy suspected his intention, it was conduct¬
ed with so much precipitation and disorder, as to de¬
serve the name of a flight, since the light troops of
I ranee turned it into a perfect rout. The invasion of
3 ^ Picard v
M3
Violent
animosity
between
bim ami
.Francis.
134
Charles
summoned
to appear
at Paris.
Picardy was not more successful : the imperial forces
were obliged to retire without effecting any conquest ot
importance. ,
Charles bad no sooner conducted the shattered re¬
mains of his army to the frontiers of Milan, than he set
out for Genoa*, and unwilling to expose himselt to the
scorn of the Italians after such a reverse ot fortune, be
embarked directly for Spain. _ .
Meanwhile Francis gave himself up to that vain re¬
sentment which had formerly disgraced the prosperity
of his rival. They had frequently, in the course ot their
quarrels, given each other the lie, and mutual challen¬
ges had been sent *, which, though productive of no se¬
rious consequences between the parties, had a powei iu
tendency to encourage the pernicious practice of duel-
liner. Charles, in his invective pronounced at Home,
had publicly accused Francis of perfidy and bveacb of
faith * Francis now exceeded Charles in the indecency
of his accusations. The dauphin dying suddenly, Ins
death was imputed to poison : Montecuculi his cup-
hearer was put to the rack *, and that unhappy noble¬
man in the agonies of torture, accused the emperor s
o-eneVals Gonzaga and de Leyva, of instigating him to
the detestable act. The emperor himself was suspected j
miv, this extorted confession, and some obscure hints,
were considered as incontestable proofs of his guilt*,
though it was evident to all mankind, that neither
Charles nor his generals could have any inducement to
perpetrate such a crime, as Francis was still in the vi¬
gour of life himself, and had two sons besides the dau¬
phin, grown up to a good age.
But the incensed monarch’s resentment did not stop
here. Francis was not satisfied with endeavouring to
blacken the character of his rival by an ambiguous tes¬
timony which led to the most injurious suspicions, and
upon which the most cruel constructions had been put ;
he was willing to add rebellion to murder. For this
purpose he went to the parliament of Paris *, where be-
ino seated with the usual solemnities, the advocate-ge¬
neral appeared, and accpsed Charles of Austria (so he
affected to call the emperor) of having violated the trea¬
ty of Cambrav, by which he was freed from the ho¬
mage due to the crown of France for the counties of
Artois and Flanders *, adding, that this treaty being
now void, he was still to be considered as a vassal of
France, and consequently had been guilty of rebellion
in taking arms against bis sovereign. The charge was
sustained, and Charles was summoned to appear before
the parliament of Paris at a day fixed. The term ex¬
pired ; and no person appearing in the emperor’s name,
the parliament gave judgment, that Charles ol Austria
had forfeited, by rebellion and contumacy, the counties
of Flanders apd Artois, and declared these fiefs reunit¬
ed to the crown ot France.
Francis, soon after this vain display of his animosity,
marched into the Low Countries, as if he had intended
to execute the sentence pronounced by his parliament j
but a suspension of arms took place, through the inter¬
position of the queens of France and Hungary, before
any thing of consequence was effected : and this cessa¬
tion of hostilities was followed by a truce concluded at
Nice, through the mediation of the reigning pontiff
Paul HI. of the family of Farnese, a man ol a vene¬
rable character and pacific disposition.
Each of these rival princes had strong reasons to m-
SPAIN.
dine them to peace. The finances of both were exhaust- Spain.
ed } and the emperor, the more powerful of the two,
was deeply impressed with the dread of the Turkish
arms, which Francis had drawn upon him by a league Francis
with Solyman. In consequence of tins league, Barba-
rossa with a great fleet appeared on the coast of Naples 5
filled that kingdom with consternation ; landed without
resistance near Taranto ; obliged Castro, a place of
some strength, to surrender *, plundered the adjacent
country ; and was taking measures for securing and ex¬
tending his conquests, when the unexpected arrival of
Doria, the famous Genoese admiral, together with the
pope’s galleys and a squadron of the Venetian fleet,
made it prudent for him to retire, xbe sultan s forces
also invaded Hungary, where Mahmet the Turkish ge¬
neral, after gaining several inferior advantages, defeat¬
ed the Germans in a great battle at Essek on the Drave.
Happily for Charles and Europe it was not in Francis’s
power at this juncture either to join the lurks or as¬
semble an army strong enough to penetrate into the
Milanese. The emperor, however, was sensible that he
could not long resist the efforts of two such powerful
confederates, nor expect that the same fortunate cn-
cuinstances would concur a second time in his favour ;
he therefore thought it necessary, both for his safety ,,6
and reputation, to give his consent to a truce: and a truce
Francis chose rather to run the risk of disobliging hiscoackded.
new ally the sultan, than to draw on his head the indig¬
nation, and perhaps the arms of all Christendom, by
obstinately obstructing the re-establishment of tranquil¬
lity, and contributing to the aggrandizement ol the In¬
fidels.
These considerations inclinedthecontendingmonarclis
to listen to the arguments of the holy father j but he
found it impossible to bring about a final accommodation
between them, each inflexibly persisted in asserting his
own claims. Nor could he prevail on them to see one
another, though both came to the place of rendezvous:
so great was the remains of distrust and rancour, or such 137
the" difficulty of adjusting the ceremonial ! Yet, impro-Inters*
bable as it may seem, a few days alter signing the truce,
the emperor, in his passage to Barcelona, being dii'en ^jiarjei
on the coast of Provence, Francis invited him to come
ashore j frankly visited him on board his galley, and
was received and entertained with the warmest demon¬
strations of esteem and affection. Charles, with an equal
degree of confidence, paid the king next day a visit at
Aignes-mortes j where these two hostile rivals and vin¬
dictive enemies, who had accused each other of e'eiy
kind of baseness, conversing together with all the cor¬
diality of brothers, seemed to vie with each other in ex¬
pressions of respect and friendship. _ 13S
Besides the glory of having restored tranquillity tOA<hantag*
Europe, the pope gained a point of much consequence
to his family. He obtained for his grandson, Margaret
of Austria, the emperor’s natural daughter, former
wife of Alexander de Medici, whom Charles had raised uon.
to the supreme power in Florence. Laurencin de Medici,
the kinsman and intimate companion of Alexander, iai
assassinated him by one ol the blackest treasons recor e
in history. Under pretence ol having secured him an
assignation with a lady of the highest rank and great
beauty, he drew him into a secret apartment of his house,
and there stabbed him as he lay carelessly on a coiic 1,
expecting the embrace of the lovely fair, whom he u
Spain.
SPAIN.
Lanrenein however, did not lived in friendship with the emperor ever since their in-
a thh-d BrSns80'"6 *. . fe,'VirV at Aigues-mor^^ and Charles had promised
vou red to seize this occasion for recovering tTe rTiber' f"* N ot'. tliat dachY- forgetting, there- <4*
ties, the government of Florence passed hi 1' f , - ’I ?a,St ny)arie*’ and the deceitful promises
of Cosmo8!!, another ^^ ^
often solicited in vain.
'reap the fruits of his crime
countrymen extolled him as a third Brutus, and endea
1.39
tides
t .i'essetl.
P
Ttepa-
ttjts re¬
fit . to as-
sHtiiin
w - mo-
He
of Cosmo II. another kinsman of Alexander. Cosmo
was desirous of marrying the widow of his predecessor :
but the emperor chose rather to oblige the pope, by be-
stoWing his, daughter upon Octavio Farnese, son of the
duke or Jr arm a.
Charles had soon farther cause to be sensible of his
obligations to the holy father for bringing about the
treaty of Nice. His troops everywhere mutinied for
want of pay, and the ability of his generals only could
have prevented a total revolt. He had depended, as
Jus ch,ef resource for dicharging the arrears due to his
soldiers, upon the subsidies which he expected from his
Castilian subjects. For this purpose he assembled the
Cortes of Castile at Toledo ; and having represented to
them the great expence of his military operations, he
proposed to levy such supplies as the present exigency
of affairs demanded, by a general excise on commodi¬
ties ; hut the Spaniards, who already felt themselves
oppressed by a load ol taxes unknown to their ancestors,
and who had often complained that their country was
drained of its wealth and inhabitants, in order to prose¬
cute quarrels in which they had no interest, determined
not to add voluntarily to their own burdens. The nobles
in particular, inveighed with great vehemence against
the imposition proposed, as an encroachment on the va¬
luable and distinguished privilege of their order, that of
being exempted from the payment of any tax. After
emu
oying arguments and promises in vain, Charles dis-
I
M tants
trussed the assembly with indignation ; and from that
period neither the nobles nor the prelates have been call¬
ed to the Cortes, on pretence that such as pay no part
of the public taxes should not claim a vote in laying
tiem on. Ihese assemblies have since consisted mere¬
ly of the procurators or representatives of 18 cities,
two from each ; in all 36 members, who are absolutely
fit tiie devotion of the crown.
Uat
rcM.
I he citizens of Ghent, still more bold, broke out not
1 p . 7 '  ~ J UUL UUL
Jong a.ter into open rebellion against the emperor’s go¬
vernment, on account of a tax which they judged con¬
trary to their ancient privileges, and a decision of the
council of Mechlin in favour of the imperial authority.
Enraged at an unjust imposition, and rendered despe¬
rate on seeing their rights betrayed by that very court
which was bound to protect them, they flew to arms
seized several of the emperor’s officers, and drove such
of the nobility as resided among them out of the city.
Sensible, however, of their inability to support what
their zeal had prompted them to undertake, and desirous
o. securing a protector against the formidable forces
'vl,,c!l tll(-T might expect soon to be attacked, they
offered to acknowledge the king of France as then-
sovereign, to put him into immediate possession of their
city, and to assist him in recovering those provinces in
the -Netherlands which had anciently belonged to his
crown. True policy directed Francis to comply with
Hus proposal. The counties of Flanders and Artois
were more valuable than the duchy of Milan, for which
be had so long contended 5 and their situation in regard
to Trance made it more easy to conquer or to defend
them. But Francis over-rated the Milanese. He had
rou-i Irancis, not only rejected the propositions of the
citizens of Ghent, but communicated to the emperor his
whole negotiation with the malecontents.
Judging of Charles’s heart by bis own, Francis hoped
by tins seemingly disinterested proceeding to obtain at
once the investiture of Milan 5 and the emperor, well
acquainted with the weakness of his rival, flattered him ■ r
in this apprehension, for his own selfish purposes. His He allows
presence being necessary in the Netherlands, he demand-charle*
ed a passage through France. It was immediately grant-10 pass
ed him ; and Charles, to whom every moment was pre- }lis
cious, set out, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his Iinmons'
council and the fears of his Spanish subjects, with a
small but splendid train of 100 persons. He was met
on the frontiers of France by the dauphin and the duke
of Orleans, who offered to go into Spain, and remain
there as hostages, till he should reach his own domi-
mons; but Charles replied, that the king’s honour was
Sufficient for his safety, and prosecuted his journey with¬
out any other security. The king entertained him with
the utmost magnificence at Paris, and the two young
princes did not take leave ef him till he entered the
Eow Countries; yet he still found means to evade his
promise, and Francis continued to believe him sincere.
The citizens of Ghent, alarmed at the approach ofSeveSj of
ie empeior, who was joined by three armies, sent am-* Carles to
bassadors to implore his mercy, and- offered to throw ^ ^ ot
open their gates. Charles only condescended to reply, Glieat‘
Inat he would appear among them as a sovereign and
a judge, with the sceptre and the sword.” He accord¬
ingly entered the place of his nativity on the anni¬
versary of his birth; and instead of that lenity which
might have been expected, exhibited an awful example
of bis severity. Twenty-six of the principal citizens
were put to death: a greater number was banished-
the city was declared to have forfeited its privileges • a
new system of laws and political administration was pre¬
scribed ; and a large fine was imposed on the inhabi¬
tants, in order to defray the expence of erecting a cita¬
del, together with an annual tax for the support of a <>ar-
rison. _ They were not only despoiled of their ancient
immunities, but made to pay, like conquered people, for
the means of perpetuating their own slavery.
Having thus re-established his authority in the Low His base
Countries, and being now under no necessity of conti-tre:itrnent
iiurng that scene of falsehood and dissimulation withof Flands-
winch he had amused the French monarch, Charles be¬
gan gradually to throw aside the veil under which he
had concealed his intentions with respect to the Mila¬
nese, arid at last peremptorily refused to give up a ter¬
ritory of such value, or voluntarily to make such a liber¬
al addition to tbe strength of an enemy by diminisliinp-
his own power. He even denied that he had ever made
any promise which could hind him to an action so fool¬
ish, and so contrary to Ins own interest.
This transaction exposed the king of France to as
much scorn as it did the'emperor to censure. The cre¬
dulous simplicity of Francis seemed to merit no other
return, after experiencing so often the duplicity and ar¬
tifices of his rival. He remonstrated, however, and ex-
3 ^ 1 2 * * * claimed
14<s
JJe is obli¬
ged to
make con¬
cessions
to the Pro¬
testants.
s r a
claimed as if this had been tf.e first circumstance in
which the emperor had deceived him. Ihe insult ofiei-
ed to his understanding affected him even more sensibly
than the injury done to his interest 5 and he discovered
tsuch resentment as made it obvious that lie would seize
on tbe first opportunity of revenge, and that a new war
would soon desolate the European continent.
Meanwhile Charles-was obliged to turn bis attention
towards the affairs of Germany. The Protestants ha¬
ving in vain demanded a general council, pressed him
earnestly to appoint a conference between a select num¬
ber of divines of each party, in order to examine the
points in dispute. For this purpose a diet was assem¬
bled at Ratisbon : and such a conference, notwithstand¬
ing the opposition of the pope, was held with great so¬
lemnity in the presence of tbe emperor. Rut the di¬
vines chosen to manage the controversy, though men ot
learning and moderation, were only able to sett e a tew
speculative opinions, all points relative to worship and
jurisdiction serving to inflame the minds ot tbe dispu¬
tants. Charles, therefore, .finding ‘.bis endeavours to
bring about an accommodation ineffectual, and being
impatient to close tbe diet, prevailed on a majority oi
the members to approve of the following edict ot recess;
viz. that the articles concerning which the divines had
agreed, should be held as points decided ; that those
about which they had differed, should be referred to the
determination of a general council, or if that could not
be obtained, to a national synod : and should it prove
impracticable also to assemble a synod ot Germany, that
a general diet of tbe empire should be called within 18
months, in order to give final judgment on the whole
.controversy ; that, in the mean time, no innovations
fchould be attempted, nor any endeavours employed to
gain proselytes.
This diet gave great offence to tbe pope. 1 be bare
mention of allowing a diet, composed chiefly ol laymen,
to pass judgment in regard to articles of faith, appeared
to him no less criminal and profane than the worst of
those heresies which the emperor seemed so zealous to
suppress. The Protestants also were dissatisfied with it,
as* it considerably abridged the liberty which they at
that time enjoyed. They murmured loudly against it;
and Charles, unwilling to leave any seeds of discontent
in the empire, granted them a private declaration, ex¬
empting them from whatever they thought injurious or
oppressive in the recess, and ascertaining to them the
full possession of all their former privileges.
The situation of the emperor’s affairs at this juncture
made these extraordinary concessions necessary. He
foresaw a rupture with France to be unavoidable, and
he was alarmed at the rapid progress of the Turks in
Hungary. A great revolution had happened in that
kingdom. John Zapol Scsepus, by tbe assistance of
S flyman, had wrested from the king of the Romans a
copsiderahle part of the country. John died, and left
an infant son. Ferdinand attempted to take advantage
of tbe minority, in order to repossess himself of tbe
whole kingdom ; but his ambition was disappointed by
the activity and address of George Martinuzzi, bishop
of Waradin, who shared the regency with the queen.
Sensible that he was unable to oppose the king of the
Romans in the field, Martinuzzi satisfied himself with
holding out the fortified towns, all of which he provided
with every thing necessary for defence ; and at the same
I N,
time he sent ambassadors to Solyman, beseeching him to Spain,
extend towards the son that imperial protection which -y—..|
had so generously maintained the father on his throne.
Ferdinand used his utmost endeavours to thwart this
negociation, aud even meanly offered to hold the Hun¬
garian crown on the same ignominious condition by
which John had held it, that of paying tribute to the
Porte. But the sultan saw such advantages from es¬
pousing the interest of the young king, that he instant¬
ly marched into Hungary ; and the Germans, having,
formed the siege of Buda, were defeated with great
slaughter before that city. Solyman, however, instead
of becoming the protector of the infant sovereign whom
he had relieved, made use ot this success to extend his
own dominions : he sent the queen and her son into
Transylvania, which province he allotted them, and
added Hungary to the Ottoman empire.
Happily for the Protestants, Charles received intelli¬
gence of this revolution soon after the diet at Ratisbon ;
and by the concessions which he made them, he obtain¬
ed such liberal supplies, both ot men and money, as left
him under little anxiety about the security of Germany.
He therefore hastened to join his fleet and army in Ita- Undcltakcs
ly, in order to carry into execution a great and favourite an unsuc-
enterprise which lie had concerted against Algiers: cessfiil cx-
though it would certainly have been more consistent
with his dignity to have conducted the whole force
the empire against Solyman, the common enemy ofb
Christendom, who was ready to enter his Austrian do¬
minions. But many reasons induced Charles to prefer
the African expedition : he wanted strength, or at least
money, to combat the Turks in so distant a country as
Hungary; and the glory which he had formerly ac¬
quired in Barbary led him to hope tor the like success,
while the cries of his Spanish subjects roused him to
take vengeance on their raYagers. But the unfortunate
event of this expedition lias already been related under
the article Algiers, N° 14—20. .148
The loss which the emperor suffered in this calami-\yart)e.
tons expedition encouraged the king of France to begin twetn
hostilities, on which he had been for some time resolved ; t rands and
and an action dishonourable to civil society furnished al £S-
him with too good a pretext for taking arms. The
marquis del Guasto, governor of the Milanese, having
got intelligence of the motions and destination of two
ambassadors, Rincon and Fergeso, whom Francis had
dispatched, the one to the Ottoman Porte, the other to
the republic of Venice ; knowing how much his master
wished to discover the intentions of the French mo¬
narch, and of what consequence it was to retard the ex¬
ecution of his measures, he employed some soldiers be¬
longing to the garrison of Pavia to lie in wait for these
ambassadors as they sailed down the Po, who murdered
them and most of their attendants, and seized their pa-
peis. Francis immediately demanded reparation tor
this barbarous outrage ; and as Charles endeavoured to
put him off with an evasive answer, he appealed to all
the courts of Europe, setting forth the heinousness of
the injury, the iniquity of the emperor in disregarding
his just request, and the necessity of vengeance.
Charles, who was a more profound negociator, defeated
in a great measure the effects of these representations,
he secured the fidelity of the Protestant princes in Ger¬
many, by granting them netv concessions ; and he en¬
gaged the king of England to espouse his cause, uiuei
SPA
pretence of defending Europe against the Infidels j
^ while Francis was only able to form an alliance with
the kings of Denmark and Sweden (who for the first
time interested themselves in the quarrels of the more
potent m on arch s of the south), and to renew his treaty
with Solyman, which drew on him the indignation of
Christendom.
But the activity of Francis supplied all the defects of
his negociation. Five armies were soon ready to take
the field, under different generals, and with different
destinations. Nor was Charles wanting in his prepara¬
tions. He and Henry a second time made an ideal di¬
vision of the kingdom of France. But as the hostilities
which followed terminated in nothing decisive, and were
distinguished by no remarkable event, except the battle
of Cemoles (gained by Count d’Enguien over the im¬
perialists, and in which 10,000 of the emperor’s best
49 troops fell) at last Francis and Charles, mutually tired
Pfife eon- of harassing each other, concluded at Crespy a treaty
£at of Peacfb in which the king of England was not men¬
tioned ; and from being implacable enemies, became
once more, to appearance, cordial friends, and even al¬
lies by the ties of blood.
The chief articles of this treaty were, that all the
conquests wlpch either party had made since the truce of
Nice should be restored j that the emperor should give
in marriage to the duke of Orleans, either his own eld¬
est daughter, with the Low Countries, or the second
daughter of his brother Ferdinand, with the investi-
I N.
Paul III. for the extirpation of heresy • but in reality
with a view to oppress the liberties of Germany. Here,
however, his ambition met with a severe check ; for
though lie was successful at first, he was obliged in
15^2 to conclude a peace with the Protestants on their
own terms ; as has beqn related under the article Be-
FORMATION, N° 26 32.
By the peace concluded on this occasion the emperor Attempts ,
lost Metz, 1 oul, and Verdun, which had formed the to recover
barrier of the empire on that quarter 5 and thereforeso,ne of ^
soon after put himself at the head of an army, in orderpr0ViDCC5"
to recover these three bishoprics. In order to conceal
the destination of his army, he gave out, that he in¬
tended to lead it into Hungary, to second Maurice in
his operations against the Infidels ; and as that pretext
failed him, when he began to advance towards the
lilnne, he propagated a report that he was marching
first to chastise Albert of Brandenburg, who had re¬
fused to be included in the treaty of Passau, and whose
cruel exactions in that part of Germany called loudly
for redress. ^
I he French, however, were not deceived by these arts. Is obhVeJ
rlenry immediately guessed the true object of Charles’s to raise tin*
armament, and resolved to defend his conquest with vi-s,eSeof
irour. The flf.fr.nno TVf - t ■ 1 •. .. Metz.
tore of the Milanese j that Francis should renounce all
pretensions to the kingdom of Naples, as well as to the
sovereignty of Flanders and Artois, and Charles give
np his claim to the duchy of Burgundy ; and that both
should unite in making war against the Turks.
. T,le emperor was chiefly induced to grant condi¬
tions so advantageous to France, by a desire of bum¬
bling the Protestant princes in Germany. With the
papal jurisdiction, he foresaw they would endeavour to
throw off the imperial authority; and he determined
to make his zeal for the former a pretence for enfor¬
cing and extending the latter. However, the death of
the duke of Orleans before the consummation of his
marriage, disentangled the emperor from the most trou¬
blesome stipulation in the treaty of Crespy ; and the
french monarch, being still engaged in hostilities with
England, was unable to obtain any reparation for the
loss which he suffered by this unforeseen event. These
hostilities, like those between Charles and Francis, ter¬
minated in nothing decisive. Equally tired of a struggle
attended with no glory or advantage to either, the con¬
tending princes concluded, at Campe, near Ardies, a
treaty of peace; in which it was stipulated, that France
should pay the arrears due by former treaties to Eng¬
land. But these arrears did not exceed one-third of the
sums expended by Henry on his military operations;
and Francis being in no condition to discharge them,
Boulogne (a chargeable pledge) was left in the hands’
ot the English as a security for the debt.
^igec), In consequence of the emperor’s resolution to humble
c°oclu :a Ine Protestant princes, he concluded a dishonourable
peace wuh the Porte, stipulating that his brother Fer-
^Pfcedi.iand should pay tribute for that part of Hungary
Vs iii| . 1,c“ ,ie still possessed ; while the sultan enjoyed the
imperial and undisturbed possession of all the rest. At
fne same time he entered into a league with Pope
id:
Otarid,
Potest:
totj,
gour. 1 he defence of Metz, against which it was fore¬
seen the whole weight of the war would be turned, was
committed to Francis of Lorraine, duke of Guise, who
possessed in an eminent degree all the qualities that ren¬
der men great in military command. He repaired with
joy to the dangerous station ; and many of the French
nobility, and even princes of the blood, eager to distin¬
guish themselves under such a leader, entered Metz as
volunteers. The city was of great extent, ill fortified
and the suburbs large. For all these defects the duke
endeavoured to provide a remedy. He repaired the old
tort locations with all possible expedition, labouring with
his.own hands ; the officers imitated his example^ and
the soldiers, thus encouraged, cheerfully submitted to
the most severe toils; he erected new works, and he le-
velled the suburbs with the ground. At the same time
be filled the magazines with provisions and military
stores, compelled all useless persons to leave the place
and laid waste the neighbouring country; yet such were
his popular talents, as well as his arts of acquiring ai>
ascendant over the minds of men, that the citizens not
only refrained from murmuring, hut seconded him with
no ess ardour than the soldiers in all bis operations—
in the nun of their estates, and in the havoc of their
public and private buildings.
Meanwhile the emperor continued his march towards
Lorrame at the head of 60,000 men. On his approach
Albert of Brandenburg, whose army did not exceed
20,000, withdrew into that principality as if he in¬
tended to join the French king; and Charles, notwith-
standrog the advanced season, it being towards the end
or October, laid siege to Metz, contrary to the advice
of his most experienced officers,
Ihe attention of both the besiegers and the besieged-
was turned for some time towards the motions of Al¬
bert, who still hovered in the neighbourhood, undeter¬
mined which side to take, though resolved to sell his
service. Charles at last came up to his price, and he
joined the imperial army. The emperor now flattered
himself that nothing could resist his force; hut he found
himself deceived. After a siege of almost 60 days, du~
ring'
SPAIN.
153
Miserable
condition
of his
army.
. r54
His further
misfor¬
tunes.
Is suecess-
ful in the
Jjow Coun¬
tries.
ring tvliicli lie had attempted all that was thought pos¬
sible for art or valour to effect, and had lost upwards of
30,000 men by the inclemency of the weather, diseases,
or the sword of the enemy, he was obliged to abandon
tbe enterprise.
When the French sallied out to attack the enemy’s
rear, the imperial camp was filled with the sick and
wounded, with the dead and the dying. All the roads
by which the army retired were strewed with the same
miserable objects-, who, having made an effort beyond
their strength to escape, and not being able to proceed,
were left to perish without assistance. Happily that,
and all the kind offices which their friends had not the
power to perform, they received from their enemies.
The duke of Guise ordered them all to be taken care
of, and supplied with every necessary he appointed
physicians to attend, and direct what treatment was
proper for the sick and wounded, and what relieshments
for the feeble j and such as recovered he sent home, un¬
der an escort of soldiers, and with money to bear their
charges. By these acts of humanity, less common in
that age, the duke of Guise completed that heroic cha-
racter which he had justly acquired by his brave and
successful defence of Metz.
The emperor’s misfortunes were net confined to
Germany. During his residence at \ illach, he had
been obliged to borrow 200,000 crowns of Cosmo
de Medici ; and so low was his credit, that he was
obliged to put Cosmo in possession oi tbe principality
of Piombino as a security for that inconsiderable sum }
by which means he lost the footing he had hitherto
maintained in Tuscany. Much about the same time
he lost Sienna. The citizens, who had long enjoyed
a republican government, rose against the Spanish gar¬
rison, which they had admitted as a check upon the
tyranny of the nobility, but which they found was
meant to enslave them ; forgetting their domestic ani¬
mosities, they recalled the exiled nobles they demo¬
lished the citadel, and put themselves under the protec¬
tion of France.
To these unfortunate events one still more fatal had
almost succeeded. The severe administration o! the
viceroy of Naples had filled that kingdom with mur¬
muring and dissatisfaction. The prince of Salerno, the
head of the malecontents, fled to the court of France.
The French monarch, after the example of his fatlier,
applied to the grand signior ; and Solyman, at that
time highly incensed against the house of Austria on
account of the proceedings in Hungary, sent a power¬
ful fleet into the Mediterranean, under the command
of the corsair Dragut, an officer trained up under
Barbarossa, and scarcely inferior to his master in cou¬
rage, talents, or in good fortune. Dragut appeared
on the coast of Calabria at the time appointed but
not being joined by the French fleet according to con¬
cert, he returned to Constantinople, after plundering
and burning several places, and filling Naples with con¬
sternation.
Highly mortified by so many disasters, Charles re¬
tired into the Low Countries, breathing vengeance
against France: and here the war was carried on with
considerable vigour. Impatient to efface the stain which
liis militaryreputation ha-d received beforeMetz,Charles
laid siege to Terouane 5 and the fortifications being in
-disrepair, that important place was carried by assault.
Is6
Hesdin also was invested, and carried in the same man¬
ner. The king of France was too late in assembling1
his forces to afford relief to either of these places ; and
the emperor afterwards cautiously avoided an engage¬
ment.
The imperial arms were less successful in Italy. The But not J
viceroy of Naples failed in an attempt to recover Sienna; in other J
and the French not only established themselves morePiaces-
firmly in Tuscany, but conquered part of the island of
Corsica. Nor did the affairs of the house of Austria
go on better in Hungary during the course of this year.
Isabella and her son appeared once more in Transylva¬
nia, at a time when the people were ready for revolt,
in order to revenge the death of Martinuzzi, whose loss
they had severely felt. Some noblemen of eminence
declared in favour of the young king ; and the bashaw
of Belgrade, by Solyman’s order, espousing bis cause,
in opposition to Ferdinand, Castaldo, the Austrian ge¬
neral, was obliged to abandon Transylvania to Isabella
and the Turks. 157
In order to counterbalance those and other losses, the Marriage
emperor, in I 3 <r4, concerted a marriage between his tftweeu
son Philip and Mary of England, in hopes of adding
that kingdom to his other dominions. Meanwhileyjary0f
the war between Henry and Charles was carried on England,
with various success in the Low Countries, and in Italy An. 1554.
much to the disadvantage of I ranee. Ihe I'rench,
under the command of Strozzi, were defeated in the
battle of Merciano } Sienna was reduced by Medicino,
the Florentine general, after a siege of ten months; and
the gallant Siennese were subjected to the Spanish yoke.
Much about the same time a plot was formed by the
Franciscans, but happily discovered before it could be
carried into execution, to betray Metz to the Imperia¬
lists. The father guardian, and twenty other monks,
received sentence of death on account of this conspira¬
cy ; but the guardian, before the time, appointed for his
execution, was murdered by his incensed accomplices,
whom he had seduced ; and six of the youngest were
pardoned.
While War thus raged in Italy and the Low Coun¬
tries, Germany enjoyed such profound tranquillity, as
afforded the diet full leisure to confirm and perfect the
plan of religious pacification agreed upon at Passat),
and referred to the consideration of the next meeting of
the Germanic body. During the negociation of this
treaty, an event happened which astonished all Europe,
and confounded the reasonings of the wisest politicians. 158
The emperor Charles V. though no move than 56, an
age when objects of ambition operate with full f°ice 011 Hintons
the mind, and are generally pursued with the greatest^ ^ s0B
ardour, had for some time formed the resolution oi ie-pliiiip. ^
signing his hereditary dominions to his son Philip. He An. 155 •
now determined to put it into execution. Various have
been the opinions of historians concerning a resolution
so singular and unexpected ; but the most probable seem
to be, the, disappointments which Charles had met wit
in his ambitious hopes, and the daily decline of b^9
health. He had early in life been attacked with tie
gout; and the fits were now become so frequent an
severe, that not only the vigour of his constitution uas
broken, but the faculties of his mind were sensibly im¬
paired. He therefore judged it more decent to con¬
ceal his infirmities in some solitude, than to expose tc®
any longer to the public eye ; and as he was umvn mg
wm to foifeit the fame, or lose the acquisitions of his better
years, by attempting to guide the reins of government
when he was no longer able to hold them with stea¬
diness, he determined to seek in the tranquillity of
retirement, that happiness which he had in vain pur¬
sued amidst the tumults of war and the intrio-ues of
state. °
In consequence of this resolution, Charles, who had
already ceded to his son Philip the kingdom of Naples
and the duchy of Milan, assembled the states of the
,ow Countries at Brussels 5 and seating himself for the
last time in the chair of state, he explained to his sub¬
jects the_ reasons of his resignation, and solemnly de¬
volved Ins authority upon Philip. He recounted with
dignity, but without ostentation, all the great things
wind, he had undertaken and performed since the com¬
mencement of Ins administration. “ f have dedicated
(observed he) from the 17th year of my age, all my
thoughts and attention to public objects, reserving no
portum of my time for the indulgence of ease, and very
little lor the enjoyment of private pleasure. Either in
a pacific or hostile manner, I have visited Germany nine
times, opain six times, I<ranee four times, Italy seven
times, the Low Countries ten times, England twice,
. nca a* often ; and while my health permitted me to
discharge the duty of a sovereign, and the vigour of my
constitution was equal in any degree to the arduous of.
nee of governing such extensive dominions, I never shun-
mv , e!h’r’ T rP,,ie<i ’ but »ow, when
my heal 1 a is broken, and my vigour exhausted by the
iiige of an incurahle distemper, my growing infirmities
admomsh me to retire j nor am I so fond of reionino-
2 ° Ietilinit.,le scePtre 111 a» impotent hand, which is
no longer able to protect my subjects. Instead of a
sovereign worn out with diseases (continued he), and
■ mice iialf alive, I give you one in the prime of life,
already accustomed to govern, and who adds to the vi-
vears^n1 * the attent!«11 and sagacity of maturer
jeais. I hen turning towards Philip, who fell on his
knees, and kissed h,s father’s band, “ It is in your
power (said Charles), by a wise and virtuous adinini-
t! . t'0n, Justify tile extraordinary proof which I give
s lay 0 my pateinal affection, and to demonstrate
at you are worthy of the extraordinary confidence
1 chfrepcise in you.. Preserve (added he) an in-
in ts'^ T"1, "rird!gi0n 5 maintain the Catholic faith
s pmi y , let the laws of your country he sacred in
>our eyes; eneroaeli not on the rights of your people;
! d . tlle. time s,,ould ever come when you shall wish
.o enj0y th iity of p,,vate lift, >m -h
’ ym yn. re8'gn you,- sceptre with as
satisfaction as I give up mine to you.” A few
A ^ resigned to Philip t|le sovereignty of
ofa T Am'r‘Cai ''.serving nothing to himself out
i0_ ieSe Vas Possessions but an annual pension of
100,000 crowns. 1
he hadtL?8 "°'V impat:?nt t0 eml,ark f“r "here
xed on a place of retreat; hut by the advice of
116 PUt ^ h V°yage l0r SOme mont!|s, on
ount of the severity of the season ; and, by yieldinir
the T U gmei?t» be had the satisfaction before he left
' Low Co™tnes of taking a considerable step towards
a peace with This he ardently longed for;
only on his son’s account, whose administration he
'imsbed to commence m quietness, hut that he might Soain
have the glory, when quitting the world, of restoring
to Europe that tranquillity which his ambition had ba¬
nished out of it almost from the time that he assumed
the reins of government.
I he great bar to such a pacification, on the part of
France, was the treaty which Henry had concluded
Wlt l t ie ioPcr and the emperor’s claims were too
numerous to hope for adjusting them suddenly. A
truce of fi ve years was therefore proposed by Charles ; A truce of
mi ring which term, without discussing their respective five™ a,.
pretensions, each should retain what was in his nosses-conclutle‘I
Sion : and Hpn™  .1.
’ —wuai was in ms posses- UI,ullKI
sion; and Henry, through the persuasion of the con-'Jlth
stabie Montmorency, who represented the imprudence
of sacrificing the true interests of his kingdom to the
rash engagements that he had come under with Paul
authorised his ambassadors to sign at Vaucelles a treaty’
which would insure to him for so considerable a period
the important conquest which he had made on the Ger¬
man frontier, together with the greater part of the duke
01 oavoy s dominions.
l 1 rn iy°pe’I When informed of this transaction, was no
Jess filled with terror and astonishment than rage and
indignation. But he took equal care to conceal his
eai and his anger. He affected to approve highly of
he truce ; and he offered his mediation, as the common
a.her of Christendom, in order to bring about a defini-
tive peace. Under this pretext, he appointed Cardinal
ic hi bo his nuncio to the court of Brussels, and his ne¬
phew Cardinal Carafia to that of Paris. The public in¬
structions of both were the same ; but Caraffa, besides
t iese, received a private commission, to spare neither
in treaties, promises, nor bribes, in order to induce the
^ icnch monarch to renounce the truce and renew his
engagements with the holy see. He flattered Henry
Willi the, conquest of Naples; he gained by his address
the Guises the queen, and even the famous Diana of
I 01ctiers, duchess of Valentinois, the king’s mistress ;
and they easily swayed the king himself, who already
leaned to that side towards which they wished to incline
mn. A 1 Montmorency’s prudent remonstrances were
ms regarded; the nuncio (by powers from Rome) absol¬
ved Henry from Ins oath of truce ; and that weak prince
s.gnvd a new treaty with the Pope ; tvlticl, rrkintlled
with fresh violence the flames of war, both in Italy and
tne JLtow Countries. ^
No sooner was Pan I made acquainted with the sue Quarrel l.
ce s „f this negoctatton than he proceeded to the ntostlEuL
indecent extremtttes against Philip. He ordered the P“l>» ”"<>
opaiiish ambassador to he imprisoned ; he excomntuni-fius Pi,i-
cated the Colonnas, because of their attachment to the 1P'
imperial house; and he considered Philip as guilty bf
ugh treason and to have forfeited his right to the
vingdom of Naples?, which he was supposed to hold of
the holy see, for afterward affording them a retreat in
ins dominions.
Alarmed at a quarrel with the Pope, whom he had
>een taught to regard with the most superstitious vene-
ration, as the vicegerent of Christ and the common fa¬
ther of Christendom, Philip tried every gentle method
before he made use of force. He even consulted some
Spanish divines on the lawfulness of taking arms againsi
a person so sacred. They decided in his favour ; and
Aaul continuing inexorable, the duke of Alva, to whom
the
520
s . the negoclatlons as well as the war had been committed,
■ entered the ecclesiastical state at the head of 10,000 ve¬
terans, and carried terror to the gates ot Home.
The haughty pontiff, though still inflexible and un¬
daunted himself, was forced to give way to the fears
„f the cardinals, and a truce was concluded for 40 days.
Mean time the duke of Guise arriving with a supply of
20,oco French troops, Paul became more arrogant than
ever, and banished all thoughts from his mind but those
of war and revenge. The duke of Guise, however, who
had precipitated his country into this war, chiefly from
' a desire of gaining a field where he might display his
own talents, was able to perform nothing in Ltaly wor¬
thy of his former fame. He was obliged to abandon
the siege of Civetella ; he could not bring the duke of
Alva to a general engagement; his army perished by
diseases j and the Pope neglected to furnish the neces¬
sary reinforcements. He begged to be recalled $ and
France stood in need ot his abilities.
Philip, though willing to have avoided a rupture,
was no sooner informed that Henry had violated the
truce of Vaucelles, than he determined to act with such
vigour, as should convince Europe that his father had
not erred in resigning to him the reins of government,
lie immediately assembled in the Low Countries a body
«f 50,000 men, and obtained a supply of 10,000 from
England, which he had engaged in his quarrel and as
he was not ambitious of military fame, he gave the com¬
mand of his army to Emanuel Philibert duke of Savoy,
one of the greatest generals of that warlike age.
The duke of Savoy kept the enemy for some time in
suspense with regard to his destination , at last he seem¬
ed to threaten Champagne *, towards which the Irench
161 drew all their troops ; then turning suddenly to the
‘TheFrench • advanced by rapid marches into Picardy, and
• nlircly de- ^ gjege to gt Quintin. It was deemed in those times
it Quintiii.a town of considerable strength', hut the fortifications
An. 1557. had ken much neglected, and the garrison did not
amount to a fifth part of the number requisite for its
defence: it must therefore have surrendered in a few
days, if the admiral de Coligny had not taken the gal¬
lant resolution of throwing himself into it with such a
body of men as could be collected on a sudden. This
be effected in spite of the enemy, breaking through
their main body. The place, however, was closely in¬
vested •, and the constable Montmorency, anxious to
extricate bis nephew out of that perilous situation, in
which his zeal for the public bad engaged him, as well
as to save a town of stub importance, rashly advanced
to its relief with forces one half inferior to those ot the
enemy. His army was cut in pieces, and he himself
made prisoner.
The cautious temper of Philip on this occasion saved
France from devastation, if not ruin. The duke of Sa-
\oy proposed to overlook all inferior objects, and march
speedily to Paris, which, in its present consternation, he
could not have failed to make himself master of j but
Philip, afraid of the consequences of such a bold enter¬
prise, desired him to continue the seige of St Quintin,
in order to secure a safe retreat 111 case 0; any disastrous
event. The town, long and gallantly defended by Co¬
ligny, was at last taken by storin', but not till I ranee
was in a state of defence.
Philip was now sensible that he bad lost an opportu¬
nity which could never be recalled, of distressing his
enemy, and contented himself with reducing Horn and Spali ^
Catelet; which petty towns, together with St Quintin, ' r-
were the sole fruits of one of the most decisive victories
gained in the 16th century. The Catholic king, how¬
ever, continued in high exultation on account of his
success*, and as all his passions were tinged with super¬
stition, he vowed to build a church, a monasterv, and a
palace, in honour of St Lawrence, on the day sacred to
whose memory the battle of St Quintin had been fought.
He accordingly laid the foundation of an edifice, 111
which all these were included, and which he continued
to forward at a vast expence, for 22 years. I he same
principle which dictated the vow directed the building.
It was so formed as to resemble a gridiron—on which
culinary instrument, according to the legendary tale,
St Lawrence had suffered martyrdom. Such is the ori¬
gin of the famous Escurial near Madrid, the royal resi¬
dence of the kings of Spain.
The first account of that fatal blow which France
had received at St Quintin, was carried to Rome by
the courier whom Henry had sent to recal the duke of
Guise. Paul remonstrated warmly against the depar¬
ture of the French army j but Guise’s orders were per¬
emptory. The arrogant pontiff therefore found it ne¬
cessary to accommodate his conduct to the exigency of
his affairs, and to employ the mediation of the Vene¬
tians, and of Cosmo de Medici, in order to obtain peace.
The first overtures of this nature were eagerly listened
to by the Catholic king, who still doubted the justice
of his cause, and considered it as his greatest misfortune jfo
to be obliged to contend with the Pope. Paul agreed Peace ctt
to renounce his league with I ranee j and Philip stipu-^11^6 • |
lated on his part, that the duke ol Alva should repair
in person to Rome, and after asking pardon of the holy
father in his own name and in that ot his master, for
having invaded the patrimony of the church, should re¬
ceive absolution from that crime. Thus Paul, through
the superstitious timidity ot Philip, finished an unpro-
pitious war not only without any detriment to the aposto¬
lic see, but saw his conqueror humbled at his feet : and
so excessive was the veneration ot the Spaniards in that
age for the papal character, that the duke oi Alva, the
proudest man perhaps of his time, and accustomed from
his infancy to converse with princes, acknowledged,
that when he approached Paul, he was so much over¬
awed, that his voice failed, and his presence of mind
forsook him.
But though this war, which at its commencement Con
threatened mighty revolutions, was terminated without
occasioning any alteration in those states which were^'
its immediate object, it produced effects of considerable
consequence in other parts of Italy. In order to de¬
tach Octavio Farnese, duke ot Parma from the Irench
interest, Philip restored to him the city ot Placentia
and its territory, which had been seized by Charles >•
and he granted to Cosmo de Medici the investiture 01
Sienna, as an equivalent tor the sums due to him. By
these treaties, the balance ot power among the Italia*
states was poised with more equality, and rendered ic®3
variable than it had been since it received the first vio¬
lent shock from the invasion ot Charles 'S HI. and Pa J
hencefoith ceased to be the theatre on which the nio-
narchs of Spain, France, and Germany, contended lor
fame and dominion. Their hostilities, excited by new
objects, stained other regions ot Europe with bloo ,
S P A I Kf.
pain
and made other stater, feel, in their turn, the miseries
of war.
n pr4ench The (lllke of Guise, who left Rome the same day that
access- his adversary the duke of Alva made his humiliating
fii the submission to the Pope, was received in France as the
jvCoun-guardian angel of the kingdom. He was appointed
lieutenant-general in chief, with a jurisdiction almost
unlimited ; and, eager to justify the extraordinary con¬
fidence which the king had reposed in him, as well as
to perform something suitable to the high expectations
of his countrymen, he undertook in winter the siege of
Calais. Having taken that place, he next invested Thi-
onville in the duchy of Luxembourg, one of the strong¬
est towns on the frontiers of the Netherlands ; and for¬
ced it to capitulate after a siege of three weeks. But
the advantages on this quarter were more than balanced
by an event which happened in another part of the Low
Countries. The mareschal de Termes, governor of Ca¬
lais, who had penetrated into Flanders and taken Dun¬
kirk, was totally routed near Gravelines, and taken pri¬
soner by Count Egmont. This disaster obliged the duke
of Guise to relinquish all his other schemes, and hasten
towards the frontiers of Picardy, that he might there
oppose the progress of the enemy.
The eyes of all France were now turned towards the
duke of Guise, as the only general on whose arms vic¬
tory always attended, and in whose conduct as well as
good fortune they could confide in every danger. His
strength was nearly equal to the duke ol Savoy’s, each
commanding about 40,000 men. They encamped at
the distance of a few leagues from one another 5 and the
Irench and Spanish monarchs having joined their re¬
spective armies, it was expected that, after the vicissitudes
ol war, a decisive battle would at last determine which
of the rivals should take the ascendency for the future
in the affairs of Europe. But both monarchs, as if by
agreement, stood on the defensive ; neither of them dis¬
covering any inclination, though each had it in his
power, to rest the decision of a point of such importance
p l; on the issue of a single battle.
elude • ])ui'!nS state of inaction, peace began to he men-
tweejeen-*10116^ each camp, and both Henry and Philip dis-
'7an hj. covered an equal disposition to listen to any overture
After the death of Charles, the kingdom of Spain
soon lost great part of its consequence. Though Charles
had used all his interest to get his son Philip elected
emperor 0 Germany, he had been totally disappointed:
and thus the grandeur of Philip II. never equalled that
of his father. His dominions were also considerably
abridged by his tyrannical behaviour in the Netherlands
Inconsequence of this, the United Provinces revolted :* I(J,
and after a long and bloody war obtained their liberty *. Revolt of
in this quarrel Elizabeth of England took part againstlhe P11;'t,;d
1 hi lip, which brought on a war with Spain. The «reat i>?vi,lces-
OSB lie sustained in these wars exhausted the kingdome/£<2'
both of men and money, notwithstanding the great sums
imported from America. Indeed the discovery of that
country has much impoverished, instead of enrithinir
bpain ; for thus the inhabitants have been rendered lazy
and averse to every kind of manufacture or traffic, which
only can he a durable source of riches and strength to 16S
any nation. I he ruin of the kingdom in this respect Expulsion
however, was completed by Philip III. who, at the in-v!'the
stigation of the inquisition, and by the advice of hisi^badcon-
prime minister theduke of Lerma, expelled from the sequences
kingdom all the Morescoes or Moors, descendants 0floSPain« *
the ancients conquerors of Spain. Thirty days only were
allowed them to prepare for their departure, and it was
death to remain beyond that time. The reason for this
barbarous decree was, that these people were still Ma¬
hometans in their hearts, though they conformed exter¬
nally tothe rites of Christianity, and thus might corrupt
the true faith. The Morescoes, however, chose them¬
selves a king, and attempted to oppose the royal man¬
date ; but, being almost entirely unprovided with arms
they were soon obliged to submit, and were all banished
the kingdom. By this violent and impolitic measure,
opam lost almost a million of industrious inhabitants •
and as the kingdom was already depopulated by bloody
wars by repeated emigrations'to America, and ener¬
vated by luxury, it now sank into a state of languor
from which it has never recovered.
lip,
165,'
Eatlu
Martas
that tended to re-establish it. The private inclinations
ol both kings concurred with their political interests
and the wishes of their people. Philip languished to
return to Spain, the place of his nativity, and peace
only could enable him, either with decency or safety, to
quit the Low Countries. Henry was now desirous of
being freed from the avocations of war, that he might
lave leisure to turn the whole force of his government
towards suppressing the opinions of the reformers which
were spreading with such rapidity in Paris and the other
great towns, that they began to grow formidable to the
established church. Court intrigues conspired with
these public and avowed motives to hasten the negotia¬
tion, and the abbey of Cercamp was fixed on as the
place of congress.
While Philip and Henry were making these advan¬
ces towards a trea'ty which restored tranquillity to Eu¬
rope, Charles V. whose ambition had so long disturbed
it, but who had been for some time dead to°the world,
ended his days in the monastery of St Just us in Estrema-
(lira, which he had chcfeen as the place of his retreat, as
is particularly related under the article Charles V.
Vol. XIX. Part IL if
I he reign of Philip IV. the successor of Philip III. Philip9|V.
commenced in 1621. He had riot been long seated onAn- l6iI-
the throne before the expiration of the 12 years truce
w.m h 1 hihp III. had concluded with the United Pro¬
vinces, again involved Spain in the calamities of war
ihe renewed contest was carried on with vigour by both
the contending powers, till in the year 1648 the Spanish
monarch was compelled to sign the treaty of Munster, . *7°
by which the United Provinces were declared free and *nial loss
independent From this period the power of the Spa-United
msh monarchy began to decline, as it I,ad already been Provinces,
severely shaken by the loss of Portugal. 171
Tins event took place in 1640, when the Portu«-uesellevoIt of
finally threw off the Spanish yoke, and that country re-An So
mained an independent kingdom, till the power of Bo- ‘
naparte compelled its lawful monarch to abandon his
European territories. Philip IV. also prosecuted an
unsuccessful war with France. This war was termina-
te” 10 1^59» an£l Philip died about six vears after. 172
The new monarch, Charles II. was only four years Charles n-
old when he succeeded to the throne. He was of aA,1-l66S-
feeble constitution, and a weak capacity. The war
which had been occasioned by the revolt of Portugal
continued till the year 1668, when a peace was con¬
cluded, and the independence of that kingdom was ac¬
knowledged. Hostilities had been renewed with France
3U bul
m
Acoession
of the
House of
Bourbon.
An.iycc
SPAIN.
but Irreatly to the disadvantage of the Spaniards, who
lost some of the richest ami best fortified towns which
they still possessed in Flanders. The peace of Nime-
euen between France and Spain was signed in the year
1678. Charles II. died in 1700, and with him ended
the male line of the house of Austria 5 a dynasty to
Avhich Spain ewes less than to any other race of its mo-
narchs. . . 1 •
Historians have been fond of representing the domi¬
nion of the Austrian princes in Spain as productive of
the greatest glory and advantage to that kingdom. Ihe
reign of Charles V. may indeed be said to have been a
glorious reign j but little of its glory belonged to Spain,
and the emperor certainly neglected her interests in
advancing those of his more favoured territories. The
picture given by the Spanish historians of the state of
Spain at the accession and during the reign of Philip
II. fully evinces how little that kingdom had profited
by the change in the line of its succession. Agricul¬
ture was neglected ; commerce was fettered by enor¬
mous duties, and the people were held in the chains of
ignorance and superstition.
Charles II. was succeeded by Philip V. duke of An¬
jou, and grandson to Louis XIV. ol France, who had
been nominated heir to the Spanish throne by the late
monarch. The transactions of the war which was soon
’ declared against France and Spain, by England, Hol¬
land, and the empire, assisted by Savoy, Portugal, and
Prussia, have been already related under the article Bri¬
tain, from N° 345 to N6 371. The treaty of Utrecht,
which terminated the differences between the principal
contending powers, was signed in 1713, and in 1715a
permanent peace was concluded between Spain and Por¬
tugal. Hostilities, however, still continued with Savoy
and Sardinia, and in 1715 the island of Sardinia was
taken by a Spanish fleet, and the year following another
fleet belonging to the same nation invaded Sicily, but
was defeated by the British admiral Byng. By a new
treatv in 1720, Sardinia was given to the duke of
Savoy, and Sicily to the emperor j and by the treaty of
Seville, concluded in 1729, the duchies of Tuscany,
Parma, and Placentia, were ceded to Spain. In I731*
the Spanish king invaded Naples, took possession of that
kingdom, and conferred it on his son Don Carlos, in
consequence of which war was declared between Spain
and the empire in 1733. At the end of that year the
palace of Madrid was consumed by fire, and all the ar¬
chives relating to the Indies perished in the flames.
In 1739, hostilities were renewed between Spain and
Britain, (see Britain, N° 403) ; but the only succes¬
ses acquired by the latter power were the capture of
Porto Bello by Admiral Vernon, and that of the Ma¬
nilla galleon by Commodore Anson. After a long and
turbulent reign, Philip V. died in 1746.
Ferdinand VI. a mild, prudent, and beneficent prince,
reformed abuses in the administration of justice, and
management of the finances. He revived commerce,
established manufactures, and promoted the prosperity
of his kingdom. In April A. D. 1755, Quito in South
America was destroyed by an earthquake.
Charles HI. succeeded Ferdinand in 1759. The fa-
Aja, 1759. nious family compact was concluded at Versailles, A. D.
1761, among the lour kings of the house of Bourbon.
The English, alarmed by the naval preparations of
Spain, declared war in 1762 (see Britain, N° 43°)j
3
174 ,
IFerdinanu
XL
An. 1746.
*75
Charles III.
and took Havannah in the island of Cuba, and Manilla Spain
in the East Indies. Notwithstanding this success, -v*'
peace was hastily concluded at Fountainbleau, in No¬
vember, by which the Havannah was restored. In
1767 the Jesuits were expelled from Spain. An unsuc¬
cessful expedition was concerted against Algiers, A. D.
1775, the particulars of which are related in M. Swin¬
burne’s Travels, letter v. In the war between Great
Britain and her American colonies, Spain, by the in¬
trigues of the French court, was prevailed on to take
up arms in support of the latter. At the conclusion of
that calamitous war, Great Britain, in a treaty with
Spain, ceded to this power, East and West Florida,
and the island of Minorca. Charles died in 1788,
and was succeeded by his second son Charles Anthony
prince of Asturias, the eldest having been declared in¬
capable of inheriting the crown. 170
Charles IV. had not been long seated on the throne ^arles J
before the portentous revolution in France involved Eu- ^ 17 &
rope in a general scene of political and military contest.
The king of Spain joined the general confederacy against
the new republic, and in consequence was numbered
among the objects of its resentment, by a declaration of 177
war in 1793. The military operations of Spain, how-Engagcii
ever, were extremely languid 5 and after two campaigns,
in which she might be said to carry on rather a defen-againgt
sive than offensive war, against the republican armies fr£mce,
(see France, N° 41 i), she was compelled to conclude An. 179J
a treaty of peace, which was signed at Basil on the
22d July 1795. By this treaty the French republic
restored to the king of Spain all the conquests which
she had made from him since the commencement of ho¬
stilities, and received in exchange all right and pro¬
perty in the Spanish part of St Domingo. ^
This treaty was soon followed by a rupture with^'J'
Great Britain. On 5th October 1796, the court of ^
Spain published a manifesto against this country, touin.
which the court of London made a spirited reply j and An.
about the same time was published a treaty of offensive
and defensive alliance, which had been concluded about
two months before, between the king of Spain and'the
French republic. In the war which followed between
Spain and Great Britain, his Catholic majesty could
boast of but little honour or success j and the Irench
republic gained little from its new ally, but the contri¬
butions of money, which she from time to time compel¬
led him to advance. On the 14th of lebruary i797>An'W’
a Spanish fleet of 27 sail of the line was defeated by
Sir John Jervis off Cape St Vincent (see France, N°
482) ; and four of the Spanish line of battle ships were
left in the hands of the victors. From this time till
the temporary termination of hostilities by the peace
of Amiens in 1802, there is nothing remarkable in the
transactions of Spain. . .
On the renewal of the war in 1803, Spain was againAn*1
compelled, by the overbearing power of I ranee, to
take an active part against Great Britain, and fitted
out a formidable fleet, which was united to a consider-
derable naval force of the new-made emperor of the
French. The Spanish declaration of war against Bri¬
tain is dated at Madrid on the 12th of December 1804 ^
and on the 21st of October 1805, the combined fleets11,
of France and Spain were nearly annihilated by Lord
Nelson’s decisive victory off Cape Trafalgar.
After this terrible blow to the naval power of Spain,
nothing
%j3
■>
s p
Spain, nothing of importance took place till 1808, when the
-n, ' designs of Bonaparte against the independence of Spain
which had been long suspected, were openly avowed, in
rolution „ ’o r > upcmy avowed, ill
ofconsequence of a domestic dispute, probably fomented
» by the emissaries Franny * u i .
. . «„ piuuciuiy romenteci
1: prince “X the emissaries of France, which took place between
‘A,turias- ^harles V • nandnth« prince of Asturias. During the
1S0S.
fenknj
VII.
AIN.
was hastened by the information which he had received
of the tumults at Aranjuez. This general caused it to
be intimated to Ferdinand, that the emperor of the
b rench was on his journey to Spain, and advised him to
meet his master on the road. In the mean time he was
winter of 1807-8 The" public ml^irsVai^ hadTTS mtb.the monarch, whom he as-
greatly agitated. Some accused the prince^f the Peace o^ 116 HSS,SJljnc]e of Bona parte in reinstating him
!)on Manuel Godoy, (who had long held the helm of to BonanlT^ * C,,^leuS ,acCOrding1X add^ed a letter
state, and was the richest and most powerful subject in bis A ^ 1 r *110 W^1C 1 contradicts the assertion of
the kingdom), of having concerted" with the oueen Jo wasr9th 5 an,d dtclares tha^ abdication
destroy the prince of Asturias. Others accused the wince thp ^ea^ve of compulsion 5 and throws himself on
of Asturias of being at the head of a party to deth "^ dfv T 7 ^ ^ hls fl iend arid
his father. Solemn councils anu long proceeding fol d X T ^7 "lon" 16 an.d ,US subJVcts can hope to
lowed up by exiles and violent acts, IrToni cfLlnl' J •
opinions, served to agitate them still more g out of ?P •“il0 haVe,bee” ^he design of Mnrat to draw of
In March 1808, several disturbances hannened at ? W 10le °f tbe r°XaI familX» nnd in this
vary and had advanced a, far L Vittona, XeTe „as ^
eft by Savary, and where he found himself surrounded
iy r rench troops. He was compelled to remain at Vit¬
oria, until Savary, who had proceeded to Bayonne
where Bonaparte then was, should return and intimate
to him the pleasure of his master. When the general
returned, he brought with him a letter from Napoleon
to Ferdinand. In this letter, which is addressed to Fer¬
dinand as prince of Asturias, and not as king of Spain
Bonaparte assured the prince, that the sole object of his*
journey into Spain was to make such reforms in that
kingdom as would be agreeable to the public feelings.
Without pretending to judge respecting the late revo¬
lution he cautions Ferdinand against the danger to be
apprehended from sovereigns permitting their subjects
to take justice into their own hands. After insinuating
his own power over the royal family of Spain, and ad-
vertmg to the tumults that had taken place, in which
some nf hie  1  . ’ „ . .
~ nances were excited by a repor
that the royal family were about to quit Spain and emi¬
grate to America. In consequence of this report, the
populace ol the neighbouring villages repaired in crowds
to Aranjuez, where they found the attendants of the
court packing up the baggage of the royal household ;
and understood that relays of horses were stationed on
the road to Seville and that every thing was prepared
for the departure of the royal fugitives, who were to
take shipping at that port. It was suspected that Don
Manuel Godoy or, as he has commonly been called,
the prince of the Peace, was the chief instigator of
this unpopular measure ; and the fury of the people was
directed chiefly against that nobleman, whose palace they
attacked on the 18th of March. He, however, found
means to escape for the present, but was afterwards ar¬
rested m a garret of his own house. In the mean time
the king issued two decrees with a view to allay the
popular ferment} but as this still continued, he on the
19th took the extraordinary resolution of abdicating the
throne in favour of the prince of Asturias. This reso¬
lution was made known by a royal decree, in which
Utarlc declared that, as his natural infirmities no long-
ei permitte nm to support the weight of government,
and the re-establishment of his health required a change
of climate, he had after the most mature deliberation
resolved to abdicate his crown in favour of his heir the
prince of Asturias} and this resolution he declared to
be the result of his own free will.
T,bf. new sovereign was accordingly proclaimed by
_ie title of I erdmand VII. and issued an edict confisca^
Ung the effects of Don Manuel Godoy, and announcing
the appointment of the duke of Infantado, a nobleman
deservedly popular for bis talents and virtues, to the
presidency of Castile and the command of the royal
guards. J
Ihese disturbances have commonly been attributed to
the machinations of the French emperor, who had gain-
a complete ascendency over the weak Charles} and
vTentT T * PnnCe °f tbe Peace e"tirely subser-
■ent to the views which he had formed on the inde-
pendence and the liberties of Spain. How far this sup¬
position is correct, it is impossible for us at this time to
neasuTsVt f ,S ?.nde.red Probab,e bX the active
measures taken about this time by Napoleon to awe by
Juki P p CC the Span'sh nation- Murat the grand
auke of Berg was at this time on his march towards the
»pital with a body of French troops} and his march
w .o.n.cu piace, in wnich
some of his troops had fallen, he makes use of the fol¬
lowing expression, “ a few of my soldiers may be mur¬
dered } but the subjugation of Spain shall be the conse¬
quence of it.”
Ferdinand confounded at the conduct of the French
emperor, and alarmed for his own personal safety, was
compelled to proceed on his journey. When he arrived
at Bayonne he was received by the prince of Neufchatel
and Duroc, and was conducted to a place by no means
suited to his rank or his character as ally of Bonaparte.
He however dined with the emperor} but after he had
retired. Genera Savary brought a message from his mas-
ter, intimating his determination that the present royal
iamily of Spain should give up to him all right and
title to the crown of that kingdom, and that they should
be succeeded by a branch of his own family. Astonish¬
ed at this intimation, Ferdinand sent his prime minister
Cevallos to canvas the matter with M. Champagny,
the confidential secretary of Napoleon. The conference
was held in an apartment adjoining the cabinet of the
emperor, and, as it appeared, within his hearing: for
when Cevallos was arguing with great warmth and
strength of reasoning on the injustice and even impolicy
of the proposed measures, both he and Champagny were
ordered into the emperor’s presence} and the former was
reviled in the grossest terms, branded with the appella¬
tion of a traitor, accused of having maintained that the
recognition of Bonaparte was not necessary to the vali¬
dity of his master’s title to the throne of Spain, and of
3 U 2 having
SPA
having affirmed that if the French dared to attack the in¬
dependence of the Spanish monarchy, three hundred thou¬
sand men would rise to defend it and repel the invaders.
\fter Napolean had thus indulged the violence ot Ins
temper, he entered in a harsh and arrogant style on a
discussion of the points in dispute between Ins secretary
and Cevallos 5 and finding that he could neither convince
nor silence the Spanish minister, he abruptly concluded
with the following peremptory declaration : “1 have a
system of policy of my own ; you ought to adopt more
liberal ideas, to be less susceptible on the point ot hon¬
our, and not sacrifice the prosperity of Spain to the in¬
terest of the House of Bourbon.” From tins time the
destiny of the Spanish royal family was fixed. Ferdi¬
nand the monarch of the .people’s choice was already a
captive, and not many days elapsed before the rest ot the
royal family was in the same situation. On the first ot
May Ferdinand had made a conditional renunciation ot
fils crown in favour of his father, and on the filth of the
same month Bonaparte had a long conversation with
Charles the Fourth and his queen. Ferdinand was cal¬
led in by his father, to hear, in the presence of him and
the oueen, the disgusting and humiliating expressions
which were uttered by the French emperor, expressions
of such a nature, that Cevallos says, he dares not record
them. All the parties were seated except F erdinaml; he
was ordered by his father to make an absolute renuncia¬
tion of the crown, on pain of being treated as an usurper
and a conspirator against the right of his parents. With
this requisition Ferdinand complied, and thus completed
the abdication of his family j for it appeared that on the
preceding day Charles had executed the deed of resig¬
nation, which transferred to the emperor ot the French
his title to the crown of Spain, on consideration ol receiv¬
ing during his life an annuity of eighty millions of reals,
of a dowry to his queen of two millions of reals, and to
the infantes of Spain the annual sum of four hundred
thousand livres.
Thus had Bonaparte effected the transference of the
Spanish nation from the Bourbon dynasty to his own fa¬
mily, so far at least as that transference could be eflec-
ted by the formal renunciation in his favour of the royal
family, and by a strong but suspicious recommendation
from them to the Spanish nation to receive their new
sovereign, whoever he should be, with submission and
obedience. Filled as the annals of mankind are with
examples of treachery, perfidy, and violence, it would
be difficult to point out a deed which in every part of
its performance, in its own nature, or in the character of
the means by which it was effected, bears such strong
marks of unjust and lawless tyranny.
It was soon understood that Napolean designed the
crown of Spain for his brother Joseph, who had some
time before been placed on the throne of Naples. In an
address to the Spanish nation, which Bonaparte publish¬
ed immediately after the abdication of Charles and Fer¬
dinand, he informed them that he did not mean to reign
over them in person, but that he would give them a so¬
vereign every way resembling himself. In the begin¬
ning of June Joseph Bonaparte arrived in the neighbour¬
hood of Bayonne, where he was received by a deputa¬
tion of the grandees of Spain and from the council of
Castile, and presented with a congratulatory address,
written in the most fulsome style of adulation, on his
accession to the Spanish throne.
I N.
But though the nomination of Joseph Bonaparte was Spain,
easily effected, it was not so easy to place him on the '—
throne in opposition to the almost unanimous will of the ^ l82
Spanish nation. Ferdinand the Seventh was the darling
of the people } and his accession to the crown had been jnsnrrectj
hailed by them, both as placing them under the dominion 0f the Sp>
of a beloved monarch, and as releasing them from theniards.
tyranny of Godoy, who was an object of almost univer¬
sal detestation. They had hitherto submitted with pa¬
tience to the influence and power of France, hopeless of
rescuing themselves while Charles possessed the tin one,
and while the prince of the Peace directed his councils j
but the accession of Ferdinand, and the consequent dis¬
grace of the favourite, had led them to hope that they
should now find a sovereign willing to direct and assist
their efforts to regain their independence. Under these
expectations, a great part of the nation had come for¬
ward to oiler their assistance in supporting the claims of
the new monarch. I he province of Catalonia, the most
industrious and the most warlike of the Spanish nation,
particularly distinguished itself by the promptitude and
extent of its offers. Soon after Ferdinand had ascended
the throne, the captain-general of Catalonia, relying on
the well-known resources and dispositions ot the inhabi¬
tants, had come forward with an offer of a military force
of above a hundred thousand men ; and other provinces
would have followed this example, but Ferdinand had
discouraged these military preparations, and appeared
willing to submit quietly to French bondage.
The spirit which had animated the Spaniards thus
boldly to support their favourite sovereign, was net ol a
nature to be chilled and repressed by his timidity or
example. The hatred which they had conceived against
the French daily found fresh sources of nourishment.
They saw Ferdinand, who had rejected their proffered
services lest he should expose himself to the suspicion or
displeasure of Bonaparte, enticed by deceit, or compelled
by violence, to relinquish his kingdom and commit him¬
self to the power of his enemy. They anticipated the
consequences, and prepared to resist them with vigour
and unanimity. The renunciation of the royal family
in favour of Bonaparte was no sooner known in Spain,
than the northern provinces burst into open insurrection.
Asturias and Gallicia set the glorious example ; and it
was soon followed by almost every part of Spain, not
immediately occupied or overawed by the armies of
France.
One of the first steps taken by the leaders of the in¬
surrection was, to assemble the juntas or general assem¬
blies of the provinces. When these were organized,
they issued proclamations, calling on the Spaniards to
rise in defence of their sovereign, and in the assertion of
their own independence. Besides these proclamations
from the provincial juntas, addresses were published in
almost every province by the leaders of the popular
cause j in particular, the province of Aragon was ac-
dressed by Palafox, a name celebrated in the annals of
the Spanish revolution, in ahold and spirited manifesto.
The junta of Seville, which assembled on the 27th of
May, formed itself into a supreme junta of government,
caused Ferdinand to be proclaimed king of Spain, took
possession of the military stores, and issued an order for
all males from 16 to 45, who had not children, to en¬
roll themselves in the national armies.
It was natural that, when entering on so determined
an
2
184
S ement
erne
rach and.
S P
ai> opposition to the measures of Bonaparte, the Spa¬
niards should turn their eyes towards that nation, by
i ;ace and 'vh°m a]°ne t,le aml3iti°us views of that potentate had
liance been successfully combated. A peace and alliance with
itliBri- Britain was evidently not only a measure of policy, but
would afford them the most effectual assistance in the
formidable struggle in which they were about to engage.
Accordingly, deputies were dispatched to Great Britain
from several of the provinces, to solicit the aid and
friendship of that country, and to concert measures with
the British ministry for executing the plans which had
been contrived for freeing the kingdom from the French
yoke. The junta of Seville issued a declaration of war
with France, and declared the Spanish nation on terms
of peace and amity with Britain. The Spanish de¬
puties were empowered to solicit supplies of arms, am¬
munition, clothing and money j hut it was thought that
H supply of British troops would he unnecessary, the
Spanish patriots considering themselves as fully equal to
the defence of their country. The cause of the Spanish
patriots was eagerly embraced by the court of London,
and by the British nation at large, and the most active
measures were quickly taken to send them effectual aid.
Vhile these preparations were making on the part of
j+fcnhami 6 fy,;iniarfK Bie French forces were collectino- in
S ishfor-p^f numbers, both on the frontiers, and in the neigh-
4 hourhood of the capital. Above 25,000 men, under
the command of Bessieres and Lassoles, threatened the
provinces of Asturias and Biscay, or occupied the plains
of Castile. Ten thousand men were shut up in the
Citadel of Barcelona j and, to relieve them a strong
body of French troops had marched from the fron¬
tiers, and laid siege to Zaragoza. A considerable body
under General Moncey attacked the city of Valencia :
while the grand duke of Berg, after having detached
General Dupont at the head of 20,000 men, to quiet
the insurrection of the southern provinces, held Madrid
with about 15,000 troops. Junot, with about 25,000
men, had entered Portugal, and taken possession of the
capital. The whole French force at this time in Spain
cannot be computed at less than 100,000 men. These
were opposed by a very numerous, but undisciplined
force, commanded by generals of acknowledged bra¬
very, but differing widely from each other in experience
and military prudence. General Palafox commanded
in Aragon ; General Castanos in the southern provin¬
ces ; and General Blake in the north.
oft ic" *'irSt exertlons °f fbe Spanish patriots were emi-
nishy" nentl7 successful, though they have been greatly exag-
riJi gerated in the newspapers published under authority of
the juntas. The harbour of Cadiz, which contained a
numerous and well-appointed fleet, was under the com¬
mand of the marquis de Solano, a man notoriously at¬
tached to the French interest; and here lay a French
neet, consisting of five ships of the line and a frigate.
ne of tne first efforts of the patriots was, to obtain
possession both of Cadiz and the French fleet, and in this
they completely succeeded. Solano was arrested and
put to death, and Don Morla was appointed in his
room. In the beginning of June the French fleet was
summoned to surrender, and on the admiral’s refusal
was furiously attacked by the batteries on shore, and
0 iged to capitulate. The force detached by Murat
under Dupont, was attacked near Baylen on the
22d July by Major-general Reding, second in cora-
nmnd under Castanos, and after having been defeat-
A I N.
ed, was compelled to surrender at discretion. The
French force besieging Zaragoza, was repeatedly attack-
eu by General t alafox, and suffered considerable losses
while that city held out with the most heroic bravery!
Perhaps there are few instances in the annals of modern
warfare, in which such persevering and successful cou¬
rage has been displayed, as by the defenders of Zara¬
goza. All the means of attack which were in possession
of the French, directed by the skill with which their
long experience and success had supplied them, were
made use of. The inhabitants were obliged continually
to be upon their guard, and to be prepared to resist the
most unexpected and secret, as well as the most open
and violent assaults. The city was frequently bombard-
pd 111 flip middip pf* tlic» nCrrkf t- L    . • . . '
Sac
riot
ed 111 the middle of the night, at the same time that the
gates were attempted to be forced under cover of the
shells. More than once the French got into some parts
of the town ; but they were received with so much
coolness and bravery, that they were never able to pre
serve what they had with so much difficulty and loss
acquired. The women vied with their husbands sons
and brothers, in the display of patriotism and contempt-
of danger: regardless of the fire of the enemy they
rushed into the very middle of the battle, administering
support and refreshment to the exhausted and wound-
ed, and animating, by their exhortations and example
all ranks to such a display of firmness and bravery as-
long secured this important city. When it is recoi
lected, that the attacks of the French were numerous'
and varied, that they were constantly repeated with
fresh and generally with increasing forces, and that the
sole defence of the city rested with its spirited inhabi
tants and the army of Palafox; some idea may be formed
ot the difficulties they must have undergone and sur -
mounted, and of the glory to which they are so justly
entitled. The patriots had gained possession of most of
the sea ports in the bay of Biscay, and headed by the
bishop of bt Andero, repulsed the French in several at¬
tacks. The French force under General Moncey *as
also repulsed before Valencia, and the patriots were
equally successful in several other quarters ; so that by
the end of July there did not remain above 40,000
.rrench forces within the Spanish territory.
In. the mean time preparations were making at Madrid A. rival and
lor the reception of the newsovereign Joseph; and Murat flight of
under pretence of ill health, quitted the capital, to ^ve Joseph Bo-
way to the brother of his master. Joseph Bonapartenapaite*
arrived at Madrid in the latter end of July with a
guard of 10,000 men ; but soon after his arrival the
news of the defeat and capitulation of Dupont reached
Madrid, and threw the new court into the utmost con-
s tern at ion. They understood that the victorious army
of Castanos was on its march towards the capital: and if
he did not speedily retire from so dangerous a position,
King Joseph dreaded either falling into the hands of the
conqueror of Dupont, or of being intercepted in his re-
treat by the army of General Blake. In this situation
he found himself under the necessity of quitting the ca¬
pital which he had so lately entered, and before the end
of the month he had reached Burgos in his precipitate
flight towards the frontiers. Thus, within the space
of two months, did the people of Spain behold their
country almost entirely freed from the presence of the
French ; and this glorious and happy issue had been
brought about by their own intrepidity. At a time
when their situation was the most dispiriting and for¬
lorn i
526
SPAIN.
Spain, lorn; when their king had been compelled to forsake
v—them, and to make over his right to the throne to a
foreign potentate j when they beheld scarcely any
troops surrounding them on all sides, but those of that
potentate, they rose in arms, and opposed themselves,
unskilled as they were in war, and totally unprepared
for it, to a man before whom the mightiest empires in
tgj Europe had fallen.
tererses. The successes of the Spanish arms, though brilliant
and important, were but transient. The leaders of the
insurrection appear to have been but ill calculated to
oppose the system of tactics which had been so often
practised with success by the conqueror of Marengo, of
Jena, and of Austerlitz. Though the conquests of Au¬
stria and Prussia had been effected by the same system
which the French were now pursuing in Spain, the mi¬
litary men of this kingdom were incapable of analyzing
them, or of adopting effectual measures of opposition or
defence. In a series of about 30 bulletins, published
from the French army of Spain, comprehending from
the beginning of November 1808 to the middle of
January 1809, we read of nothing but the rapid move¬
ments and successes of the French, and the defeat and
annihilation of the best appointed armies of the insur¬
gents. In Gallicia, General Blake, after having with¬
stood the duke of Dantzic (Marshal Ney), in several
encounters, was at length defeated, and his army disper¬
sed. A division of the army of Estremadura, under
Count Belvider, which had marched from Madrid to
support the city of Burgos, was attacked and defeated
by a division of the French army under the dukes of
Istria and Dalmatian while the army of General Castanos
Was in a great measure dispersed, after a severe conflict
on the heights of Tudela. According to the French
account, the army of Castanos consisted of 45,000 men.
It was opposed by the duke of Montebello, and entirely
defeated, with the loss of nearly 4000 killed, and 5000
taken prisoners.
In the meantime Bonaparte had entered Spain, and
taken the command of the French army. He advanced
by rapid marches towards Madrid, and at the end of
November his advanced guard reached the important
pass of Somosierra. This pass was defended by a body
of 13,000 Spaniards, with sixteen pieces of cannon.
They were attacked by the French under the duke of
Belluno, and after making a considerable stand, were
entirely defeated. On the 2d of December Bonaparte
arrived in the neighbourhood of Madrid, and on the
jgg 5th he was master of that capital.
British ex- While the Spanish patriots were thus pursuing their
peditions in plan of opposition to French tyranny with various suc-
the^panhh cess\tlie cabinet were fitting out formidable ex¬
patriots. peditions to the coasts of Spain and Portugal. The re¬
sult of the expedition under Sir Harry Burrard and Sir
Arthur Wellesley, the battle of Vimiera, the convention
of Cintra, and the consequent evacuation of Portugal
by the French, in the month of August 1808, have
been already noticed under Portugal, N° 49 and 50.
After these transactions, the greater part of the British
army under the command of Lieutenant-general Sir
John Moore, proceeded on their march to the frontiers
of Spain. The progress and operations of this army
will he detailed afterwards. About the middle of the
same month, a body of 13,000 British troops, under
the command of Sir David Baird, arrived at Corunna,
and proceeded through the interior of the country, in- Spain,
tending to join Sir John Moore in the neighbourhood of v~1V
Madrid. A brigade of 10,000 men under General
Hope, reached that capital, and established themselves
at the Escurial *, hut on the approach of Bonaparte,
were under the necessity of retiring. ,5^
Experience has shown that in their military cam- March of
paigns on the continent, British forces have to contend®'1'^11
with numerous difficulties, surmountable only by the ut- ^ore 10
most prudence and viligance on the part of the com- ®
manding officers, and by a considerable degree of skill
and foresight on that of the projectors of such under¬
takings. Never perhaps were these difficulties more se¬
verely felt than in the march of Sir John Moore from
Portugal to the centre of the Spanish territory. It was
found that in whatever direction he might prosecute his
march, he would encounter either bad roads or scan¬
ty supplies of provisions. In particular, the difficulty
of transporting the artillery over the Portuguese moun¬
tains was extreme 5 and the Portuguese at Lisbon were
either egregiously ignorant of the state of the roads
which led through their own country to the Spanish
frontiers, or were unwilling to communicate the infor¬
mation which they really possessed. Under these cir¬
cumstances it was found necessary to divide the British
army ; and it was determined to send forward one divi¬
sion consisting of 6000 men under the command of
Lieutenant- General Hope, which was directed to march
by Elvas, to enter Spain by Badajos, and to proceed
along the Madrid road by way of Espinar. Another
division, consisting of two brigades under General Paget,
was detached by way of Elvas and Alcantara, where it
was to pass the Tagus. Two brigades under General
Beresford moved through Portugal by way of Coimbra
and Almeyda towards Salamanca, while three brigades
under General Fraser marched towards the frontiers of
Spain by Abrantes and Almeyda.
Burgos had been recommended by the Spanish govern¬
ment as the point of union for the British troops, and Ma¬
drid and Valladolid were appointed for magazines. The
British had been led to expect that they would find be¬
tween 60,000 and 70,000 Spaniards assembled under Ge¬
neral Blake and the marquis de la Romana in the provin¬
ces of Asturias and Gallicia, and that a much greater
number was x-eady to co-operate with them under the
command of Castanos on the front and left of the prin¬
cipal French position. The Spaniards had been repre¬
sented as unanimous in their enthusiasm for the cause of
liberty, and as ready to treat the British troops as the
saviours of their country. How far this inlormation
was correct, will he seen presently.
In marching through the Portuguese teiaitory, the
troops first encountered difficulties which they were not
prepared to expect. The contractor at Lisbon, who
had agxeed to supply the divisions with rations on the
march, failed in his contract, and excessive inconve¬
nience was experienced from the want of money. The
divisions under Generals Fraser and Beresford were obli¬
ged to halt, and it was some time before they could
again set forward. The proceedings of the central jun¬
ta, on which all the movements both of the British and
Spanish armies chiefly depended, were languid, tardy,
and irresolute ; and before the British troops could as¬
semble in any force in Spain, the principal armies ot
the patriots had been defeated and dispersed in almost
every
SPA
1, ^er-V ^arteur-, A0,n tht 8th November Sir John
Moore reached Almeyda. The weather was at this
tune extremely unfavourable, and the troops were ex¬
posed to almost incessant rain. They entered Spain on
the xith of November, and on the 13th Sir John ar¬
rived with his advanced guard at Salamanca, where he
halted, intending to assemble there all the troops which
were on their march through Portugal. While he re-
niained at Salamanca, he was informed that a consider-
V n V rT1 01 ^ h?d assenibled and tRken possession of
Valladolid, at the distance of only twenty leagues, by
which one of the places that had been intended for ma¬
gazines was lost At this time Sir John had with him
only three brigades of infantry without artillery, and it
would be at least ten days before the whole of the divi¬
sions could come up. He was thus exposed to almost
an immediate attack by the French without any effec¬
tual support from the boasted patriotism of the Spa¬
niards. ^
The situation of affairs in Spain had now become
ev lemely critical ; and every account sent to Sir John
Moore by men of sound judgment, was filled with con¬
vincing proofs that the Spanish government had con¬
cealed fiom their ally the very desperate state of their
aflau-s. General Hope, by a long and tiresome march,
had reached the neighbourhood of Madrid, whence he
stati,,g tiiat every
was affected by the disjointed and inefficient construc-
t.on 0 the government. On the 28th of November
P John was advertised of the late defeat and dispersion
of Castanos and of the little probability there was of
his being able to march forward, so as to effect any thing
of advantage He therefore determined to fall back
though this determination was evidently in opposition to’
the wishes and advice of his officers. Fresh dispatches,
owever, from the seat of government, diminishing the
Josses which had been sustained by the patriots, and ex-
aggeratmg the ardour with which the people were ac¬
tuated, induced him to delay his retreat, especially as
he had now a complete, though small corps, with caval-
!y and artillery, and could, by a movement to the left
easily effect a junction with Sir David Baird, while the
11vision under General Hope had, by rapid marches, ar¬
rive! in the neighbourhood of Salamanca.*
n addition to the misrepresentations by which the
commanders of the British forces, and the British envoy
at Aranjuez, had been deceived, they had now to con¬
tend with two designing men, who, it soon appeared,
were in the I rench interest. These were Don Morla the
late governor of Cadiz, and a M. Charmiily. By’the
machinations of these men, Mr Frere was led to advise
and Sir John Moore strongly incited to undertake, bringl
I inAihe1WJh0leI°f the Bl'kish ,orce t0 tbe neighbourhood
ot Madrid, where they would soon have been complete¬
ly within the power of the enemy. Though by these
I arts Sir John was effectually misled, he did not suffer
himself to be drawn into so dangerous a snare. He, how¬
ever, advanced beyond Salamanca, and sent forward the
: reserve and General Beresford’s brigade towards Toro
on the Douro, where they were to unite with the cavalry
under Lord 1 aget, who had advanced thither from As-
torga. On December 12th, Lord Paget, with the
principal part of the cavalry, marched from 'Loro to
lordesillas, while the brigade under General Stewart
moved from Arivolo. In the vicinity of Tor desill as,
I N.
onnosed hVilHgerf RU.eda’ ^ Britis,, forcPS were ^
a sma" ^ °i”h™ ~
Whde Sir John Moore was at Toro, he received in-
igence that the duke of Dalmatia was at Saldana
rkh afc°-lde-ble body of French troops, ttt Juno"
luke of Abrantes, was marching with another towards
Burgos and that a third under the duke of Treviso was
des med for Zaragoza. He was very desirous that the
wbl M -t ie*e £<jncra,s advance to meet him and
relcVed onT '.fi.lTVn™ f'’r"'aI'd “ Tor0’ ^
leached on the 16th of December. He had hoped for
effectual assistance from the corps commanded by the
“erTcofn ° b“t he 800n fouml gt-
solrel) f re"<ler,'"m "<> ™pport. Ho had „ow fe_
] MV1'™'™ communication between France
to attack^'he’d^’ k a favou.rable opportunity offered,
to attack the duke of Dalmatia’s corps, or any of the
oyering i ivisions that should present themselves. He
oresaw tha this would necessarily draw upon him a
large I rench force, and of course would prove an im
portant diversion in favour of the Spaniards^ who would
m?nS ha^6 the 0PP0rtu,% of collecting in the
south, and restoring their affairs. The army was now
near the I rench position. The cavalry under Lord
as far rVaT^r 1° ''’Tf''; r’at ll,eir ^atrols reacl'«1
rSfef'r me7- n,et a detach!
tvbl pAret.M 7’ Cl,arged them’ a"d ““
wpr)n t'r l8th Deceraber, Sir John’s head-quarters
ven7 Cf, ° NreV°’ an<1 Sir David Baird’s al Bene.
reached" ^ 'V™ u™' °n the 20th Sir J°hn
reached Majorga, where he was joined by Sir David
tlm/fewer H 131,116,1 army now am°onted to ra-
cavali; erT'r\ V?0 men’ °f Wb°m ab0llt 2000 were
y. 1 he weather was extremely cold, and the
giound covered with deep snow. Still the exertions of
- -a ^
mined to halt for some time, to refresh his troops, after
the fatigues which they had undergone.
John had now arived witiling very short distance
fi om Saidana, where the duke of Dalmatia was posted
with the flower of the French army ; and preparations
were made for an attack, which was waited for with all
the ardour and impatience which distinguish British
troops In the mean time, however, repeated couriers
arrived at head-quarters, the bearers of unpleasant
teliigence. Certain information was received, that a
strong I rench reinforcement had arrived at Carrion a
i, .e to the right of Sahagun, that the French corps
which was marching to the south, had halted at Talal
veia, and that the enemy were advancing from Madrid-
in considerable force. Sir John now sal that his mo¬
tions had been watched by Bonaparte, and that all the
ar s of this experienced general had been preparing to
entrap him. lo advance was madness j to retreatfal¬
most in the face of an enemy, was a measure of the ut¬
most danger, but it was the only alternative
On the 24th of December‘Sir John began silently w 150
and secretly to prepare for his retreat, and to provide7 ^
as far as possible, for the defence of those parts of the’
country.
528
Spain.
SPA
country which were stiii held by the pati lots. itli
1 this latter view, he directed Sir David Baird to take
the route towards Valencia de Don Juan, while the rest
of the army was to proceed by Castro Gonzalo. by
this division the magazines and stores which had been
deposited at Benevente and Zamora, were also ettec-
tU According to the arrangement made, General Fra¬
ser, followed by General Hope, marched with their di¬
visions on the 24th December to Valderos and Ma-
iorga, and Sir David Baird proceeded with his to \ a^
lencia To conceal this movement, a-ord I aget was
ordered to push on strong patrols of cavalry close to
the advanced posts of the enemy. I he reserve, with
two licrht corps, did not retire from Sagahun till the
morning of the 25th, following General Hope. Lord
Packet was ordered to remain with the cavalry until
evening, and then follow the reserve. These last were
accompanied by Sir John The retreat commenced in
this deliberate manner. On the 26th ot December Sir
David Baird reached the Fslar, and passed the terly
with less difficulty than was expected. He took post,
according to his orders, at Valencia, and wrote to the
marquis of Romana, urging him to blow up the bridge
of Mansilla. The other divisions of infantry proceeded
unmolested to Castro Gonzalo. On the 24th the ad¬
vanced guard of Bonaparte’s army marched from lor-
desillas, 120 miles from Madrid, and strong detach¬
ments of cavalry had been pushed forward to \ illalpan-
do and Majorga. On the 26th, Lord Paget fell in
with one of those detachments at the latter place. His
lordship immediately ordered Colonel Leigh, with two
squadrons of the 10th hussars, to attack this corps,
which had halted on the summit of a steep hill. One
of Colonel Leigh’s squadrons was kept in reserve 5 the
other rode briskly up the hill ; on approaching the top,
where the ground was rugged, the colonel judiciously
reined-in to refresh the horses, though exposed to a se¬
vere fire from the enemy. When he had nearly gained
the summit, and the horses had recovered their breath,
he charged boldly and overthrew the enemy ; many of
whom were killed and wounded, and above 100 sur¬
rendered prisoners. Nothing could exceed the coolness
and gallantry displayed by the British cavalry on this
occasion. The 18th dragoons had signalized them¬
selves in several former skirmishes ; they were success¬
ful in six diflerent attacks. Captain Jones, when at
Palencia, had even ventured to charge too French dra¬
goons with only 30 British ; 14 of the enemy were kill¬
ed, and six taken prisoners. The cavalry, the horse-
artillery, and a light corps, remained on the night of
the 26th, at Castro Gonzalo •, and the divisions under
Generals Hope and Fraser marched to Benevente. On
the 27th, the rear-guard crossed the Eslar, and follow¬
ed the same route, after completely blowing up the
bridge.
We shall not attempt any farther detail of this dan¬
gerous and calamitous retreat, in which our army suf¬
fered extremely, from the fatigues of constant marching,
from the badness of the weather, and even from the bru¬
tality of the Spaniards, in whose cause they had em¬
barked. Before they reached Astorga, it w'as found
necessary to divide the army. A body of 3000 men,
under Brigadier-general Crawford, was detached on
the road to Orense towards Vigo, while the main
I N,
body, under the command of Sir John Moore, rtiarched Spaid.
bv Astorga and Lugo, on the road to Corunna. 1 hey •./—j
left Astorga on the 30th of December, and on the nth Al1, l8cP'
of January came in sight of Corunna. The army had
now reached the sea port from which they were to em¬
bark, but adverse winds had detained the transports, or
the whole of the troops would have been speedily and
safely on board. Only a few ships lay in the harbour,
and in these some sick men and a few stragglers, under
pretence ol sickness, had immediately embarked.
During the whole march from Sahagnn to Corunna, Closely fol.
the British army was closely followed by the French, lowed by
under Bonaparte and the duke of Dalmatia ; and thethe French'
two armies were often so near each other, that the
French patrols fell in, during the night, with the ca¬
valry piquets ol the British. 1 lie duke of Dalmatia
had joined Bonaparte at Astorga, and had increased his
force to nearly 70,000 men, while the whole forte of
the British did not exceed 26,000. When Sir John’s
army reached Lugo, it was found that three divisions ot
the French were arranged in front, and it rvas thought
advisable, on the 8th of January, to offer the enemy
battle. This offer, however, the French thought pro¬
per to decline, and the duke of Dalmatia stirred not
from his post. When the army reached Corunna, the
French were far in the rear, and it was hoped that the
transports might aridve before the enemy could come up.
The retreat of the British, considering the circum¬
stances under which it was effected, was a brilliant and
successful achievement. Two hundred and fifty miles
of country had been traversed in ix days, during the
worst season of the year, through bad roads, over moun¬
tains, defiles, and rivers, and in almost daily contact
with an enemy nearly three times their numbers.
Though often engaged', the rear-guard of the British
had never been beaten, nor even thrown into confusion.
Many losses had indeed been sustained, in baggage, ar¬
tillery, and horses, and many stragglers had fallen into
the hands of the enemy ; but neither Napoleon nor the
duke of Dalmatia could boast of a single military trophy
taken from the retreating army. The greatest danger
was still to be incurred j the position ol Corunna was
found to be extremely unfavourable ; the transports had
not arrived, and the enemy began to appear upon the
heights. The situation of the army was by most of the
officers thought so desperate, that they advised the ge¬
neral to propose terms to the duke of Dalmatia, t iat
they might be suffered to embark unmolested 5 but this
advice Sir John, without hesitation, rejected.
On the 1 2th of January, the French were seen mov¬
ing in considerable force on the opposite side of the river
Mero. They took up a position near the village ot
Perillo, on the left flank of the British, and occupied
the houses along the river. In the mean time Sir John
was incessantly occupied in preparing for the defence 0
his post, and in making every arrangement for the em- ^
barkation of the troops. „ positionof
On the 13th, Sir David Baird marched out of
runna with his division, and took post on a risin„
ground, where he determined to remain all nig it.
division under General Hope was sent to occupy a
on the left, which commanded the road to Betaiizos,
forming a semicircle with Sir David Baird’s division on
the right. General Fraser’s division was drawn llPne
the road to Vigo, about half a mile from Corunna., a ^
>3
Bat: of
Comna.
communicated with that under Sir David Baird, by
'means of the rifle corps attached to the latter, which
formed a chain across the valley. The reserve under
Major-general Paget occupied a village on the Betanzos
road, about half a mile from the rear of General Hope.
The higher grounds on the rear and flanks of the British
were possessed by the French, a situation which gave
the latter a considerable advantage.
On the 16th, the French were observed to be getting
under arms, and this was immediately succeeded bv a
rapid and determined attack on the division under Sir
David Baird, which formed the right wing, and was
the weakest part of the line. The" first effort of the
enemy was met by Sir John Moore and Sir David Baird
at the head ol the ^2d regiment, and the brigade under
Lord William Bentinck. The village on the right be¬
came an object of obstinate contest, but the enemy was
at last repelled. While leading on his division to sup¬
port this position, Sir David had his arm shattered with
a grape shot. Not long after, while Sir John Moore
was riding from post to post, everywhere encouraging
his troops, and pointing out the most advantageous op¬
portunities for attack or defence, his conspicuous situa¬
tion had exposed him to the jire of the enemy. A can¬
non-ball struck his left shoulder, and beat him to the
ground. He raised himself, and sat up with an unal¬
tered countenance, looking intently at the Highlanders,
who were warmly engaged. Captain Hardinge threw*
himself from his horse, and took him by the hand ; then,
observing his anxiety, he told him the 421! were advan-
fring, upon which his countenance immediately bright¬
ened. His friend Colonel Graham now dismounted to
assist him ; and, from the composure of his features, en¬
tertained hopes that he was not even wounded ; but ob¬
serving the horrid laceration and effusion of blood, he
rode off for surgeons. The general was carried from
the field on a blanket, by a sergeant of the 42d, and
some soldiers.
The enemy finding himself foiled in every attempt to
force the right of the position, endeavoured by numbers
to turn it. A judicious and well timed movement,
which was made by Major-general Paget, with the re¬
serve, which corps had moved out of its cantonments
to support the right of the army, by a vigorous attack,
defeated this intention. His efforts were, however,
more forcibly directed towards the centre, where they
wereagain successfully resisted by the brigade under Ma¬
jor-general Manningham, forming the left of Sir David
Baird’s division, and a part of that under Major-general
Leith, forming the right of the division under General
Hope. Finding his efforts unavailing on the right and
centre, he seemed determined to render the aUack on
the left more serious, and had succeeded in obtaining
possession of the village through which the great road
to Madrid passes, and which was situated in front of
that part of the line. From this point, however, he was
soon expelled with considerable loss, by a gallant attack
of some companies of the 2d battalion of the 14th regi¬
ment under Lieutenant-colonel Nicholls. Before five in
the evening, the British had not only successfully repel¬
led every attack made upon the position, but had gained
ground in almost all points. At six the firing ceased.
Notwithstanding this advantage, General Hope did
not, on reviewing all circumstances, conceive that he
should he warranted in departing from what he knew
VOL. XIX. Part II. j.
S P A I N.
ip4
was the previous and fixed determination of the late
commander of the forces, to withdraw the army on the
evemng 0f the 16th, for the purpose of embarkation.
. e troops quitted their position about 10 at night,
with a degree of order that did them credit.
By the unremitted exertion of the captains of the
royal navy, who had been entrusted with the service of
embarking the army, and in consequence of the arrange¬
ments made by the agents for transports, the whole of
the forces were embarked with an expedition which has
been seldom equalled.
Notwithstanding the ill success which had thus at-Secomfex-
tended the expedition under Sir John Moore, the spirit Pedil«m
of patriotism which appeared still to actuate the southern under Sir
provinces of Spain, and the hope that the common cause
might there be supported to greater advantage, induced ^ 65 C
the British ministry to send.another military force to the
western peninsula of Europe, to co-operate with the pa¬
triots who still continued in arms. Accordingly a bo-
dy of about 15,000 forces, under the command of Sir
Arthur Wellesley, whose bravery and good conduct in
the battle of\imiera had recommended him, in a par¬
ticular manner, both to the ministry and the nation,
was dispatched towards the coast of Portugal, where’
Marshal Beresford still maintained a British force *
while General Hill, with about 5000 infantry, and 400
cavalry, sailed from Ireland with the same destination.
General Hill arrived at Lisbon on the 4th of April, and
soon after Sir Arthur landed with the main body. On
the 7th of April the army moved forward towards the
Douro, and crossed that river during the night of the
llth, a little above Oporto. Here they fell in with a
French detachment from the army of the duke of Dal¬
matia, which they routed and put to flight, after a
short but well-contested action. After this action the
duke of Dalmatia found it necessary to retreat.
Sir Arthur Wellesley, after having remained for
some time in the Portuguese territory, to refresh his
men after the fatigues which they had undergone, ad¬
vanced into Spain, and effected a junction with General
Cuesta, who then commanded a considerable part of
the remains of the patriotic army. In the latter end of
July, the allied army had advanced to Talavera de la
Iteyna, in the neighbourhood of which they were en¬
countered by a formidable French force, consisting of a
corps commanded by Marshal Victor, another under
General Sebastiani, the guards of Joseph Bonaparte,
amounting to 8000 men, and the garrison of Madrid.
Tins large force was commanded by Joseph Bonaparte
in person, assisted by Marshals Jourdan and Victor
and General Sebastiani. On the 27th of July, an attack
was made by the French army on that of the allies, who
had taken up their position at Talavera. The attack Battle
was vigorous, but was repelled with great spirit and sue-TaJaveia.
cess, though not without considerable Joss on the part
of the British. I he defeat of this attempt was follow¬
ed about noon of the 28th by a general attack of the
enemy’s whole force, on the whole of that part of the
position which was occupied by the British army. The
general attack began by the march of several columns
of infantry into the valley, with a view to attack the
height occupied by Major-general Hill. These columns
were immediately charged by the 1st German light
dragoons, and 23d dragoons, under the command^of
General Anson, and supported by General Fane’s bri-
3 ^ gade
SPAIN.
gaile of heavy artillery; and although the 23d dragoons
suffered considerable loss, the charge had the ctlect ot
preventing the execution of that part of the enemy a
plan. At the same time, an attack directed upon
Brigadier-general Alexander Campbell’s position in the
centre of the combined armies, was most successfully
repulsed, and the allies were left in possession of the
enemy’s cannon. , .
An attack was also made at the same time on .Lieu¬
tenant-general Sherbrooke’s division, which was on the
left and centre of the first line of the British army.
This attack was most gallantly repulsed by a charge
with bayonets, by the whole division ; but the brigade
of guards which were on the right, having advanced too
far, were exposed on their left flank to the fire ot the
enemy’s battery, and of their retiring columns ; and the
division was obliged to retire towards the original posi¬
tion, under cover of the second line ot General Cotton’s
brigade of cavalry, which had moved from the centre,
and the 1st battalion 48th regiment. This regiment
was removed from its original position on the heights,
as soon as the advance of the guards was perceived, and
formed in the plain ; it advanced upon the enemy, and
covered the formation of Lieutenant-general Sher¬
brooke’s division. Shortly after the repulse of this
general attack, in which apparently all the enemy’s
troops were employed, he commenced his retreat across
the Alberche, which was conducted in the most regular
manner, and effected during the night, leaving in the
hands of the British 20 pieces of cannon, ammunition,
tumbrils, and some prisoners.— i hough the French
were defeated in this engagement, and, according to
Sir Arthur Wellesley’s account, must have lost at least
10,000 men, the loss of the British was very great.
By the official returns it is stated to exceed 5000.
The victory, however, was not of that decisive kind
to enable the British general to engage in vigorous offen¬
sive operations, as the French were continually receiving
reinforcements : and Sault, "b^ey, and ]\iortier, having
formed a junction shortly afterwards, he found it ne¬
cessary to retire towards Badajos. In the north-east
of Spain, the French had been closely occupied from
the beginning of July in besieging the strong town of
Gerona. It made an obstinate defence, and though
the garrison was sorely pressed by famine, it held out
till the nth December. Its capture was considered a
national misfortune by the Spaniards, and along with
other losses, induced the junta to issue a proclamation
for convoking the cortes.
In the month of February 1810, Lord Wellington
left Badajos, and advanced into the province of Beira.
Notwithstanding this, the French were in such force as
to enter upon the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo in June,
which surrendered on, the 4th July; Almeida also
'yielded to their army a short time after. Lord W el-
linciton now retired to Busaco, in the face of a superior
force. The position he had chosen was strong; but the
enemy, confiding in their numbers, attacked him. The
French divisions on the right advanced to the top of
the ridge, from which they were immediately driven by
the bayonet. On the left they were equally unsuccess¬
ful ; they left 2000 killed on the field. The loss of
this battle, however did not prevent Massena from ad¬
vancing to Coimbra; while Lord Wellington, not pre¬
pared for this movement, withdrew to Torres \ edras, a
strong natural position, rendered still stronger by forti- Spain.,
fications. Here he was joined by large reinforcements; v—
and Massena, after remaining in front of the pcjsition
till he had exhausted the neighbouring country, was
obliged to commence his retreat on the 14th Novem¬
ber. In this retreat be suffered severely from famine
and desertion. While these things were passing in the
west the dissensions and misconduct ot the supreme
junta, left the south of Spain an easy prey to the
French. The boasted line of defence at the Sierra
Morena was forced without a struggle ; and Seville,
with all Andalusia, fell into the hands of the invaders.
Cadiz, however was secured by a British force, and
resisted all the efforts of the enemy. The Spaniards,
irritated by the inactivity of the supreme junta, called
loudly for a change ; and the junta at length resigned
their functions to a regency, consisting of five persons,
of whom General Castanos was placed at the nead of
the military department. _
The cortes, on which the hopes of the Spaniards^™ l,£
were so anxiously fixed, assembled at Cadiz on the 241!) Qortei.
September. Jhis body consisted ol 208 members,
elected from 32 provinces. Each parish nominated an
elector, and these electors met in the duel town, and
chose deputies in the proportion of one deputy lor every
30,000 inhabitants. Jt he Spanish colonies in America
were also to send deputies. I he pay of a deputy was
six dollars a-day. This body possessed a strong na- »:
tional spirit, and, had they met earlier, might have
roused their countrymen to greater exertions. But the
Spanish affairs were now in too desperate a state to be
retrieved by the cortes. It was indeed a striking, and
almost a ludicrous circumstance, to see this assembly
issuing decrees, and exercising all the empty formali¬
ties of supreme power, while they could not set a loot
on the mainland of Spain, and the enemy’s cannon were
thundering in their ears. One of their first acts was to
declare the press free for political, though not for religi¬
ous discussion, and to appoint a commission to draw up
a constitution. This constitution was not finally settled
and promulgated till the 19th March 1812. It comers
very extensive powers on the cortes, but chiefly groan -
ed on the practices of that body in the ancient times of
Spanish history. The members were to be elected for
two years. They were to have the power of ratifying
treaties, fixing t'axes, and, what was of much import¬
ance, the power of appointing a permanent committee
of their members to observe and controul the conduct
of the executive government, during the vacation 0
their sessions; and this committee was authorised to
convoke the cortes independently of the king. In
October 1810 the cortes appointed a new regency,
consisting of three members. Generals Blake,
and Agar. Exertions were made to impros’e and aug¬
ment the. forces : but experience had now shewn the
folly of opposing the French in large armies ; and they -
therefore carried on hostilities in small corps, an y
guerilla parties, who harassed the enemy *n a
movements, and intercepted his suPP^e®L " 11 ? •
Murcia, Ballasteros in Andalusia, and O onne
Catalonia, kept considerable corps on foot, ano gal”e
some advantages over the French. Mina, a gueri ^
leader in the mountains of Guadalaxara, pecu iar y
stinguished himself in the desultory sort ol war are,
which the country is so well adapted.
ain.
'7
Bs of
Bs
Bill. >f
iibttr..
Situ
S P
In the end of February l8ir, about 4000 British
•* troops under General Graham, with 7000 Spaniards
under General Pena, were embarked at Cadiz, and
landed at Algesiras, with the view of joining the Spa¬
nish forces at St Roque, and making an attack on the
rear of the French, to compel them to raise the block¬
ade of Cadiz. Ihe united corps advanced to Barrosa
on the jth March. Here the British general was com¬
pelled, by an unexpected movement of the enemy, to
attack a force about twice that of his own army. The
victory was brilliant and decisive. The French were
overthrown with the bayonet, with the loss of 30DO or
4000 killed or made prisoners. The British loss was
1243. Strong complaints were made of the conduct
of the Spanish general, who made no exertions to sup¬
port the British in their attack, or to improve the vic¬
tory when it was gained.
In Estremadura the French obtained possession of
Badajos.^ In the province of Salamanca Marshal Mas-
sena made a bloody but unsuccessful attack on the posi¬
tion of Fuentes d’Honor, and shortly after retired beyond
theAgueda; in consequence of which Almeida was
evacuated, and fell into the hands of the allies. With
the view of relieving Badajos, which the allies were now
besieging, Soult advanced from Seville; but Marshal
Beresford, apprised of his object, suspended the siege,
and met him at Albuera on the 16th of May. Here a
bloody and obstinate but undecisive battle was fought,
which ended in Marshal Soult, who was the assailant’
re-occupying his original position, and the next day
retreating to Seville. The force under Marshal Beres-
ford, which made a very gallant resistance, sufi'ered
a heavy loss. The French loss was estimated at 900c
men. Shortly after, however, the allies found it neces¬
sary to raise the siege of Badajos as well as Ciudad
Rodrigo ; the former after two unsuccessful assaults. In
the east of Spain, the French took Tarragona by storm,
sacked the town, and massacred a vast number of the
inhabitants in cold blood. This conquest gave them the
entire command of the coast of Catalonia]
On the 8th January 1812 Valencia surrendered to
Marshal Suchet, with a garrison of 18,000 men; but
this loss was balanced by the capture of Ciudad Rodri-
go on the 19th January, and of Badajos on the 6th
April, by the allies. Both these towns were carried by
storm, at a great expence of blood ; the loss of the Bri¬
tish and Portuguese, in the siege of Badajos, was 4850
men. Bonaparte had now entered on his Russian cam¬
paign, and the great number of troops he had withdrawn
Irom Spain, cramped the operations of his armies in
that country. 1 he Spaniards resumed their activity ;
and in July the British army advanced northwards to
meet the French, who crossed the Hotiro under Mar¬
shal Marmont. On the 22d July the British general
tound a favourable opportunity for attacking the enemy
.near Salamanca. Marmont, though not expecting an
attack, made an able and obstinate defence; but at
length the rout became general, and darkness alone
saved the French army from still greater destruction.
About 7000 were made prisoners; and the number
killed was much greater, The British and Portuguese
loss amounted to 6500 men in killed and wounded!
Ibis brilliant victory bad a favourable effect on the
state of the campaign in every part of Spain. In the
end of August the French raised the siege of Cadiz, and
AIN.
began to withdraw their troops from the south of the
peninsula. Bilboa and some other towns in the north
were evacuated. Joseph Bonaparte left Madrid,
which was occupied by two divisions of the British ar¬
my on the 12th August. The arrival of reinforcements,
however, enabled Souham, who succeeded Marmont to
advance again, and relieve the castle of Burgos, which
Ford Wellington had made several fruitless attempts
to storm. From this period the. French continued to
concentrate their troops. They reoccupied Madrid,
and held it till June 1813, when they began to prepare
lor the evacuation of the country. In their retreat
northwards the British came up with them at Vittoria
and gained a splendid victory. Never was success
more complete. The victors, besides a vast number of
prisoners, took 151 pieces of 0301100,415 ammunition
waggons, with all the baggage of the French army,
ihe British loss amounted to 700 killed, and 4000
wounded. Jotirdan, who commanded the French in this
battle, was replaced by Soult, who made an able and
persevering defence, but could not long arrest the Bri¬
tish army in its career of conquest. On the 31st July
St Sebastian was taken by a very daring assault by
the troops under General Graham, though with the loss
ot 2300 in killed and wounded. The check which the
British troops, under Lord William Bentinck, received
in Catalonia, produced little effect. Napoleon’s power
was now declining rapidly; and the battle of Leipsic
fought on the 18th October, shook his empire to its
foundations. But even before this the British and
Spanish army had entered France. After driving the
Irench from a strong position at Sarre, the allies esta¬
blished themselves in the French territory, but waited
for the cessation of the heavy rains before they ad¬
vanced. J
The cortes, in the meantime, was agitated by fierce
party contests. It had displaced the members of the
regency several times, and appointed new ones; and
amidst these repeated changes, the government could not
acquire any stability. A new subject had occurred to
perplex its proceedings. Though the American colo¬
nies had felt a wkrm interest in the fortunes of the
mother country at the beginning of the present contest;
yet, when they saw the Irencb in possession of the ca¬
pital, and apparently masters of the whole peninsula, it
was natural they should think of providing for their own
security. Accordingly, in 18x0, simultaneous move¬
ments were made in La Plata, in Venezuela, and in
Mexico. In the latter country the revolutionary at¬
tempt was put down ; but in the other two the authority
of the parent state was thrown off almost without a
struggle. Though the cortes endeavoured to attach
the Americans to their cause, by allowing them to elect
deputies to that body, it was soon found, that this pri¬
vilege was entirely illusory, and that no disposition ex¬
isted to remedy the gross abuses under which they suf¬
fered. The cortes tried to temporize, but the colonists
saw through their intentions, while they, at the same
time, despised their feebleness. The consequence lias
been the entire loss of Buenos Ayres to Spain, while
the long resistance of the independents in Chili and
Venezuela will certainly lead at last ttftlie same result.
In January 1814, the cortes held its first sittintfs in
Madrid, b
On the 23d February 1814, the allied army crossed
3X2 t|ie
SPAIN.
the Adour, and on the 27th defeated the French at
Orthes. Bourdeaux was occupied on the 12th March ;
and the brilliant victory obtained by the duke ot Wel¬
lington at Thoulouse on the xoth April, put an end to
thewar. The next day intelligence was received of
the deposition of Napoleon, which led to an armistice,
and the armistice to a peace. Ferdinand, now liberat¬
ed, returned to Spain, and made his public entry into
Madrid on the 13th May 1814. Nothing could exceed
the enthusiastic joy with which he was received by all
ranks. One of his first acts was to disavow the consti¬
tution promulgated by the cortes, and to declare that
body an illegal assembly ; and so little was freedom un¬
derstood among the people, that these acts were, to all
appearance, extremely popular. Not satisfied with this,
he threw the most distinguished members both of the
cortes and the regency into prison •, and, about two
months after his return, he issued a decree re-establish¬
ing the inquisition. The monstrous ingratitude of this
worthless prince has driven several of those heroic men
who sustained his cause against the French, to take up
arms against him. Mina made an attempt in No^ em¬
ber 1814, and Forlier, in 1815, but, from the apathy
of the people, both failed. The former escaped into
France, the latter was taken and executed. Several
other movements of the same kind proved equally un¬
successful.
It was plain, however, to discerning persons, that
some great change was at hand. The incorrigible
folly, as well as wickedness of I'erdinand’s conduct,
disgusted even the friends of monarchy, and discontent
continued to spread rapidly among the body of the peo¬
ple. Every month brought forth a new list of proscrip¬
tions, and among the sufferers were included almost
every man whom the nation had reason to esteem and
honour. The extreme disorder of the finances increased
the difficulties of the court 5 and repeated changes of
ministers showed that the royal councils were in a state
of extreme embarrassment and constant fluctuation.
At length, on the 1st January 1820, a body of troops
stationed near Cadiz, partly irritated by want of pay,
and partly actuated by the spirit of discontent which
was spreading through the country, proclaimed the
constitution of the cortes. Other troops brought to re¬
duce them to obedience, instead of acting against them,
espoused their cause. Colonel Quiroga, the leader ot
the insurrection, published a spirited address to the na¬
tion in the name of the army, setting forth the calami¬
ties which Spain had suffered from arbitrary power,
and calling on the people to support the generous effort
of the army. From the want of a periodical press,
however, it was some time before tbe nature and ob¬
jects of the revolutionary movement were widely known.
Seville and other towns in Andalusia were the first to
declare in favour of the army : these were followed by
Barcelona and other places in Catalonia, where the pa¬
triotic spirit has always been very strong. At length
the popular cause began to show its head in Madrid j
and Ferdinand finding that all bis means of resistance
were exhausted, issued a proclamation on the 6th of
March, promising to convoke the cortes. The people
of Madrid, however, justly suspicious of Ferdinand’s
intentions, were not satisfied with this concession ; and
demanded the immediate establishment of tbe constitu¬
tion of 18x2. Accordingly, on the 9th a junta was
formed to conduct public measures till the cortes should Spain
meet •, and in presence of this junta Ferdinand took an  y—
oath to maintain the constitution. This great revolu¬
tion had nearly been accomplished without bloodshed,
when an unhappy catastrophe occurred in Cadiz on the
loth March. The inhabitants of this city had met to
celebrate, by public rejoicings, the establishment of the
constitution, when, owing to some treachery, which
has never been fully explained, they were assailed by
a regiment of soldiers, and massacred without mercy.
No less than 436 persons were killed in this affair, and
a vast number were wounded.
The cortes met on tbe 9th July. All persons con¬
fined for state crimes had previously been liberated,
and the opening of this representative body excited the
most lively satisfaction in the kingdom. Its labours
did not disappoint the public expectations. During
the first session it abolished the inquisition, reduced a
vast number of monasteries, and applied the funds ari¬
sing from their suppression to the public service. It
made new regulations for improving the administration
of justice, abolished many useless offices, put an end
to the monstrous abuse of entails, and introduced order
and economy into the finances. Quiroga, Riego, and
other leaders of the revolution, received promotion in
the army, and votes of thanks for their services. In
short, the cortes conducted its plans with a wise mo¬
deration, neither sparing abuses on the one hand, nor
yielding to a rash spirit of innovation on the other.
From the reports laid before the cortes by the dif¬
ferent ministers, it appeared that all the departments
of the government were in the utmost disorder. The
army was stated to consist of 87,779 infantry, includ¬
ing militia $ and of 6338 cavalry : requiring an annual
expence of 352,607,000 reals, or 3,500,000!. sterling.
A great proportion of the officers had been for years on
half pay, though in active service. Both infantry and
cavalry were miserably clothed, and very badly armed
and equipped. Since 1815 less than 4^>^77
had been sent out to America. The troops in Cuba,
including militia, amounted to 10,995 men ; those in
North America to 41,036 infantry and cavalry. And
the whole force in the colonies, including the Bhilip-
pine islands, amounted to 96,578 men and 8419 horses.
The budget for the financial year, commencing 1st July,
was fixed as follows :
The king’s household
Ministry for foreign affairs
The interior
The colonies
Justice
Finance
War
Marine
Total
Total revenues
Deficit
Reals.
45,°90»000
12,000,000
8,410,375
1,368,235
ii,i3T,ti°
i73>35x»669
355’45°’9i5
96,000,000
702,802,304
53°»394’27i
172,408,033
It was fixed, that the army in time of peace
consist of 66,828 men ; viz. of 48,353 Jnfantry’ I2’47tr.
cavalry, 5000 artillery, and 1000 sappers. u
•am
SPA
rioil of war this force is to be increased to 124,579
I N.
—/ men. The three Swiss regiments were suppressed.
The following is a view of the principal articles of
the Spanisli constitution.
Art. 2. The Spanish nation is free and independent,
and is not, nor can be, the patrimony of any person or
family.
3. The sovereignty resides essentially in the nation,
and the right of enacting its fundamental laws belongs
exclusively to it by this same principle.
27. The cortes consists in the union of all the depu¬
ties that represent the nation, nominated by the citi¬
zens, in manner as herein-after stated.
28. The basis of national representation is the popu¬
lation.
31. For every 70,000 souls there shall be one de¬
puty to the cortes; any odd number exceeding 35,000
shall name a deputy for themselves. St Domingo names
a deputy ; and the ultra-marine population, viz. that
of North and South America, elects deputies in the
same proportion as that of Old Spain.
104. I he cortes to assemble every year in the capi¬
tal of the kingdom, with power (by Art. 105.) to re¬
move to any place not more distant from Madrid than
12 leagues.
108. The session to begin on the 1st of March, and
continue three months.
109. The deputies shall be renewed entirely every
two years. J
110. A member is not eligible to two successive
parliaments.
117. The deputies swear to preserve the Roman
catholic religion, to protect the political constitution,
and to conduct themselves faithfully to the nation!
N. B. All reference to the king is omitted in this
oath.
The powers and duties of the cortes are 
1. To propose and decree the laws, and to interpret
and alter them on necessary occasions.
2. To take an oath to the king, to the prince of
Asturias, and to the regency, as is pointed out in their
places.
3. To determine any doubt of fact or right that may
occur in order of the succession to the crown.
4. To elect a regency or regent of the kingdom,
when the constitution requires it, and to point out the
limits within which the regency or the regent must
exercise the royal authority.
6. To nominate a guardian to the king minor, when
the constitution requires it.
7. To approve, previous to ratification, the treaties
of offensive alliance, of subsidies, and the particulars
of commerce.
8. To permit or refuse the admission of foreign
troops into the kingdom.
. 9* To decree the creation and suppression of offices
in the tribunals established by the constitution, and
also the creation or abolition of public offices.
10. To fix every year, on the proposal of the king,
the land and sea forces, determining the establishment
Jn time of peace, and its augmentation in time of
war.
To fix the expences of the public administra-
ir. To issue ordinances to the army, the fleet, and
° the national militia^ in all their branches.
12.
tion.
13. To establish annually the taxes.
19. To determine the value, the weight, the stan¬
dard, the figure, and description of money.
. 22- ^ 0 establish a general plan of public instruction
in the whole monarchy, and approve that which is in¬
tended lor the education of the prince of Asturias.
24. To protect the political liberty of the press.
2j,. lo render real and effective the responsibility
0 the secretaries of state, and other persons in public
employ.
26. Lastly, It belongs to the cortes to grant or re¬
fuse its consent in all those cases and acts which the
constitution points out as necessary.
Ihe king enjoys the following powers under art. 171.
He watches over the prompt and perfect administra¬
tion of justice throughout the kingdom ; declares war
and ratifies peace, subject to the approval of the cor¬
tes ; nominates magistrates; presents to ecclesiastical
dignities ; is the fountain of honour; has the command
of the army both by sea and land ; regulates all diplo¬
matic and commercial relations with other states •
appoints ambassadors, ministers, and consuls ; can par!
don criminals, except in certain cases; proposes to
the cortes such projects of laws as he may think ne¬
cessary, but it is for the cortes to deliberate or not
upon such propositions: has the power of appointing
ministers. The king cannot, under any pretence, pre¬
vent the convocation of the cortes ; nor when assem¬
bled can he suspend or dissolve them, nor in any man¬
ner interfere with their sittings or deliberations ; and
all persons who shall advise him to act contrary to this
article shall be deemed traitors to the country. The
king cannot leave the kingdom without the consent of
the cortes ; nor can he, without their consent, form
any offensive treaty ; nor private treaty of commerce
with any foreign power; nor furnish subsidies to a fo¬
reign power ; nor impose any taxes or duties : nor can
he of his own authority deprive any individual of per¬
sonal liberty, or of property, without due course of law.
Before he contracts marriage, he shall communicate
his intention to the cortes, for the purpose of obtaining
their consent, without which he shall be considered to
have abdicated his Should a law have passed
the cortes, and fail on three successive applications to
obtain the royal consent; on the third refusal, the
sanction of the king shall be supposed to have been ob¬
tained, and the law shall be in full force. A perma¬
nent committee is to be nominated before the close of
each session, and to continue sitting in vigilant atten¬
tion to the proceedings of the government, until the
next assembly of the cortes. This committee has the
prerogative of summoning an extraordinary meeting of
the cortes, when the crown shall become vacant, or the
king incompetent, or when his majesty may be desirous
of convoking them.
At the close of the 14th century, the population ofPopuUtio.
Spain is stated by most Spanish writers to have been of Spain,
21,700,000 ; but this is evidently a gross exaggera-
According to the table of the provinces, collected
chiefly from De Laborde, it amounted, at the end of
the 18th century, to 10,308,505; and the latest writ¬
ers -
loj
Number of
town?, Til¬
lages, &c.
704
Coins.
SPA
era do not suppose the population at present to exceed
this amount. ,
Of the number above stated, the clergy are reckoned
at least 147,722: viz. of secular clergy, 60,240 ; ot
monks, 49,270 ; of nuns and friars, 22,337, and ot su¬
baltern ministers of the church, 15,875. The numbers
of the clergy have indeed diminished by more than
27,000 during the last 30 years of the 18th century, as
in the year 1768 they amounted to 176,057*
According to a calculation in the year 1776, the ci¬
ties, towns, villages, and hamlets, amounted to 84,459,
and public edifices and temples to 30,496.
The money of Spain is either real or imaginary, the
former serving for the purposes of exchange, the latter
for keeping accounts and transacting business. Both
these are common through the whole kingdom ; but se¬
veral kinds of both are to be found in the difieient pro-
vinces.
Two kinds of real money, both in gold and silver,
are distinguished in Spain; the old, that is, such as
were coined before the year I77^> t,lose coined
subsequent to that period. None of the former are
uniform, but consist of small pieces of different sizes
unequal!v cut, and their currency is only by weight.
The latter uniformly bear the bead of the sovereign on
the obverse, and on the reverse side the arms of Spain ;
the ancient gold coins are more intrinsically valuable
than the modern. The last only will be here de¬
scribed.
Modern Gold Coins.
■1
Coins.
Durito
F.scudo chico de oro
Veniento de oro
Escudo de oro 7
Doblon senzillo ^
Eoblon de oro
Doblon de quatre
Medio doblon de a ocho
Media onza de oro
Doblon de ocho \
Ouza de oro j
}
Value in sterling money.
4s. 2d. (e)
- 8s. 4d.
l6s. 8d.
xl. 13s. 4d.
- 3I. 6s. 8d.
Coins.
Beal
Real de vellon
Medio real de plata
Real de plata
Media pecata 3
Pecata ' 7
Real de a dos 3
Escudo 7
Medio duro 3
Duro
Pesoduro
Real de a ocho
Modern Silver Coins.
Value in sterling money.
}
}
2|d.
id¬
led.
2s. id.
4s. ad.
105
Weights’
mea¬
sures.
I N.
Ionia 5 but the ounce is not the same. We shall here
only particularize the weights of Castile.
In the Castiles they reckon by charges^ quintals, aro-
bas, arreldes, pounds, ounces, and drams. The follow¬
ing table gives the proportional value of the Castilian
weights.
The Spanish weights and measures vary considerably
in different parts of the kingdom, as almost every pro¬
vince has both peculiar to itself. The pound generally
consists of 16 ounces in that part of the kingdom for¬
merly belonging to the crown of Castile, and of J2
ounces in those annexed to the crown of Aragon ; viz.
in Aragon, in the kingdom of Valencia, and in Cata-
3 quintals
4 arobas
25 pounds
4 pounds
16 ounces
16 drams
30 grains
lb.
300
100
25
4
1
02!,
o
o
o
o
o
I
x
TS
The charge contains
    quintal
   aroba
  arrelde
—— pound
  ounce
— dram
  grain
The measures are still more complicated than tlie
weights ; and especially the measures of capacity will
require to be considered rather more in detail. We
shall, as usual, distinguish them into long measure, su¬
perficial or land measure, and measures of capacity.
Zoffg measure.—The standard lineal measure in
Spain is the royal foot, consisting of I53t^V lines; and
bearing to the English foot the proportion of about 153
to 144, or of 17 to 16. This foot, however, is not in
general use, almost every province having its own foot,
which is generally rather less than the royal foot. Thus,
the foot in Castile is 8 lines less, and that of Valencia
about 9! lines less than the standard.
Of royal feet 100 are equivalent to 102 feet 7 inches
of Catalonia, to 107 feet of Valencia, to 115 feet 10
inches and 4 lines ot Castile.
One hundred feet of Catalonia are equal to 92 feet
2 inches 3 lines of the royal foot, to 97 feet 5^ Hues of
Valencia, and 104 feet 11 inches 11 lines of Castile.
In Valencia 100 feet are equivalent to 93 feet 4
inches 10 lines of the royal foot, to 98 feet 9 inches of
Catalonia ; and 107 feet 2 inches 6 lines of Castile.
In Castile, 100 feet are equal to 86 feet l inch 5 lints
of the royal foot ; to 93 feet 4 inches 9^ lines of 'Va¬
lencia ; and 92 feet 2 inches 3 lines of Catalonia.
Land measure.—Land in the provinces belonging to
the crown of Castile is measured by ungadas, fanegas,
esiadales, brasses, varas, pas, and ararrzadas. Of
these the ungada contains 50 fanegas, about 204^
feet; the fanega 400 estadales m about 4xf o’ fee*- > ^ie
estadale two brasses “ about ten feet ; the brass two
varas, or about 5 feet 1 inch 4 lines ; the pas about l-y
of a vara, and the aranzada about 73 varas. Ibis last
is only used for measuring vineyards.
Measures of Capacity.—Corn is measured in the pro¬
vinces belonging; to the crown of Castile by cahizos,
fanegas, celemines, and quartillos ; and in Biscay the
same measures are used, with the exception of the ca-
hiza. The cahiza contains 12 fanegas, and is =r aboat
li lb. French; the fanega contains 12 celemines =
124 lb.; the celemine 4 quartillos rr xolb. 5^ ounces,
and the quartillo =r 2 lb. 7^ ounces.
In Catalonia grain is measured by salmas, charges^
quarterns, eortans, and picotis. The salma contains 2
charges or 6 quintals = 546 lb. ; the charge contains
2 quarterns or 3 quintals — 273 ib- > ant^ ^ie (luar*era
I 2 cortans or 4 quintal =136 lb. 8 oz. : the cortan
contains 4 picotis or 13 lb. of 12 oz. ~ 11 lb. 6 oz. >
and the picoti lb. of 12 oz. = 2 lb. 13^ oz.
Wine in New Castile is measured by moyos, an ima-
ginary
jo;
>oS
joy
£»:.in
i
Laws
m
Adminil,
Nation jk
Justice,
ginary measure, cantaras, azumbres, quartillos, and sex-
tarios. The moyo contains 16 cantaras, the cantara 1-2
azumbres, the azumbre 4 quartillos, each equal to 1 lb.
At Cadiz wine is measured by tonneaux, arobas, azum¬
bres, and quartillos. The tonneaux contains 30 arobas,
the aroba 8 azumbres, the asumbre 4 quartillos, each
of which is equal to 1 lb. 1 oz. At Seville the measures
for wine are cantaras, azumbres, and quartillos. The
cantara contains 8 azumbres, the aroba the same, the
azumbre 4 quartillos, each of which is equal to 17 ounces,
lu Valencia these measures are, botas or tonneaux
charges, arobas, or cantaras, and azumbres or cuentas 5
and in Catalonia, pipes, charges, quintals, arobas, quar¬
terns, and quarto®, of which the pipe contains 4 charges,
the charge 3 quintals, the quintal 4 arobas, the aroba
22 quarteros, the quartero 4 quartos, and the quarto is
equal to nearly 3 ounces of Catalonian measure.
The laws of Spain, which for a long time varied
greatly rn the different states of the monarchy, are at
present reduced to a considerable degree of uniformity.
Navarre and Biscay have retained their ancient laws and
constitution ; but the revolution which took place in
Spain at tire beginning of the 18 century, enabled
Philip V. to introduce into Catalonia and the kingdoms
of Aragon and \ alencia the laws of Castile } which,
excepting a few alterations, rendered necessary by lo¬
cal peculiarities, still continue in full effect.
The laws of Castile, which are thus become those of
almost all Spain, are contained in the codes known by
the titles of the Fuero ju'Zgo, Ley de las siete partidas,
Ordenamiento real, Fuero real, and Recepilacion; of
these the last is a collection of occasional edicts of the
kings of Spain, and enjoys the highest authority.
"Phe Roman law has no validity in Spain 5 and though
it may be studied by a few lawyers, as containing first
principles universally applicable, yet it is never quoted
in the courts, and is expressly excepted against by some
of the old laws of Castile.
a he conducting of a law suit in Spain is subject to
very complicated forms ; whence necessarily results a
slowness of progress. The whole business is carried on
by writers, a peculiar branch of the legal profession. In
the superior tribunals, the management of causes is in
like manner committed to akind of subaltern magistrates,
called reporters Qrelatores'), who contrive to render their
own department a situation of mucli greater emolument
than that of the judge.
In all the branches of civil, military, ecclesiastical,
and judicial administration, in Spain, is evident a spirit
of mildness and paternal indulgence, which often dege-
tterates into, great abuse. By multiplying courts for the
administration of justice, and by establishing the long
series ot appeals from jurisdiction tojurisdiction, in order
jthat each case may be beard and re-beard, and receive
an equitable sentence, the still more important advan¬
tages of prompt decision are sacrificed, and a door is
opened for chicane.
It is universally acknowledged that the courts of ex-
option are far too numerous ; they enfeeble the autho-
‘ty of the established judges, and withdraw a number
it individuals from the superintendance of magistrates
vho reside among them, and are readily accessible, to
ensign them to the care of distant and dilatory tri-
1 unals. }
A considerable degree of jealousy and opposition also
s P A I N.
subsists among many of the tribunals ; hence they mutu¬
ally weaken each other’s authority, and the clients are
consigned over from court to court ; so that lawsuits be¬
come intolerably protracted, and a family is held in sus¬
pense for two or three generations. The consequence of
this is, that the rich wear out those of inferior fortune.
A.ven the ordinary and regular forms of civil process
are slow and complicated. The husbandman is called
Irom his labour, the merchant from his commercial con¬
cerns, the artist from his work, and all from their do¬
mestic affairs. Nearly an equal tardiness takes place in
criminal processes, so that witnesses die, and means of
proof are lost, while the guilty often escape unpunished :
and. those who have been formerly acquitted, are still
subject to a long detention in prison, whence they are at
length dismissed without indemnity, and irretrievably
ruined. * '
In consequence of the great number of courts, the
facility of appeal from one to the other, and the tedious¬
ness ol law suits j the multitude of judges, advocate?
writers, and other subordinate officers employed in the
administration of justice, is prodigious. The number of
persons employed in the different law establishments has
been estimated at loo,coo, which is nearly an hun¬
dredth part of the population of the country ; and the
very last general enumeration of the inhabitants of Spain
makes the number of advocates amount to 567 c and
of writers ts 9351 ; besides the judges and their secre-
ianes, the attorneys and their clerks, and the innumer¬
able host of alguazils and inferior officers.
Another serious inconvenience in the administration
of Spanish law, is the necessity of reposing entire and
blind confidence in a class of subaltern officers of the
courts, called writers. This appears to be a branch of
the profession wholly peculiar to Spain ; the writer exer¬
cising at the same time the functions of secretary, soli¬
citor, notifier, registrar, and being fbe sole medium of
communication between the client and the judge.
It is not customary in Spain to allow either of the
parties concerned any copy of the documents requisite
tor carrying on a suit, except by the express order of the
judge. All the writings on both sides are collected to¬
gether and bound up into a volume, which remains
statedly in the profession of the writer, who intrusts it
tor a certain time to the attorneys of the parties for the
instruction of advocates. The writer, to whose care the
documents of any suit are committed, also registers the
decrees and sentences of the judges on the case, and no¬
tifies to the parties concerned, each step of the process
by reading to them the proper instrument j vvithout,
however, allowing them to have a copy of it.
The union of so many important functions in the same
person, necessarily affords various opportunities for dis¬
honesty; and the chance of being imposed upon is still
further increased by an unwise regulation which obliges
the.dependent, in any action, to choose the same writer
as is employed by the plaintiff.
It may be remarked that scarcely any other persons
are under equal temptations to dishonesty, on account of
the almost total impunity that they enjoy in consequence
of the following regulation. In all those districts where
there are either a corregidor and superior alcade, or two
superior alcades $ each of these officers has an indepen¬
dent tribunal for the decision ef law suits 5 and the right
of pronouncing sentence in any particular case belongs
to
tli
SPA
to him of the two at whose tribunal the first applica¬
tion was made. Now the established salaries ot these
officers are so small, that the largest part of their emolu¬
ments arises from their fees $ this portion of their in¬
come depends wholly on the writers, who have the power
of instituting suits in which of the two courts they please.
The natural consequence is, that the judges are induced
to overlook and pass hy in silence those malpractices of
the writers which, they cannot prevent without incurring
a serious personal loss. Finally, the authority of the
writers is irrefragably established by the entire controul
that they execute over all causes. They alone receive
the declarations and personal answers for the parties con¬
cerned 5 they alone receive the depositions of the wit¬
nesses on each side •, put what questions to them they
please j and record the answers without the interposition,
and even in the absence, of the judges.
Another serious defect in the administration of justice
in Spain, is, that the party condemned, however clearly
unjust may have been his demand, or however weak
may have been his defence, is scarcely ever obliged to
pay his adversary’s costs of suit ; whence it perpetually
happens, that the expences of gaining a just cause are
much greater than the loss of submitting to an unjust
demand 5 hence also it is in the power of a rich villain
to oppress and ruin all those who are unable to support
the expences of a law suit 5 which in Spain are enor¬
mous, and perhaps the more so, because the established
charges are very light.
The religion of Spain is the Roman Catholic ; which,
in this country and Portugal, has been carried to a
pitch of fanaticism unknown to the Italian states, or
even in the papal territory. The inquisition has, in
these unhappy kingdoms, been invested with exorbitant
power, and has produced the most ruinous effects *,
having been formerly conducted with a spirit totally the
reverse of the mildness and charity of Christianity. This
evil has been recently subdued in a considerable degree 5
but one fanatic reign would suffice to revive it. A yet
greater evil, which has sprung from fanaticism, is the
destruction of morals j for the monks being extremely
sumerous, and human passions ever the same, those
ascetics atone for the want of marriage hy the practice
of adultery j and the husbands, from dread of the inqui¬
sition, are constrained to connive at this enormous abuse.
The conscience is seared by the practice of absolution,
and the mind becomes reconciled to the strangest of all
phenomena, theoretic piety and practical vice united in
bonds almost indissoluble.
According to the returns made to the government,
the Spanish clergy then stood as follows.
I N.
Brought over
Nuns -
Beatas -
Syndics to collect for the mendicants
Inquisitors - - -
148,16a
32,5°°
1,130
4,217
2,705
Parochial clergy, called curas
Assistants, called tenientes curas -
Sacristans or sextons - -
Acolitos to assist at the altar
Grdinadosde patrimonio, having a patrimony I
of three rials per day j
Ordinados de menores, with inferiorecclesias
tical orders
Beneficiados, or canons of cathedrals, and
other beneficiaries
Monks ------
188,625
::
if::
it
16,689
5,77!
*0,873
5,503
*3,244
10,774
23,692
61,617
148,163
The archbishoprics before the late revolution were
eight in number j and the bishoprics 46. I he most
opulent see was that of Toledo, supposed to yield an¬
nually about 90,000!. The Mozarabic Missal, com¬
posed by St Isidora for the Gothic church, after the
conversion from Arianism to the Catholic faith, con¬
tinued to be used in Spain till the Moors were subdued,
when the Roman form was introduced. . 5Ij
The Spanish clergy, in proportion to the population Pr«?e»t
of the country, is less numerous than was the clergy ofstate«ftk
France prior to the revolution ; even their wealth isc]^v
less considerable, hut better administered ; and their
contribution to the public revenue is much greater.
As to the general conduct of the Spanish church, and its
influence on the state, we may remark that after all
the perverted and malicious industry that, has been
exerted in the examination of this question, the result
has turned out highly favourable to the superior orders
of the Spanish clergy, who are for the most part, free
from those irregularities which are charged on the clergy
of other countries. The conspicuous situations in the
Spanish church are by no means considered as the patri¬
mony of the rich and noble, but, as the well-merited re¬
ward of irreproachable conduct. \V hatever may be the
rank of an ecclesiastic in the sacerdotal hierarchy, he
never habitually absents himself from his proper place
of residence, where he expends the revenue ot his bene¬
fice in alms or public works. From the period of the
reconquest of Spain from the Moors, most of the pu¬
blic establishments owe their foundation to the clergy,
by whom also whole towns have been rebuilt and raised
from their ruins. Tl he most beautiful aqueducts, foun¬
tains, and public walks in the cities, have been construct¬
ed at the expence ot their bishops j from them also
the poor have received the most eflectual rehet in times
of scarcity, epidemic disease, and war. ,Ihe bishop of
Orense converted his episcopal palace into an alms¬
house, where were lodged and supported ^oo lrench
ecclesiastics, condemned to transportation during the
furies of the revolution •, the prelate himself took Ins
place at their table, and refused to partake of any in¬
dulgence that he could not also procure for his guests.
Cardinal Orenzana, archbishop of Toledo, converted
the alcazar of that city into an establishment wherein
are received 200 children, and 700 poor persons of all
ages. The bishop ol Cordova, during the scarcity 0
1804, and for a long time afterwards, made a daily di¬
stribution of 1200 rations of bread to the poor inha -
tants of his diocese. The aqueduct which conveys water
to the city of Tarragona is the work of their arc •*
shop, who has thus conferred upon the place the inap¬
preciable benefits of cleanliness and health to ot 1 0
which it was long a stranger. Similar instances 0 pu
lie merit may be found in almost every diocese.
With regard to the religious orders, their conduct is
certainly less exemplary, though by uo means men mg
the reproaches that have been so liberally ca8^P^
Carry forward
13
La* u age
am teia-
twr
S P
tI,em-1 ,T,ie rcforms tliat have taken place at various
' periods have stopped the progress of the abuses iutro-
ducea by length of time 5 and as the numbers of the
monks have diminished, their pernicious influence on
public opinion bas proportion ably declined. Some pro¬
gress has been made in the desirable policy of uniting
the dilierent orders of the same rule into a single order:
and from the present prohibition to receive novices it
is probable that several orders are about to be totally
suppressed. :
Ihe Spanish language is one of the great southern
dialects which spring from the Roman 3 but many of the
words become difficult to the French or Italian student
because they are derived from the Arabic used by the’
Moors. Ihe speech is grave, sonorous, and of exquisite
melody, containing much of the flow and formal manner
01 the orientals.
• ®Pan^s^ language is, in some respects, very rich;
itabounds m componndwords, in superlatives, derivatives
augmentatives, diminutives, and frequentative verbs: it
has many quite synonymous words, and others which
well express the different shades of meaning. In the
technical terms of arts and sciences it is, however, ex¬
tremely poor; a few of these it has borrowed from the
-Latin, and almost all the rest from the French.
On the whole, the Spanish is one of the finest of the
European languages. It is dignified, harmonious, ener¬
getic, and expressive; and abounds in grand and sonor¬
ous expressions, which unite into measured periods, whose
cadence is very agreeable to the ear. It is a language
well adapted to poetry; but It also inclines to exaggera¬
tion, and its vehomence easily degenerates into bombast,
though naturally grave, it easily admits of pleasantry.
In the mouth of well educated men it is noble and ex¬
pressive; lively and pointed in that of the common peo¬
ple ; sweet, seductive, and persuasive, when uttered by a
female. Amongst the orators it is touching and im¬
posing, though rather diffuse ; at the bar and in the
schools it is barbarous, and is spoken about the court
in a concise and agreeable manner.
Ihe literature of Spain is highly reputable, though
Jitt e known to the other countries of Europe since the
decline of Spanish power. The Bibliotheca Hispanica
of Antonio will completely satisfy the curious reader on
tins subject. Among the fathers of literature in this
country must be named Isidore of Seville, many of whose
woncs are extant, and inferior in merit to few of that
epoch. Lives of saints, and chronicles, are also found
among the earliest productions ; and successive writers
may be traced to the nth century, when they become
numerous ; but before mentioning some Spanish autho¬
rities posterior to that period, it will be proper to re¬
collect that Arabian learning flourished under the ca-
Jiphs of Cordova, and produced many illustrious names
3vell known to the oriental scholar, as Aben Roe, or
Averroes Aben Zoar, Rhazes, &c. nor must it be for¬
gotten that Aben Nazan wrote a book on the learning
and authors of Spain. On this subject the inquisitive
are referred to the work of Casin'.
In then th century, the Spanish authors heo-an to
Zir* Tu-UmberV aiUl the native lang»a^ begins to
ppear This was the epoch of the famous CW/, Roderic
i ‘k f I131™''’ whose actions against the Moors were
v„rL lirSiT17 sonss’and''a ion«
A I N.
written in the following century. After the 13th ccn-
tuiy, it would be idle to attempt enumerating all the
opanish authors, among whom are Alphonso the Wise
who wrote the Libro del Teroso, a treatise on the Three
^arts o I lulosophy ; and at whose command were com¬
piled the famous Alphonsine Tables of Astronomy.
Raymond Lully is said to have written not fewer than
319 books, full of metaphysical froth. In the 1 cth
century appeared Juan de Mena, a poet of surprising
powers, since which time a department of literature can
scarcely be mentioned in which the Spaniards have not
excelled. It would be unnecessary to repeat the well-
known names of Cervantes, Quevedo, Lopez de Vega,
and others, whose works are known to all Europe. The
history of Mexico has been celebrated as a composition;
but in fact it is defective and erroneous. The name of
Bayer in learning, and of Feyjos in general knowledge,
have recent y attracted deserved respect; nor has‘die *P^
me of royal authors failed, an elegant translation neon's Geo-
oalhist having been published by the heir apparent to the 8raPty>
monarchy, the present Ferdinand VII*. Vo1* i- *
. tb_e rudiments of education are in Spain generally 2t4
imparted by the monks, it can scarcely be expected thatEducatio"*
useful knowledge should be common in that country.
Ihe accounts given on this subject by travellers, have
thrown so little light 0.1 the state of education in Spain,
that it can be generally understood only by comparison
wj 1 other Catholic countries. In this comparison Spain
will be found inferior to France and Italy, but in many
respects superior to Austria and the German states.
Ihe number of universities in Spain was formerly Universities
24, but only the following 17 now remain, viz. that of
I ampeluna, 111 Navarre ; of Oviedo, in the Asturias; of
San Jago, in Gallicia ; of Seville, and of Granada, in
the provinces of the same name ; of Huesca and Zara-
goza m Aragon; of Avila, Osma, and Valladolid, in
Old Castile ; of loledo, Siguenza, and Alcala de Ha-
marez, in New Castile; of Cervera, in Catalonia; of
On huela and \ alencia, in Valencia; and of Salamanca,
m the province of Leon. Of these the most celebrated,
are the universities of Zaragoza, Toledo, Alcala, Cer-
vera, and Salamanca.
I he university of Zaragoza has 22 professors, and that
of loledo has 24; about 900 students attend the classes
of the former, and nearly 3000 those of the latter ; yet
neither of these establishments is known in Europe, or
regarded as of high reputation even in Spain.
Ihe university of Alcala, established at a prodigious
expence by Cardinal Ximenes, answered for nearly a
centui-y the views of its illustrious founder. This splen¬
did institution consists of 31 general professors, and 12
colleges, each of which has its particular establishment
of masters and professors, and of students, who receive
gratuitous support and instruction. At present, how¬
ever, this university is gone so entirely to decay, that
scarcely a vestige of its ancient splendour remains, and
the whole number of students scarcely amounts to roo.
Hie university of Cervera, founded at the commence¬
ment of the 18th century, with a magnificence truly
royal, possesses 43 professors, five colleges, about 000
students; but it partakes of the radical fault of all the
Spanish universities ; the course of study is incomplete
and antiquated, and the very name of the institution i«
scarcely known beyond the boundaries of Catalonia
3 Y TJi*
s ?
'Hie university of Salamanca, the most ancient of any
in Spain, has enjoyed a degree ol celebrity which en¬
titles it to a particular description.
It was founded by Alphonso IX. between the years
1230 and 1244, an^ was considerably enlarged by Fer¬
dinand III. his grandson. But its most magnificent pa¬
tron was Alphonso X. surnamed the Wise, son and suc¬
cessor of the last-mentioned sovereign. This prince
richly endowed it, and drew up a set ol statutes lor its
government. He established a professorship of civil law,
with a salary of 500 maravedies $ a professorship of ca¬
non law, with a salary of 300 maravedies j two prolessor-
ships of decretals with salaries of 500 maravedies } two
professors of natural philosophy, and as many of logic,
with salaries of 200 maravedies each ; and two masters
of grammar, with salaries ol 300 maravedies. It experi¬
enced also the liberality of many succeeding sovereigns,
and received from the popes a vast extent of privileges.
For many years this university enjoyed a high reputa¬
tion •, its fame extended over all Europe 5 it was con¬
sulted by kings and by popes, and its deputies were re¬
ceived into the general councils, where they well sus¬
tained the character of the body which they represented.
Students flocked to it not only from all the provinces
of Spain and Portugal, and from the islands of Majorca
and the Canaries, but also from the West Indies and
New Spain, and even from France, Flanders, and Eng¬
land. The number of students who attended the classes
amounted nearly to 15,000. The wdiole of this vast
establishment consisted of 25 colleges, a library, and
an hospital, called Del Estmlio, intended for the amelio¬
ration of poor scholars.
The celebrity of Salamanca continued in full vigour
during many ages ; but, at length, as rival institutions
sprang up, declined by slow degrees, so that by the year
1595, the number of students did not exceed 7000*.
Alter the evacuation of Spain by the Romans, the-
Stateof tbealr‘ca^ representations were discontinued till they were
Spanish restored by the Moors, and from them adopted by the
Gothic Spaniards, who soon became passionately fond of
the stage, a taste which they have ever since preserved.
They had at first neither theatres nor a stage, their
dramas were acted in a court, a garden, or the open
fields ; the actors and spectators were mingled, and were
equally exposed to the injuries «f the weather.
At a subsequent period the stage was marked out by
a kind of boarded platform, and was surrounded by old
clothes, drawn back, on occasion, by means of cords,
which formed the only decorations, and behind which
the actors dressed. Their properties consisted only of
crooks, some wigs and false beards, and a few white
skins, trimmed with gold fringe.
Theatrical exhibitions became more regular and de¬
cent towards the end of the 16th century, when a new
form was given to them by the exertions of Bartholo¬
mew Naharro, a middling dramatic poet. Theatres
were then erected, but the greatest part were upon tres-
sels, and two parallel pieces of canvas formed their
scenes, which were sometimes checquered with various
colours, sometimes covered with miserable paintings, or
adorned with foliage, trees, or flowers.
During all these periods, the prompter, with a candle
in his hand, stationed himself on the stage by the side
of the performers who were speaking, and jumped from
side to side whenever the actors changed their places.
4
* Be La¬
bor de.
216
A I N.
This custom prevailed at the end of the 17th century,
and even still prevails among the strolling companiespf'-
small towns.
Theatres have at length, however, assumed a hand¬
somer appearance in this country, and customs more
conformable to the rest of Europe. Handsome theatres
have been multiplied, and their stages are now well ar¬
ranged and decorated ; all the great cities are w'ell pro¬
vided with them, and many of the smaller towns may
boast of elegant and not ill furnished playhouses.
The prompter no longer runs from one side of the
stage to the other; he is placed in the middle before
the scenes, in a kind of well, where he no longer offends
the sight and taste of the spectator : but an old custom
which is still observed, greatly injures the interest and
eftect of the representation. The prompter, who has the
piece before him, does not wait till the actor is at a loss
to prompt him, but recites the whole drama aloud, so
that the actor appears to follow him in his declamation.
By this means two voices are heard in the theatre pro¬
nouncing the same words, which are confounded, and
often produce a discord, and the spectator who has first
heard the piece recited, no longer takes an equal inte¬
rest in the same verses, phrases, and words, which the
actor afterwards declaims.
The Spanish theatres are divided into a patio, or area,
and boxes called balco and aposentos. Ihe orchestra,
where the musicians are stationed, adjoins the stage ; an
inclosure between it and the pit is set round with arm
chairs, and destined for the reception of the higher
class : the patio, or pit, is placed behind, and filled with
benches, and the gi'adas consist of two' rows of benches
disposed amphitheatrically on each side below the boxes,
and sometimes also across the lower end of the theatre.
This last division is found only in a few theatres ; in
the others, the space beneath the boxes is empty, and
persons stand in it. The patio and the gi'adas contain
the common people, the most numerous, most noisy, and
most imperious part of the public.
There are commonly only two tiers of boxes, some¬
times three ; they extend on each side from the stage to
the end of the theatre. The form is the usual one, but
they are divided from each other by partitions, which
completely shut them up on each side, a circumstance
which greatly injures the beauty of the general effect.
There is commonly at the end of the theatre fronting
the stage, a large box with seats placed semicircularly
behind one another, which is called the ca%vela. No
man is allowed to enter it, and only women muffled up
in their mantelas are admitted.
There are several things very singular and amusing
in this cazuela. Women of every age and condition
are there united ; the married are confounded with the
single 5 the wives of the common people with those of
tradesmen and the ladies of the court; the poor woman
with the rich one who would not be at the trouble of
dressing to appear in her box. Their appearance is
most curious *, they are all covered with their mante¬
las, a kind of white or black veil, and give the idea 0
a choir of nuns. It is the place for chattering, and be¬
tween the acts there proceeds from the cazuela a con¬
fused noise like the hum of bees, which astonishes an
diverts all wrho hear it for the first time. Scarcely i*
the performance ended, when the door of this box, its
galleries, passages, and the staircase leading to it, are
Spnir.
all
*\'La
5 91
p!1’7
rrpce
anJ'Tn.
Wipe.
S P .A
all besieged by a great crowd of men of every condi¬
tion ; some attracted by curiosity ; others coining to
wait upon the women who are in it.
Notwithstanding all that has been done for its im¬
provement, the Spanish stage is still far from the cele¬
brity which it once possessed; and the people do not se¬
cond the efforts of their best writers. The acting is in
a still lower state. The performers possess neither that
dignity which characterizes great personages, and en¬
nobles a subject without injuring its interest ; nor that
sweet expression of voice and gesture which goes to the
heart, and awakens the sentiments it expresses. In their
acting every thing is violent or inanimate ; every thing
departs from nature. Their recitation is afeatof strength,
and is performed at the sole expence of the lungs. Cries
and shrieks are its most impressive part, and the most ap¬
plauded by the majority of the audience. They put no¬
thing in its proper place : all their action is exaggerat¬
ed; when they threaten they roar; when they command
they thunder ; when they sigh, it is with an effort which
completely exhausts the breath. They substitute anger
for dignity, violence for spirit, insipidity for gallantry.
Their gestures rarely correspond with the sentiments
they ought to express ; but resemble their recitation ;
and are usually monotonous, capricious, ignoble, and al¬
most always violent. The women, in their bursts of pas¬
sion, become furies ; warriors become villains ; generals
robbers ; and heroes bravos. Nothing, as they manage
it, is pathetic ; nothing makes any impression on the au-
dience. The spectators, equally unmoved at the end of
the piece, as at the beginning, see it, without having ex¬
perienced a single moment of interest or emotion *.
As labour and culture are reckoned derogatory to the
Spanish character, a sufficient quantity of grain for the
support of the inhabitants is not raised, though societies
for the encouragement of agriculture have been esta¬
blished in different parts of the kingdom. The princip’al
products are wine, delicious fruits, oil, silk, honey, and
wax. A considerable proportion of the mountains and
valleys is pastured by immense flocks of sheep, whose
wool is extremely fine and valuable. Estremadura is
noted for its excellent pastures; and the wool in Old
Castile is reputed the finest in the kingdom. In Cata¬
lonia the hills are covered with forest and fruit trees.
Valencia is celebrated for its silk, and for the exquisite
flavour of its melons. Murcia abounds in mulberry
trees; and the southern provinces yield the most deli¬
cious wines and fruits. Upon the whole, it has been
observed of Spain, that few countries owe more to na¬
ture, and less to industry.
The soil in general reposes on beds of gypsum, which
is an excellent manure. The common course of husban¬
dry about Barcelona begins with wheat; which being
I N.
2lS
humid. The rich vale of Alicant yields a perpetual suc¬
cession of crops. Barley is sown in September, reaped
in April ; succeeded by maize, reaped in September ;
and by a mixed crop of esculents which follow. Wheat
is sown in November, and reaped in June; flax in Sep¬
tember, pulled in May. In the vale of Valencia wheat
yields from 20 to 40; barley from 18 to 24; oats from
20 to 30 ; maize 100 ; rice 40. The Spanish plough
is generally light; and is drawn by oxen with the yoke
over the horns ; the most proper and natural mode, as
the chief strength of the animal centres in the head.
Jor a very minute account of agriculture in Spain, see
De Laborde’s View, vol. iv. chap. 2.
That prejudice which regards the mechanic arts as State of
ase, is not yet extinguished in Spain : hence it happens the arts,
that these arts are either neglected, or abandoned to such
unskilful hands, as in general to render the Spaniards
much behind their neighbours in the useful arts of life.
1 he influence of this prejudice is least in the province of
Catalonia, where the laws, customs, and opinions are fa¬
vourable to artizans; and it is accordingly in this pro¬
vince that the mechanic arts have made the greatest
progress. ! oreign artists experience great difficulties in
this country. Ihey are not allowed to practice without
gaining admission into some incorporation or company,
and this has almost always been refused them.
Some arts have, however, made considerable progress
in Spain, especially those of gilding leather, and print¬
ing, which has lately acquired a great degree of perfec¬
tion.
The fabrication of articles of gold and silver might
become an important object in a country where these
metals abound ; but it is neglected, and the demand is
almost entirely supplied from foreign markets. What
little they perform in this way at home is usually very
ill executed, and exorbitantly dear. Madrid, however
begins to possess some good workmen in this way ; en¬
couragement would increase their number, and facilitate
the means of improvement; hut manual labour is there
excessively dear. Hence the Spaniards prefer foreio-n
articles of this kind, which, notwithstanding the ex-
pence of carriage, the enormous duties which are paid
on these articles, and the profits of the merchants, are
stifl cheaper than those made at home. 2
i he liberal arts are cultivated in this country with Archite*-
moie assiduity and success. The 16th century was the*-urc*
most brilliant period of the arts in Spain, as well as of
the sciences, of literature, and of the power and gran¬
deur of the monarchy. A crowd of able archiiects ap¬
peared at once under Charles V. and Philip II. T|ley
erected numerous edifices, which will immortalize the
reigns of these princes and the names of the artists.
John de Herrera and Cepedes displayed the highest ta-
• • T . . v , i , . T o ; — auu '-cpcm.s mspiayeu me nivnest ta-
npe m June, is immediately succeeded by Indian corn, • lents; Pedro de Uria constructed the magnificent bridee
iieinp, millet, cabbarre. kidnev beans, or lettuce. The nf Almaro-^ Ir. ..,1  t_i.„
hemp, millet, cabbage, kidney beans, or lettuce. The
second year these same crops succeed each other as be¬
fore. The next year they take barley, beans, or vetches;
which coming ofl the ground before midsummer, are
followed, as in the former years, by other crops, only
changing them acording to the season, so as to have on
the same spot the greatest possible variety. Near Car-
thagena the course is wheat, barley, and fallow. For
wheat they plough thrice, and sow from the middle of
November to the beginning of December ; in July they
reap from I0 t0 I00 for one> as t|)e sea90n happens to be
of Almaraz, in Estremadura; John-Baptist-Monegro of
Toledo, assisted in the building of the Escurial, and of
the church of St Peter at Rome.
The structures of that age are the finest in Spain, and
perhaps the only ones in the country which deserve to
fix the attention of the skilful spectator. There are some
among them which, in regularity, solidity, and magni¬
ficence, deserve to be compared with the fine buildings
of the Romans. The bridges of Badajoz over the Gua-
diana, and of Toledo, over the Manzanares, are of this
period; as are also the grand house or palace, now the
3 Y 2 council-
540
220
Fainting.
SPA IN.
council-house at Madrid, and the beautiful edifices
which adorn Toledo j the palace of Los Vargas j the
hospital of St John the Baptist, and that of the Holy
Cross. During the same time, the alca%ar of this city
built under Alphonso X. was restored with the gran¬
deur and magnificence which it still displays ; and the
noble palace was erected, known under the name of the
House of Pilate, at Madrid.
That magnificent building the Lscurial, which the
Spaniards called the eighth wonder of the world, which
used to lodge at once the king and his court, and 200
monks} this famous palace, which astonishes us by its
mass and extent, by the strength of its structure, the
regularity of its proportions, and the splendour ol its
decorations, as much as by the repulsive appearance of
its site and neighbourhood, also belongs to the same pe¬
riod, having been erected in the reign ot Philip II.
The decline of architecture became as complete in
the 17th century as its state had been flourishing in the
preceding age. From this period no architect occurs
worthy of remembrance} and the buildings are mon¬
strous masses, destitute of order, taste, and regularity.
One only deserves notice, the prison of Madrid, called
Carcel de Conte, the work of a happy genius, who
knew how to profit by the bright examples of the pre¬
ceding period.
About the middle of the 18th century, however, ar¬
chitecture began again to be cultivated with success.
The academy of San-Fernando, at Madrid, has already
produced several able men in this branch, who pursue
their art with credit. The handsome bridge built over
the Xarama, between Aranjuez and Madrid, in the
reign of Charles III. displays the talents ol Mark de
Vierna, his architect j the custom-house of Valencia,
and the temple-church of the same city, constructed on
the plan of Michael Fernandez ; the exchange of Bar¬
celona •, the triumphal arch which forms the gate of Al¬
cala at Madrid, and the snuff manufactory at Seville,
do honour to the Spanish architecture ot the present
day.
Spain justly boasts of many eminent sculptors ; but of
all the liberal arts, painting is that which has been most
cultivated in Spain, and in which its natives have
best succeeded. The Spanish school is much less
known than it deserves j it holds a middle place be¬
tween the Italian and Flemish schools \ it is more na¬
tural than the former, more noble than the latter, and
partakes of the beauties-of both. It has particularly
excelled in sacred subjects j and we recognise in the
Spanish pictures the feelings usually experienced by the
people of the mysteries of religion. By none have de¬
vout ecstasy, fervour, and genuine piety, been so well
expressed, or the mystic passion given with so much
truth. It is not in correctness of design, or nobleness of
form, that the Spanish artists usually excel, but in the
pure imitation of nature, in grace, truth, effect, and the
expression of feelings.
The Spaniards have at length opened their eyes to
the utility of the arts j they acknowledge them to be
advantageous and deserving of respect, and have begun
to give them such encouragement as is likely to promote
a taste for them, and to insure their advancement. Go¬
vernment has done something by affording protection
and countenance to the new establishments j but the
strongest impulse has been given by individuals, or pri¬
vate associations.
Spain now possesses an academy of painting, at Se- Spain
ville, and two academies of the fine arts, one at Ma-'—k^-.
drid, and the other at Valencia. The first owes its ori¬
gin to an association of the painters of Seville formed by
themselves, about the year 1660 ; Charles III. revived
it, and established there a school ot the fine arts. rJ hat
of Madrid was founded by Philip V. The last was esta¬
blished by the exertions of some private persons, assisted
by the benefaction of Andrew Majoral, archbishop of
Valencia, and the protection of the municipal body.
Charles III. came to its assistance 26 years after its es¬
tablishment, with an annual gift of nearly 700I. These
academies have for their object the study and improve¬
ment of painting, sculpture, and architecture; they
give public lessons on these three arts, and distribute an¬
nual prizes among their pupils. rlhat of Madrid, or
San-Fernando, sends its pupils to Borne at the expence
of government, to complete their studies.
Public and gratuitous schools for drawing have been
established within the last 20 years in different places-,
at Madrid, Cordova, Valencia, Seville, Zaragoza, Bar¬
celona, See. The last of these is supported by the mer¬
chants ; that of Vergara was founded by the patriotic
society of Biscay ; and those of Zaragoza and Cordova
owe their birth to the zeal and generosity of two indivi¬
duals j the first to Don Martin Noy Cochear, the last
to Don Antonio Cavallero, the present bishop of Cor¬
dova. Those of Madrid, Seville, and Valencia, depend
on the academies of these cities. an
The manufactures of Spain were more flourishing du-Manufao-
ring the government of the Moors in that country, thantuies-
they have been at any subsequent period. So complete¬
ly had the kingdom declined in this respect at the end
of the 16th century, when Philip V. ascended the
throne, that it is said by De Laborde to have been ab¬
solutely destitute of trade. The intestine wars which
ravaged the kingdom during the first 14 years of that
reign, and the low state to which the national finances
were reduced, prevented the government from paying
attention to manufactures and it was not till after tran¬
quillity had been restored, and regulations adopted with
respect to the public revenue, that the natives were in¬
duced to wear articles of their own manufacture. Since
the reigns of Ferdinand VI. and Charles III. this part
of the internal trade of the kingdom has greatly impro¬
ved, and the manufactures of Spain are now once more
on a respectable footing.
The Spanish manufactures enumerated by De La¬
borde, in his ^ iew of Spain, are those of cloth and
other woollen goods j silks } brocaded stuffs in gold and
silver; linens and other articles formed from flax or
hemp ; cottons ; leather and other articles manufactu¬
red from skins and hides ; paper ; china and delft
ware ; brandies ; beer ; aquafortis ; salt of lead ; shears
for the rvoollen trade; copper, iron, and brass goods;
glass and mirrors ; soap ; hats ; articles for the marine;
military implements; arms and ammunition; tobacco
and snuff. Of these, the most important are, the woo-
len and silk manufactures ; leather ; brandy ; military
weapons; soap and tobacco.
The principal places for the woollen manufactures
are, Aulot, Arens, Vich, and the convent of Gironne
in Catalonia; Jaca, and the district of Cincavilla inA-
ragon, and Burgos in Old Castile, for woollen stock¬
ings; Barcelona, Zaragoza, and Burgos, for blankets;
Junquera, Segovia, Burgos, anti many others, for baizes
$ p
and flannels j Estella in Navarre, Escoray in Biscay,
J Grazolerna in Seville, Toledo, &c. for coarse cloths’
which last article is manufactured in large quantities
throughout the kingdom. The woollen stuffs fabricated
in Spain, are in general of a very inferior quality, the
wool being imperfectly scoured, and the dyeing'so ill
executed, that the colours are never permanent.
The chief manufactures for silken articles are those
for blonde lace throughout Catalonia, and at Almaero
in La Mancha ; for silk stockings, at Malaga, Zarago¬
za, Valencia, Talavera, and Barcelona 5 and for silk
taffeties, serges, damasks, and velvets, at Jaen, Grana¬
da, Murcia, Valencia, Malaga, Zaragoza, Toledo, Ta¬
lavera, and Barcelona. The articles of this manufacture
are in general stout and excellent; but they do not
possess that brilliancy of appearance so remarkable in
the French silks.
Tanning, currying, and dressing hides, skins, and
all kinds of leather, are very general throughout Spain ;
but the skins and hides prepared at Arevaca and Po-
zuelo, are in greatest repute. The greatest quantity of
sole leather is manufactured in the provinces of Aragon
and Catalonia; and in the latter province are made and
exported a prodigious number of shoes.
The making of brandy is confined chiefly to the
states belonging to the crown of Aragon, especially at
Torres in Aragon; at Selva, Mataro, &c. in Catalo¬
nia ; and in Valencia.
54i
Spain.
A I N.
Spain has long been famous for its manufacture of
military weapons; and it is well known that the swords, Y—-
sabres, hangers, and bayonets, made at Toledo and
L'Uceiona, are oi a 'eiy superior temper. Xjarge ma
nufactories for fire-arms occur in the district of Guipus-
coa, and two royal lounderies for brass cannon, are es¬
tablished at Barcelona and Seville.
iheie is only one manufactory for tobacco and snuff
in Spain, viz. at Seville ; but this is on a most extensive
scale, and is supposed to yield ol annual profits about
800,000]. sterling. Here are employed 202 mills,
turned by 300 horses or mules; and the various opera¬
tions call for the daily labour of above 1400 persons. 222
. Considering the extent of sea coast belonging to the Commerce,
kingdom of Spain, its commerce is but inconsiderable,
and principally takes place between tlie mother-country
and the American colonies. Spain, indeed, carries on
a foreign trade with every country in Europe ; but its
principal transactions are, with England, Holland, Ita¬
ly, and Franee. Its exports to these countries consist
almost entirely of raw produce, as, if we except oil,
wme, brandy, shoes, salt, and a few coarse cloths and
silken articles, the trade in manufactured goods is al¬
most wholly confined to the interior of the country.
Its chief exports, and the amount yielded by each for
the several provinces, as well as the whole amount of
the export trade of Spain, to the rest of Europe, will be
seen in the following table.
Value of Exports from each Province in Pounds Sterling.
Goods exported.
Nuts,
Oil,
Cork,
Wine,
Linens and cotton stuffs
Silk handkerchiefs,
Paper,
Biandy,
Shoes and shoe soles,
Raisins,
Dried figs,
Almonds,
Dates,
Barylla,
Kermes,
Salt,
Spart worked,
Silk,
Cutlery,
Ribbons,
Corn,
Saffron,
Wool,
Flax,
Coarse cloth,
Silk and wool mixtures,
Worsted stockings,
Salt provisions,
Oranges and lemons,
Hemp,
Madder,
Brooms,
Catalonia.
L. 26,000
26,667
235’99°
2,667
295,00
5r>°42
73.333
262,50c
22,024
Calemia.
L.
I03>333
125,000
10,625
5>333
6.563
6,2 co
1S$1S
7.292
9>25°
Andalusia,
L.
208.333
508.333
625,000
34.37^
S33.333
Murcia
3ij25°
6,875
,002,105
289, S-2I [2,209,374 460,539
io8,333
4,166
229,166
5,000
2,083
78.°4i
2,500
Aram
L.
38.333
53.437
48,75o
1,458
2,666
5,833'
54°
79,o63
230,080
Other Provinces.
L.8,336
641,682
large quantity
from Gallicia.
om Old Castile.
Total.
716,685
L* 34,336
235,000
235,990
645.583
295,007
51,042
73,333
387,500
22,024
635,625
39,708
6,563
6,250
124,208
7,292
842.583
4,166
267,499
5,000
2,083
I3I,478
2,500
690,432
M58
2,666
5,833
540
79,063
66,667
6,875
4,908,304
SPAIN.
The above table is confined almost entirely to the
European exports. To these must be added the amount
of Spanish exports to the American colonies, in order to
acquire a just view of the total amount of the export
commerce. The following table will show the amount
of the exports, both of home and foreign produc^ from
Spain to America in 1784, as estimated by Mr lowns-
end in pounds sterling.
Ports.
Home produce.
Foreign produce,
Total.
Cadiz
Malaga
Seville
Barcelona
Corunna
Santander
Canaries
Tortosa
Gijon
Total
1,438,912
196’379
62,713
122,631
64.575
36,7*5
24,974
7,669
4,281
L.1,958,849
2,182,531
14,301
3°,543
21,240
39,962
9°>173
289
10,190
L.2,389,229
3,621,443
210,680
93,256
*43,S?1
*04,537
126,888
24,974
7,958
*4,47*
L.4,3,84,878
Of these exports we are to regard chiefly those of
Spanish produce, and these Mr Townsend has probably
estimated too high. M. de Laborde, on whose autho¬
rity we are more disposed to rely, states the value of
Spanish domestic merchandise exported to America in
the year 1788, as amounting to 1,635,6581. sterling,
while in 1792, it amounted to 2,812,500!. sterling, and
on an average of five years, from 1788 to 1792, it
amounted to 1,833,333!. sterling. The amount of fo¬
reign merchandise exported in 1788, was 1,484,315!.
sterling. Adding the average to this last sum, we have
3,317,6481. sterling for the whole export trade to Ame¬
rica. This added to 4,908,304!. sterling, makes a
grand total of 8,225,952!. sterling for the whole ex¬
port trade of Spain.
The Spanish imports are much more considerable
than the exports. Before the present troubles, Spain
imported from Holland, tapes, linen drapery, common
lace, cutlery goods and paper 5 from Silesia linen dra¬
pery •, from Germany, more particularly from Ham¬
burgh, quantities of haberdashery ; from England, cali¬
coes, iron and steel goods, fine cloth, quantities of cod
fish and ling •, the value of the last articles is estimated
at three millions of duros, five millions livres tournois,
(208,333!. 13s. 4d.) ; from France, calicoes, linen dra¬
pery, silk stockings, silks, camlets, and other kinds of
worsted stuffs, fine cloths, gilded articles, jewellery,
iron goods, haberdashery, steel goods, and perfumery.
We have not satisfactory documents sufficient to as¬
certain the amount of these imports, but it was certainly
much less than that of the imports from the American
colonies. These latter, according to Mr Townsend’s
statement, amounted in 1784 to 12,635,173). sterling j
to which, if we add nearly half a million for duty, we
shall have a total of above thirteen millions sterling for
American imports alone. De Laborde estimates the
total amount of American imports for the year 1788 at
8,382,330k sterling, of which Cadiz alone imported
6,617,873k sterling. If to the above amount we add
577,679k for the duty at the same period, we shall have
a total of 8,960,009k sterling against the mother coun¬
try, deducting from this 3,317,648k for the average Spain,
exports, we have 5,642,361k as the balance of trade in '—-v—>
favour of the Spanish colonies. *53
Though there are in Spain many navigable rivers,Inland na
few canals of communication have been constructed toT1gitl0n-
improve the internal navigation of the country. The
canal of Aragon, completed during the reign of Charles
IV. must be highly beneficial to that province. Two
canals, viz. that of Tueustre, and the imperial canal,
both of which begin at Navarre, run in various wind¬
ings through Aragon, by turns receding from or ap¬
proaching the river Ebro, where at length they termi¬
nate. Besides the dykes, banks, sluices, and bridges
necessary in the course ot these canals, an aqueduct has
been constructed in the valley of Riozalen, 710 fathoms
in length, and 17 feet thick at the base, in which the
canal runs.
The canal of Castile, projected and begun in the last
reign, has been almost abandoned. It was to com¬
mence at Segovia, sixteen leagues north of Madrid, to
follow the course ot the Eresma, that falls mto the
Douro, and to be continued as tar north as Reynosa;
■which is twenty leagues from St Ander, a sea port. At
Reynosa is the communication with the canal of Ara¬
gon, that unites the Mediterranean to the bay of Bis¬
cay. Above Palencia, a branch goes westward through
Rio-Seco and Benevento to Zamora", making the canal
of Castile, in its whole extent 140 leagues ; where it is
completed, viz. between Reynosa and Rio-Seco, its width
at top is 56 feet, at bottom 20, and nine in depth.
In 1784, a canal was planned, which, from the foot
of the mountains ofGuadarama near theEscurial, should
proceed southward to the T agus •, afterwards to the
Guadiana, and terminate at the Guadalquivir above
Andaxar. Some other attempts to improve the inland
navigation of the country have been unsuccessful. 254
There is no nation in Europe which displays such a General
variety of national character as Spain. In no two Pr°’'f^,Ct
vinces are the manners and characters exactly alike. 11 Speniarch
is therefore difficult to collect traits on which to found
the national character of the Spaniards j and this cha¬
racter has been variously represented by different writers.
From the transactions which have lately taken place
between that people and the British nation, we confess
ourselves prejudiced against them ) and we shall there¬
fore, instead of sketching their character according to
our own preconceived notions, endeavour to delineate it
as concisely as possible from De Laborde, who is pro¬
bably a sufficiently competent judge.
The national pride, says this author, is everywhere
the same. The Spaniard has the highest opinion ot his
nation and himself, and this he expresses with energy,
in his gestures, words, and actions. I his opinion is
discovered among all ranks in file, and all classes 0 so
ciety. Its result is a kind of haughtiness, sometimes
repulsive to him who is its object, but useful in giving
to the mind a sentiment of nobleness and self-esteem
which fortifies it against all meanness.
In later times the Spaniards have not degenerate
from the valour of their ancestors. The Spanish so ier
is still one of the best in Europe, when placed un er a
experienced general, and brave and intelligent 0 cerS*
He possesses a cool and steady valour w, he longent ure
fatigue and hunger, and easily inures himself to a °l
The Spaniards are very reserved, and rather "a!t
I *
)o
am
I:
Diretie*
of cfaac-
terimfie
*erer! |)ro-
mc
S P A I
than court the advances of a stranger. Yet in spite of brave
their apparent gravity, they possess an inward gaiety,
which frequently shines out when proper occasions call
it forth.
The Spaniard is very slow in all his operations ; he
often deliberates when he ought to act, and spoils affairs
as much by temporising as the natives of other countries
do by precipitation. This tardiness would be but a
slight defect, did it not proceed from a serious radical
want, from the invincible indolence and hatred of labour
which prevails among all ranks of society.
That jealousy which was formerly proverbial among
the Spaniards, is now greatly diminished; husbands are
much less suspicious, and women much more accessible.
Lattices have disappeared; duennas exist only in roman¬
ces ; veils are exchanged for mantelas; houses are thrown
open, and the women have recovered a liberty by which
they are less tempted to go astray than when their virtue
was entrusted to locks and grates, and to the superin¬
tendance of guards often faithless and easily corrupted.
In fine, the Spaniards are sober, discreet, adroit,
frank, patient in adversity, slow in decision, but wise in
deliberation ; ardent in enterprise, and constant in pMr-
suit. They are attached to their religion, faithful to
their king, hospitable, charitable, noble in their deal-
ings, generous, liberal, magnificent; good friends, and
full of honour. They are grave in carriage, serious in
discourse, gentle and agreeable in conversation, and
enemies to falsehood and evil speaking.
Such is the Spanish character as drawn by De La-
borde. Its varieties in the several provinces are thus
stated by the same author. The Old Castilians are si-
lent, gloomy, and indolent, and are the most severely
grave of all the Spaniards; but they possess a steady
prudence, an admirable constancy under adversity, an
elevation of soul, and an unalterable probity and up¬
rightness. The character of the natives of New Castile
is nearly the same, but more open, and less grave and
taciturn. Indoeility and conceit make part of the
character of the people of Navarre ; they are distin¬
guished by lightness and adroitness. The Biscayans are
proud, impetuous, and irritable ; abrupt in discourse
and in action ; haughty and independent, but indus¬
trious, diligent, faithful, hospitable, and sociable. The
Gallicians are gloomy, and live very little in society ;
but they are hold, courageous, laborious, very sober, and
distinguished for their fidelity. The Asturians partake
of the character of the Gallicians and Biscayans ; but
they are less industrious than the former, less civilized,
less sociable, less amiable, and more haughty than the
latter. The people of Estremadura are proud, haughty,
vain, serious, indolent; but remarkably sober, honour¬
able, and much attached to their own province, which
they seldom quit. T he Murcians are lazy, listless, plot¬
ting, and suspicious ; attached neither to sciences, arts,
commerce, navigation, nor a military life. The Valen-
cians are light, inconstant, and indecisive ; gay, fond of
pleasure, little attached to each other, and still less to
strangers, but affable, agreeable, and diligent. The Ca-
latans are proud, haughty, violent in their passions, rude
in discourse and in action, turbulent, untractable, and
passionately fond of independence; they are not particu¬
larly liberal, but active, industrious, and indefatigable ;
they are sailors, husbandmen, and builders, and resort to
all corners of the world to seek their fortunes. They are
. . 543
intrepid, sometimes rash, obstinate in adhering Spain,
to their schemes, and often successful in vanquishing, t~** y— .>
by their steady perseverance, obstacles which would
appear insurmountable to others. 226
. natives of almost every province have some di- Manner*
stinguishing peculiarity in their dress, manners, and pur-and clls'
suits. Before the accession of the house of Bourbon totoms'
the throne, the usual dress of a Spanish nobleman con¬
sisted of a slouched hat, a long black or brown cloak,
short jerkin, and strait breeches, with a long Toledo
swoid ; but French dresses are now introduced at court.
The higher classes wear their hats under their arm.
The common people wrap themselves up to the eyes in a
brown cloak, called a/eapo, that reaches to the ground ;
and conceal their hair beneath a cotton cap, and a broad
hat called a sombrero. When a lady walks abroad, her
head and upper part of her body are covered with a
mantela ; that is, a white or black veil, so that it is im¬
possible she should be known. At home, the dress is a
jacket and a petticoat of silk or cotton. The hair is
generally a fine black ; and powder is rare.
In romance, the ladies are celebrated for beauty, and
some of them deserve that character; yet beauty *is not
their general character. They are of a slender make,
but with great art they supply the defects of nature.
By an indiscriminate use of paint, they disfigure their
complexion and shrivel their skin.
Several of the Spanish customs and habits, which seem
ridiculous to foreigners, are gradually wearing out, and
in process of time will no doubt be corrected. The
higher classes at breakfast use chocolate, and seldom tea.
Dinner generally consists of beef, veal, pork, mutton*
and beans, boiled together. They are fond of garlic*
and it is proverbial that olives, salad, and radishes, are
food for gentlemen. The men drink little wine/and
the women use water or chocolate. Both sexes sleep
after dinner, and air themselves in the cool of the even¬
ing. 1 heir repasts are composed of sweatmeats, bis¬
cuit, coffee and fruit, which servants distribute to the
company; who keep their seats, and have little conver¬
sation.
Dancing and cards are favourite amusements. Thea¬
trical exhibitions are generally insipid or ridiculous bom¬
bast, low wit, absurdity, and buffoonery. The combats
of the cavalleros, and bull fights, are almost peculiar to
this country. On these occasions young gentlemen
were used to show their courage to tlieir mistresses •
and were honoured and rewarded according to their suc¬
cess. But these exhibitions were lately conducted with
greater economy and parsimony; and mercenary cham¬
pions studied in the most secure and graceful manner to
destroy the devoted animal. See BuLL-Fighting. •
.The chief defect in all ranks is an aversion to labour
and industry. The higher orders bestow no attention on
agriculture and commerce; they reside for the most part
at court and in the metropolis, reckoning it beneL 'i
their dignity to live in villas on their estates among fheir
tenants. In their estimation, a labouring man quits the
dignity of the Spanish character, and renders himself an
object of contempt. Hence a listless indolence prevails,
thousands waste their time in total want of every incite¬
ment to action. Their intellectual powers lie dormant
and their views and exertions are confined within the
narrow sphere of mere existence. The common people
have no encouragement to industry; and must feel little
concern
544
Spain
SPA
concern for the welfare of a country where a few over-
orown families engross every thing valuable, and never
think of the condition of their vassals. The indigent
Spaniard does not bestir himself unless impelled by want,
because he perceives no advantage to be derived from
industry. A stranger to intemperance and excess, Ins
scanty fare is easily procured j and under a climate so
propitious, few clothes are required. The hovel which
he occupies, together with all its contents, has a mean,
filthy, despicable appearance ; and all that relates to
| PAry/aiV’shim bears the impression ol wretchedness and misery t*
Geography, There are certain customs which may be regarded as
vol. i. P. 68. pecui;ar to the Spaniards, or which at least are scarcely
found in any other European country. The number of
servants retained in the families of the higher ranks is
prodigious i and even a tradesman’s wife, in narrow cir¬
cumstances, will frequently have four maid servants,
though she cannot, with propriety, employ more than
two. The houses of gentlemen, and especially of gran¬
dees, swarm with them * and, not unfrequently, all the
principal servants will have their wives and children
lodged with them, and supported by their master. We
have heard of one nobleman who was at the daily ex¬
pence of 120I. merely for the maintenance of his nume¬
rous retainers. _ _ . #
The Spaniards are fond of meeting in the evening in
parties, which are often very numerous. On these oc¬
casions, the ladies as they arrive plate themselves in one
room, and the gentlemen in another $ or else the ladies
range themselves in a line along the side of the room,
the lady of the house always taking the lowest place
next to the door, whilst the men remain standing, or
seat themselves on the opposite side. They remain se¬
parated in this manner till the card parties are introdu¬
ced. They play at loo, loto, and other games of a si¬
milar kind. Those who do not play, either look on,
or embrace the opportunity ol chatting with the person
most interesting to them. Others form little circles,
where the conversation is usually very animated. These
parties very much resemble the 1 reneb evening, and
the English rout.
A refresco sometimes makes part of these entertain¬
ments, but only on particular occasions, when the com¬
pany is more than usually numerous. But orgeat, le¬
monade, orangeade, ices of different kinds, sweetmeats,
and biscuits, are distributed with uncommon profusion j
and chocolate ends the funcion, as all these entertain¬
ments are called.
Many precautions are taken in Spain against the heat.
The rooms are watered several times a-day, and the win¬
dows are shaded on the outside with awnings of cloth or
• ticking, or on the inside by large and full curtains. In
some places, as at Valencia, the glass is taken out of
the windows at the approach of summer, and the doors
of the apartments are all set open.
The beds in Spain are hard, being made of mattresses,
laid on paillasses, resting on a wooden bottom. The
furniture of the houses is usually very simple, and the
floors are covered with matting or printed cloth. The
chairs have rush bottoms, and are usually of different
heights, those for the ladies being one-third lower than
those for the gentlemen.
Among the principal amusements of the Spaniards
must he reckoned music and dancing. Though the Spa¬
niards have a taste for music, they are by no means
S27
Amuse¬
ments.
I N.
proficients in that accomplishment. Their principal in¬
strument is the guitar, which is in the hands of every
body. Different provinces have also their peculiar in¬
struments. Thus the Gallicians use a dull and heavy
bagpipe j the Catalonians a large flageolet, and a little
drum or tabor j and the Biscayans a short flute, with
four holes. Castanettes are also extremely common,
and are employed with great dexterity and address in
the national dances.
The Spaniards are passionately fond of dancing, and
they have certain dances which are peculiar to Spain.
Of these the fandango is the most celebrated, and ap¬
pears to be the most ancient. It is a very extraordinary
dance, in which the whole body is thrown into a regu¬
lar an*d harmonious convulsion, expressive of the most
lascivious ideas.
The passion of the Spaniardsfor these dances is carried
to a height which can scarcely be imagined. INo sooner
are the guitar and the singing to which they are danced
heard in a ball room or theatre, than a murmur of de¬
light arises on all sides; all faces become animated; flie
feet, hands, and eyes of all present are put in motion:
it is impossible, to describe the effect produced. Mr
Townsend, an English traveller, affirms, that if a per¬
son were to come suddenly into a church or a couit of
justice playingthe.femdavgo, or the colero, priests, judges,
lawyers, criminals, audience, one and all, grave and gay,
young or old, would quit their lunctions, forget all oi-
stinctions, and ail set themselves a dancing.
The Spanish balls are directed by two persons chosen
among the visitors, who are called basteneras, and with
the hat under the arm, and the cane in the hand, per¬
form the office of masters of the ceremonies. One is
for the gentlemen, the other for the ladies. It is then
business to appoint who is to dance, whether minuets or
country dances: they are in general very attentive to the
observance of precedence and etiquette, and have usu¬
ally the complaisance to contrive that those shall dance
together to whom it is peculiarly agreeable to meet.
A singular custom is observed at these balls, which
appears new and strange to a foreigner. 1 he lady
chosen to dance rises, crosses the room alone, and places
herself where she is to begin dancing, without waiting
for her partner to lead her out ; and after the dance is
over, her partner makes his bow to her again in the
middle of the room without taking any further concern
about her, or handing her back to her place. But this
custom prevails only in the provinces.
The bull-fights noticed above were once not only a
favourite but a fashionable spectacle in Spain. .>eiy
city, and almost every small town, had a place set apar
for these darling combats; and hither all ranks and ages
resorted with the greatest avidity, and witnessed he
prowess of the combatants, and the torture ot Use
wretched animals, whom they were hired to butchei,
with the most savage expressions oi delight.
fights made a part of every festival, and, as soon as icy
were announced, the housewife left her fanu V?
tradesman forsook his shop, the artist his woi ’
the labourer his field, and joy and expectation w
painted on every countenance, lo the honoui o
nation, these cruel sports are at length abohsie , ^
Spain lias thus set an example of humanity, w nt ’
tain, with all her civilization and refinement, nee
blush to copy. Xcw-SpAI**
[
SPA
; w-Spain New-SpAiN. See Mexico.
oJL f SPALATR0» or Spalatto, a rich, populous, and
pallan- strong town, capital of Venetian Dalmatia, now be-
  >ng'ng to Austria, with a good harbour and an arch¬
bishop s see. Here are the ruins of the palace of Di-
oclesian, of which the late Mr Robert Adam published
in 1764 a splendid account, enriched with 71 folio
plates. In 1784, Spalatro was nearly depopulated by
the plague. It is strong by aituation, being built on a
peninsula, which is joined to terra firma by a neck of
land half a mile over. -It is seated on the gulf of Ve-
niee, 35 miles south-east of Sebenico, and 102 north¬
west of Ragusa. E. Long. 17. cm. N Lat aa a
. SpALLANZANI, Lazarus, a celebrated natural¬
ist, was born at Scandiano, in the duchy of Modena, in
January 1729. He began his studies in his native coun¬
try, and went to Reggio de Modena at 15 years of age,
to prosecute them further. He was instructed in the
J? . the Jesuits, who contended with the
Dominicans in order to secure his attachment j but his
thirst for knowledge determined him to go to Bologna,
where his relative Laura Bassi, a woman highly cele¬
brated for her genius, eloquence, and skill in natural
philosophy and mathematics, was one of the most distin¬
guished professors of the Institute and of Italy. Under
this enlightened guide, he was taught to prefer the stu¬
dy of nature to that of her commentators, judging of
the real value of the commentary by its resemblance to
the original. He availed himself of the wisdom of that
lady s counsels, the happy effects of which he very soon
experienced. Spallanzani’s taste for philosophy was not
exclusive, for he carefully studied his own language,
became a proficient in the Latin tongue, and attached
himself above every other to the Greek and French
Ly the advice of a father whom he ardently loved, he
applied himself to jurisprudence 5 but being urged by
Anthony v allisnieri to. renounce his vocation, by pro¬
em mg tue consent ol bis father, be gave himself up to
the study of mathematics with more Zeal than ever at
the same time devoting himself to the study of lan¬
guages, both living and dead.
It was not long before he was known all over Italy
aru, what is seldom the case, bis own country iiist put
that value on bis talents which they justly merited,
lie was. chosen professor of logic, metaphysics, and
’reek, in tne university of Reggio, in the year 174;
where he taught during ten years, devoting every mo¬
ment of his leisure time to the study and contempla-
tir.n of the works of nature. The attention of Haller
and bonnet was fixed by his observations on the ani-
malculae of infusions, the latter assisting him in his
audahle career, and ever after distinguishing him as
one of the learned interpreters of nature.
., Spallanzani was invited to the university of Modena
in the year 1760, and some years after he declined to
accept of the oilers made to him by the academy of
liters burgh, as well as similar ones from Coimbra
lamia and Cesena, though extremely advantageous,
lie preferred Ins native spot, and therefore continued
at Modena till the year 1768, and saw raised up by his
care a generation of men constituting at that time the
glory of Jtaly, among whom we find Venturi, Rdloni
Lucchesmi, and Angelo Mazzo.
V lide Spallanzani remained at Modena, he publish-
ed his r// QsservazAomAlicrvscojjicAe concernente
' OL. XIX. Fart II. 4
545 ] SPA
il System di XeedharneBuffon, in 1765, in which he
establishes, by a number of the most ingenious and solid
experiments, the animality of microscopic animalcules,
r .\VOrk s?nt bJ the author to Bonnet, who drew
ironi !t a prediction respecting the future celebrity of
Spallanzani, which he Jived to see accomplished, this
circumstance gave birth to the most intimate friendship,
w ncl, lasted to the close of life, and constituted thefe
cl ef happiness. During the same year he published a
truly original work, entitled Dc Lapidihus ah aqua re-
sihentibus, in which he proves, in opposition to the com¬
monly received opinion, by the most satisfactory expe¬
riments, that what are called ducks and drakes, are not
pioduced by the elasticity of the water, but by the ef¬
fect naturally resulting from the change of direction
experienced by the stone in its movement, after it has
struck the water, and that it has been carried over the
hollow of the cup formed by the concussion.
W hen the university of Padua was re-established up¬
on a larger scale the Count de Firmian was directed 1 y
the empress Maria Theresa, to invite Spallanzani to bl
professor of natural history, to which his great reputa¬
tion made him competent, although it was solicited by
many celebrated characters; and he merited it by his
success, as immense crowds of students thronged to his
ectores. He had a fine genius, and his knowledge was
of vast extent ; h.s method was simple, hut rigorous in
S nature, and what he knew he connected with prin¬
ciples firmly established. He acquired (he valuable art
of interpreting nature by herself, which diffused such a
hght over his lectures, that every thing became perspi¬
cuous which could be said to afford any instruction,
lis discourses were plain and animated, and the ele¬
gance and purity of his style charmed every hearer.
He prepared h.s lectures a year before-hand, and it was
is chief aim to render them useful in an eminent de¬
gree. ii,s new observations made them always new
and engaging. Many learned persons who attended his
lectures were not above becoming his scholars, in order
to acquire a more extensive knowledge of what liu-v
knew before and to learn that which otherwise they
might probabfy never have known. The Contemplation
dc la Nature of Bonnet was his text hook, the vaciu-
cies of which he ably filled up, fully explained the ideas
t] >established the theories by his own experiments:
us work was translated by him into the Italian lan¬
guage and he added much to its value by notes of his
own the first volume of which he publLhed i„ I76n
and the second the following year. ‘ ' *
His connection with Bonnet tended, in a great mea-
sme to influence his genius, which yielded to the severe
method of investigation adopted by the philosopher of
Geneva. He was proud of being the pupil of such an
illusti.ous character upon whose writings he incessant¬
ly bestowed every leisure moment, and thus became
anxious to learn from Nature herself the proofs of Bon¬
net s sentiments respecting the generation of organized
bodies, the pleasing nature of which research captiva¬
ted Jus attention for a considerable time.
i he first two volumes of this work, entitled Opusculi
1 ^utca^mmale^ e Vegetahi/e, were published in the
year 1776, containing the explanation of part of tim
irtheTE 0bSerVati°nS Vvhich weie Previously given
If it must be admitted that the art of accurate obser-
3 ^ vation
Spallan¬
zani.
SPA
r 546 ]
SPA
tion is by far the most difficult, it cannot be denied that
it is at the same time the most necessary, and requires
the most brilliant talents and abilities, which were pos¬
sessed by Spallanzani in a remarkable degree, as is fully
evinced by all his researches and all his admirable wri¬
tings.
the polite manner in which he conducted his dispute
with Needham respecting the phenomena of generation,
secured for him a high degree of applause. On this
occasion he treated of the influence of cold upon ani¬
mals, and proved that the torpidity of some during win¬
ter, does not depend on the impression the blood may
receive from it, since a frog deprived of blood, becomes
torpid when reduced to the same cold state by being
immersed in ice, and swims as formerly when restored
to a proper degree of warmth. ^
Spallanzani travelled through Switzerland and tne
Grisons in the year 1779, after which he went to Ge¬
neva, spending a month with his friends, by whom Ins
conversation was as much admired as his masterly wri¬
tings. From this place he returned to Pavia, and in
1780 published two more volumes of his JJissertcrzione
di Fmca Animule e Vegetal)He, wheiein he unfolded the
secrets of the interpretation of two very intricate phe¬
nomena, concerning the economy of animals and ve¬
getables. He was led to this study from some experi¬
ments made by him upon digestion, for his lectures ; and
he repeated the experiments of Reaumur on gallinace¬
ous birds, remarking that the trituration which in this
case is favourable to digestion, could not be a very
powerful means. He perceived that the gizzard of those
birds, by which the stunes of fruit are pulverized, did
not digest the powder thus formed, it being necessary
that it should undergo a new operation in the stomach,
previous to its becoming chyle for the production of
the blood and other humours.
This subject may be regarded as one of the most dif¬
ficult in physiology, because the observer isalwajs under
the necessity of acting and looking in the midst of dark¬
ness ; the animal must he managed with care, that the
derangement of the operations may be avoided ; and
when the experiments are completed with great labour,
it is requisite that the consequences be well distinguish¬
ed. Spallanzani in this work is truly enchanting, ana-
13 sing facts with scrupulosity, in order to ascertain their
causes with certainty *, comparing Nature with his ex¬
periments, in order to form a correct judgment respect¬
ing them laying hold of every thing essential to them
in his observations, and measuring their solidity by the
increase or diminution of supposed causes.
Mr John Hunter appears to have been greatly hurt
by this work, which led him to publish, in the year
1785, Some Observations upon Digestion, in which he
thr ew out some bitter sarcasms against the Italian na¬
turalist, who took ample revenge by publishing this
work in the Italian language, and addressing to Caldani
in 1788, Una Lettera Apologetica in Risposta alle Osscr-
va’Zione del Signor Giovanni Hunter. In this he ex¬
posed with great moderation, but at the same time with
logic which nothing could resist, the mistakes and er¬
rors of the British physiologist, leaving the power of a
replv altogether hopeless.
The generation of animals and plants is treated of in
the second volume of this last-mentioned work, in which
he. proves the pre-existcnce of germs to fecundation, by
experiments as satisfactory as surprising; shewing also Spat
the existence of tadpoles in the females of five diflerent
species of frogs, in salamanders, and toads, before their u
fecundation. " He likewise recounts the success of some
artificial fecundations upon the tadpoles of those five
species, and even upon a quadruped.
In the year 1781, he took the advantage of the aca¬
demical vacation, for the purpose of making a journey,
in order to add to the cabinet of Pav.a. He set out
for Marseilles in the month of July that year, where he
began a new history of the sea, which presented him
with many new and curious facts on numerous genera
of the natives of the ocean. He went also to Finale,
Genoa, Massa, and Carrara, to make observations on
the quarries of marble, held by statuaries in such estima¬
tion. He then returned to Spezzia, and brought from
thence to Pavia a vast number of fishes, which he de¬
posited in the cabinet of that city, wholly collected by
himself. With the same view and success he visited
the coasts of Istria in 1782, and the Apennine moun¬
tains the subsequent year, taking notice of tbe dreadful
hurricanes, and the astonishing vapours by which that
year became so noted in meteorology. The emperor
Joseph, on examining this cabinet, presented Spallanzani
with a gold medal. In 1785, he was offered the chair
of natural history by the university of Padua, vacant b_y
the death of Anthony Vallisnieri; but in order to pre¬
vent his acceptance of it, his salary was doubled by tbe
archduke, and he went to Constantinople with Cheva¬
lier Zuliani, who had been appointed ambassador irom
the V enetian republic. He set out on-the 21st of Au¬
gust, and reached the Turkish metropolis on the nth of
October, where he remained during eleven months.
His attention was fixed by the physical and moral phe¬
nomena of this country, which were new even to Spal¬
lanzani. He strayed a'ong the borders of the two seas,
and ascended the mountains in the vicinity ; he paid a
visit to the island of Clialki, discovering to the Turks a
copper mine, the existence ol which they had ne\ei
once conjectured. He discovered an iron mine not far
from Constantinople, in the island of Principi, of which
the Turks were equally ignorant, and prepared to ie-
turn for Italy on the 16th of August 1786.
A voyage by sea wras undoubtedly the safest, but the
dangers to which he would he exposed by land were re¬
garded as nothing when contrasted with the idea of be¬
ing beneficial to science and to man. Having reached
Bucharest, Mauroeeni the friend of science, received
Spallanzani with marks of distinction, presented mn
with many rarities which the country produced, and
gave him horses for travelling, with an escort of 30
troopers, to the utmost confines of his own dominions.
Our philosopher passed by Hermanstadt 111 f ransylvama,
and reached Vienna on the 71!) of December, where ie
remained during five days, apd had two long con er
ences with the emperor Joseph II. was much esteeine
by tbe nobility of that city, and respectfully visited by
many literary characters. When he arrived at awa,
the students went out of the city gates to meet him, an
testified their joy at his return by repeated acclama¬
tions. He was almost instantly drawn to the auditory,
and compelled to ascend the chair from which e a
been accustomed to deliver his fascinating lectures ; u
their demonstrations of joy and shouts of applause ma e
him request of them to give over, and indulge him w
iiaft*
zani.
S P A
tint repose in ins own Iiouse which was now so absolute¬
ly accessary. His students this year exceeded joo.
So extensive was the fame of Spallanzani become by
this time, that envy was determined, if possible, to
wound his reputation. If his discoveries were too new,
solid, and original, to be successfully disputed, that vile
passion, or YA\\vzr fiend, began to question his integrity
and uprightness respecting the administration of the ca¬
binet oi Pavia; but this iniquitous attempt to tarnish
Ins honour, only made it shine forth with redoubled
splendour. The juridical examination of the tribunals
made his integrity appear even purer than before; and
it must be mentioned to his honour, that he had the
fortitude to forget this event ; his enemies in general
confessed their mistake, renounced theirunprovoked ani¬
mosity, and still hoped to regain a friendship of which
they had proved themselves so unworthy.
In the voyage of Spallanzani we meet with what
may he denominated a new volcanology. We are
there instructed how to measure the intensity of volca¬
nic fires, and in his analysis of the lava, almost to touch
the particular gas which tears those torrents of stone in
fusion from the bowels of the earth, and raises them to
the top of Mount Etna. This delightful work is closed
by some important enquiries into the nature of swal¬
lows, the mildness of their dispositions, the rapidity of
their flight; discussing the celebrated problem respecting
their remaining torpid during the winter season; pr<>
^ ing that artificial cold, much more intense than what
is ever naturally experienced in our climates, dees not
reduce these birds to the torpid state.
Things apparently impossible were often discovered
by Spallanzani. Jn the year 1795 he made one of
this description, which he gave to the world in his Let-
tcrc sopra il snpetto d'un nuovo senso nci Pippistrelli. 111
that work we are informed that hats, if deprived of
sight, act with the same precision in every instance as
those which have their eyes ; that they shun in the
same manner the most trivial obstacles, and also know
where to fix themselves when their flight is terminated.
Several philosophers confirmed these astonishing experi¬
ments, from which a suspicion arose, that these animals
must have a new sense, as it appeared to Spallanzani
that the other known senses could not compensate for
the want of sight ; but he was afterwards inclined to
think, in consequence of Professor Jurine’s experiments
on the organ of hearing in bats, that in this particular
instance tiie sense of hearing might possibly supply the
want of sight.
The literary career of this celebrated naturalist was
terminated by a letter to Giobert, entitled Sopra la pi-
ante chime ne vasidentro Paqua e Pavia, esposte aPim-
mediata lume solare e a Potnbra. These numerous works,
which met with the highest approbation, do not com-
prehend the whole of his multifarious labours ; for the
pnenomena of respiration had occupied his attention a
considerable time ; their points of resemblance and dis¬
similitude in many species of animals ; and be had near-
y finished his voyage to Constantinople, as well as col¬
lected many valuable materials for a history of the sea,
when his life and labours were unfortunately termina¬
ted.
He was seized with a retention of urine on the 4th of
February 1799, and next morning was deprived of the
Jcgnlar use of his faculties, only enjoying a sound mind
[ 5+7 1
SPA
during very short _ intervals. Tourdes and Professor
Scarpa did every tiling to save him, which could be pro¬
duced by tbe joint exertions of genius, experience, and
friendship, but in vain. He died on the 17th ; hut we
know not what credit is due to the assertion, that he
edified those around him during his last moments by his
pfitn. Be that as it may, while his works exist to speak
fm themselves, impartial posterity will regard him as a
very extraordinary man. These works have been trans¬
lated into almost every European language, and he was
admitted a member of the academies and learned socie¬
ties of London, Stockholm, Gottingen, Holland, Lyons,
Bologna, Turin, Padua, Mantua, and Geneva, and he
received from Irederick the Great the diploma of mem¬
ber of the academy of Berlin.
FAN, a measure taken from the space between tbe
thumb and the tip of the little finger when both are
stretched out. The span is estimated at three hands-
breadths or nine inches.
SPANDRELL, the solid work on each haunch of
an arch, to keep it from spreading.
SPANHEIM, Ezekiel, a learned writer in the
17th century, was born at Geneva in 1629 ; and
in 1642 went to Leyden to study. Here he distin¬
guished himself to great advantage ; and his reputation
spreading, Charles Louis elector palatine sent for him
to be tutor to his only son. This task our author dis¬
charged to the entire satisfaction of the elector; by
whom he was also employed in divers negotiations at
foreign courts. He afterwards entered into the service
of the elector of Brandenburg, who in 1680 sent him
emoy extraordinary to the court of France, and soon
a|ter made him a minister of state. After the peace of
Ryswic, he was again sent on an embassy to France,
where he continued from the year 1697 to’1702. The
elector of Brandenburg having during that interval as¬
sumed the title of King of Prussia, conferred on him the
title and dignity of a baron. In 1702 he left France ;
and went ambassador to England, where he had been
several times. Here he died in 1710, aged 81 years.
It is surprising, that in discharging the duties of a public
minister with so much exactness, and amidst so many
different journeys, he could find time enough to write
the several hooks published by him. It may be said of
bim, that lie acquitted himself in his negotiations like a
person who had nothing else in his thoughts ; and that
he wrote like a man who had spent his whole time in his
study. The principal of his works are, 1. Deprastantia
et usu numismatum antiquorum; the best edition of
which is in two volumes folio. 2. Several letters or
dissertations on scarce and curious medals. 3. A pre¬
face and notes to the edition of the emperor Julian’s
works, printed at Leipsic in 1696, folio.
SPANIEL, in Zoologp. See Canis, Mammalia
Index.
SPAR, in Mineralogy, a name given chiefly to some
of the crystallized combinations of lime, as the carbo¬
nate and the fluate; the former being called simply
Inne spar, the latter fluorspar, or Derbyshire spar, from
the name of the place where it is found in greatest abun¬
dance. See Mineralogy.
SPARGANIUM, Bur-reed, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class of monoscia, and to the order of
triandria ; and in the natural system ranged under the
3d order, Calamarlce. See Botany Index.
3 z 2 SPARLING.
SpaiiLta-
zani
R
Spaii'A-
II i UHL
SPA [ 548
SPARLING, or Spirling, a small fish belonging to
the genus Sal mo. See ICHTHYOLOGY, p. 99.
SPA RM ANN I A, a genus of plants belonging to
the class of polyandria, and to the order of monogynia.
See Botany Index.
SPARROW. See Fringilla, Ornithology
Index.
See Falco, Ornithology In-
See Asparagus, Botany and
Spar no w- Ha wk.
dex.
Sparrow-Grass.
Gardening Index.
SPARRY acid. See Fluoric Acid, Chemistry
Index.
SPARTA, or Lacedaemon, the capital of the
country of Laconia in Greece, an ancient and most re¬
nowned state, the inhabitants of which have been in all
t. ages celebrated for the singularity of their laws and cha-
JfS ’ir^cter.—The history of Sparta for many ages is entirely
mostly1 fa- fabulous j and the authentic accounts commence only
bilious till with the celebrated lawgiver Lycurgus, who flourished
the tune ofa|)0at 8y0 B. C. See the article LYCURGUS.
lO'oufgus. After his death, the first important transaction which
we find mentioned in the Spartan history is the Messe-
nian war, which commenced in the year 752 B. C. and
ended in the total reduction of the Messenian territory,
as related under the article Messenia. During this
period, according to some authors, a great change took
place in the government ot Sparta. Ihis was theciea-
tion of the ephori, which is ascribed to one ol the kings
named Thenpompus. This man perceiving that there
was a necessity for leaving magistrates to execute the
laws, when the kings were obliged to be in the field,
appointed the magistrates above mentioned, who alter-
wards made so great a figure in the state (see Ephori).
One great privilege of the ephori was, that they did
not rise up at the presence of the kings, as all other ma¬
gistrates did : another was, that if the kings offended
against the laws, the ephori took cognizance of the of¬
fence, and inflicted a suitable punishment. From the
first election of the ephori, the year was denominated,
as at Athens from the first election of the archons.
The conquest ©f Messenia gave Sparta the superiority
over the rest of the states, excepting only that of Athens,
which for a long time continued to be a very trouble¬
some rival : but the contests between these two rival
states have been so fully related under the article At¬
tica, that nothing more is requisite to be added in this
place.— In the time of the Persian war, Leonidas the
Spartan king, distinguished himself in such a manner as
to become the admiration not only of that but of every
of Tbeuno- succeeding age. It being resolved in a general council
pyhe a- to jefen(l the straits of Thermopylae against the Per-
PersiansC s'ansj 7000 * foot were put under the command ofLeo-
* See Ana- nidas : of whom, however, only 300 were Spartans.
charsis's Leonidas did not think it practicable to defend the pass
against such multitudes as the Persian king commanded ;
and therefore privately told his friends, that his design
was to devote himself to death for his country.
Xerxes advancing near the straits, was strangely sur¬
prised to find that the Greeks were resolved to dispute
his passage j for he had always flattered himself, that on
his approach they would betake themselves to flight,
and not attempt to oppose his innumerable forces.
However, Xerxes still entertaining some hopes of their
!Leonidas
undertakes
to defend
the straits
Travels,
vol. i.
p. 46S.
] SPA
flight, waited four days without undertaking any thing, Sparta,
on purpose to give them time to retreat. During this '— , .j
time, he used his utmost endeavours to gain and corrupt 3
Leonidas, promising to make him master ot all Greece wP^>e,■
if he would come over to his interest. His offers beingse(j
rejected with contempt and indignation, the king or-great
dered him by a herald to deliver up his arms. Leoni- slaughter,
das, in a style and with a spirit truly laconical, answer¬
ed, “ Come thyself, and take them.” Xerxes, at this re¬
ply, transported with rage, commanded the Medes and
Cissians to march against them, take them all alive, and
bring them to him in letters. The Medes, not able to
stand the shock of the Greeks, soon betook themselves
to flight: and in their room Hydarnes was ordered to
advance with that body whifij^was called Immortal, and
consisted of 10,000 chosen men j but when these came
to close with the Greeks, they succeeded no better than
the Medes and Cissians, being obliged to retire with
great slaughter. The next day the Persians, reflecting
on the small number of their enemies, and supposing so
many of them to be wounded that they could not pos¬
sibly maintain a second fight, resolved to make another
attempt; but could not by any efforts make the Greeks
give way : on the contrary, they were themselves put
to a shameful flight. The valour of the Greeks exert¬
ed itself on this occasion in a manner so extraordinary,
that Xerxes is said to have three times leaped from his
throne, apprehending the entire destruction of his army.
Xerxes having lost all hopes of forcing his way
through troops that were determined to conquer or die,
was extremely perplexed and doubtful what measures he
should take in this posture of affairs j when one Epialtes,
in expectation of a great reward, came to him, and dis¬
covered a secret passage to the top of the hill which jj,gy al4
overlooked and commanded the Spartan forces. I he shows a
king immediately ordered Hydarnes thither with his sc-way ojer
lect body of 10,000 Persians \ who marching all night, ^onH(j0
arrived at break of day, and possessed themselves of that ^
advantageous post. The Phocaeans, who defended this
pass, being overpowered by the enemy’s numbers, re¬
tired with precipitation to the very top of the mountain,
prepared to die gallantly. But Hydarnes, neglecting to
pursue them, marched down the mountain with all pos¬
sible expedition, in order to attack those who defended
the straits in the rear. Leonidas being now apprised
that it was impossible to bear up against the enemy,
obliged the rest of his allies to retire : but he staid him¬
self, with the Thespians, Thebans, and 300 Lacedaemo¬
nians, all resolved to die with their leader ", who being
told by the oracle, that either Sparta should he destroy¬
ed or the king lose his life, determined without the least
hesitation to sacrifice himself for his country. The
Thebans indeed remained against their inclination, be¬
ing detained by Leonidas as hostages •, for they were
suspected to favour the Persians. The Thespians, with
their leader Dcmophilus, could not by any means be
prevailed upon to abandon Leonidas and the Spartans.
The augur Megistias, who had foretold the event 0
this enterprise, being pressed by Leonidas to retire, sent
home his only son; but remained himself, and died y
Leonidas. Those who staid did not feed themselves witi
any hopes of conquering or escaping, but looked upon
Thermopylae as their graves ; and when Leonidas, ex
horting them to take some nourishment, said, that they
" should
SPA
larta.
LJ'-idas
should all sup together with Pluto, with one accord
they set up a shout of joy, as if they had been invited
to a banquet.
„ Xerxes, after pouring out a libation at the rising of
ki i with the SU11, began to move with the whole body of his ar-
al is men. my, as he had been advised by Epialtes. Upon their
approach, Leonidas advanced to the broadest part of
the passage, and fell upon the enemy with such undaunt-
ed courage and resolution, that the Persian officers were
obliged to stand behind the divisions they commanded,
in order to prevent the flight of their men. Great num¬
bers of the enemy falling into the sea, were drowned 5
others were trampled under foot by their own men and
a great many killed by the Greeks ; who knowing’they
could not avoid death upon the arrival of those who
were advancing to fall upon their rear, exerted their
utmost efforts. In this action fell the brave Leonidas 5
which Abrocomes and Hyperanthes, two of the bro¬
thers of Xerxes, observing, advanced with great resolu¬
tion to seize his body, and carry it in triumph to Xerxes.
But the Lacedaemonians, more eager to defend it than
their own lives, repulsed the enemy four times, killed
both the brothersof Xerxes, with many otlier commanders
of distinction, and rescued the body of their beloved
general out of the enemy’s hands. But in the mean
time, the army that was led by the treacherous Epialtes,
advancing to attack their rear, they retired to the nar¬
rowest place of the passage, and drawing altogether,
except the! hebans, posted themselves on a rising ground,
in this place they made head against the Persians, who
poured in upon them on all sides, till at length, not
vanquished, but oppressed and overwhelmed by numbers,
they all fell, except one who escaped to Sparta, where’
he was treated as a coward and traitor to his country ;
but ^afterwards made a glorious reparation in the battle
of Plataea, where he distinguished himself in an extra¬
ordinary manner. Some time after, a magnificent mo¬
nument was erected at Thermopylae, in honour of those
brave defenders of Greece, with two inscriptions ; the
one general, and relating to all those who died on this
occasion, importing, that the Greeks of Peloponnesus
to the number only of 4000, made head against the Per¬
sian army, consisting of 3,ooo,cco. The other related
to the Spartans in particular, and was composed by the
poet Simonides, to this purport : “ Go, passenger, and
acquaint the Spartans that we died here in obedience to
their just commands.” At those tombs a funeral oration
was yearly pronounced in honour of the dead heroes, and
public games performed with great solemnity, wherein
uone but the Lacedaemonians and Thespians had any
share, to show that they alone were concerned in the
glorious defence of Thermopylae.
At the end of the 77th Olympiad, a most dreadful
earthquake happened at Sparta, in which, according to
Diodorus, 20,000 persons lost their lives; and Plutarch
tells us, that only five houses were left standing in the
whole city. On this occasion the Helotes or slaves,
whom the Spartans had all along treated with the ut¬
most cruelty, attempted to revenge themselves, by ta¬
king up arms, and marching directly to the ruins of the
city, in hopes of cutting off at once those who had esca¬
ped from the earthquake. But in this they were pre¬
vented by the prudence of the Spartan king Arcbida-
mus ; for be, observing that the citizens were more de¬
sirous of preserving their effects than taking care of
f 549 ]
SPA
A dreak]
safthq* ie
'n Spills
their own lives, caused an alarm to be sounded, as if he Sparta,
had known that an enemy was at hand. On this the v-
citizens armed themselves in haste with such weapons
as they could come at j and having marched a little
way from the city, met the Helotes, whom they soon
compdled to retire. The latter, however, koowiog w„7„.lh
hat they hail now no mercy to expect from those who the Hel...
had already treated them with such cruelty, resolved totes,
defend themselves to the last. Having therefore seized
a sea-port town in Messenia, they from thence made
such incursions into the Spartan territories, that they
compelled those imperious masters to ask assistance from
the Athenians. This was immediately granted ; but
when the Spartans saw that the skill of the Athenians
in besieging towns was much greater than their own
they became jealous, and dismissed their allies, telling
them that they had now no farther occasion for their
services On this the Athenians left them in disgust;
and as the Helotes and Messenians did not choose to
come to an engagement with a Spartan army in the
held, but took shelter in their fortified places, the war
was protracted for ten years and upwards. At last the
lelotes were reduced to their former misery ; and the
Messenians were obliged to leave Peloponnesus, on
pain of being made slaves also. These poor people were
then received by the Athenians, who granted them
A aupactus for their residence, and afterwards brought
t ifcm back to a part of their own country, from whence
m the course of the Peloponnesian war they had driven
the Spartans.
In the year 431 B. C. the Peloponnesian war com-with8t,
tTe1^ 5 A "vo aC<0Ullt ‘KiS ‘)een §iven U1^erAthenians
he article Attica, N° 116-165. It ended most un-and Per.
fortunately for the Athenians; their city being takeniians-
and dismantled, as related in the article above mention¬
ed. 1 bus were the Spartans raised to the highest pitch
of glory ; and in the reign of Agesilaus, they seemed
to be on the point of subverting the Persian empire, as
related under the article Persia, N° 34. But here
their good fortune and their views of empire were sud¬
denly checked. Agesilaus bad carried on the war in
Asia with the greatest success ; and as he would heark-
en to no terms of accommodation, a Peisian governor
named Jzt/iraustes, having first attempted in vain to
bribe the king, dispatched Timocrates theKhodian with
50 talents into Greece, in order to try whether he could
there meet with any persons less incorruptible than the
Spartan monarch. This agent found many who inclined
to accept ins offers ; particularly in Thebes, Corinth
and A.gos. _ By distributing the money in a proper
manner, be inflamed the inhabitants of these three cities 9
aSa,ns.t Spartans; a„,l 0f all others the Thebans
lame into Ins terms with the greatest readiness. They tici a3ain«t
saw that their antagonists would not of their own ac-Sparta,
cord break with any of the states of Greece, and did
not choose to begin the war themselves, because the
Cnicib ot the I ersian faction were unwilling to be ac¬
countable for the event. For this reason they persua¬
ded the Locrians to invade a small district which lav in
dispute betwixt the Pliocians and themselves. On this
the Phocians invaded Locris ; the Locrians applied to
the Thebans, and the Phocians to the Spartans. The
latter were glad of an opportunity of breaking with the
I hebans ; hut met with a much warmer reception than
they expected. Their old general Lysamler, who had
reduced
S P A
[ 55° ]
SPA
?,parta.
xo
Peace of
Antalcidas.
* See Per¬
sia, N°37-
11
Hostilities
recommen-
•ced.
The power
of Sparta
entirely
broken.
reduced Athens, was defeated and killed, with the loss
of 1000 men: on which disaster Agesilaus was recalled,
and obliged to relinquish all hopes of conquering the
Persians. His return changed the fortune of the war
so much, that all the states began to grow weary oi a
contest from which nobody derived any advantage ex¬
cept the king of Persia. In a short time a treaty was
concluded, known in history by the name of the peace
of Antalcidas. The terms of'this treaty were highly
disadvantageous and dishonourable to the Greeks*; for
even the Spartans, though successful in Greece, had
lost a great battle at sea with the Persian fleet under
Conon the Athenian, which entirely broke their power
in Asia.
By the peace of Antalcidas, the government of Bos-
otia was taken from the Thebans, which they had for
a long time enjoyed ; and by this they were so much
provoked, that at first they absolutely refused to accede
to the treaty ; but as Agesilaus made great preparations
to invade them, they thought proper at last to comply.
However, it was not long before a new war commenced,
which threatened the total subversion of the Spartan
state. As, by the peace of Antalcidas, the king ot
Persia had in a manner guaranteed the sovereignty of
Greece to Sparta, this republic very soon began to ex¬
ercise its power to the utmost extent. The Mantineans
were the first who felt the weight of their resentment,
although they had been their allies and confederates.
In order to have a pretence for making war against
them, they commanded them to quit their city, and to
retire into five old villages which, they said, had served
their forefathers, and where they would live in peace
themselves, and give no umbrage to their neighbours.
This being refused, an army was sent against them to
besiege their city. The siege was continued through
the summer with very little success on the part of the
Spartans ; but having during the winter season dammed
up the river on which the city stood, the water rose to
such a height, as either to overflow or throw down
the houses ; which compelled the Mantineans to submit
to the terms prescribed to them, and to retire into the
old villages. The Spartan vengeance fell next on the
Phliasians and Olynthians, whom they forced to come
into such measures as they thought proper. After this
thev fell on the Thebans, and, by attempting to seize
on the Piraeum, drew the Athenians al>o into the quar¬
rel. But here their career was stopped : the Thebans
had been taught the art of war by Chabrias the Athe¬
nian; so that even Agesilaus himself took the command
of the Spartan army in vain. At sea they were de¬
feated by Timothens the son of Conon ; and by land
the battle of Leuctra put an end to the superiority
which Sparta had held over Greece for near 500 years.
See Leuctra.
After this dreadful defeat, the Spartans had occasion
to exert all their courage and resolution. The women
and nearest relations of those who were killed in battle,
instead of spending their time in lamentations, shook
each other by the hand, while the relations of those
who had escaped from the battle hid themselves among
the women; or if they were obliged to go abroad, they
appeared in tattered clothes, with their arms folded, and
iheir eyes fixed on the ground. It was a law among
the Spartans, that such as fled from battle should be de¬
graded from their honours, should he constrained to ap-
5
Spart*.
pear in garments patched with divers colours, to wear
their beards half-shaved, and to suffer any to heat them
who pleased, without resistance At present, however,
this law was dispensed with ; and Agesilaus by his pru¬
dent conduct kept up the spirits of the people, at the
same time that by his skill in military affairs he checked
the progress of the enemy. Yet, during the lifetime of
Epaminondas the Theban general, the war went on
greatly to the disadvantage of the Spartans ; but he be¬
ing killed at the battle of Mantinea, all parties became
quickly desirous of peace. Agesilaus did not long sur¬
vive ; and with him, we may say, perished the glory of
Sparta. Soon after this all the states of Greece fell
under the power of Alexander the Great ; and the
Spartans, as well as the rest, having become corrupt,
and lost their martial spirit, became a prey to domestic
tyrants, and to foreign invaders. They maintained
their ground, however, with great resolution against the
celebrated Pyrrhus king of Epirus ; whom they repul¬
sed for three days successively, though not without as¬
sistance from one ot the captains ot Antigonus. Soon
after this, one of the kings of Sparta named Agts, per¬
ceiving the universal degeneracy that had taken place,
made "an attempt to restore the laws and discipline of
Lycnrgus, by which he supposed the state would be re¬
stored to its former glory. But though at first he met ^ ^
with some appearance of success, he was in a short time ( |eomelie,
tried and condemned by the ephori as a traitor to his attemptir
country. Cieomenes, however, who ascended the throne vain tore,
in 216 B. C. accomplished the reformation which Agisstorelt
had attempted in vain. He suppressed the ephori; can¬
celled all debts; divided the lands equally, as they had
been in the time of Lycurgus ; and put an end to the
luxury which prevailed among the citizens. But at last
lie was overborne by the number ot enemies which sur¬
rounded him ; and being deteated in battle by Anti¬
gonus, lie fled to Egypt, where he put an end to his
own life. With him perished every hope of retrieving
the affairs of Sparta : the city for the present fell into
the hands of Antigonus; after which a succession ot ty¬
rants took place; till at last all disturbances were ended
by the Romans, who reduced Macedon and Greece
to provinces of their empire, as has been related under
these articles. _ . 'h ,
It remains now only to say something concerning the
character, manners, and customs of the Spartans, which,
as they were tounded on the laws of Lycurgus, may
best be learned from a view ot these laws. . 'jvs
The institutions of Lycurgus were divided into 12
tables. The first comprehended such ot the Spartan
laws as regarded religion. The statues ot all the gods
and goddesses were represented in armour, even to ^ e-
nns herself; the reason of which was, that the people
might conceive a military life the most noble and ho¬
nourable, and not attribute, as other nations did, slot 1
and luxury to the goda. As to sacrifices, they consist¬
ed of things of very small value ; for which Lycurgus
himself gave this reason, That want might never hioder
them from worshipping the gods. 1 hey were lorbidoen
to make long or rash prayers to the heavenly povveis,
anti were enjoined to ask no more than that theynugit
live honestly and discharge their duty. Graves uere
permitted to he made within the bounds oi the city,
contrary to the custom of most ot the Greek nations;
nav, they buried close by their temples, that ah degrees
OHS '
s P A
arta
CoMi'iiing
tlie; ision
of iki.
2ens,J ii-
dren,!c.
of people might be made familiar with death, and not
conceive it such a dreadful thing as it was generally
esteemed elsewhere : on the same account, the touching
dead bodies, or assisting at funerals, made none unclean,
but were held to he as innocent and honourable duties'
as any other. There was nothing thrown into the
grave with the dead body ; magnificent sepulchres were
forbidden , neither was there so much as an inscription
however plain or modest, permitted. Tears, sighs, out¬
cries, were not allowed in public, because tliev were
thought dishonourable in Spartans, whom their lawgiver
would have to bear all things with equanimity. Mourn-
ing was limited to 11 days ^ on the I2th the mourner
sacrificed to Ceres, and threw aside his weeds. In fa¬
vour of such as were slain in the wars, however, and of
women who devoted themselves to a religious life, there
whs an exception allowed as to the rules before men¬
tioned ; for such had a short and decent inscription on
their tombs. When a number of Spartans fell in battle,
at a distance from their country, many of them were bu¬
ried together under one common tomb j but if they fell
on the frontiers of their own state, then their bodies
veie carefully carried back to Sparta, and interred in
their family sepulchres.
II. Lycurgus divided all the country of Laconia in-
to 30,000 equal shares : the city of Sparta he divided
into 9000 as some say ; into 6000, as others say ; and
as a third party will have it, into 4500. The intent of
the legislator was, that property should be equally di¬
vided among bis citizens, so that none might be power¬
ful enough to oppress his fellows, or any be in such ne¬
cessity, as to be therefrom in danger of corruption.
With the same view he forbade the buying or selling
these possessions. If a stranger acquired a right to any
of these shares, he might quietly enjoy it, provided he
submitted to the laws of the republic. The city of
Sparta was unwalled ; Lycurgus trusting it rather to
the virtue of its citizens than to the art of masons. As
to the houses, they were very plain j for their ceilings
could only he wrought by the axe, and their gates and
doors only by the saw ; and their utensils were to he of
a like stamp, that luxury might have no instruments
among them.
III. I he citizens were to be neither more nor less
than the number of city lots ; and if at any time there
happened to be more, they were to he led out in co¬
lonies. As to children, their laws were equally harsh
and unreasonable ; for a father was directed to carry his
new-born infant to a certain place, where the gravest
men of his tribe looked upon the infant; and if they
perceived its limbs straight, and thought it had a whole¬
some look, they then returned it to "its parents to be
educated ; otherwise it was thrown into a deep ca¬
vern at the foot of the mountain Taygetus. This law
seems to have had one very good effect, viz. makino-
women very careful, when they were with child, of ei¬
ther eating, drinking or exercising, to excess; it made
t.iem also excellent nurses; for which they were in
mignty request throughout Greece. Strangers were
not allowed to reside long in the city, that they might
not corrupt the Spartans by teaching them new cus¬
toms. Citizens were also forbidden to travel, for the
same reason, unless the good of the state required it.
buci) as were not bred np in their youth according to
Ue law, were not allowed the liberty of the eity,°be-
f 551 1
SPA
Sparta.
cause they held It unreasonable, that one who had not
submitted to the laws in his youth should receive the be¬
nt fit of them when a man. I hey never preferred any
stranger to a public office ; but if at any time they had
occasion for a person not born a Spartan, they first made
him a citizen, and then preferred him. Tg
I\ . Celibacy m men was infamous, and punished in Of celibacy
a most extraordinary manner ; for the old bachelor was and mar-
constrained to walk naked, in the depth of winter,1'^'
through the market-place: while he did this, he was
obliged to sing a song in disparagement of himself; and
he had none of the honours paid him which otherwise
belonged to old age, it being held unreasonable, that
the youth should venerate him who was resolved to
leave none of his progeny behind him, to revere them
vyhen they grew old in their turn. The time of mar¬
riage was also fixed ; and if a man did not marry when
he was of full age, he was liable to an action ; as were
such also as married above or below themselves. Such
as had three children had great immunities ; such as had
four were free from all taxes whatsoever. Virgins were
married without portions; because neither, want should
hinder a man, nor riches induce him, to marry contrary
to his inclinations. When a marriage was agreed on,
the husband committed a kind of rape upon his bride!
Husbands went for a longtime, secretly and by stealth,
to the beds of their wives, that their love might not be'
quickly and easily extinguished. Husbands were allow¬
ed to lend their wives ; but the kings were forbidden
to take this liberty. Some other laws of the like nature
there were, which as they were evidently against mo¬
desty, so they were far from producing the end for
which Lycurgus designed them ; since, though the men
of Sparta were generally remarkable for their virtue, the
Spartan women were as geneially decried for their bold¬
ness and contempt of decency.
V It was the care of Lycurgus, that, from their Educadon i
very birth, the Lacedaemonians should he inured to of their
conquer their appetites : for this reason he direct- claldren.,
ed, that nurses should accustom their children to
spare meals, and now and then to fasting; that they
should carry them, when 1.2 or 13 years old, to those
who should examine (heir education, and who should
carefnhy observe whether they were able to be in the
dark alone, and whether they had got over all other
follies and weaknesses incident to children. He direct¬
ed, that children of all ranks should be brought up in
the same way ; and that none should he more favoured
in food than another, that they might not, even in their
infancy, perceive any difference between poverty and
riches, but consider each other as equals, and even as
brethren, to whom the same portions were assigned
and who, through the course of their lives, were to fare'
alike: the youths alone were allowed to cat flesh : older
men ate their black broth and pulse ; the lads slept to-
getner in chambers, and after a manner somewhat re¬
sembling that still in use in Turkey for the Janizaries:
their beds, in the summer, were very hard, being com¬
posed of the reeds plucked by the hand from the banks
of the Eurotas : in winter their beds were softer, but
by no means downy, or fit to indulge immoderate sleep.
I hey ate altogether in public ; and in case any abstain¬
ed from coming to the tables, they were fined! ft was
likewise strictly forbidden for any to eat or drink at
borne before they came to the common meal ; even thcE
eaclii
SPA [552] SPA
Sparta, each had his proper portion, that every thing might be
——* done there with gravity and decency. The black broth
was the great rarity of the Spartans, which was com¬
posed of salt, vinegar, blood, &c. so that in our times,
it would be esteemed a very unsavoury soup. If they
were moderate in their eating, they were so in their
drinking also; thirst was the sole measure thereof-, and
never any Lacedaemonian thought of drinking for plea¬
sure : as for drunkenness, it was both infamous and se¬
verely punished ; and, that young men might perceive
the reason, slaves were compelled to drink to excess,
that the beastliness of the vice might appear. W hen
they retired from the public meal, they were not allow¬
ed any torches or lights, because it was expected, that
men who were perfectly sober should be able to find
their way in the daik : and besides, it gave them a fa¬
cility of marching without light j a thing wonderfully
useful to them in time of war.
Of their VI. As the poor ate as well as the rich, so the rich
diet, cloth- could wear nothing better than the poor : they neither
ring. See. changed their fashion nor the materials of their gar¬
ments -, they were made for warmth and strength, not
for gallantry and show : and to this custom even their
kings conformed, who wore nothing gaudy in right of
their dignity, but were contented that their virtue
should distinguish them rather than their clothes. The
youths wore a tunic till they were twelve years old ;
afterwards they had a cloak given them, which was to
serve them a year*, and their clothing was, in general,
so thin, that a Lacedaemonian vest became proverbial.
Boys were always used to go without shoes ; but when
they grew up, they were indulged with them, if the
manner of life they led required it ; but they were al¬
ways inured to run without them, as also to climb up
and slip down steep places with bare feet: nay, the very
shoe they used was of a particular form, plain and
strong. Boys were not permitted to wear their hair ;
but when they arrived at the age of twenty, they suf¬
fered their hair and beard to grow. Baths and anoint¬
ing were not much in use among the Lacedeemonians $
the river Eurotas supplied the former, and exercise the
latter. In the field, however, their sumptuary laws did
not take place so strictly as in the city j for when they
went to war, they wore purple habits; they put on
crowns when they were about to engage the enemy j
they had also rings, but they were of iron j which me¬
tal was most esteemed by this nation. Young women
Wore their vests or jerkins only to their knees, or, as
some think, not quite so low ; a custom which both
Greek and Roman authors censure as indecent. Gold,
precious stones, and other costly ornaments, were per¬
mitted only to common women 5 which permission was
the strongest prohibition to women of virtue, or who af
fected to be thought virtuous. Virgins went abroad
without veils, with which married women, on the con¬
trary were always covered. In certain public exercises,
in which girls were admitted as well as boys, they were
both obliged to perform naked. Plutarch apologises
for this custom, urging, that there could be no danger
from nakedness to the morals of youth whose minds
were fortified and habituated to virtue One of Ly-
curgus’s principal views in bis institutions, was to era¬
dicate the very seeds of civil dissension in his republic.
Hence proceeded the equal division of estates enjoined
by him} hence the contempt of wealth, and the neglect
3
of other distinctions, as particularly birth, he consider- gpart(I
ing the people of his whole state as one great family;^
distinctions which, in other commonwealths, frequently
produce tumults and confusions that shake their very
foundation. j
VII. Though the Spartans were always free, yet it Obedient-
was with this restriction, that they were subservient to to Uieif sa.
their own laws, which bound them as strictly in the city,^™”'
as soldiers, in other states, were bound by the rules of
war in the camp. In the first place, strict obedience to
their superiors was the great thing required in Sparta.
This they looked upon as the very basis of government 5
without which neither laws nor magistrates availed much.
Old age was an indubitable title to honour in Sparta:
to the old men the youth rose up whenever they came
into any public place $ they gave way to them when
they met them in the streets, and were silent whenever
their elders spoke. As all children were looked upon
as the children of the state, so all the old men had the
authority ot parents: they reprehended whatever they
saw amiss, not only in their own, but in other people’s
children : and by this method Lycurgus provided, that
as youth are everywhere apt to oft’end, they might be
nowhere without a monitor. The laws went still far¬
ther : if an old man was present where a young one
committed a fault, and did not reprove him, he was
punished equally with the delinquent. Amongst the
youths there was one of their own body, or at most
two years older than the rest, who was styled tren : he
had authority to question all their actions, to look
strictly to their behaviour, and to punish them if they
did amiss ; neither were their punishments light, but,
on the contrary, very severe ; whereby the youth were
made hardy, ami accustomed to bear stripes and rough
usage. Silence was a thing highly commended at Spar¬
ta, where modesty was held to be a most becoming vir¬
tue in young people j nor was it restrained only to their
words and actions, but to their very looks and gestures^
Lvcurgus having particularly directed, that they should
look forward, or on the ground, and that they should
always keep their hands within their robes. A stnpid
inconsiderate person, one who would not listen to in¬
struction, but was careless of whatever the world might
say of him, the Lacedaemonians treated as a scandal to
human nature j with such a one they would not con¬
verse, but threw him ofi as a rotten branch and worth¬
less member of society. n
VIII. The plainness of their manners, and their be-Leainins-
ing so very much addicted to war, made the Lacedas-
monians less fond of the sciences than the rest of the
Greeks. A soldier was the only reputable profession
in Sparta j a mechanic or husbandman was thought a
low fellow. The reason of this was, that they imagi¬
ned professions which required much labour, some con¬
stant posture, being continually in the house, or always
about a fire, weakened the body and depressed the
mind : whereas a man brought up hardily, was equally
fit to attend the service of the republic in time of
peace, and to fight its battles when engaged in war.
Such occupations as were necessary to be followed lor
the benefit of the whole, as husbandry, agriculture,
and the like, were left to their slaves the Helotes j but
for curious arts, and such as served only to luxury, they
would not so much as suft’er them to be introduced m - ^
their city-, in consequence of which, rhetoricians, au¬
gurs,
SPA
tarla.
t 553 ]
iTl. Q f ’ ; . , ° 111 ,lloney, were shut out.
. e Spartans admitted not any of the theatrical diver¬
sions among them 5 they would not bear the represen-
tatmn of evil even to produce good 5 but other kinds
of poetry were admitted, provided the magistrates had
the perusal of p,eces before they were handed to the
public.
Above all things, they affected brevity 0f speech
and accustomed their children, from their Cery infancy
never to express themselves in more words than were
strictly necessary ; whence a concise and sententious ora¬
tory is to this day styled Laconic. In writing they used
the some conciseness ; df which we have a signal in¬
stance in a letter of Archidamus to the Eleans, when
he understood that they had some thoughts of assisting
tlie Arcadians. It ran thus: “ Archidamus to the
-Lleans : It is good to be quift.” And therefore Ena-
minondas thought that he had reason to glory in having
forced the Snartans fn   11 . 1 &
«ur>, bankers, and dealers in money, were shut o,,?^ A , . , r S P A
the rest; for ,f a yonth, by his corpulence, or any'
other means, became unfit for these exercises, he under-
went public contempt at least, if not banishment —
Hunting was the usual diversion of their children- nav
it wa d part of theJr cdncatio
a tendency to strengthen their limbs and to render
tho e who prachsed it supple and fleet : they likewise
c °gs for hunting with great care. They bad
Lhted0 " Whic!l t,lpy exceedingly de¬
lighted, and which were common alike to virghJand
young men : indeed, in all their sports, girls were allow
ed to divert themselves with the y^^ths : ' [s0m!ich*
that, at darting, throwing the quoit, pitching the bar’
and such like robust diversions, the women were as dex’
terous as the men. For the manifest oddity of this pro¬
ceeding Lycurgus assigned no other reason than that
Sparta.
c 110'-   lo giory in havincr be cnno-hi man mat
force,I the Spartans to abandon their monosyllables, and healthy ,hit S, XIT'S “,WeM “ s" “"g and
to lengthen their discourses. ealtliy, that the children they brought forth mmht be So
. lhe p'fatest part of their education consisted in were onlLeni and .a laborio,,s kind'’of life,
pving their youth right ideas of men and things : the en,oined the vnmK . -
ireii or master proposed questions, and either commend¬
ed the answers that were made him, or reproved such
as answered weakly. I„ these questions, all matters,
eitherof a trivial or abstruse nature, were equally avoid¬
ed 5 and they were confined to such points as were of
, , i . as were or
the highest importance in civil life j such as, Who was
the best man m the city? wherein lay the merit of
such an action ? and Whether this or that hero’s fame
was well-founded P Harmless raillery, was greatly en¬
couraged; and this, joined to their short manner of
speaking, rendered laconic replies universally admired
Music was much encouraged ; hut in this, as in other
things they adhered to that which had been in favour
with their ancestors ; nay, they were so strict therein,
that they would not permit their slaves to learn either
the tune or the words of their most admired odes ; or
which is all one, they would not permit them to sing
hem if they had learned them. Though the youth of
tie ma,e sex were much cherished and beloved, as those
liat were to build up and continue the future glory of
the state, yet in Sparta it was a virtuous and modest
attection, untinged with that sensuality which was so
> candaious at Athens. The good effects of this part of
-Lycurgus s institutions were seen in the union that
reigned among his citizens; and which was so extra-
oidinary, that even in cases of competition, it was hard-
ly known that rivals bore ill-will to each other; but
on the contrary, their love to the same person begat a
■ econdary friendship among themselves, and united them
m a 1 things which might be for the benefit of the per¬
son beloved. r
Some authors have accused this great lawgiver of en-
| couragmg theft in his institutions; which, they say
’ was not held scandalous among the Spartans, if it were
so dexterously managed as that the person was not de-
I ected in it. But this is certain, and seems to he a
rong contradiction of the heinous charge, that when a
theft was discovered, it was punished with the utmost
severity: a person even suspected of it would endure
be heaviest punishments rather than acknowledge it
^ *3 and be branded with so base a crime. 6 ’
,erC“ef .I^* The exercises instituted by law fall under the
““C: xix rarTn!1 ,he Greeks were tx“erady
were only enjoined the yonth; for when they'were
grown up to men’s estate, that is, were upwards' of ->0
years old they were exempted from all kinds 0f laboio-
orninewfr0yeT|‘,heemh 1VeS '''’ft citl'er in ,'9iire
in war. They had a method of whipping, at a ccr
“ ,l,e *7Ple »f Diana, and about
ner a! ar , which, however palliated, was certain!- nn
natural and cruel. It was esteemed a greit Ln ^
0 sustain these flagellations without wee^in^, groan-
ing, or showing any sense of pain ; and the tbfrst of
gory was so strong in these young minds, that they
very frequently suffered death without shedding a aV
or breathing a sigh. A desire of overcoming^]! the
weaknesses of human nature, and thereby rendering his
Spartans not only superior to their neighbours, but to
T eir sPecies, runs through many of the institutions of
Lycurgus ; which principle, if well attended to, tho-
;ti!^
LycurgnT m^ oft X ^^
well apprized of the danger of riches, that he made the
very possession of them venal; but as there was no li¬
ving without some sort of money, that is, some common
measure or standard of the worth of things, he direct-
pliednwrthC°inT. t,ie 'Vi tans’were sup.
phed with the useful money, and at the same time had
no temptation to covetousness afforded them ; fora very
small sum was sufficient to load a couple of horses, and
a grea one must have been kept in a barn or warehouse
The introduction of all foreign money was also prohibited,
that corruption might not enter under the name of com¬
merce. The most ancient method of dealing, vi7, by
barter, or exchange of one commodity for another, was
preserved by law m Sparta long after it had gone into
disuse everywhere else. Interest was a thing forbidden
in the Spartan commonwealth; where they had also a law
against alienation of lands, accepting presents from fo¬
reigners, even without the limits of their own country
and when their authority and character might well seem
to excuse them.
. Sudl of t,ie laws of Vida as related to courts of r. JS c
justice may be brought under the nth table. Thirty butke
years must have passed over the head of him who had
a right to concern himself in juridical proceeding
4 A Young
Sparta.
26
Military
service.
SPA IS
Young men were thought unfit for them 5 and it was
1 even held indecent, and of ill report for a man to
have any fondness for law-suits, or to be busying him¬
self at the tribunals, when he had no affairs there of
his own. By these rules Lycurgus thought to shut
out litigiousness, and to prevent that mult.pl.cty ot
suits which is always scandalous in a state. As you g
people were not permitted to inquire about the laws
of other countries, and as they were hindered from
hearing judicial proceedings in their courts, so iey
were likewise forbidden to ask any questions about, or
to endeavour f to discover, the reasons of the laws by
which themselves were governed. Obedience was their
duty; and to that alone they would have them kept.
Men of abandoned characters, or who were notorious y
of ill fame, lost all right of giving their votes in respect
of public affairs, or of speaking m public assemblies ,
for they would not believe that an ill man in private
life could mean his country better than he did Ins neig 1-
bour. iii . _ _
XII. Till a man was 30 years old, he was not ca-
pable of serving in the army, as the best authors agree :
thouoh some think that the military age is not well
ascertained by ancient writers. I hey were forbid en
to march at anytime before the full-moon j the rea¬
son of which law is very hard to be discovered it in¬
deed it had any reason at all, or was not rather founded
op some superstitious opinion, that this was a more
lucky conjuncture than any other. They were like¬
wise forbidden to fight often against the same enemy j
which was one of the wisest maxims in the political
system of Lycurgus : and Agesilaus, by offending a-
gainst it, destroyed the power ot Ins country, and lost
her that authority which for many ages she maintain¬
ed over the rest of Greece for, by continually avar-
rin<r against the Thebans, to whom he had an invete¬
rate hatred, he at last beat them into the knowledge
of the art of war, and enabled them, under the com¬
mand of Epaniinondas, to maintain for a time the Priii'
cipality of Greece. Maritime affairs they were forbid¬
den to meddle with, though the necessity of things com¬
pelled them, in process of time, to transgress this institu¬
tion, and by degrees to transfer to themselves the domi¬
nion of the sea as well as of the land: but, after the 1 e-
loponnesian war, they again neglected naval atlairs, from
a persuasion that sailors and strangers corrupted those
with whom they conversed. As they never fortified
Sparta, they were not ready to undertake sieges: fight¬
ing in the field was their proper province, and, while
they could overcome their enemies there, they rightly
conceived that nothing could hurt them at home. In
time of war they relaxed somewhat of their strict man¬
ner of living, in which they were singular. The true
reason for this was, in all probability, that war might
be less burdensome to them ; for, as we have more than
once observed, a strong desire to render them bold and
warlike wasthe reigning passion of their legislator. They
were forbidden to remain long encamped in the same
place, as well to hinder their being surprised, as that
they might be more troublesome to their enemies, by
wasting every corner of their country. They slept all
night in their armour but their outguards were not
allowed their shields, that, being unprovided of defence,
they might not dare to sleep. In all expeditions they
were cart ful in the performance of religious rites j and,
54 1 SPA
after their evening meal was over, the soldiers sung to¬
gether hymns to their gods. When they were about
to engage, the king sacrificed to^ the muses, that, by
SparU
II
ipartium,
their assistance, they might be enabled to periorm deeds
worthy of being recorded to latest times. I hen the
army advanced in order to the sound of flutes, which
played the hymn of Castor. The king himself sung the
ncean, which was the signal to charge. This was done
with all the solemnity imaginable^ and the soldiers
were sure either to conquer or die : indeed they had no
other choice •, for if they fled they were infamous, and
in danger of being slain, even by their own mothers, for
disgracing their families. In this consisted all the ex¬
cellency of the Spartan women, who, if possible, exceed¬
ed in bravery the men, never lamenting over husbands
or sons, if they died honourably in the field ; but de¬
ploring the shame brought on their house, il either the
one or the other escaped by flight. The throwing away
a shield also induced infamy j and, with respect to this,
mothers, when they embraced their departing sons, were
wont to caution them, that they should either return
armed as they were, or be brought back so when they
were dead j for, as we have observed, such as were slam
in battle were nevertheless buried in their own country.
When they made their enemies fly, they pursued no
longer than till victory was certain j because they would
seem to fight rather for the honour of conquering, than
of putting their enemies to death. According to Uieir
excellent rules of war, they were bound not to spoil the
dead bodies of their enemies j but in process of time,
this, and indeed many other of their most excellent re¬
gulations, fell into desuetude. He who overcame by
stratagem, offered up an ox to Mars j whereas he who
conquered by force, offered up only a cock j the former
being esteemed more manly than the latter. After 40
years service, a man was, by law, no longer required to
go into the field ; and consequently, if the military age
was 30, the Spartans were not held invalids till they
WeSPARTIANUS, jTxius, a Latin historian, who
wrote the lives of Adrian, Caracalla, and four other
Roman emperors. He lived under the reign of D10-
clesian, about the year 290.
SPART1UM, Broom, a genus of plants belonging
to the class of diadelphia, and order of decandria ; and
in the natural system arranged under the 321! order,
Papihonacece. See Botany Index. . .
The flower buds are in some countries pickled, an
eaten as capers 5 .and the seeds have been used as a bad
substitute for coffee. The branches are used lor mak¬
ing besoms, and tanning leather. ^7 ^e alsousei
instead of thatch to cover houses. The °ld woo '
nislies the cabinet-maker with beautiful materia s
vaneerir.g. The tender branches aie in some Pa
mixed with hops for brewing, and the macerated bark
may be manulactured into cloth. .
The junceum, or Spanish bioom, grows natnra y
the southern provinces ot 1 ranee, as well as in ot iei pa
of the south of Europe. It grows in the P°«Kt
on the steepest declivities of the hills, in a stony >
where hardly any other plant could vegetate. ” a ,s
years it makes a vigorous shrub 5 insinuating its r
between the interstices of the stones, it hin 1
and retains the small portion of vegetable eaiti sea
over these hills, which the autumnal rains veu e 0
spa r
t . t L ^
rtinm. wise wash away. It is most easily raised from seed, which
555
-is usually sown in January, after the ground has reeei
ved a slight dressing.
The shrub serves two useful purposes. Its branches
yield a thread of which linen is made, and in winter sup¬
port sheep and goats.
In manufacturing thread from broom, the youngest
plants are cut in the month of August, or after harvest,
and gathered together in bundles, which at first are laid
in the sun to dry ; they are then beaten with a piece of
Wood, washed in a river or pond, and left to steep in
the water for about four hours. The bundles thus
prepared are taken to a little distance from the water,
and laid in a hollow place made for them, where they
are covered with fern or straw, and remain thus to steep
for eight or nine days j during which time, all that is
necessary, is to throw a little water once a-day on the
heap, without uncovering the broom. After this, the
bundles are well washed, the green rind of the plant or
epidermis conies off, and the fibrous part remains y each
bundle is then beaten with a wooden hammer upon a
stone, to detach all the threads, which are at the same
time carefully drawn to the extremity of the branches.
After this operation, the faggots are untied, and spread
upon stones or rocks till they are dry. The twigs must
not be peeled till they are perfectly dry; they are then
dressed with the comb, and the threads are separated ac¬
cording to the fineness, and spun upon a wheel.
The linen made of this thread serves various purposes
in rural economy. The coarsest is employed in making
sacks and other strong cloths for carrying grain or
seeds. Of the finest is made bed, table, and body li¬
nen. The peasants in several places use no other, for
they are unacquainted with the culture of hemp or flax,
their soil being too dry and too barren for raising them.
The cloth made with the thread of the broom is very
uselul ; it is as soft as that made of hemp ; and it would
perhaps look as well as that made oi flax if it was more
carefully spun. It becomes white in proportion as it is
steeped. The price of the finest thread, when it is sold,
which seldom happens, is generally about a shilling a
pound.
The other use to which this broom is applied, is to
maintain sheep and goats during winter. In the moun¬
tains of Lower Languedoc these animals have no other
food from November to April, except the leaves of trees
preserved. The branches of this broom therefore are a
resource the more precious, that it is the only fresh nou¬
rishment which at that season the flocks can procure,
and they prefer it at all times to every other plant. In
fine weather the sheep are led out to feed on the broom
where it grows; but in bad weather the shepherds cut
the branches, and bring them to the sheep folds. There
is, however, an inconvenience attending the continued
use of this food. 4It generally produces inflammation in
tue urinary passages. But this inconvenience is easily
removed by cooling drink, or a change of food, or by
mixing the broom with something else.
It is perhaps needless to add, that it differs much
from the broom that is common everywhere in the north
of Europe, though this too, in many places, is used for
food to cattle. Both of them produce flowers that
are very much resorted to by bees, as they contain a
great quantity of honey juice. And this should be
] S P E
another inducement to the cultivation of the Spanish Smrtima
broom. |j
SPARES, Gilthead, a genus of fishes belonging Specks.
to the order of t/ioracici. See Ichthyology Index. '"'“'V
I he sparus auratus, or gilthead, was well known to the
Romans, who did not esteem them unless they were fed
with Lucrine oysters, as Martial informs us,’
Non ommslaudem pretiumque Aurata meretur,
Sed qui solus ent concha Lucrina cibus.
Lib. xiii. Ep. 90.
SPASM, a convulsion. See Medicine, N° 278.
S PATH A, in Botany, a sheath ; a species ofcalvx
which bursts lengthwise, and protrudes a stalk support¬
ing one or more flowers, which commonly have no peri-
anthium or flower-cup.
SPATHACEJE (from spatha, “ a sheath”), the
name ot the ninth order in Linnaeus’s Fragments of a
Natural Method, consisting of plants whose flowers are
protruded from a spatha or sheath. See Botany In¬
dex.
SI AT HELIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of pentandria, and to the order of trigynia. See
Botany Index.
SPAW. See Spa.
SPAWN, in Natural History, the eggs of fishes or
frogs.
SPAVENTO. See Scanto.
SPAVIN, in the manege, a disease in horses, beino'
a swelling or stillness, usually in the ham, occasioning a
lameness. See Farriery Index.
SPAYING, or Spading, the operation of castra¬
ting the females of several kinds of animals, as sows,
bitches, &c. to prevent any further conception, and
promote their fattening. It is performed by cutting
them in the mid flank, on the left side, with a sharp
knife or lancet, taking out the ovaries, and cutting them
off, and so stitching up the wound, anointing the part
with tar, and keeping the animal warm for two or
three days. The usual way is to make the incision a-
slope, two inches and half long ; that the fore-finger
may be put in towards the back, to feel for the ovaries,
which are two kernels as big as acorns on both sides of
the uterus, one of which is drawn to the wound, and
thus both taken out.
SPEAKER of the House of Commons, a member of
the house elected by a majority of votes thereof to act
as chairman or president in putting questions, reading
briefs, or bills, keeping order, reprimanding the refrac¬
tory, adjourning the house, &c. See Parliament.
SPEAKING, the art or act of expressing one’s
thoughts in articulate sounds or words. See Gram¬
mar, Language, Reading, and Oratory, Part iv.
SpEAKiNG-Trumpet. See Trumpet.
SPEAR-Mint. See Mentha, Botany Index.
Spear Wort. See Ranunculus, Botany Index.
SPECIAL, something that is particular, or has a
particular designation ; from the Latin species, in oppo¬
sition to the general, from genus.
SPECIES, in Logic, a relative term, expressing an
idea which is comprised under some general one called
a genus. See Logic, N° 68.
Species, in Commerce, the several pieces of gold,
silver, copper, &c. which having passed their full
4 A 2 preparation
S P E
r 556 ]
S P E
Species
II.
Specific
Grayity,
preparation and coinage, are current in public. See
Money.
Species, in Algebra, are the letters, symbols, marks,
or characters, which represent the quantities in any ope¬
ration or equation. Ihis short and advantageous way
of notation was chiefly introduced by Vieta, ahout the
year 1590 j and by means of it he made many discove¬
ries iii algebra, not before taken notice of.
Species, in Optics, the image painted on the retina
by the rays of light reflected from the several points of
the surface of an object, received by the pupil, and
collected in their passage through the crystalline, &c.
It. has been a matter of dispute among philosophers,
whether the species of objects which give the soul an oc-
ca'-ion of seeing, be an effusion ol the substance ol the
body a mere impression which they make on all bo¬
dies under certain circumstances j or whether they are
not some more subtile body, such as light. Ihe moderns
have decided this point by the invention of artificial
eyes, in which the species of objects are received on pa¬
per, in the same manner as in the natural eye.
SPECIFIC, m Philosophy, that which is peculiar to
any thing, and distinguishes it from all others.
Specifics, in Medicine. By specifics is not meant
such as infallibly and in all patients produce salutary
effects. Such medicines are not to be expected, be¬
cause the operations and effects of remedies are not
formally inherent in them, but depend upon the mu¬
tual action and reaction of the body and medicine upon
each other •, hence the various effects of the same me¬
dicine in the same kind of disorders in different pa¬
tients, and in the same patient at different times. By
specific medicines we understand such medicines as are
found to be more uniform in their effects than others in
any. particular disorder.
Specific Gravity, is a term much employed in the
discussions of modern physics. It expresses the weight
of any particular kind of matter, as compared with the
weight of the same bulk of some other body of which
the weight is supposed to be familiarly known, and is
therefore taken lor the standard of comparison. The-
body generally made use of for this purpose is pure
water.
The specific gravity of bodies is a very interesting
question both to the philosopher and to the man of busi¬
ness, The philosopher considers the weights of bodies
as measures of the number of material atoms, or the
quantity of matter which they contain. This he does
on the supposition that every atom of matter is of the
same weight, whatever may be its sensible form. This
supposition, however, is made by him with caution, and
he has recourse to specific gravity for ascertaining its
truth in various ways. This shall be considered bv and
by. The man of business entertains no doubt of the
matter, and proceeds on it as a sure guide in his most
interesting transactions. We measure commodities of
•various kinds by tons, pounds, and ounces, in the same
manner as we measure them by yards, feet, and inches,
or by bushels, gallons, and pints ; nay, we do this with
much greater confidence, and prefer this measurement
to all others, whenever we axe much interested to know
the exact proportions of matter that bodies contain.
The weight of a quantity of grain is allowed to inform
us much more exactly of its real quantity of useful mat¬
ter than the most accurate measure of its bulk. We see
3
many circumstances which can vary the bulk of a quan¬
tity of matter, and these are frequently such as we can¬
not regulate or prevent ; but we know very few indeed ^
that can make any sensible change in this weight with¬
out the addition or abstraction of other matter. Even
taking it to the summit of a high mountain, or from the
equator to the polar region, will make no change in its
weight as it is ascertained by the balance, because there
is the same real diminution of weight in the pounds and
ounces used in the examination.
Notwithstanding the unavoidable change which heat
and cold make in the bulk of bodies, and the permanent
varieties of the same kind of matter which are caused
by different circumstances of growth, texture, &c. most
kinds of matter have a certain constancy in the density
of their particles, and therefore in the weight of a given
bulk. Thus the purity of gold, and its degree of adul¬
teration, may be inferred from its weight, it being purer
in proportion as it is more dense. The density, there¬
fore, of different kinds of tangible matter becomes cha¬
racteristic of the kind, and a test of its purity; it marks
a particular appearance in which matter exists, and may
therefore be called, with propriety, Specific.
But this density cannot be directly observed. It is
not by comparing the distances between the atoms of
matter in gold and in water that we say the first is 19
times denser than the last, and that an inch of gold con¬
tains 19 times as many material atoms as an inch of
water ; we reckon on the equal gravitation of every
atom of matter whether of gold or of water ; therefore
the weight of any body becomes the indication ol its
material density, and the weight of a given bulk be¬
comes specific of that kind of matter, marking its kind,
and even ascertaining its purity in this form.
It is evident that, in order to make this comparison
of general use, the standard must be familiarly known,
and must be very uniform in its density, and the com¬
parison of bulk and density must be easy and accurate.
The most obvious method would be to form, with all
nicety, a piece of the standard matter of some convenient
bulk, and to weigh it very exactly, and keep a note of
its weight : then, to make the comparison of any other
substance, it must be made into a mass of the same pre¬
cise bulk, and weighed with equal care; and the most
convenient wav of expressing the specific gravity would
be to consider the weight of the standard as unity, and
then the number expressing the specific gravity is the
number of times that the weight of the standard is con¬
tained in that of the other substance. This comparison
is most easily and accurately made in fluids. We have
only to make a vessel of known dimensions equal to
that of the standard which we employ, and to weigh it
when empty, and then when filled with the fluid. Nay,
the most difficult part of the process, the making a
vessel of the precise dimensions ot the standard, may be
avoided, by using some fluid substance for a standard.
Any vessel will then do ; and we may ensure very great
accuracy by using a vessel with a slender neck, such as
a phial or matrass ; for when this is filled to a certain
mark in the neck, any error in the estimation by the
eye will bear a very small proportion to the whole. The
weight of the standard fluid which fills it to this mark
being carefully ascertained, is kept in remembrance.
The specific gravity of any other fluid is had by weigh¬
ing the contents of this vessel when filled with it, an
dividing
Specific
Gravity.
S P E
dividing the weight by the weight of the standard. The'
quotient is the specific gravity of the fluid. But in all
ouier cases this is a very difficult problem : it requires
very nice hands, and an accurate eye, to make two
bodies of the same bulk. An error of one hundredth
part in the linear dimensions of a solid body makes an
enor of a 30ch part in its bulk ; and bodies of irregular
shapes and friable substance, such as the ores of metals
cannot be brought into convenient and exact dimensions,
for measurement.
from all these inconveniences and difficulties we are
freed by the celebrated Archimedes, who, from the prin¬
ciples of hydrostatics discovered or established by him
deduced the accurate and easy method which is now
universally practised for discovering the specific Gravity
and density of bodies. (See Archimjldes and Hy¬
drodynamics). Instead of measuring the bulk of
the body by that of the displaced fluid (which would
have been impossible for Archimedes to do with any
thing like the necessary precision), we have only to ob¬
serve the loss of weight sustained by the solid. This can
be done with great ease and exactness. Whatever may
be the bulk of the body, this loss of weight is the
weight of an equal bulk of the fluid 5 and we obtain the
specific gravity of the body by simply dividing its whole
weight by the weight lost: the quotient is the specific
gravity when this fluid is taken for the standard, even
though we should not know the absolute weight of any-
given hulk of this standard. It also gives us an eas^
and accurate method of ascertaining even this fundamen¬
tal point. We have only to form any solid body into
an exact cube, sphere, or prism, of known dimensions,
and observe what weight it loses when immersed in this
standard fluid. This is the weight of the same bulk of
the standard to he kept in remembrance; and thus we
ootam, by the bye, a most easy and accurate method
for measuring the bulk or solid contents of any body
however irregular its shape may be. We have only to
see how much weight it loses in the standard fluid ; we
can compute what quantity of the standard fluid will
have this weight. I bus should we find that a quantity
of sand, or a furze bush, loses 250 ounces when im¬
mersed m pure water, we learn by this that the solid
measure of every grain of the sand, or of every twig
and prickle of the furze, when added into one sum,
amounts to the fourth part of a cubic foot, or to 422
cubic inches.
lo all these advantages of the Archimedean method
of ascertaining the specific gravity of bodies, derived
from bis hydrostatieal doctrines and discoveries, wc may
add, that the immediate standard of comparison, namely
water, is, of all the substances that we knew, the fittest
for the purpose of an universal standard of reference.
In its ordinary natural state it is sufficiently constant and
uniform 111 its weight for every examination where the
utmost mathematical accuracy is not wanted ; all its
variations arise from impurities, from which it may at
at times be separated by the simple process of distilla¬
tion : and we have every reason to think that when
pure, its density, when of the same temperature, is in¬
variable.
Water is therefore universally taken for the unit of
that scale on which we measure the specific gravity of
bodies, and its weight is called 1. The specific gravity
C 557 ]
S P E
of any other body is the real, weight k pounds and Sneeifi-
ounces, when, of the bulk of one pound or one ounce of gSS
water. It is therefore of the first importance, in all ' 
discussions respecting the specific gravity of bodies, to
Jiave the precise weight of some known bulk of pure
water. YY e have taken some pains to examine and com¬
pare the experiments on this subject, and, shall endea¬
vour to ascertain this point with the precision which it
deserves. We shall reduce all to the English cubic foot
and avoirdupois ounce of the Exchequer standard, on
account of a very convenient circumstance peculiar to
t ns unit, viz. that a cubic foot contains almost precisely
a thousand ounces of pure water, so that the specific
gravity of bodies expresses the number of such ounces
contained in a cubic foot.
We.begin with a trial made before the house of com¬
mons ,n 1696 by Mr Everard. He weighed 214 e.6
cubic inches of water by a balance, which turned sen-
si) y with 6 grains, when there were 30 pounds in each
scale. 1 he weights employed were the troy weights,
in ie ( eposit of the Court of Exchequer, which are still
preserved, and have been most scrupulously examined
and compared with each other. The weight was 1 iqj
ounces 14 pennyweights. This wants just 11 grains of
a thousand avoirdupois ounces for 1728 cubic inches
or a cubic foot; audit would have amounted to that
weight had it been a degree or two colder. The tem¬
perature indeed is not mentioned 5 but as the trial was
made in a comfortable room, we may presume the tern-
peiature to have been about 5 5° of Fahrenheit’s ther¬
mometer. I he dimensions of the vessel were as accu-
1 ate as the nice hand of Mr Abraham Sharp, Mr Elam-
te, ® assist»nt at Green wich, couid execute, and it was
made by the Exchequer standard of length.
I his is confided in by the naturalists of Europe as a
very accurate standard experiment, and it is confirmed
by many others poth private and public. The standards
ot weight ana capacity employed in the experiment are
s df in existence, and publicly known, by the report of
oyal Society to parliament in 1742, and by the
report of a committee of the house of commons in 17 c8.
I 118 S,ves 11 a superiority over all the measures which
Have come to our knowledge.
The first experiment, made with proper attention,
that we meet with, ,s by the celebrated Snellius, about
the year 1615, and related in his Eratosthenes Batavus-
He weighed a Khinland cubic foot of distilled water
and found it 62.79 Amsterdam pounds. If this was the
ordinary weight of the shops, containing 7626 English
roy grams, the English cubic foot must be 62 pounds
9 ounces only one ounce more than byEverard’s expe¬
riment. If it was the Mint pound, the weight was 62
pounds 6 ounces. The only other trials which can come
mto con,petit,on with Mr Everard’s are some made by
the Academy of Sciences at Paris. Picart, in 1691,
found the 1 arcs cubic foot of water of the fountain,
d ^rcueil to weigh 69.588 pounds, poids de Paris. Hu
liamel obtained the very same result; hut Mr Monge
111 o Atj ’ SayS tilat ljItered rain-water of the temperature
12 (Keaumur) weighs 69.3792. Both these measures
are considerably below Mr Everard’s, which is 62. c
the former giving 62.053, an(l the latter 61.868. m’
Lavoisier states the Paris cubic foot at 70 pounds, which
makes the English foot 62.47. But there is an incon¬
sistency
S P E
S P E [ 558 ]
Specific
Oravity.
sistencf among them which makes the comparison im¬
possible. Some changes were made in 1688, by royal
authority, in the national standards, both of weight and
length j "and the academicians are exceedingly puzzled
to this day in reconciling the differences, and cannot
even ascertain with perfect assurance the lineal mea¬
sures which were employed in their most boasted geode-
tical operations.
Such variations in the measurements made by per¬
sons of reputation for judgment and accuracy engaged
the writer of this article some years ago to attempt
another. A vessel was made of a cylindrical form, as
being more easily executed with accuracy, whose height
and diameter were 6 inches, taken from a most accu¬
rate copy of the Exchequer standard. It was weighed
in distilled water of the temperature 550 several times
without varying 2 grains, and it lost 42895 grains.
This gives for the cubic foot 998.74 ounces, deficient
from Mr Everard’s an ounce and a quarter j a differ¬
ence which may be expected, since Mr Everard used
the New River water without distillation.
We hope that these observations will not be thought
superfluous in a matter of such continual reference, in
the most interesting questions both to the philosopher
and the man of business ; and that the determination
which we have given will be considered as sufficiently
authenticated.
Let us, therefore, for the future take water for the
standard, and suppose that, when of the ordinary tem¬
perature of summer, and in its state of greatest natural
purity, viz. in clean rain or snow, an English cubic,
foot of it weighs a thousand avoirdupois ounces of
437*5 troy grains each. Divide the weight of any
body by the weight of an equal bulk of water, the quo¬
tient is the specific gravity of that body *, and if the
three first figures of the decimal be accounted integers,
the quotient is the number of avoirdupois ounces in a
cubic foot of the body. Thus the specific gravity of the
very finest gold which the refiner can produce is 19.365,
and a cubic foot of it weighs 19365 ounces.
But an important remark must be made here. All
bodies of homogeneous or unorganised texture expand
by heat, and contract by cooling. The expansion and
contraction by the same change of temperature is very
different in different bodies. Thus water, when heated
from 6o° to ioo°, increases its volume nearly T£T of
its bulk, and mercury only ^-jT, and many substances
much less. Hence it follows, that an experiment de¬
termines the specific gravity only in that very tempera¬
ture in which the bodies are examined. It will there¬
fore be proper always to note this temperature *, and it
will be convenient to adopt some very useful tempera¬
ture for such trials in general: perhaps about 6o° of
Fahrenheit’s thermometer is as convenient as any. It
may always be procured in these climates without in¬
convenience. A temperature near to freezing would
have some advantages, because water changes its hulk
very little between the temperature 32° and 450. But
this temperature cannot always be obtained. It will
much conduce to the facility of the comparison to know
the variation which heat produces on pure water. The
following table, taken from the observations of Dr
Blagdcn and Mr Gilpin (Phil. Trans. 1792) will an¬
swer this purpose.
Temppra-
ture ot
Water.
30
35
40
45
5°
55
60
65
7°
75
80
85
90
95
100
Bulk
of
Water.
9991°
99070
99914
9993 2
99962
100000
100050
100106
100171
100242
10032c
100404
too 501
100602
Specific
GraTity
I.OCO9O
I.OOO94
1.00086
1.00068
I.OOO38
I.OOOOO
O.99950
O.99894
O.99830
0*99759
0.99681
0.99598
0.99502
o 99402
Those gentlemen observed the expansion of water to
very anomalous between 32° and 45°* Anis is distinctly
seen during the gradual cooling oi water to the point or
freezing. It contracts for a while, and then suddenly
expands. But we seldom have occasion to measure
soecific gravities in such temperature.
* The reader is now sufficiently acquainted with the
principles of this hydrostatical method of determining
the specific gravity of bodies, and can judge ot tbe pro¬
priety of the forms which may be proposed for the ex¬
periment. .
The specific gravity of a fluid may be determined
either by filling with it a vessel with a narrow neck, 01
by weighing a solid body that is immersed 111 it. It is
hard to say which is the best way. I he last is not sub¬
ject to any error in filling, because we may suspend the
solid by a fine wire, which will not displace any sensible
quantity of the fluid ; and if the solid is but a little
heavier than the fluid, the balance being loaded only
with the excess, will be very sensible to the smallest
want of equilibrium. But this advantage is perhaps com¬
pensated by an obstruction to the motion of the solid
up or down in the fluid, arising from viscidity. "When
the weight in the opposite scale is yet too small, we
slowly add more, and at last grain by grain, which gia-
dually brings the beam to the level. M hen it is exact y
level, the weight in the scale is somewhat too great 5 tor
it not only balances the preponderance of the solid, but
also the viscidity of the fluid. But we may get n(t 0
this error. Add a small quantity more *, tins will bring
the beam over to tbe other side. Now put as mnoj
into the scale on the same side with the solid •, tnis wi
not restore the beam to its level. Me must add moie
till this be accomplished ; and this addition is tbe mea
sure of the viscidity of the fluid, and must be subtractei
from the weight that was in the other scale v.hen tie
beam came Jtrst to a level. This effect of viscidity is
not insensible, with nice apparatus, even in the pares
water, and in many fluids it is very considerable—-an1 >
what is worse, it is very changeable. It is great y ‘1
minished by heat; and this is an additional reason 0
J ’ making
1
peeific
Iiavitv
S P E
making those trials in pretty warm temperatures. But
- .for .<luJu!3 of’ wl,ich t!ie viscidity is considerable, this
method is by no means proper; and we must take the
other, and weigh them in a vessel with a narrow neck
Mercury must also be treated in this way, because we
have no solid that will sink in it but gold and plutina. ~
It is not so easy as one would imagine to fill a vessel
precisely to the same degree upon every trial. But if
we do not operate on too small quantities, the unavoid¬
able error may he made altogether insignificant, by ha¬
ving the neck of the vessel very small. If the vessel hold
a pound of water, and the neck do not exceed a quarter
of an inch (and it will not greatly retard the operation
to have it half tiiis size), the examinator must be very
careless indeed to err one part in two thousand ; and
this is perhaps as near as we can come with a balance.
Me must always recollect that the capacity of the vessel
changes by heat, and we must know this variation, and
take it into the account. But it is affectation to regard
(as Mr Homberg would make us believe that he did)
the distension of the vessel by the pressure of the fluid.
His experiments of this kind have by no means the con¬
sistency with each other that should convince us that he
did not commit much greater errors than what arose
from distension.
In examining either solids or fluids, we must he
careful to free their surface, or that of the vessel in which
the fluid is to be weighed, from air, which frequently
adheres to it in a peculiar manner, and, by forming a
bubble, increases the apparent bulk of the solid, or di¬
minishes the capacity of the vessel. The greatest part
of what appears on those occasions seems to have ex¬
isted in the fluid in a state of chemical union, and to
he set at liberty by the superior attraction of the fluid
for the contiguous solid body. Ihcse air bubbles must
be carefully brushed off by hand. All greasy matters
must be cleared oft for the same reason : they prevent
the fluid from coming into contact.
We must be no less careful that no water is imbibed
by the solid, which would increase its weight without
increasing its bulk. In some cases, however, a very
long maceration and imbibition is necessary. Thus, in
examining the specific gravity of the fibrous part of ve¬
getables, we should err exceedingly if we imagined it as
small as appears at first. We believe that in most plants
it is at least as great as water, for after long maceration
they sink in it.
It is almost needless to say that the nicest and most
sensible balances are necessary for this examination. Ba¬
lances are even constructed on purpose, and fitted with
several pieces of apparatus, which make the examina¬
tion easy and neat. We have described (see Balance)
Mr Gravesande’s as one of the most convenient of any.
His contrivance for observing the fractions of a grain is
extremely ingenious and expeditious, especially for de¬
tecting the effect of viscidity.
The hydrometer, or areometer, is another instrument
for ascertaining the specific gravity of fluids. This very
pretty instrument is the invention of a lady, as eminent
for intellectual accomplishments as she was admired for
Jier beauty. Hypatia, the learned daughter of the cele¬
brated mathematician Theon of Alexandria, became so
eminent for her mathematical knowledge, that she was
made public professor of the science in the first school
an the world. She wrote a commentary on the works
t 559 ] S P E
of Apollonius and of Diophantus, and composed As- Specific
ttofiomical i aides j all of which are lost. These rare Gravity.
accomplishments, however, could not save her from the ' * 
fury of the fanatics of Alexandria, who cut her in pieces
fo'r having taken an offensive part in a dispute between
the governor and patriarch.—W7e have described some
of the most approved of these instruments in the article
Hydrometer, and shall in this place make a few ob¬
servations on the principles of their construction, not as
they ai’e usually made, accommodated to the examina¬
tion of particular liquors, but as indicators of pure spe¬
cific gravity. And we must premise, that this would,
for many reasons, be the best way of constructing them.
Hie very ingenious contrivances for accommodating
them to particular purposes are unavoidably attended
with many sources of error, both in their adjustment by
the maker and in their use ; and all that is gained by a
very expensive instrument is the saving the trouble of
inspecting a table. A simple scale of specific gravity
would expose to no error in construction, because all
the weights but one, or all the points of the scale but
one, are to be obtained by calculation, which is incom-
parably more exact than any manual operation, and
the,table can always be more exact than any complex
observation. But a still greater advantage is, that the
instruments would by this means be fitted for examin¬
ing all liquors whatever, whereas at present they are al¬
most useless for any but the one for which they are con¬
structed.
Hydrometers are of two kinds. The most simple
and the most delicate are just a substitute for the hydro-
statical balance. They consist of a ball (or rather an
egg or pear-shaped vessel, which moves more easily
through the fluid) A (fig. i.) having a foot projecting cccc«c«.
down from it, terminated by another ball B, and a slen- fig. i.
der stalk or wire above, carrying a little dish C. The
whole is made so light as to float in the lightest fluid we
are acquainted with 5 such as vitriolic or muriatic ether,
whose specific gravity is only 0.73. This number should
be marked on the dish, indicating that this is the specific
gravity of the fluid in which the instrument floats, sink¬
ing to the point D .of the stem. The ball B is made
heavy, and the foot is of some length, that the instru¬
ment may have stability, and swim erect, even if consi¬
derably loaded above j and, for the same reason, it must
be made very round, otherwise it will lean to a side.
W hen put into a heavier liquor, its buoyancy will cause
it to float with a part of the ball above the surface.
Weights are now put into the scale C, till the instru¬
ment sink to D. The weight put into the scale, added
to the weight of the instrument, is the weight of the
displaced fluid. This, compared with the weight of the
whole when the instrument is swimming in pure water,
gives the specific gravity of the fluid. All trouble of
calculation may be avoided by marking the weights
with such numbers as shall indicate the specific gravity
at once. Thus having loaded the instrument so as to
sink it to I) in pure water, call the whole weight 1000 ;
then weigh the instrument itself, and say, “ as the weight
when swimming in water is to its present weight, so is
Jooo to a 4th proportional.” This is the specific gra¬
vity of the liquor which would float the unloaded in¬
strument. (Suppose this to be 730. The hydrome¬
ter would just float in muriatic ether, and this should
be marked on the side. Now make a set of small
weights,
S P E [
Specific weights, and mark them, not by their weights in grains,
Gravity, but in such units that 270 of them shall be equal to the
freight which fits the instrument for pure water.
Suppose that, in order to float this instrument in a
certain brandy, there are required 186 in these small
weights. This added to 730 gives 916 for the specific
gravity, and shows it to be precisely excise proof spi¬
rit. Nine weights, viz. 256, 128, 64, 32, 16, 8, 4,
2, 1, will suffice for all liquors from ether to the
strongest worts. And that the trouble in changing
the weights may be greatly lessened, let a few circles
a, b, c, (I, e, be marked on the top of the ball. When
we see it float unloaded at the circle C for instance, we
know it will require at least 128 to sink it to D on the
stem.
If the weights to be added above are considerable,
it raises the centre of gravity so much, that a small want
of equilibrium, by laying the weights on one side, will
produce a great inclination of the instrument, which is
unsightly. Instead therefore of making them loose
weights, it is proper to make them round plates, with a
small hole in the middle, to go on a pin in the middle
of the scale. This will keep the instrument always up¬
right. But unless the hydrometer is of a considerable
size, it can hardly be made so as to extend from the
lightest to the heaviest fluid which we may have occa¬
sion to examine, even though we except mercury. Some
of the mineral acids are considerably more than twice
the weight of ether. When there is such a load at top,
the hydrometer is very apt to overset, and inclines with
the smallest want of equilibrium. Great size is incon¬
venient even to the philosopher, because it is not always
in his power to operate on a quantity of fluid sufficient
to float the instrument. Therefore two, or perhaps
three, are necessary for general examination. One may
reach from ether to water j another may serve for all li¬
quors of a specific gravity between one and one and a
half 5 and the third, for the mineral acids, may reach
from this to two. If each of these be about two solid
inches in capacity, we may easily and expeditiously de¬
termine the specific gravity within one ten thousandth
part of the truth: and this is precision enough for most
purposes of science or business.
The chief questions are, 1. To ascertain the specific
gravity of an unknown fluid. This needs no farther
explanation. 2. To ascertain the proportion of two
fluids which are known to be in a mixture. This is
done by discovering the specific gravity of the mixture
by means of the hydrometer, and then deducing the
proportion from a comparison of this with the specific
gravities of the ingredients.
In this mode of examination the bulk is always the
same 5 for the hydrometer is immersed in the different
fluids to the same depth. Now if an inch, for example,
of this bulk is made up of the heaviest fluid, there is an
inch wanting of the lightest •, and the change made in
the weight of the mixture is the difference between the
weight of an inch of the heaviest, and of an inch of the
lightest ingredients. The number of inches therefore
of the heaviest fluid is proportional to the addition made
to the weight of the mixture. Therefore let B and b
be the bulks of the heaviest and lightest fluids in the
bulk /3 of the mixture; and let D, d, and 5 be the den¬
sities, or the weights, or the specific gravities (for they
are in one ratio) of the heavy fluid, the light fluid, and
560 ] S P E
the mixture (their bulk being that of the hydrometer).
We have /3—B-j-6. The addition which would have
been made to the bulk /3, if the lightest fluid werev
changed entirely for the heaviest, would be D—d; and
the change which is really made is §—d. Therefore
p : 6—D —d : 5—d. For similar reasons we should have
p : B=D—d : D—or, in words, “ the difference be¬
tween the specific gravities of the two fluids, is to the
difference bet ween the specific gravities of the mixture
and of the lightest fluid, as the bulk of the whole to the
bulk of the heaviest contained in the mixture f and “ the
difference of the specif c gravities of the two fluids, is
to the dfferejice of the specific gravities of the mixture
and of the heaviest fluids, as the bulk of the whole to
that of the lightest contained in the mixture?' This is the
form in which the ordinary business of life requires the
answer to be expressed, because we generally reckon
the quantity of liquors by bulk, in gallons, pints, quarts.
But it would have been equally easy to have obtained
the answer in pounds and ounces ; or it may be had
from their bulk, since we know their specific gravities.
The hvdrometer more commonly used is the ancient
one of Hypatia, consisting of a ball A (fig. 2.) made
steady by an addition B, below it like the former, but
having a long stem CF above. It is so loaded that it
sinks to the top F of the'stem in the lightest of all the
fluids which we propose to measure with it, and to sink
only to C in the heaviest. In a fluid of intermediate
specific gravity it will sink to some point between C
and F.
In this form of the hydrometer the weight is always
the same, and the immediate information given by the
instrument is that of different bulks with equal weight.
Because the instrument sinks till the bulk of the dis¬
placed fluid equals it in weight, and the additions to the
displaced fluid are all made by the stem, it is evident
that equal bulks of the stem indicate equal additions of
volume. Thus the stem becomes a scale of bulks to
the same weight.
The only form in which the stem can be made with
sufficient accuracy is. cylindrical or prismatical. Such a
stem may be made in the most accurate manner by wire¬
drawing, that is, passing it through a hole made in a hard¬
ened steel plate. If such a stem be divided into equal
Specific
Gravitv.
parts, it becomes a scale of bulks in arithmetical progres¬
sion. This is the easiest and most natural division of the
scale; but it will not indicate densities, specific gravities,
or weights of the same bulk in arithmetical progression.
The specific gravity is as the weight divided by the bulk.
Now as series of divisors (the bulks), in arithmetical pro¬
gression, applied to the same dividend (the bulk and
weight of the hvdrometer as it floats in water), will not
give a series of quotients (the specific gravities) in arith¬
metical progression: they will be in what is cixWeAharino-
nic progression, their differences continually diminish¬
ing. This will appear even when physically considered.
When the hydrometer sinks a tenth ol an inch near the
top of the stem, it displaces one tenth of an inch of a
light fluid, compared with that displaced by it when it
is floating with all the stem above the surface. In order
therefore that the divisions of the stem may indicate
equal changes of specific gravity, they must be in a series
of harmonic progressionals increasing. The point at
which the instrument floats in pure water should be mar¬
ked 1000, and those above it 999, 998, 99;> &c,i an“
Specific
Gravity.
^ J- -Ca [ $6l
those below the water mark must be numbered 1001
1002, 1003, &c. Such a scale will be a very apposite’
picture of the densities of fluids, for the density or vici¬
nity of the divisions will be precisely similar to the den¬
sity of the fluids. Each interval is a bulk of fluid of
the same weight. If the whole instrument were drawn
out into wire of the size of the stem, the length from the
water mark would be icoo.
Such are the rules by which the scale must be divi¬
ded. But there must be some points of it determined
by experiment, and it will be proper to take them as re¬
mote fiom each other as possible. For this purpose let
the instrument be accurately marked at the point where
it stands, in two fluids, differing as much in specific gra¬
vity as the instrument will admit. Let it also be Mar¬
ked where it stands in water. Then determine with the
utmost precision the specific gravities of these fluids, and
put their values at the corresponding points of the scale.
Iheti the intermediate points of the scale must be com¬
puted for the different intervening specific gravities, or
it must he divided from a pattern scale of harmonic pro-
gressionals in a way well known to the mathematical in¬
strument-makers. If the specific gravities have been ac¬
curately determined, the value 1000 will be found to
fall precisely in the water mark. If we attempt the di-
rr by experiment, by making a number of
fluids of different specific gravities, and marking the stem
as it stands in them, we shall find the divisions turn out
very anomalous. 'I his is however the way usually prac¬
tised ; and there are few hydrometers, even from the
best maker, that hold true to a single division or trvo.
Yet the method by computation is not more troublesome;
and one scale of harmonic progressionals will serve to
divide every stem that offers. We may make use of a
scale of equal parts for the stem, with the assistance of
two little tables. One of these contains the specific gra¬
vities in harmonic progression, corresponding to the
arithmetical scale of bulks on the stem of the hydrome¬
ter; the other contains the divisions and fractions of a
division of the scale of bulks, which correspond to an
arithmetical scale of specific gravities. We believe this
to be the best method of all. The scale of equal parts
on the stem is so ea-ily made, and the little table is so
easily inspected, that it has every advantage of accuracy
and dispatch, and it gives, by the way, an amusing view
of the relation of the bulks and densities.
We have hitherto supposed a scale extending from the
lightest to the heaviest fluid. But unless it be of a very
inconvenient length, the divisions must he very minute.
ore oyer, when the hulk of the stem bears a great pro¬
portion to tbat ol the body, the instrument does not swim
steady ; it is therefore proper to limit the range of the
instrument in the same manner as those of the first kind.
A range from the density of ether to that of water may
be very well executed in an instrument of very moderate
size, and two others will do for all the heavier liquors ;
or an equal range in any other densities as may suit the
usual occupations oi the experimenter.
io avoid the inconveniences of a hydrometer with
a very long and slender stem, or the necessity of bavins
a series of them, a third sort has been contrived, in
wuch the principles of both are combined. Suppose
a hydrometer with a stem, whose bulk is Tyh of that
of the ball, and that it sinks in ether to the top of the
stem ; it is evident that in a fluid which is Tkth heavier,
VOL. XIX. Part II. f’
] S P E
the whole stem will emerge ; for the bulk of the displaced
fluid is now T«jth of the whole less, and the weight is the
same as before, and therefore the specific gravity is TT- th 1
greater. 0 J
Thus we have obtained a hydrometer which will indi-
cate, by means of divisions marked on the stem, all spe¬
cific gravities from 0.73 to 0.803 5 for 0.803 is TUI,
greater than 0.73. These divisions must he made in
harmonic progression, as before directed for an entire
scale, placing 0.73 at the top of the stem and 0.802 at
the bottom. J
M hen it floats at the lowest division, a weight may
he put to the top of the stem, which will again sink it
to the top. This weight must evidently be 0.073, or
V1 ot the we,ght of the fluid displaced by the unload¬
ed instrument. The hydrometer, thus loaded, indicates
the same specific gravity, by the top of the stem, that
the unloaded instrument indicates by the lowest divi¬
sion. I herefore, when loaded, it will indicate another
senes of specific gravities, from 0.803 to 0.88^2
( = 0.803 + 0.0803), and will float in a liquor of the
specific gravity 0.8833 with the whole stem above the
surface.
In like manner, if we take off this weight, and
put on 1 0.080.3, ^ will sink the hydrometer to the
top of the stem ; and with this new weight it will
indicate another series of specific gravities from 0.88; 3
to 0.97163 (=0.8833+0.08833). And, in the same
manner, a third weight =08833 will again sink it to
the top of the stem, and fit it tor another series of spe¬
cific gravities up to 1.068793. And thus, with three
weights we have procured a hydrometer fitted for all
liquors from ether to a wort for a malt liquor of two bar¬
rels per quarter. Another weight, in the same progres¬
sion, will extend the instrument to the strongest wort
that is brewed. 0
fins is a very commodious form of the instrument
and is now m very general use for examining spirituous
liquors, worts ales, brines, and many such articles of
commerce. But the divisions of the scale are general-
y adapted to the questions which naturally occur in the
business. I bus, in the commerce of strong liquors it
is usual to estimate the article by the quantity of spirit
of a certain strength which the liquor contains. This
we have been accustomed to call proof spirit, and it is
such that a wine gallon weighs 7 pounds 12 ounces-
and it is by this strength that the excise duties are le¬
vied. Therefore the divisions on the scale, and the
weights which connect the successive repetitions of the
scale, are made to express at once the number of gal-
lons or parts of a gallon of proof spirits contained in a
gallon of the liquor. Such instruments save all trouble
of calculation to the exciseman or dealer; but they li¬
mit the use of a very delicate and expensive instrument
to a very nairow employment. It would he much bet¬
ter to adhere to the expression either of specific gravity
or of bulk ; and then a very small table, which could he
comprised in the smallest case for the instrument, might
render it applicable to every kind of fluid.
The reader cannot but have observed that the suc¬
cessive weights, by which the short scale of the instru¬
ment is extended to a great range of specific gravities
do not increase by equal quantities. Each difference is
the weight of the liquor displaced by the graduated
stem of the instrument when it is sunk to tl?e top of
4 K ' th*
Specific
gravity.
Specific
Ciaviiy.
26
27
28
29
S P E [ 562' 1
the scale. It is a determined aliqnot part of the whole 9.8633229,
weight of the instrument so loaded, (in our example it
is always -/xth of it). It increases therefore in the same
proportion with the preceding weight ot the loaded
instrument. In short, both the successive additions, and
the whole weights of the loaded instrument, are quan¬
tities in geometrical progressions j and in like manner,
the divisions on the scale, if they correspond to equal
differences of specilic gravity, must also be unequal.
This is not sufficiently attended to by the makers5 and
they commit an error here, which is very considerable
when the whole range of the instrument is great. 1 01
the value of one division of the scale, when the largest
weight is on, is as much greater than its value when
the instrument is not loaded at all, as the full loaded
instrument is heavier than the instrument unloaded. No
manner whatever of dividing the scale will correspond
to equal differences of specific gravity through the
whole range with different weights j but if the divi¬
sions are made to indicate equal proportions of gravity
when the instrument is used without a weight, they
will indicate equal proportions throughout. 1 his is
evident from what we have been just now saying ; for
the proportion of the specific gravities corresponding to
any two immediately succeeding weights is always the
same.
The best way, therefore, of constructing the instru¬
ment, so that the same divisions of the scale may be ac¬
curate in all its successive repetitious with the different
weights, is to make these divisions in geometrical pro¬
gression. The corresponding specific gravities vvill al¬
so be in geometric proportion. These being all inserted
in a table, we obtain them with no more trouble than
by inspecting the scale which usually accompanies the
hydrometer. This table is of the most easy construc¬
tion j for the ratio of the successive bulks and specific
gravities being all equal, the differences of the logarithms
are equal.
This will be illustrated by applying it to the exam¬
ple already given of a hydrometer extending from 0.73
to 1.068793 with three weights. This gives four re¬
petitions of the scale on the stem. Suppose this scale
divided into 10 parts, we have 40 specific gravities..—
Let these be indicated by the numbers o, 1, 2, 3, &c.
to 40. The mark o is affixed to the top of the stem,
and the divisions downward are marked l, 2, 3, &c.
the lowest being 10. These divisions are easily deter¬
mined. The stem, which we may suppose 5 inches
long, was supposed to be Tr^th of the capacity of the
hall. It may therefore be considered as the extremity
of a rod of 11 times its length, or 55 inches, and we
must find nine mean proportionals between 50 and 55
inches. Subtract each of these from 55 inches, and
the remainders are the distances of the points of divi¬
sion from o, the top of the scale. The smallest weight
is marked 10, the next 20, and the third 30. If the
instrument loaded with the weight 20 sinks in some li¬
quor to the mark 7, it indicates the specific gravity 27,
that is, the 27th of 4.0 mean proportionals between
0.73 and 1.068793, or 0.944242. To obtain all these
intermediate specific gravities, we have only to subtract
S P E
the logarithm of 0.73 from that of
1.068793, viz. 9.0288937, and take 0.0041393, the
40th part of the difference. Multiply this by I, 2, 3,'
&c. and add the logarithm of 0.73 to each of the pro¬
ducts. The sums are the logarithms of the specific gra¬
vities required. These will be found to proceed so
equably, that they may be interpolated ten times by a
simple table of proportional parts, without the smallest
sensible error. Therefore the stem may be divided in¬
to a hundred parts very sensible to the eye (each being
nearly the 20th of an inch), and 406 degrees of specific
gravity obtained within the range, which is as near as
we can examine this matter by any hydrometer. Thus
the specific gravities corresponding to N° 26, 27, 28,
29, are as follow:
Specific
Gravity.
0-93529
O.94424
0.95328
O.9624X
1st Diff.
895
9°4
9*3
2d Diff.
9
9
Nay, the trouble of inspecting a table maybe avoid¬
ed, by forming on a scale the logarithms of the num¬
bers between 7300 and 1068.793, and placing along
side of it a scale of the same length divided into 400
equal pans, numbered from o to 400. Then, looking
for the mark shown by the hydrometer on this scale of
equal parts, we see opposite to it the specific gravity.
We have been thus particular in the illustration of
this mode of construction, because it is really a beauti¬
ful and commodious instrument, which may be of great
use both to the naturalist and to the man of business.—
A table may be comprised in 20 octavo pages, which
will contain the specific gravities of every fluid which
can interest either, and answer every question relative
to their admixture with as much precision as the ob¬
servations can be made. We therefore recommend it
to our readers, and we recommend the very example
which we have given as one of the most convenient.
The instrument need not exceed eight inches in length,
and mav be contained in a pocket case of two inches
broad and as many deep, which will also contain the
scale, a thermometer, and even the table for applying it
to all fluids which have been examined.
It is unfortunate that no graduated hydrometer can
be made so easily for the examination of the corrosive
mineral acids (a). These must be made of glass, and
we cannot depend on the accurate cylindric form of any
glass stem. But if any such can be procured, the con¬
struction is the same. The divided scale may either be
on thin paper pasted on the inside of the stem, or it may
be printed on the stem itself from a plate, u'ith ink made
of a metallic calx, which will attach itself to the glass
with a very moderate heat. We would recomment
common white enamel, or arsenical glass, as the fittest
material for the whole instrument j and the ink used, in
taking the impression of the scale, may be the same that
is used for the low-priced printing on Delft ware pot¬
tery.—First form the scale on the stem. Ihen, having
measured the solid contents of the graduated part as ex¬
actly as possible, and determined on the general shape
(a It would be worth wdiile to try copper enamelled. See note at page 599. of this volume.
S P E
[
pecifio
ravitv.
of the ball and counterpoise below, calculate its size so
that it may be a little less than ten times that of the
 stem. The glass-blower can copy this very nearly, and
join it to the stem. Then make two brines or other li¬
quors, which shall have specific gravities in the ratio of
10 to il. Load the instrument so that it may sink to
o in the lightest. When put into the heaviest, it should
rise to 10. If it does not rise so high, the immersed part
is too small. Let the glass-blower enlarge the ball of
the counterpoise a little. Repeat this trial till it be ex¬
act. Nothing now remains but to form the weights :
And here we observe, that when the instrument is to
have a very great range, as for examining all states of
the vitriolic acid, it has a chance of being very tot¬
tering when loaded with the greatest weight on the
top of so long a scale. To avoid this, Mr Quin and
others have added some of their weights below. .
But this will not suit the present construction, because
it will alter the proportion between the bulks of the
stem and immersed part. Therefore let these weights
consist of cylinders of metal small enough to go into
the stem, and let them be soldered to the end of long
wires, which will let them go to the bottom, and leave
a small hook or ring at top. These can lie alongside
of the instrument in its case. This is indeed the°best
construction for every hydrometer, because it makes it
incomparably more steady. The instrument is poised
by small shot or mercury. But it will be much better
to do it with Newton’s fusible metal (three parts of tin,
fi ve parts or lead, and eight parts of bismuth) in coarse
filings. When the exact quantity has been put in, the
instrument may be set in a vessel of oil, and this kept
on the fire till all is completely melted. It soon freezes
again, and remains fast. If this metal is not to he had,
let a lew hits of sealing-wax be added to the mercury
or shot, to make up the counterpoise. When heated
it will float a-top, and when it freezes again it will
keep all last. I bus we shall make a very complete and
cheap instrument.
There is yet another method of examining the spe¬
cific gravities of fluids, first proposed by Dr Wilson,
jate professor of astronomy in the university of Glasgow!
Tins is by a series of small glass bubbles, differing equal¬
ly, or according to some rule, from each other in speci¬
fic gravity, and each marked with its proper number.
Vyhen these are thrown into a fluid which is to be exa¬
mined, all those which are heavier than the fluid will fall
to the bottom. 'Then holding the vessel in the hand,
or near a fire or candle, the fluid expands, and one of
the floating bubbles begins to sink. Its specific gravity,
therefore, was either equal to, or a little less than, that
of the fluid $ and the degree of the thermometer, when
it began to sink, will inform us how much it was defi¬
cient, il we know the law of expansion of the liquor.
ets of these bubbles fitted lor the examination of spi¬
rituous liquors, with a little treatise showing the manner
of using them, and calculating by the thermometer, are
made by Mr Brown, an ingenious artist of Glasgow,
and are often used by the dealers in spirits, being found
both accurate and expeditious.
Also, though a bubble or two should be broken, the
strength of spirits may easily be had by means of the
remainder, unless two or three in immediate succession
be wanting : for a liquor which answers to N° 4. will
sink N° 2. by heating it a few degrees, and therefore
<53 ] S P E
N° 3. may be spared. This is a great advantage in or- Specific
dinary business. A nice hydrometer is not only an ex- Gravity.
pensive instrument, but exceedingly delicate, being so  
very thin. If broken or even bruised, it is useless, and
can hardly be repaired except by the very maker.
As the only question here is, to determine how many
gallons of excise proof spirits is contained in a quantity
of liquor, the artist has constructed this series of bubble's
in the simplest manner possible, by previously making
40 or 50 mixtures of spirits and water, and then adjust-
ing the bubbles to these mixtures. In some sets the
number on each bubble is the number of gallons of
proof spirits contained in 100 gallons of the liquor. In
other sets the number on each bubble expresses the gal¬
lons of water which will make a liquor of this strength,
if added to 14 gallons of alcohol. Thus, if a liquor an-
swers to N° 4, then 4 gallons of water added to 14
gallons of alcohol will make a liquor of this strength.
Ihe first is the best method; for we should he mistaken
in supposing that 18 gallons, which answer to N° 4,
contains exactly 14 gallons of alcohol : it contains more
than 14, lor a reason to be given by and by.
By examining the specific gravity of bodies, the phi¬
losopher has made some very curious discoveries. The
most remarkable of these is the change which the densi¬
ty of bodies suffers by mixture. It is a most reasonable
expectation, that when a cubic foot of one substance is
mixed any how with a cubic foot of another, the bulk
of the mixture will be two cubic feet; and that 18 gal¬
lons of water joined to 18 gallons cf oil will fill a vessil
of 36 gallons. Accordingly this was never doubted;
and even Archimedes, the most scrupulous of mathema¬
ticians, proceeded on this supposition in the solution of
his famous problem, the discovery of the proportion of
silver and gold in a mixture of both. He does not even
mention it as a postulate that may be granted him, so
much did he conceive it to be an axionT. Yet a Ihtle
reflection seems sufficient to make it doubtful and to
require examination. A box filled with musket balls
will receive a considerable quantity of small shot, and
after this a considerable quantity of fine sand, and after
this a considerable quantity of water. Something like
this might happen in the admixture of bodies of porous
texture. But such substances as metals, glass, and
fluids, where no discontinuity of parts can be perceived,
or was suspected, seem free from every chance of this
kind of introsusception. Lord Bacon, however, with¬
out being a naturalist or mathematician ca?yiro/ewo, in¬
ferred from the mobility of fluids that they consisted of
discrete particles, which must have pores interposed,
whatever be their figure. And if we ascribe the differ!
ent densities, or other sensible qualities, to difference in
size or figure of those particles, it must frequently hap¬
pen that the smaller particles will be lodged in the in¬
terstices between the larger, and thus contribute to the
weight ol the sensible mass without increasing its ^ulk.
He therefore suspects that mixtures will be in general
less bulky than the sum of their ingredients.
Accordingly, the examination of this question was
one of the first employments of the Royal Society of
London, and long before its institution had occupied
the attention of the gentlemen who afterwards compo¬
sed it. The register of the Society’s early meetings
contains many experiments on this subject, with mix¬
tures of gold and silver, of other metals, and of various
4 ^ 2 fluids,
S P E
[ 564 ]
S P E
Specific
Gravity.
fluids, examined by the hydrostatical balance of Mr
Boyle. Dr Hooke made a prodigious number, chiefly
on articles of commerce, which were unfortunately lost
in the fire of London.
It was soon found, however, that Lord Bacon s con¬
jecture had been well founded, and that bodies changet
their density very sensibly in many cases. In general,
it was found that bodies which had a strong chemical
affinity increased in density, and that their admixture
was accompanied with heat.
Bv this discovery it is manifest that Archimedes had
not solved the problem of detecting the quantity of sil¬
ver mixed with the gold in King Hiero’s crown, and
that the physical solution of it requires experiments made
on all the kinds of matter that are mixed together.
We do not find that this has been done to this day, al¬
though we may affirm that there are few questions of
more importance. It is a very curious lact in chemi¬
stry, and it would be most desirable to be able to re¬
duce it to some general laws : For instance, to ascertain
what is the proportion of two ingredients which pro¬
duces the greatest change of density. '1 his is impor¬
tant in the science of physics, because it gives us con- woultl jiave i,een
the abbe Boscovich for an excellent illustration of this
subject [Theor. Phil. Nat. § de Solutione Chemica).
This question is no less important to the man ol bu¬
siness. Till we know the condensation ot those metals
by mixture, we cannot tell the quantity ol alloy in gold
and silver by means of their specific gravity } nor can we
tell the quantity of pure alcohol in any spirituous liquor,
or that of the valuable salt in any solution of it. For
want of this knowledge, the dealers in gold and silver
are obliged to have recourse to the tedious and difficult
test of the assay, which cannot be made in all places or
by all men. It is therefore much to be wished, that
some persons would institute a series of experiments in
the most interesting cases : for it must be observed, that
this change of density is not always a small matter j it
is sometimes very considerable and paradoxical, A re¬
markable instance may be given of it in the mixture of
brass and tin for bells, great guns, optical speculums,
&c. The specific gravity of cast brass is nearly 8.006,
and that of tin is nearly 7.363. If two parts of brass be
mixed w ith one of tin, the specific gravity is 8.917 j
whereas, if each had retained its former bulk,the sp.grav.
_ 2X 8.oo6-f7.363\
Specific
Gravity.
aiderable information as to the mode of action ot those
natural powers or forces by winch the particles ol tan¬
gible matter are united. If this introsusception, con¬
centration, compenetration, or by whatever name it be
called, were a mere reception of the particles of one
substance into the interstices, of those of another, it is
evident that the greatest concentration would he ob¬
served when a small quantity of the recipiend is mixed
with, or disseminated through, a great quantity ol the
other. It is thus that a small quantity of fine sand will
be received into the interstices of a quantity ol small
shot, and will increase the weight of the bagful without
increasing its bulk. The case is nowise diflerent when
a piece of freestone has grown heavier by imbibing or
absorbing a quantity of water. If more than a certain
quantity of sand has been added to the small shot, it is
no longer concealed. In like manner, various quanti¬
ties of water may combine with a mass of clay, and in¬
crease its size and weight alike. All this is very con¬
ceivable, occasioning no difficulty.
But this is not the case in any of the mixtures we
are now considering. In all these, the first additions of
either of the two substances produce but an inconsider¬
able change of general density; and it is in general
most remarkable, whether it be condensation or rare¬
faction, when the two ingredients are nearly of .equal
bulks. We can illustrate even this difference, by re¬
flecting on the imbibition of water by vegetable solids,
such as timber. Some kinds of wood have their weight
much more increased than their bulks : other kinds of
wood are more enlarged in bulk than in weight. The
like happens in grains. This is curious, and shows in the
unquestionable manner that the particles of bodies
are not in contact, but are kept together by forces
which act at a distance. For this distance between
the centres of the particles is most evidently susceptible
of variation •, and this variation is occasioned by the in¬
troduction of another substance, which, by acting on
the particles by attraction or repulsion, diminishes or
increases their mutual actions, and makes new distances
necessary for bringing all things again into equilibrium.
We refer the curious reader to the ingenious theory ol
only 7.793
A mixture of equal parts should have the specific gravi¬
ty 7-684; but it is 8.441. A mixture of two parts tin
with one part brass, instead of being 7.577 is 8.027.^
In all these cases there is a great increase of specific
gravity, and consequently a great condensation ol parts
or contraction of bulk. The first mixture of eight cu¬
bic inches of brass, for instance, with four cubic inches
of tin, does not produce 12 cubic inches of bell-metal,
hut only lo^- nearly, having shrunk ^ It would ap¬
pear that the distances of the brass particles are most
affected, or perhaps it is the brass that receives the tin
into its pores; for we find that the condensations in
these mixtures are nearly proportional to the quantities
of the brass in the mixtures. It is remarkable that this
mixture with the lightest of all metals has made a com¬
position more heavy and dense than brass can be made
by any hammering.
The most remarkable instance occurs in mixing iron
with platina. If ten cubic inches of iron are mixed with
of platina, the bulk of the compound is only 9!
inches. The iron therefore has not simply received the
platina into its pores: its own particles are brought
nearer together. There are similar results in the solu¬
tion of turbith mineral, and of some other salts, in wa¬
ter. The water, instead of rising in the neck of the ves¬
sel, when a small quantity of the salt has been added to
it, sinks considerably, and the two ingredients occupy
less room than the water did alone.
The same thing happens in the mixture of water with
other fluids and different fluids with each other : But we
are not able to trace any general rule that is observed
with absolute precision. In most cases ol fluids th®
greatest condensation happens when the bulks of the
ingredients are nearly equal. Thus, in the mixture 01
alcohol and water, we have the greatest condensation
when 16^ ounces of alcohol are mixed with 20 ounces
of water, and the condensation is about jg- of the whole
bulk of the ingredients. It is extremely various in dif¬
ferent substances, and no classification of them can b®
made in this respect.
A dissertation has been published on this subject by
S P E r 56,
Dr Hahn of Vienna* intitled De Efficacm Mixti'onis in
mutandis Corporum Vohminibus, in which all the re-
' markable instances of the variation of density have been
collected. All that we can do (as we have no directing
principle) is to record such instances as are of chief im¬
portance, being articles of commerce.
The first that occurs to us is the mixtures of alcohol
and water in the composition of spirituous liquors. This
has been considered by many with great care. The most
scrupulous examination of this, or perhaps of any mix¬
ture, has been lately made by Dr Blagden (now Sir
Charles Blagden) of tiie Royal Society, on the requi¬
sition of the Board of Excise. He has published an ac¬
count of the examination in the Philosophical Transac¬
tions of London in 1791 and 1792. We shall give an
account of it under the article Spirituous Liquors ;
and at present only select one column, in order to show
the condensation. The alcohol was almost the strongest
that can be produced, and its specific gravity, when of
the temperature 6o°, was 0.825. Tl>e whole mixtures
were of the same temperature.
Column 1. contains the pounds, ounces, or other
measures by weight, of alcohol in the mixture. Co¬
lumn 2. contains the pounds or ounces of water. Co¬
lumn 3. is the sum of the bulks of the ingredients, the
bulk of a pound or ounce of water being accounted 1.
Column 4. is the observed specific gravity of the mix¬
ture, taken from Dr Blagden’s dissertation. Column 5.
is the specific gravity which would have been observed
if the ingredients had each retained its own specific gra¬
vity. 1 his we calculated by dividing the sum of the
two numbers of the first and second columns by the cor¬
responding number of the third. Column 6. is the dif¬
ference of column 4. and column 5. and exhibits the
condensation.
S P E
r7
16
J5
H
12
11
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
o
W
Volume.
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
40.6061
39-3939
38.1818
36.9697
35-7576
34-5455
33-3333
32,121 2
30.9091
29.6970
28.4849
27.2727
26.0606
24.848 c
23.6364
22.4242
21.2121
20.0000
Sp. Grav.
observed.
Sp. Gr.iv.
calculated
°-9375
0.9402
0.9430
0.9458
0.9488
0.9518
0.9549
0.9580
0.9612
0.9644
0.9675
0'97°7
0.9741
0.9777
0.9818
0.9865
0.9924
1.0000
0.911 2
°‘9I39
0.9107
°-9T97
0.9229
0.9263
0.9300
0-934°
0.9382
0.9429
0.9479
°-9533
°-9593
0.9659
°-9731
0.9811
0.9900
1.0000
Condensa¬
tion.
263
263
263
261
259
255
249
240
230
215
196
174
148
118
87
57
24
TABLE.
A.
W.
Volume.
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
J9
18
o
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
J3
M
15
16
17
18
J9
20
20
20
24.2424
25.2424
26.2424
27.2424
28.2424
29.2424
30.2424
31.2424
32.2424
33.2424
34.2424
35.2424
36.2424
37-2424
38.2424
39.2424
40.2424
41-2424
42.2424
43.2424
44.2424
43-0303
48.1182
Sp. Grav.
observed.
O.8250
0.8360
0.8457
°-8543
0.8621
0.8692
0.8757
0.8817
0.8872
o 8923
0.8971
0.9014
0-9055
0.9093
0.9129
0.9162
°-9I93
0.9223
0.9250
0.9276
0.9300
o-93 25
0.9349
Sp Grav.
calculated.
O.825O
O.832O
O.8583
0.8443
O.8498
0.8549
O.8597
O.8642
O.8684
08724
O.8761
0 8796
C.8829
O.8860
o 8891
O.89I9
O.8946
O.8971
O.8996
O.99.I9
O.904I
O.9063
O.9087
Condensa
tion.
00
40
74
100
I23
J43
160
175
188
199
216
218
226
233
238
243
247
252
254
257
259
262
262
It is to be remarked, that the condensation is greatest
when i6? ounces of alcohol have been added to 20 of
waUu-, and the condensation is ^ViV, or nearlv ' th
of the computed density. Since the specific gravity of
alcohol is 0.825, it is evident that 164 ounces of alco¬
hol and 20 ounces of water have equal bulks. So that
toe condensation is greatest when the substances are
mixed equa volumes j and !8 gallons of alcohol mix-
ed with 18 gallons of water will produce not 36 gallons
of spirits, but 35 only. J °
We may also observe, that this is the mixture to
which our revenue laws refer, declaring it to be ow to
si.v or one in seven under proof, and to weigh 7 pounds
13 ounces per gallon. This proportion was probably se¬
lected as the most easily composed, viz. by mixing equal
measures of water and of the strongest spirit which the
known processes of distillation could produce. Its soe-
cine gravity is 0.939 very nearly. ^
We must consider this elaborate examination of the
mixture ol water and alcohol as a standard series of ex
permients, to which appeal may always he made, whe¬
ther for the purposes ol science or of trade. The reiru-
arity ot the progression is so great, that in the column
which we have examined, viz. that for temperature 6o°
the greatest anomaly does not amount to one part in six’
thousand. 1 he form of the series is also very judici¬
ously chosen for the purposes of science. It would pev-
hups have been more directly.stereometrical had the pro-
po; tie ns of the ingredients been stated in bulks, which
are more immediately connected with density. But the
author has assigned a very cogent reason for his choice
viz. that the proportion of hulks varies by a change of‘
temperature, because the water and spirits follow difi'er-
ent laws in their expansion by heat.
Th.s is a proper opportunity for taking notice of a
mistake which is very generally made in the conclusions
drawn from experiments of this kind. Equal additions
ot the spirit or water produce a series of specific gravi
ties, which decrease or increase by differences continua*
y diminishing. Hence it is inferred that there is a con-
ti action of bulk. Even Dr Lewis, one of our most ac¬
complished.,
Spec iir*
Gravity.
S P E [ 566
Succific complished naturaUsts, advances this position, in a dis-
(Jravity. sertation on the potash of America ; ami it consicleia y
 v ' affects his method for estimating the strength of the pot¬
ash leys. But that it is a mistake, appears plainly from
this, that although we add for ever equal quantities of
the spirits, we shall never produce a mixture which has
as small a specific gravity as alcohol. Therefore the se¬
ries of successive gravities must approximate to this
without end, like the ordinates of a hyperbolic curve
referred to its assymptote.
That this may appear in the most general terms, let
w represent the weight of the constant quantity of wa¬
ter in the mixture, and let a be the weight of the small
addition of spirits. Also let w represent the bulk of
this quantity of water, and b the bulk of the small ad¬
dition of alcohol. The weight of the mixture is w~\-a,
. w-\-a
and its bulk is w-f and its specific gravity is
]
S P E
w-\-b'
If we now add a second equal quantity of spirits, the
weight will be w-\-2a, and if the spirit retains its den¬
sity unchanged, the bulk will be w~\-2b, and the speci¬
fic gravity is : and after any number m of such
w-\-2b
equal additions of spirits, the specific gravity will be
*. Divide the numerator of this fraction by its
w-\-mb
denominator, and the quotient or specific gravity will
be 1 -f
m X f*—b
w-\-m b
and the variable part
This consists of the constant part 1,
J?z(«—b)
    . We need attend only
rvmb
denominator were
to this part. If its denominator were constant, it is
plain that the successive specific gravities would have
. a—b
equal differences, each being rr : because m in
w^-mb
creases by the continual addition of an unit, and a—b
is a constant quantity. But the denominator w+m b
continually increases, and therefore the value of the frac¬
tion . a~-—continually diminishes.
w-\-mb
Therefore the gradual diminution of the increments
or decrements of specific gravity, by equal additions of
one ingredient to a constant measure of the other, is not
of itself an indication of a change of density of either
of the ingredients *, nor proves that in every diluted mix¬
tures a greater proportion of one ingredient is absorbed
or lodged in the interstices of the other, as is generally
imagined. This must be ascertained by comparing
each specific gravity with the gravity expressed by 1 +
w-\-?n(a—b')
w -}- m b
This series of specific gravities resembles such a nu¬
merical series as the following, 1 } .   ; 1.56 ;
1.163 5 I.-J-69 •, &c. the terms of which also consist of
the constant integer I, and the decimal fractions 0.1.56 j
. w(n—b')
53 j 0.169-, &c. The traction——y—A expresses
0.16'
this decimal part.
This will give us 6 ~
w-\-mb
m(a
Call this d, or make d =    .
w-\-mb
m a—w d
A)
Now a is the weight
the specific gravity observed ; and thus we learn whe- SpeciSi
ther the bulk of the added ingredient, suffers any Gravity,
change. We shall have occasion by and by to resume'1 V
the consideration of this question, which is of the first
moment in the theory of specific gravities, and has great
influence in many transactions of commerce.
This series of specific gravities is not so well fitted
for commercial transactions. In these the usual ques¬
tion is, how many gallons of alcohol is there in a cask,
or some number ot gallons of spirit? and it is more
directly answered by means of a table, formed by mix¬
ing the ingredients in aliquant parts of one constant
bulk. The following table, constructed from the ex¬
periments of Mr Brisson of the academy of Paris, and
published in the Memoirs for 1769, is therefore in¬
serted.
of the added ingredient, and d is the variable part of
W.
9
10
11
12
13
H
16
A.
16
>5
*3
12
11
10
9
Density
observed.
O.8371
O.8527
O.8674
O.8815
O.8947
0.9075
O.9199
O.9317
O.9427
0.9519
0.959S
O.9674
o-9733
0-9791
0.9852
0.9919
1.0000
Density
Computed.
Conden¬
sation.
O.8371
O.8473
0-8575
O.8677
O.8778
O.8880
O.8982
O.9084
O.9186
O.9287
O.9389
0-9491
0-9593
0.9695
0.9796
0.9898
1.0000
63
”5
J57
189
214
235
251
256
243
217
189
144
99
57
21
Bulk of
10,000
grains.
1.0000
0.9937
C.9885
0.9844
0.9811
0.9786
0.9765
0.9749
0.9744
0.97 s 7
0.9783
0.9811
0.9856
0.9901
0-9943
0.9979
1.0000
In this table the whole quantity of spirituous liquor is
always the same. The first column is the number of
measures (gallons, pints, inches, &c.) ol water in the
mixture : and column 2d gives the measures of alcohol.
Column 3d is the specific gravity which was observed
by Mr Brisson. Column 4th is the specific gravity
which would have been observed if the spirits, or wa¬
ter, or both, had retained their specific density un¬
changed. And the. 5th column marks the augmenta¬
tion of specific gravity or density in parts of 10,000.
A 6th column is added, showing the bulk ol the 16
cubic measures of the two ingredients. Each measure
may be conceived as the 16th part ol 10,000, or 625 >
and we may suppose them cubic inches, pints, gallons,
or any solid measure.
This table scarcely differs from Sir Charles Blag-
den’s -, and the very small diffex-ence that may be ob¬
served, arises from Mr Brisson’s having used an alco¬
hol not so completely rectified. Its specific gravity i*
9.8371, whereas the other was only 0.8250.
Here it appears more distinctly that the condensa¬
tion is greatest when the two ingredients are ot cqua
bulk.
Perhaps this series of specific gx-avities is as dec ara
tive as the other, whether or not there is a change 0
density induced in either of the ingredients.
I :cific
ti ivity.
S P E [567
whole bulk being always the same, it is plain that the
successive equal additions to one of the ingredients is a
successive equal abstraction of the other. " The change
produced, therefore, in the weight of the whole, is the
difference between the weight of the ingredient which
is taken out and the weight of the equal measure of the
other which supplies its place. Therefore, if neither
ingredient changes its density by mixture, the weights
of the mixtures will be in arithmetical progression. If
they are not, there is a variation of density in one or
both the ingredients.
We see this very clearly in the mixtures of water and
alcohol. The first specific gravity differs from the se¬
cond by 156, and the last differs from the preceding by
no more than 81. Had neither of the densities chan¬
ged, the common difference would have been 102.
We observe also that the augmentation of specific gra-
vity, by the successive addition of a measure of wa¬
ter, grows less and less till 12 measures of water is mixed
with 4 of alcohol, when the augmentation is only 58,
and then it increases again to 81.
It also appears, that the addition of one measure of
water to a quantity of alcohol produces a greater change
of density than the mixture of one measure of alcohol
to a quantity of water. Hence some conclude, that the
W'ater disappears by being lodged in the intestines of
the spirit. But it is more agreeable to the justest no¬
tions which we can form of the interna] constitution of
tangible bodies, to suppose that the particles of water
diminish the distances between the particles of alcohol,
by their strong attractions, and that this diminution
(exceedingly minute in itself) becomes sensible en ac¬
count of the great number of particles whose distances
are thus diminished. This is merely a probability
founded on this, that it would require a much greater
diminution of distances if it was the particles of water
which had their distances thus diminished. But the
greater probability is, that the condensation takes place
in both.
We have been so particular in our consideration of
this mixture, because the law of variation of density has,
in this instance, been ascertained with such precision by
the elaborate examination of Sir Charles Blagden, so
that it may serve as an example of what happens in al¬
most every mixture of bodies. It merits a still farther
discussion, because it is intimately connected with the
action of the corpuscular forces j and an exact knowledge
of the variations of distance between the particles rvill
go far to ascertain the law of action of these forces.
But the limits of a work like this will not permit us to
dwell longeron this subject. We proceed therefore to
give another useful table.
The vitriolic or sulphuric acid is of extensive use in
manufactures under the name of oil of vitriol. Its va¬
lue depends entirely on the saline ingredient, and the
water is merely a vehicle for the acid. This, being
mnch denser than water, aflects its specific gravity, and
thus gives us a method of ascertaining its strength.
The strongest oil of vitriol that can be easily manu¬
factured contains 612^g- grains of dry acid, united with
387*%- grains of water, which cannot be separated from
it by distillation, making 1000 grains of OIL of VI¬
TRIOL. Its specific gravity in this state is 1.877.
The following table shows its specific gravity at the
] s P E
temperature of 550 when diluted by the successive ad¬
dition of parts of water by weight.
Specific Gravity.
Ol. Tit.
10
X
Water,
O
4
8
12
16
20
24
28
32
36
40
5°
60
Cond.
.OO
•I43
.124
.112
.101
.090
.084
.071
.070
.070
.070
.064
°S9
Observed. Calculated.
I.877 G877
i-644 i-501
M74 I-35°
1.381 1.269
1.320 1.219
1.274 1.184
1.243 1-159
1.211 1.140
1.195 I.I2C
i-i83 1.113
1.172 I.I03
1.148 1.084
1.128 1.069
. Here is observed a much greater condensation than
m the mixture of alcohol and water. But ive cannot
assign the proportion of ingredients, which produces the
greatest condensation 5 because we cannot, in any case,
say what is the proportion of the saline and watery in¬
gredients.^ The strongest oil of vitriol is already a wa¬
tery solution ; and it is by a considerable and uncertain
detour that Mr Kirwan has assigned the proportion of
612 and 388 nearly. If this be the true ratio, it is un¬
like every other solution that we are acquainted with j
for in all solutions ofsalts, the salt occupies less room in
its liquid form than it did when solid; and here it would
be greatly the reverse.
I uis solution is remarkable also for the copious emer¬
gence of heat, in its dilutions with more water. This
has been ascribed to the great superiority of water in its
capacity of heat; but there are facts which render this
very doubtful. A vessel of water, and another of oil of
vitiiol, being brought from a cold room into a warm
one, they both imbibe heat, and rise in their tempera¬
ture ; and the water employs nearly the same time to
attain the temperature of the room.
Aquafortis or nitrous acid is another fluid very much
employed in commerce ; so that it is of importance to
ascertain the relation between its saline strength and its
specific gravity. We owe also to Mr Kirwan a table
for this purpose.
Hie most concentrated state into which it can easily
be brought is such, that 1000 grains of it consists of
563 grains of water and 437 of dry acid. In this state
its specific gravity is 1.337. this be called nitrous
acid.
Nitr. Ac.
10
X
Water.
O
I
6
11
16
21
26
31
36
41
I-557
1.474
1.269
1.214
I*I75
1-151
1.127
1.106
1.086
1-557
1.474
1.273
1.191
i-i47
1.120
1.101
1.087
1.077
1.068
0.077
0.078
0.067
0-°55
0.050
0.040
0.029
0.018
There is not the same uniformity in the densities of
this acid in its different states of dilution. This seems
owing
Specific
Gravity.
S P E [568
Specific owing to tlie variable proportion of the deleterious and
Giavity, vital air which compose this acid. It is more dense in
v ' proportion as it contains more of the latter ingre¬
dient.
The proportions of the aeriform ingredients of the
muriatic acid are so very variable, and so little under
our command, that we cannot frame tables of its spe¬
cific gravity which would enable us to judge of its
strength.
It is a general property of these acids, that they
are more expansible by heat as they are more concen¬
trated.
There is another class of fluids which it would be of
great consequence to reduce to some rules with respect
to specific gravity, namely, the solutions of salts, gums,
and resins. It is interesting to the philosopher to know
in what manner salts are contained in these watery so¬
lutions, and to discover the relation between their
strength and density ; and to the man of business it
would be a most desirable thing to have a criterion of
the quantity of salt in any brine, or of extractable mat¬
ter in a decoction. It would be equally desirable to
those who are to purchase them as to those who manu¬
facture or employ them. Perhaps we might ascer¬
tain in this way the value of sugar, depending on the
quantity of sweetening matter which it contains ; a
thing which at present rests on the vague determina¬
tion of the eye or palate. It would therefore be doing
a great service to the public, if some intelligent person
would undertake a train of experiments with this view.
Accuracy alone is required •, and it may be left to the
philosophers to compare the facts, and draw the conse¬
quences respecting the internal arrangement of the par¬
ticles.
One circumstance in the solution of salts is very ge¬
neral ", and we are inclined, for serious reasons, to think
it universal: this is a diminution of bulk. This indeed
in some salts is inconsiderable. Sedative salt, for in¬
stance, hardly shows any diminution, and might be con¬
sidered as an exception, were it not the single instance.
This circumstance, and some considerations connected
with our notions of this kind of solution, dispose us to
think that this salt differs in contraction from others
only in degree, and that there is some, though it was
not sensible, in the experiments hitherto made.
These experiments, indeed, have not been numerous.
Th ose of Mr A chard of Berlin, and of Dr Ilichard
AVatson of Cambridge, are perhaps the only ones of
which we have a descriptive narration, by which we can
judge of the validity of the inferences drawn from them.
The subject is not susceptible of much accuracy ; for
salts in their solid form are seldom free from cavities
■ and shivery interstices, which do not admit the water
on their first immersion, and thereby appear of greater
bulk when we attempt to measure their specific gravity
by weighing them in fluids which do not dissolve them,
such as spirits of turpentine. They also attach to them¬
selves, with considerable tenacity, a quantity of atmo¬
spheric air, which merely adheres, hut makes no part of
their composition. This escapes in the act of solution,
being set at liberty by the stronger affinity of the water.
Sal gem, however, and a few others, may be very accu¬
rately measured; and in these instances the degree of
contraction is very constant.
1 he following experiments of Dr Watson appear to
5
] S P E
us the most instructive as to this circumstance. A glass Spccifa
vessel wras used, having a slender cylindrical neck, and Gravity,
holding 67 ounces of pure water when filled to a eer- l,—1'v —
tain mark. The neck above this mark had a scale of
equal parts pasted on it. It was filled to the mark with
water. Twenty-four pennyweights of salt were thrown
into it as speedily as possible, and the bulk of the salt
was measured by the elevation of the water. Every
thing wras attended to which could retard the immediate
solution, that the error arising fi-um the solution of the
first particles, before the rest could be put in, might be
as small as possible ; and in order that both the absolute
bulk and its variations might be obtained by some known
scale, 24 pennyweights of water were put in. This rai¬
sed the surface 58 parts of the scale. Now w’e know
exactly the bulk of 24 pennyweights of pure water. It
it 2.275 cubic inches5 and thus rve obtain every thing
in absolute measures: And by comparing the bulk of
each salt, both at its first immersion and after its com¬
plete solution, w'e obtain its specific gravity, and the
change made on it in passing from a solid to a fluid form.
The following table is an abstract of these experiments.
The first column of numbers is the elevation of the sur¬
face immediately after immersion j the second gives the
elevation when the salt is completely dissolved j and
the third and fourth columns are the specific gravities
of the salts in these two states.
Twenty-four Pennyweights.
Water
Glauber’s salt -
Mild volatile alkali
Sal ammoniac
Refined white sugar -
Coarse brown sugar -
White sugarcandy
Lymington Glauber’s salt
Terra foliata tartari -
Rochelle salt
Alum not quite dissolved
Borax not one half dissol
ved in two days
Green vitriol
White vitriol
Nitre -
Sal gem from Nortbwich
Blue vitriol
Pearl ashes
Tart, vitriolatus
Green vitriol calcined to
white -
Dry salt of tartar
Basket sea-salt
Corrosive sublimate -
Turbitb mineral
I.
58
42
40
40
39
39
37
35
37
33
33
33
32
3°
3°
27
26
25
22
22
21
*9
9
36
33
39
36
36
36
29
3°
28
28
3i
26
24
21
J7
20
10
11
11
13
*5
10
o
III.
IV.
1.380
1.450
1.45°
1 487
1.487
I-5^7
1-657
1-567
i-757
I-757
i-757
i.8i 2
1- 933
I>933
2- 143
2.230
2.320
2.636
2.636
2.761'
3- °52
4.142
6.444
1.611
1.787
1.487
1.611
j.6ii
1.611
2.000
I-933
2.071
2.061
2.230
2.416
2.766
3-411
2.900
c.8co
5-272
5-272
4.461
3866
3.800
The inspection of this list naturally suggests two stales
of the case as particularly interesting to the philosopher
studying the theory of solution. The first state is when
the lixivium approaches to saturation. In the very point
of saturation any addition of salt retains its bulk un¬
changed. In diluted brines, we shall see that the den¬
sity
S P E
[
sity of the fluid salt is greater, and gradually diminishes
as we add more salt. It is an important question,
Y\ nether this diminution goes on continually, till the
fluid density of the salt is the same with its solid den¬
sity . or, Whether there is an abrupt passage from some
degree of the one to the fixed degree of the other, as we
observe in the freezing of iron, the setting of stucco, and
some other instances ?
The other interesting state is that of extreme dilution,
len the dinereneps bpitvpon flm j •. i
, ,  & lijch, ui cA.u-eme auuuon,
when the ditlerences between the successive density bear
a great proportion to the densities themselves, and thus
enable the mathematician to ascertain with some preci¬
sion the variations of corpuscular force, in consequence of
a variation of distance between the particles. The sketch
of an investigation ol this important question given by
.Boscovich in hisTheorv of Natural ........
569 J s P E
are seldom considered as sources of original Informa-
tion ; and it is thought sufficient when the know-,
ledge aiready diflused is judiciously compiled. But a
due respect for the public, and gratitude for the very
honourable reception hitherto given to our labours, in¬
duced us to exert ourselves with honest zeal to merit the
continuance of public favour. We assure our readers
that the experiments were made with care, and on quan¬
tities sufficiently large to make the unavoidable irreo-u-
Jarit IPS in fins'll a rrs. . G -
... . J in ^ VUC UliciVl
Janties in such cases quite insignificant. The law of
density was ascertained in each substance in two ways.
YYe dissolved different portions of salt in the same quan¬
tity of water, and examined t he specificgravity of the brine
by weighing it in a vessel with a narrow neck. The
portions of salt were each of them one-eighth of what
llccovicl, i„ li. Theory of N«tnnl SZlT
55-. . W. didynot make
the study. The first thing to be done is to compare the
Jaw of specific gravity *, that is, the relation between the
specific gravity and quantity of salt held in solution.
Wishing to make this work as useful as possible, ive
have searched for experiments, and trains of experi¬
ments, on the density of the many brines which make
important articles of commerce ; but we were mortified
by the scantiness of the information, and disappointed in
our hopes of being able to combine the detached observa¬
tions, suited to the immediate views of their authors
m such a manner as to deduce from them scales (as they
may be called) of their strength. We rarely found .these
detached observations attended with circumstances which
would connect them with others j and there was fre¬
quently such a discrepancy, nay opposition, in serieses
ot experiments made for ascertaining the relation be¬
tween the density and the strength, that we could not
obtain general principles which enable us to construct
tables of strength & priori.
Mr Lambert one of the first mathematicians and
philosophers of Europe, in a dissertation in the Berlin
*r."-s gives a narration of experiments on
he brines of common salt, from which he deduces a very
great condensation, which he attributes to an absorption
in the weak brines of the salt, or a lodgement of its par-
ticles in the interstices of the particles of water. Mr
Achard of the same academy, in 178^, gives a very
great list of experiments on the bulks of various brines,
made in a different way, which show no such introsus-
ception ; and Dr Watson thinks this confirmed by expe¬
riments which he narrates in his Chemical Essays. We
see great reason for hesitating our assent to either side
and do not think the experiments decisive. We incline
0 Mr Lambert’s opinion 5 for this reason, that in the
•successive dilutions of oil of vitriol and aquafortis there
is a most evident and remarkable condensation. Now
what are these but brines, of which we have not been
able to get the saline ingredient in a separate form ?
Ibe experiments of Mr Achard and Dr Watson were
made in such a way that a single grain in the measure¬
ment bore too great a proportion to the whole change
i specific gravity. At the same time, some of Dr Wat-
j* simPle their nature that it is very difficult
to withhold the assent. J
In this state of uncertainty, in a subject which
•f t0. "S t0 be of a PuMc importance, we thought
t eur duty to undertake a train of experiments to
VoiTxiF HWayS be l,ad- Wwks ,ike lhis
’ * f
. I • I . , , 31'A vJi J JKI ^ lllclL
there might be no risk of a precipitation in form of
crystals. We considered tbe specific gravities as the
ordinates of a curve, of which the abscissa; were the
numbers of ounces of dry salt contained in a cubic foot
ot the brine. Having thus obtained eight ordinates cor¬
responding to 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 portions of salt,
the ordinates or specific gravities for every other pro¬
portion of salt were had by the usual methods of in¬
terposition.
The other method was, by first making a brine near¬
ly saturated, in which the proportion of salt and water
was exactly determined. We then took out one eighth
of the brine, and filled up the vessel with water, taking:
care that the mixture should be complete ; for which
purpose, besides agitation, the diluted brine was allow¬
ed to remain 24 hours before weighing. Taking out
one-eighth of the brine also takes out one-eighth of the
salt; so that the proportion of salt and water in the dilu¬
ted brine was known. It was now weighed, and thus
we determined the specific gravity for a new proportion
of salt and water.
We then took out one-seventh of the brine. It is
evident that this takes out one-eighth of the oricrinal
quantity of salt; an abstraction equal to the former.
He filled the vessel with water with the same precau¬
tions j and in the same manner we proceeded till there
remained only one-eighth of the original quantity of salt.
1 he specific gravities by these two methods agreed
extremely well. In the very deliquescent salts the first
method exhibited some small irregularities, arising from
the unequal quantities of water which they had imbibed
from the atmosphere. We therefore confided most in the
experiments made with diluted brines.
That the reader may judge of the authority of the
tables which we shall insert, we submit to his inspec¬
tion one series of experiments. 1
Two thousand one hundred and eighty-eight m-ain*
of very pure and dry (but not decrepitated) common
salt, prepared m large crystals, were dissolved in 6 <62
grains of distilled water of the temperature 5 5°. A
small matrass with a narrow neck, which held 4200
grains of distilled water, was filled with this brine? Its
contents weighed 5027 grains. Now 6562 + 2188
: 2188 = 5027 : 1256.75. Therefore the bottle of
brine contained 1256.75 grains of salt dissolved in
377°-25 grains of water Its specific gravity is --
4200’ °l I,I9^9°5 ? and a cubic foot of brine weighs
1196-9
Snecllie
Gravity.
S P E F 5
Specific 1196.9 ounces avoirdupois. Also. 5027 : 1256.75=
Gravity. 1196.9 : 299.28. Therefore a cubic foot of this brine
 v  contains 299.28 ounces of perfectly dry salt.
The subsequent steps of the process are represented
as follows.
Salt.
8)1256.75
I57-1
8)5°27
628.4
7)1099.6
'SI-1
7)4926.0
7°3-7
942-5
I57‘I
6)4827.0
804.5
785-4
I57-1
628.3
I57*1
471-2
I57-1
3H-1
I57*1
I57-°
Brine.
4398.6
527*4
4222-3
604.7
4022. c
706.5
5)4729-°
946
3783
847
4)4630
iisrs
3472-5
io54-5
3)4527
J509
3or8
I4°5
Water.
Wt. of
Cub. Ft.
377°-25
=|- of brine.
Remains.
Water to fill
it again.
2d Brine,
taken out
Water added
3d Brine.
Taken out.
Remains.
Water added
4th Brine.
Taken out.
Remains.
Water added
5th Brine.
Taken out.
Remains.
Water added
6th Brine.
Taken out.
Remains.
Water added
2;4423
2212
221 I
2X02
43I3
7th Brine.
Taken out.
Remains.
Water added
8th Brine.
196.9
Salt in
Cub. Ft.
II72.7
1149.3
H25.9
I X02.3
299.28
37-4Il
261.87
37-41
224.46
x87.05
149.64
1077.9
I053-3
1027.9
112.23
74.82
37-41
70 ] S P E
cubic foot are made the abscissae, and the weights of Specific
the cubic foot of brine are the corresponding ordinates, Gravity,
the curve will be found to be extremely regular, re-
sembling a hyperbolic arch whose assymptote makes
an angle of 30° with the axis. Ordinates were then in¬
terpolated analytically for every 10 ounces of contain¬
ed salt, and thus the table was constructed. We did
not, however, rest it on one series alone; but made
others, in which one-fourth of the salt was repeatedly
abstracted. They agreed, in the case of common salt,
with great exactness, and in some others there were
some very inconsiderable irregularities.
To show the authority of the tables of strength was
by no means our only motive for giving an example of
the process. It may be of use as a pattern for similar
experiments. But, besides, it is very instructive. We
see, in the first place, that there is a very sensible change
of density in one or both of the ingredients. For the
series is of that nature (as we have formerly explained),
that if the ingredients retained their densities in every
proportion of commixture, the specific gravities would
have been in arithmetical progression ; whereas we see
that their differences continually diminish as the brines
grow more dense. We can form some notion of this
by comparing the different brines. Thus in the first
brine, weighing 5027 grains, thei’e are 3770 grains of
of wrater in a vessel holding 4200. If the density of
the water remains the same, there is left for the salt
only as much space as would hold 430 grains of water.
In this space are lodged 1257 g™*113 °f salt, and its
I 257
specific gravity, in its liquid form, is —^4, = 2.8907
very nearly. But in the 8th brine the quantity of wa¬
ter is 4x56, the space left for 157 grains of salt is on¬
ly the bulk of 44 grains of water, and the density of
j rbj
the salt is-^ = 3.568, considerably greater than be-
44
fore. This induced us to continue the dilution ol the
brine as follows, beginning with the 8th brine.
157 2)4313 8th brine
78.5 2156.5
2156.5
2105.5
78-5
39-7
39-7
2)4262.0 9th brine
2131
2X02
2)4233
2116.5
I oth brine
Thus, by repeated abstraction of brine, so as always
to take out ^th of the salt contained in one constant
bulk, we have obtained a brine consisting of 157 grains
of salt united with 4313—157, or 4156 grains of wa-
ter. Its specific gravity xs-^—~, =1,0279, antl a cu“
hie foot of it weighs 1028 ounces, and contains 37,^
ounces of dry salt. In like manner may the specific
gravity, the weight of a cubic foot, and the salt it con¬
tains, be estimated for the intermediate brines.
W hen these eight quantities of salt contained in a
2116.5
2X02
19.8 4218 nth brine.
This last brine contains 4198.2 grains of water, lea¬
ving only the bulk of 1.8 grains of water to contain
19.8 of salt, so that the salt is ten times denser than
water. This will make the strength 243 instead ol
210 indicated by the specific gravity. But we do not
pretend to measure the densities with accuracy in these
diluted brines.ft is evident from the process that *
single
4
S P E [57
single grain of excess or defect in taking out the brine
and replacing it with water Ii»c o   .«
i , . . . 411 uui me brine
and rep acng ,t with water has a sensible proportion to
the uhole valiation. But we see with sufficient evi
j T /• i ^ wiui bumcient evi-
dence, that from the strong to the weak brines the
space left for the portion of salt is continually diminish-
Tr j I51 i, e fii;St d‘Iutlon 527^ grains of water were
n rt AT UT d,1Utl1°n S2^ grains water were
added to lill up the vessel 5 but one-eighth of its contents
of pure water is only 525 : so that here is a diminution
ot two grains and a half in the space occupied by the re¬
maining salt. The subsequent additions are 604.7;
706.5 ; 847 ; 1054.5 j I4°5 7 2102 ; 2105.5 ; 2102 :
2102 5 instead of 6005 700 ; 840; 1050 , 1400
2100 5 2ioo 5 2100 5 2100. Nothing can more plain-
y show the condensation in general, though we do not
learn whether it happens in one or both of the ingredi¬
ents 5 nor do the experiments show with sufficient ac-
curaey the progression of this diminution. The excesses
of the added water being only six or seven grains, we
cannot expect a nice repartition. When the brine is
taken out, the upper part of the vessel remains lined
with a briny film containing a portion of salt and water,
perhaps equal or superior to the differences. Had our
time permitted, we should have examined this matter
with scrupulous attention, using a vessel with a still nar¬
rower neck, and in each dilution abstracting one half of
tiie brine. I he curve, whose absciss* and ordinates
represent the weight of the contained salt and the
weight of a constant bulk of the brine, exhibits the best
and most synoptical view of the law of condensation,
because the position of the tangent in any point, or the
value of the symbol -, always shows the rate at which
y
the specific gravity increases or diminishes. We are
inclined to think that the curve in all cases is of the hy¬
perbolic kind, and complete 5 that is, having the tan¬
gent perpendicular to the axis at the beginning of the
curve. 1 he mathematical reader will easily guess the
physical notions which incline us to this opinion 5 and
will also see that it is hardly possible to discover this ex¬
perimentally, because the mistake of a single grain in
the very small ordinates will change the position of the
tangent many degrees. It was for this reason that we
bought it useless to prosecute the dilution any farther,
liut we think that it may be prosecuted much farther
in Hr Watson s or Mr Achard’s method, viz. by dis¬
solving equal weights of salt in two vessels, of very dif-
erent capacities, having tubular necks, in which the
change of bulk may be very accurately observed. We
can only conclude, that the condensation is greatest in
be strongest brines, and probably attains its maximum
When the quantities of true saline matter and water are
nearly equal, as in the case of vitriolic acid, &c.
H e consider these experiments as abundantly suffi¬
cient for decidmgthe question, “Whether the salt can be
received into the pores of the water, or the water into
ie pores of the salt, so as to increase its weight without
increasing its hulk ? and we must grant that it may.
H e do not mean that it is simply lodged in the pores as
saml is lodged in the interstices of small shot; but the
two together occupy less room than when separate. The
experiments of Mr Achard were insufficient for a deci¬
sion, because made on so small a quantity as 600 grains
water. Dr Watson's experiments have, for tlnfml
Part the same defect. Some of them, however, are of
1 ] s P E
great value in this question, and are very fit for ascer- Snecifie
taming the spec,he gravity of dissolved salts. In one of G^vitv.
them (not particularly narrated) he found that a quan- 1 v~
tity of dissolved salt occupied the same bulk in two very
difterent states of dilution. We cannot pretend to re-
concile this with our experiments. We have given these
as they stood ; and we think them conclusive, because
icy were so numerous and so perfectly consistent with
each other 5 and their result is so general, that we have
not found an exception. Common salt is by no means
the most remarkable instance of condensation. Vege¬
table alkali, sal ammoniac, and some others, exhibit
much condensation.
M e thought this a proper opportunity of considering
this question, which is intimately connected with the
principles of chemical solution, and was not perhaps
considered in sufficient detail under the article Che¬
mistry. We learn from it in general, that the quan¬
tities ot salt in brines increase at somewhat a greater
rate than their specific gravities. This difference is in
many cases of sensible importance in a commercial view.
Ihus an alkaline lixivium for the purposes of bleaching
or soap-making, whose specific gravity is i.224 or ex¬
ceeds that of water by 234, contains 361 ounces of salt
in a cubic foot 5 a fey which exceeds the weight of
water twice as much, or 468 ounces per cubic foot con¬
tains 777 ounces of salt, which exceeds the double of
3bl by 55 ounces, more than seven per cent. Hence
we learn, that hydrometers for discovering the strength
ot brines, having equal divisions on a cylindrical stem
are very erroneous 5 for even if the increments of spe¬
cific gravity were proportional to the quantities of salt
in a gallon of brine, the divisions at the bottom of the
stem ought to be smaller than those above.
J he construction of the following table of strengths
from the above narrated series of brines is sufficiently
obvious. Column first is the specific gravity as discover¬
ed by the balance or hydrometer, and also is the number
of ounces in a cubic foot of the brine. Col. 2d is the
ounces of the dry salt contained in it.
Table of Brines of Common Salt.
4 C 2
The
S P E [ 57
The table differs considerably from Mr Lambert s.
The quantities of salt corresponding to any specific gra¬
vity are about T7th less than in his table. But the
reader will see that they correspond with the series ot
experiments above narrated $ and these were but a few
of many which all corresponded within an hundredth
part. The cause of the difference seems to be, that
most kinds of common salt contain magnesian salts,
which contain a very great proportion of water necessary
for their crystallization. The salt which we used was
of the purest kind, but such as may be had from every
salt work, by Lord Dundonald’s very easy process, viz.
by passing through it a saturated solution boiling hot,
which can-ies off with it about four-fifths of all the bit¬
ter salts. Our aim being to ascertain the quantities of
pure sea-salt, and to learn by the bye its relation to
water in respect of density, wre thought it necessaiy to
use the purest salt. We also dried it for several days
in a stove, so that it contained no water not absolutely
necessary for its crystallization. An ounce of such salt
will communicate a greater specific gravity to water
than an ounce of a salt that is less pure, or that con¬
tains extraneous water.
The specific gravity 1.C90 is that of ordinary pickles,
which are estimated as to strength by floating an egg.
We cannot raise the specific gravity higher than
I.2CO by simply dissolving salt in cold water. But it
will become much denser, and will even attain the spe¬
cific gravity 1.240 by boiling, then holding about 366
ounces in the cubic foot of hot brine. But it will de¬
posit by cooling, and when of the temperature 55 or
6o°, hardly exceeds 1.206. We obtained a brine by
boiling till the salt grained very rapidly. When it
cooled to 6o°, its specific gravity was 1.2063 ; for a
vessel which held 3506 grains of distilled water held
4229 of this brine. This was evaporated to dryness,
and there were obtained 1344 grains salt> By this was
computed the number interposed between 310 and 320
in the table. We have, however, raised the specific
gravity to 1.217, by putting in no more salt than was
necessary for this density, and using heat. It then
cooled down to 6o° without quitting any salt*, but if a
few grains of salt be thrown into this brine, it will
quickly deposit a great deal more, and its density will
decrease to 1.206. We find this to hold in all salts j
and it is a very instructive fact in the theory ot crystal¬
lization ; it resembles the effect which a magnet pro¬
duces upon iron filings in its neighbourhood. It makes
them temporary magnets, and causes them to arrange
themselves as if they had been really made permanent
magnets. Just so a crystal already formed disposes the
rest to crystallize. We imagine that this analogy is
complete, and that the forces are similar in both cases.
The above table is computed for the temperature 550 ;
but in other temperatures the strength will be different
on two accounts, viz. the expansion of the brine and the
dissolving power of the water. Water expands about
40 parts in 1000 when heated from 6o° to 212°. Sa¬
turated brine expands about 48 parts, or one-fifth more
than water j and this excess of expansion is nearly pro¬
portional to the quantity of salt in the brine. If there¬
fore any circumstance should oblige us to examine a
brine in a temperature much above 6o°, allowance should
be made for this. Thus, should the specific gravity
pf brine of the temperature J30 (which is nearly half
2 ] SEE
way between 60 and 212) be 1.140, we must increase Specific
it by 20 (half of 40) •, and having found the strength _ Gravity
240 corresponding to this corrected specific gravity, we
must correct it again by adding I to the specific gra¬
vity for every 45 ounces of salt.
But a much greater and more uncertain correction is
necessary on account of the variation of the dissolving
power of water by beat. This indeed is very small in
the case of sea-salt in comparison with other salts. We
presume that our readers are apprised of this peculiarity
of sea-salt, that it dissolves nearly in equal quantities in
hot or in cold water. But although water of the tem¬
perature 60 will not dissolve more than 320 or 325
ounces of the purest and dryest sea-salt, it will take up
above 20 ounces more by boiling on it. When thus
saturated to the utmost, and allowed to cool, it does net
quit any of it till it is far cooled, viz. near to 6o°. It
then deposits this redundant salt, and holds the rest till
it is just going to freeze, when it lets it go in the instant
of freezing. If evaporated in the state in which it con¬
tinues to hold the salt, it will yield above 400 ounces
per cubic foot of brine, in good crystals, but rather over¬
charged with water. And since in this state the cubic
foot of brine weighs about 1220 ounces it follows, that
820 ounces of water will, by boiling, dissolve 400 of
crystallized salt.
The table shows how much any brine must be boiled
down in order to grain. Having observed itsspecific gra¬
vity, find in the table the quantity of salt corresponding.
Call this x. Then, since a boiling hot graining or satu¬
rated solution contains 340 ounces in the cubic foot of
1000
brine, say 340 : 1000 = x :  x.
34°
This is the bulk
to which every cubic foot (valued at 1000) must be
boiled down. Thus suppose the brine lias the specific
gravity 1109. It holds 160 ounces per foot, and we-
must boil it down to
1000 X160
340
or 471 J that is, we
must boil off of every cubic foot or gallon.
1000
These remarks are of importance in the manufacture
of common salt 5 they enable us to appreciate, the va¬
lue of salt springs, and to know how far it may be pru¬
dent to engage in the manufacture. For the doctrine
of latent heat assures us, that in order to boil off a cer¬
tain quantity of water, a certain quantity oi heat is in¬
dispensably necessary. Alter the most judicious appli¬
cation of this heat, the consumption of fuel may be too
expensive.
The specific gravity of sea-water in these climates
does not exceed 1.03, or the cubic foot weighs 1030
ounces, and it contains about 41 ounces ot salt. I he
brine pits in England are vastly richer j but in many
parts of the world brines are boiled for salt which do
not contain above 10 or 20 ounces in the cubic foot.
In buying salt by weight, it is of importance to know
the degree of humidity. " A salt will appear pretty dry
(if free from magnesian salts) though moistened with one
per cent, of water ; and it is found that incipient hunu
dity exposes it much to farther deliquescence. A nine
smaller degree of humidity may he discovered by t e
specific gravity of a brine made with a few ounces 0
the salt. And the inspection of the table informs us,
that
!
S P E t 573 ] S P E
that the brine should be weak ; for the differences of t ^
• - ? c umerences or its state o[ utmost purity, as obtained from cubic nitre
specific gravity go on diminishing in the stronger brines •
300 ounces of dry salt dissolved in 897 ounces of water
should give the specific gravity 1197. Suppose it be
but 1190, the quantity of salt corresponding is only
2905 but when mixed with 897 ounces of water, the
weight is 1197, although the weight of the cubic foot
is only 1193. There is therefore more than a cubic
foot of the brine, and there is as much salt as will make
more than a cubic foot of the weight 1193. There is
1197
290 X 71^? or ounces, and there is 8| ounces of
water attached to the salt.
The various informations which we have pointed out
as deducible from a knowledge of the specific gravity of
the brines of common salt, will serve to suggest several
advantages of the knowledge of this circumstance in
other lixivia. We shall not therefore resume them, but
simply give another table or two of such as are most in¬
teresting. Of those, alkaline leys are the chief, being
of extensive use in bleaching, soap-making, glass mak¬
ing, &c.
We therefore made a very strong ley of the purest
vegetable alkali that is ever used in the manufactories,
not thinking it necessary, or even proper, to take it in
and the like. We took salt ot tartar from the apothe¬
cary, perfectly dry, of which 3983 grains were dissolved
J.n 354° grains ot distilled wrater; and after agitation
foi several days, and then standing to deposit sediment,
the clear ley was decanted. It was again agitated ; be¬
cause, when of this strength, it becomes, in a very short
time, rarer above and denser at the bottom. A flask
containing 4200 grains of water held 6165 of this ley
when of the temperature 550. Its specific gravity was
therefore 1.4678, and the 6163 grains of ley contained
3264 grains ot salt. We examined its specific gravity
in different states of dilution, till we came to a brine
containing 51 grains of salt, and 4189 grains of water,
and the contents of the flask weighed 4240 grains : its
specific gravity was therefore 1.0095. this train of
experiments the progression was most regular and satis-
factory j so that when we constructed the curve of spe¬
cific gravities geometrically, none of the points devkted
from a most regular curve. It was considerably more
incurvated near its commencement than the curve for
sea-salt, indicating a much greater condensation in the
diluted brines. We think that the following table, con¬
structed 111 the same manner as that for common salt,
may be depended on as very exact.
Specific
Gravity.
Weight of
Cub. foot
oz.
1000
1016
1031
1045
1085
1071
1084
1098
1112
112 C
II38
lIJO
Il62
Salt
cont
oz.
O
20
4°
60
80
100
I 20
I40
l6o
l8o
200
220
240
Weight of
Cub. Foot
1174
1187
1200
1212
1224
1236
1248
1259
1270
1281
1293
l3°5
Salt
cont
oz.
260
280
300
320
340
360
380
400
420
440
460
480
500
Weight of
Cub. Foot.
1329
I34°
1351
1362
1372
j384
l395
1406
1417
1428
H3S
1449
1460
Salt.
com,
oz.
520
540
360
380
600
620
640
663
680
700
720
740
760
Weight of
Cub. Foot
1471
1482
J493
I5°4
1326
1547
1557
1S^7
*577
1386
Salt.
cont.
oz.
780
800
820
840
860
88o
903
920
940
960
983
xooo
We see the same augmentation of the density of the
salt in the diluted brines here as in the case of common
salt. Thus a brine, of which the cubic foot weighs
1482 ounces, or which has the specific gravity 1.482,
contains 800 ounces of dry alkali and 682 of water.
Therefore, if we suppose the density of the water un¬
changed, there remains the bulk of 318 ounces of water
to receive 840 ounces ofsalt: its density is therefore —
318
~ 2.312 nearly. But in the brine whose weight per
foot is only 1016 there are 20 ounces of salt, and there¬
fore 996 ot water $ and there is only four ounce-mea¬
sures of water, that is, the bulk of four ounces of water,
to receive 20 ounces of salt. Its specific gravity there¬
fore is = 3, almost twice as great as in the strong
brine. Accordingly Mr Achard is disposed to admit the
absorption (as it is carelessly termed) in the case of sal
tart. But it is a general (we think an universal) fact
in the solution of salts. It must be carefully distin¬
guished from the first contraction of bulk which salts
undergo in passing from a solid to a fluid form. The
contraction now under consideration is analogous to the
contraction ot oil of vitriol when diluted with water;
tor oil of vitriol must be considered as a very strong
brine which we cannot dephlegmate by distillation, and
therefore cannot obtain the dry saline ingredient in a
separate form, so as to observe its solid density, and say
how much it contracts in first becoming fluid. The way
of conceiving the first contraction in the act of solution
as a lodging of the particles of the one ingredient on the
interstices of the other, “ qu'ilsse nichent,en augmentant
le poids sans affecter le volume de la sawnure,'n as Euler
and Lambert express themselves, is impossible here,
when both are fluids. Indeed it is but a slovenly way of
thinking
S P s
Specific
Gravity.
S P E L 574
thinking in either case, and should be avoided, because
inadvertent persons are apt to use as a physical principle
what is merely a mode of speech.
"We learn from the table, that a hydrometer with
equidistant divisions on a cylindrical or prismatical stem
is still more erroneous than in the brines of common
salt.
We learn from the experiments of Kirwan, Lavoisier,
and others, that dry salt of tartar contains about one-
fourth of its weight of fixed air. In many applications
of this salt to the purposes of manufacture, this ingredi¬
ent is of no use. In some it is hurtful, and must be ab¬
stracted by lime. Soap-maker’s ley consists of the pure
alkaline salt dissolved in water. It is therefore of im¬
portance to ascertain its quantity by means of the speci¬
fic gravity of the brine. For this purpose we took a ley
of sal tart, whose specific gravity was 1.20417, con¬
taining 314 ounces of mild alkali in a cubic foot of ley,
and we rendered it nearly caustic by lime. The specific
gravity was then 1.1897. This is a very unexpected
result. Nothing is employed with more success than
quicklime for dephlegmating any watery fluid. We
should rather have expected an increase of specific gra¬
vity by the abstraction of some of the water of the men¬
struum, and perhaps the water of the crystallization, and
the aerial part of the salt. But we must ascribe this to
the great density in which the fixed air exists in the
mild alkali.
It is unnecessary to give similar tables for all the salts,
unless we were writing a dissertation on the theory of
their solution. We shall only observe, that we examin¬
ed with particular attention sal ammoniac, because Mr
Achard, who denies what is called the absorption of
salts, finds himself obliged to allow something like it in
th is salt. It does not, however, differ from those of
which we have given an account in detail in any other
respect than this, that the changes of fluid density are
much less than in others (instead of being greater, as
Aehard’s experiments seem to indicate) in all brines of
moderate strength. But in the very weak brines there
is indeed a remarkable difference ; and if we have not
committed an error in our examination, the addition of
one part of sal ammoniac to 64 of water occupies less
room than the water alone. We think that we have met
with this as an accidental remark by some author, whose
work we do not recollect. But we do not choose to
rest so much on our form of the experiment in such weak
brines. The following mixtures will abundantly serve
for constructing the table of its strength : Sal ammoniac
=960 grains was dissolved in 3506 grains of water,
making a brine of 4466 grains. A phial which held
1600 grains water held 1698 of this brine. It contained
1698 X 960
4466
1698
1061
It also contained 10^1 *
Seiicf
Brine. Sp. Gr.
Weight of brine,
After taking out j,
After taking out y,
After taking out L
After taking out
JSt,
2(1,
3d>
5f/l,
6th,
7th,
1698
1676
i653
1650
1616
1610
1605
1.061
1.048
j-osa
1.019
1.010
1.0063
1.0038
Oz. Salt Specifu
in Gravit;,
Cub. Ft.lSpectadu ^
228
l?!
114
57
281-
Hi
7i
This series is extremely regular, and the progress of
density may be confidently deduced from it.
From the whole of this disquisition on the relation be¬
tween the specific gravities of brines and the quantities
of salt contained, we see in general that it may be guess¬
ed at, with a degree of useful precision, from the density
or specific gravity of saturated solutions. "We therefore
conclude with a list of the specific gravities ot several
saturated solutions, made with great care by the bishop
of Landaff.—The temperature was 420. The first nu¬
merical column is the density of saturated brine, and the
next is the density of a brine consisting of 12 parts (by
weight) of water and one of salt. From this may be
inferred the quantity in the saturated solution, and from
this again may be inferred the quantity corresponding
to inferior densities.
Borax,
Cor. Sublim.
Alum,
Glaub. salt,
Common salt,
Sal. cath. amar.
Sal ammon.
Vol. alk. mite,
Nitre,
Rochelle salt,
Blue vitriol,
Green vitriol,
White vitriol,
Pearl ash,
1.910
i-°37
I-°33
1.054
1.198
1.232
1.072
1.087
1.095
1.114
1.1 co
gi57
1.386
J-534
1.029
1.059
1 039
1.026
1.050
I.OC2
I.O43
I.O45
or 365 grains of salt. The specific gra-
vity was =l.c6l, and the cubic foot weighed
or 288
1698
ounces of salt. By repeated abstraction of brine, and
replacing with water, we had the following series:
SPECTACLES, in Dioptrics, a machine consisting
of two lenses set in silver, horn, &c. to assist the de¬
fects of the organ of sight. Old people, and others who
have flat eyes, use convex spectacles, which cause the
rays of light to converge so as to meet upon the retina:
whereas myopes, or short-sighted people, use concave
lenses for spectacles, which cause the rays to diverge,
and prevent their meeting ere they reach the retina.
See Optics.
Some cases of a peculiar nature have been met with
where the sight receives no assistance from the use of
either convex or concave glasses. rlo remedy this, the
following method was contrived and successfully adopt¬
ed. A man about sixty years of age having almost en¬
tirely lost his sight, could see nothing but a kind of
thick mist with little black specks in it which seemed »o
float in the air. He could neither read, walk the streets,
nor distinguish his friends who were most familiar to
him. In this deplorable situation he procured some
spectacles with large rings ; and having taken out thet
glasses,
, P E [
Spencles glasses, he substituted for them a conic tube of black
Spanish copper. Looking through the large end of the
Sp :rc.
* 4 * 1 —o me Jciigc cnu oi me
r cone he could read the smallest print placed at its other
extremity. These tubes were of different lengths, and
the openings at the end were also of different sizes; the
smaller the aperture the better could he distinguish the
smallest letters; the larger the aperture the more words
or lines it commanded ; and consequently the less occa-
sion was there for moving the head and the hand in
reading. Sometimes he used one eye, sometimes the
other, alternately relieving each, for the rays of the two
1786.
J •“£> iui me idya ui Uie [WO
eyes could not unite upon the same object when thus se-
paiated by two opaque tubes. The thinner these tubes,
the ess troublesome are they. They must be totally
blackened within so as to prevent all shining, and they
should be made to lengthen, or contract, and enlarge or
reduce the aperture at pleasure.
When he placed convex glasses in these tubes, the
letters indeed appeared larger, but not so clear and di¬
stinct as through the empty tube ; ,he also found the
tubes more convenient when not fixed in the spectacle
rings ; tor when they hung loosely they could be raised
or lowered with the hand, and one or both might be
used as occasion required. It is almost needless^to add
t lat the material of the tubes is ot no importance, and
that they may be made of iron or tin as well as of cop-
* L per’ Provide(1 tlie insides of them be sufficiently black-
* M»iWy ened *. J
||j Ocuear SPECTRA, images presented to the eye
p,.,J affer removing them from a bright object, or closing
.'UN-them. .When any one jias iong and attentively looked
at a bright object, as at the setting sun, on closing his
eyes, or removing them, an image, which resembles in
form the object he was attending to, continues some
time to be visible. This appearance in the eye we shall
call the ocular spectrum of that object.
These ocular spectra are of four kinds : 1st, Such as
are owing to a less sensibility of a defined part of the
retina, or spectra from defect of sensibility. 2d, Such
are owing to a greater sensibility of a defined part of
the retina, or spectra from excess of sensibility. 3d, Such
as resemble their object in its colour as well as form ;
which may be termed direct ocular spectra. 4th, Such
as are of a colour contrary to that of their object, which
may be termed reverse ocular spectra.
SL EC I RE, an apparition, or something supposed to
be preternaturally visible to human sight, whether the
gnosts of dead men or beings superior to man.
A belief that supernatural beings sometimes make
themselves visible, and that the dead sometimes revisit
the living, has prevailed among most nations, especially
iti the rudest ages of society. It was common arnom**
the Jews, among the Greeks, and among the Romans^
as we find from the Scriptures, and from the poems of
■Homer and Virgil. Celestial appearances were indeed
j so often exhibited to the Jews, that the origin of their
, belief is not difficult to be explained.—The Divine Be-
! lnS manifested himself to each of the patriarchs by some
sensible sign, generally by a flame of fire, as he did to
Hoses. Under this semblance also did he appear to the
Israelites during their abode in the desert, and after
hey obtained a settlement in the land of Canaan. Nor
fid they believe that heavenly beings alone assumed a
eusible appearance : They believed that deceased men
■iso sometimes revisited this world. When Saul went
575 ] S P E
to consult the witch at Endor, he asked her to bring
up the person whom he should name unto her: a proof1
that he considered his demand as easy to be performed,
and therefore that he probably acted under the influence
oi popular opinion. The same opinions had been gene¬
rally entertained at a much earlier period ; for necro¬
mancy and witchcraft, the arts by which the dead were
supposed to be raised, had been prohibited while the Is¬
raelites were m the wilderness, and yet untainted with
the vices of the Canaanites. They must therefore have
derived them from Egypt, the cradle of superstition, as
WPI I QC of t Iwa *  _
Spectre
well as of the arts and sciences.
Among the Greeks and Romans the apparition of
spectres was generally believed. On innumerable occa¬
sions the gods are said to have discovered themselves to
the eyes of mortals, to have held conferences, and to
have interposed their aid. The ghosts of the dead, too,
•are said to have appeared. When iEneas, amidst the
distraction and confusion of his mind in flying from the
destruction of Troy, had lost his wife by the way, he
returned in search of her. Her shade appeared to him
(for she herself had been slain) with the same aspect as
before, but her figure was larger. She endeavoured to
assuage the grief of her unhappy husband, by ascribing
her death to the appointment of the gods, and by fore¬
telling the illustrious honours which yet awaited him.
But when ^Eneas attempted to clasp her in his arms, the
phantom immediately vanished into air. From this story
we may observe, that the ancients believed that the um¬
brae or shades, retained nearly the same appearance after
death as before ; that they had so far the resemblance of
a body as to be visible ; that they could think and speak
as formerly, but could not be touched. This descrip¬
tion applies equally well to those shades which had
passed the river Styx, and taken up their residence in
the infernal regions. Such were the shades of Dido of
. iphobus, aml a11 those which AEneas met with in’his
journey through the subterraneous world.
It appears from the writings of modern travellers who
have visited rude and savage nations, that the belief of
spectres is no less common among them. Mr Bruce
tells us, that the priest of the Nile affirmed, that he had
more than once seen the spirit of the river in the form
of an old man with a white beard. Among the Maho¬
metans the doctrine of spectres seems to be reduced to
a regular system, by the accounts which they give of
genu. Whoever has read the Arabian Nights Enter¬
tainments must have furnished his memory with a thou
sand instances of this kind. Their opinions concerning
genii seem to be a corrupted mixture of the doctrines of
the Jews and ancient Persians. In Christian countries
too, notwithstanding the additional light which their re¬
ligion has spread, and the great improvement in the
sciences to which it has been subservient, the belief of
ghosts and apparitions is very general, especially among
the lower ranks. They believe that evil spirits some¬
times make their appearance in order to terrify wicked
men, especially those who have committed murder.—.
Jhey suppose that the spirits oi dead men assume a cor-
poreal appearance, hover about church-yards and the
houses of the deceased, or haunt the places where mur¬
ders have been committed. (See Ghost). In some
places it is believed that beings have been seen bearing
a perfect resemblance to men alive. In the Highlands
of Scotland, what is called the second sight is still be¬
lieved
Spectre.
S P E [ 57® ] S P E
Hoved bv many (see Secosd Sigh,), viz. that future way foe that illustrious dispensation which the Lord Je-
UCVeu uy inauj p yr
' events are foretold by certain individuals by means ot
spectral representation. .
So general has the belief of spectres been, that this
circumstance alone may be thought by some sufficient to
prove that it must have its foundation in human nature,
or must rest upon rational evidence. W hen any doc¬
trine has been universally received by all nations, by
generations living several thousand years from one an¬
other, and by people in all the different stages of socie¬
ty, there is certainly the strongest presumption to con¬
clude that such a doctrine has its foundation in reason
and in truth. In this way we argue in favour of the
existence of a God, concerning moral distinction, and
the doctrine of a future state : and certainly so far we
argue well. But if the same argument be applied to
idolatry, to sacrifices, or to apparitions, we shall find
that it is applied improperly. Idolatry was very geneial
among ancient nations j so was the offering o* sacufices,
so was polytheism : but they were by no means univer¬
sal. Should we allow, for the sake of shortening the
argument, that all ancient nations were polytheists and
idolaters, and presented oblations to their imaginary
deities, all that could be concluded from this concession
is, that they fell into these mistakes from their igno¬
rance and from the rude state of society, from which
their imperfect knowledge of theology and moral philo¬
sophy was never able to rescue them. These erroneous
notions fled before the brightness of the Christian system*,
while the doctrines of the existence of God, of moral
distinction, and of a future state, have been more
thoroughly confirmed and ascertained. The same thing
may be said of the belief of spectres. However gene¬
rally it has been adopted in the first stages of society, or
by civilized nations who had made but little progress in
the study of divine things, it has been rejected, we may
say invariably, wherever theology and philosophy have
gone hand in hand. _
As all popular and long established opinions are ob¬
jects of curiosity and research for the philosopher, we
think the belief of spectres worthy of some attention
even in this light. It will therefore, we hope, give
some satisfaction to the philosophical reader to see a
short account of the sources or principles from which
this belief is derived. But as the belief of spectres is
connected with other opinions which appear tons high-
n urious to religion opinions which have been sup¬
ported by many learned men, and which are still be¬
lieved by some men of literary education—it will also
be proper, in the first place, to consider the evidence on
which this belief rests, in which we must consider both
their probability and credibility.
In the present investigation we mean to set aside al¬
together the celestial appearances recorded in Scripture,
as being founded on unquestionable evidence, and per¬
fectly agreeable to those rules by which the Deity acts
in the usual course of his Providence. The Israelites,
during the existence of their state, were immediately
under the authority of God, not only as the moral go¬
vernor of the world, but as the king of Israel. In the
infancy of the world, while men were rude and unen¬
lightened, and entirely under the influence of idolatry,
many revelations were necessary to preserve in their
minds pure ideas of the nature ot God, and of the wor-
ebip due to him. They were necessary also to pave the
sus came from Heaven to diffuse over the world. Every
celestial appearance recorded in Scripture was exhibited
for some wise and important purpose, which must be ap¬
parent to every person who considei's these appearances
with attention. But when the Scriptures were written
and published, and the Christian religion fully establish¬
ed, revelation ceased, and miracles and heavenly mes¬
sages were no longer requisite. What credit then ought
we give to those marvellous stories related in ancient
authors concerning prodigies in the heavens, and the ap¬
parition of angels both good and bad ?
It is not pretended that any of these prodigies and
appearances were exhibited for purposes equally great
and important with those which are described in Scrip¬
ture : And can we suppose that the all-wise Governor ot
the world would permit his angels to render themselves
visible to the eye of man for no purpose at all, or for a
purpose which might have been equally well accomplish¬
ed without their interposition ? W ould this be consistent
with perfect wisdom, or would it be consistent even with
the excellence and superiority of understanding which
we are taught to ascribe to these elevated beings ? The
whole will of God is revealed to us in the Scriptures j
what further use for the visible interposition of angels?
It may be objected, Are they not all ministering spirits,
sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs ol
salvation * ? WTe answer, that angels may animate
support good men by an invisible interposition. But ^
the Apostle is not speaking ot celestial spirits. I he
word uyythos signifies “ a messenger and in Scripture
often refers to men. In the passage which we are now
reviewing it certainly is applied with much moie pio-
priety to men than to angels : lor the Apostle is stating
a comparison betw-een the prophets, by whom Gou, at
sundry times and in divers manners, spake in time past
to the fathers, and the San, by whom he hath spoken
in these last days.
And if God has given no commission to his angels to
deliver to men since the publication ot the Christian re¬
ligion, is there any probability that he would give any
commission or any licence to evil spirits? it will be
said, that this doctrine is clearly taught in the New les-
tament, in these words, “ The devil goeth about as a
roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.” We will
not avail ourselves of the interpretation of some, who
say that the word devil, which in the Greek language
signifies an adversary, or slanderer, refers here to some
human being, who was a violent enemy ot the Chri¬
stians. All that can be deduced from these words, upon
the supposition that they reter to a malignant spirit, is
merely that he goeth about seducing men to vice. u
it is not by assuming a hideous form, and presenting
himself to the midnight traveller, that such a purpose is
to be accomplished. A spirit may probably have c nee
access to our minds without the intervention o any
thing corporeal ; and by exciting our passions may
plunge us into vice, which is the only object suci a e
ing is supposed to have in view. None ot the maive.
Ions stories which we have heard concerning the appa
tion of evil spirits lead us to conclude that they appe ^
to entice men to commit crimes. We never ‘ea‘c ”
any evil spirits that required men to steal, to pi i pe r ^
robbery or murder. T hey only appeared to tern y s®1
crazy timorous individuals, who have whims an
S P E
S:
tre. enow of their own to agitate their minds, though no pre-
~' texinatural vision should ever appear to them. It is not
consistent, therefore, with the character of God, and
what he has revealed to us of his will, to believe that
he would commission good angels, or permit evil angels,
to appear to men since the propagation of the gospel’
or indeed at any former period of the world, unless
some great and mighty purpose was to be fulfilled. It
is not consistent with what we know of the nature of
good or bad angels to suppose, that though permission
were granted them occasionally to show themselves to
men, that they would appear in that way which story¬
tellers describe. J
It is equally improbable that the spirits of the dead
who have removed from this world should again be per¬
mitted to visit it. At death men undergo as great,
perhaps a greater change, than when they came first in*
to the light of the sun. Is it not therefore as impro¬
bable that a man should return in a visible corporeal
form after death, as that, after having arrived at man¬
hood, he should return to the state in which he was be¬
fore his birth ? Such changes as these are evidently
made permanent by the invariable laws of nature. But
suppose it were possible, for what purpose should they
return ? To describe to us what is passing in the other
world, to animate us to virtue, by informing us of the
rewards which there await the good : or to alarm us,
by describing the punishment of the wicked. These
seem important reasons. But Divine Providence has
wisely thrown a veil over futurity. We know every
thing of the other world from the scripture which it
is proper for us at present to know. And as to incen¬
tives to virtue, we are already blessed with a number
sufficiently great and powerful for moral beings, who
are to act from rational motives, and not from com¬
pulsion. “ He that will not hear Moses and the pro¬
phets, will not be persuaded though one rose from the
dead.”
There is one strong objection against the probability
of spectres, which is sufficient to prove that they are
not intelligent creatures ; or at least that they possess
so small a degree of intelligence, that they are unquali¬
fied to act with prudence, to propose any end to them¬
selves, or use the proper means to accomplish that end.
Ghosts often appear in order to discover some crime
that has been committed : but they never appear to a
magistrate, or person in authority, but to some illiterate
clown, who happens to live near the place where the
crime was perpetrated ; to some person who has no con¬
nection with the affair at all, and who in general is the
most improper in the world for making the discovery.
I or instance, in Glanville’s Saducismus triumphatus (a
book written in the last century by a chaplain of Charles
II. in support of the common opinions respecting witch¬
craft and apparitions), we have the following story:
James Haddock, a farmer, was married to Elenor
Welsh, by whom he bad a son. After the death of
Haddock, his wife married one Davis 5 and both agreed
to defraud the son by the former marriage of a lease be¬
queathed to him by his father. Upon this the ghost of
Haddock appeared to one Francis Taverner the servant
of Lord Chichester, and desired him to go to Elenor
Welsh, and to inform her that it was the will of her
former husband that their son should enjoy the lease.
Taverner did not at first execute this commission ; but
Vol. XIX. Part II. f
[ 577 1
S P E
lie was continually haunted by the apparition in the
most hideous shapes, which even threatened to tear him
in pieces, till at last he delivered the message. Now,
had this spectre had the least common sense, it would
have appeared first to Elenor Welsh and her husband
Davis, and frightened them into compliance at once,
and not have kept poor J averner in such constant dis¬
quietude, who had no concern in the matter.
Another very odd circumstance respecting apparitions
in general must not be omitted, which, is, that they have
no power to speak till they are addressed. In the 27th
of Glanville’s Relations we read of an old woman that
appeared often to David Hunter, a neat-herd, at the
house of the bishop of Down and Conners. When¬
ever she appeared, he found himself obliged to follow
her j and for three quarters of a year poor David spent
the whole of almost every night in scampering up and
down through the woods after this old woman. How
long this extraordinary employment might have conti¬
nued, it is impossible to guess, had not David’s violent
fatigue made him one night exclaim, “ Lord bless me !
would I were dead !—shall I never be delivered from
this misery!” On which the phantom replied, “ Lord
bless me too ! It was happy you spoke first, for till then
I had no power to speak, though I have followed you
so long.” Ihen she gave him a message to her two
sons, though David told her he remembered nothing
about her. David, it seems, neglected to deliver the
message; at which the old beldam was so much provoked,
that she returned and hit him a hearty blow on the
shoulder, which made him cry out, and then speak to
her. Now if she could not speak till David addressed
her, why might she not have applied this oratorial me¬
dicine the first time she appeared to him ? It would
have saved both hei'self and him many a weary journey;
and certainly David would much rather have had even
halt a dozen of blows from her choppy fists than have
wanted so many nights sleep. To complete the story,
we must add, that when David’s wife found it impossi¬
ble to keep him from following the troublesome visi¬
tor, she trudged after him, but never was gratified with
a sight of the enchantress. David’s little dog too was
a dutiful attendant on his master during his pilori-
mage.
It is remarked by Glanville, that ghosts are generally
very eager to be gone. Indeed they are often so much
so, that they do not stay to tell their errand. One
would be induced from this, as well as the circumstan¬
ces already mentioned, to think that they are the stu¬
pidest and dullest of the dead that assume the appear¬
ance of ghosts ; unless we adopt the ingenious solution
of Glanville, “ that it is a very bad and painful thing
for them to force their thin and tenuions bodies into a
visible consistence ; that their bodies must needs be ex¬
ceedingly compressed ; and that therefore they must he
in haste to be delivered from the unnatural pressure.”
With respect to the evidence in favour of spectres, if
examined ever so slightly, it will he found very de¬
fective. They only appear to one person at a time ;
they are seen only in the night; they are visible only
to ignorant, illiterate, and credulous persons, and never
present themselves before men of education and learning.
That spectres only appear to one person at a time,
even though there are more in company, is an objection
against the credibility of their appearance quite insur-
4 mountable.
Spectre.
S P E' [ 578 ] S P E
Scec-ue. mountable. How Is It possible that two men of eye-
 sight equally good, directing their eyes to the same spot,
should not see so large an object as that of a man or
woman at a small distance equally well! Some will tell
us that a mist is cast over the eyes of the one, while the
view of the other is free from obstruction. But how is
this to be proved ? and besides, what purpose would it
serve? Ghosts have seldom any secrets to disclose j they
might be proclaimed to a multitude with as much pro¬
priety as confined to one person. Shall we be told, that
the spectre has the power of becoming visible to some,
and of remaining invisible to others ? This cannot be
allowed without adopting opinions destructive to reveal¬
ed religion for it would be a miracle : and we cannot
be persuaded, without evidence, that God would em¬
power any inferior being to controul at pleasure the wise
laws which he has ordained for governing the world.
To him who is of a different opinion, we would recom-
mend 1 armer on j^Xiracles y a booh in "which this ques¬
tion is fully examined.
Spectres appear only in the night. But why should
they shun the light of the sun ? Those mischievous
ghosts that Glanville mentions might indeed have some
reason to choose midnight for the execution of their
pranks, as they would be more easily detected in open
day. Such was the roguish drummer that haunted Mr
Mompesson’s house, who beat his drum all night, threw
the old gentlewoman’s clothes about the room, hid her
Bible in the ashes, plucked the clothes off the bed, and
amused himself with tossing about Mr Mompesson’s
shoes. But why should a grave serious ghost appear at
midnight ? Might it not deliver its message with as
much ease and more success in the day-time ? In the
day-time it would not excite much fear j it would be
listened to therefore with more attention 5 and did it
. choose to exhibit itself before a number of witnesses, its
grievances would be more speedily redressed, because
more persons would interest themselves in seeing justice
done to the injured ghost.
Spectres not only choose the most improper time, but
the most improper persons. To render the testimony of
any person credible, he must not only be a man of vera¬
city, but he must have sufficient ability to judge of the
subject to which he is to bear witness. It is not on the
evidence of an ignorant illiterate person, who has more
fancy and fear than judgment, that we are to rest our gpectrj
belief of what is supernatural. It is also worthy of re- —
mark, that we have never heard of a ghost appearing to
any person who did not previously believe their exist¬
ence. A man must be prejudiced in favour of this opi¬
nion, or he will never see a ghost. But sensible men
know', that he who has been accustomed to hear fright¬
ful stories of ghosts and apparitions gliding through a
churchyard, or haunting some particular place, can
scarcely pass through a churchyard, or haunted spot
without conjuring up in his imagination the hideous
phantoms which he has been accustomed to associate
with such places. Is it strange, then, that an ignorant
man, with a mind uncultivated and uninformed, with
all the prejudices of the nursery about him, should ima¬
gine he sees ghosts in those places where he believes
they hover, especially in the dead hour of midnight,
when, with the slightest aid of the imagination, a cow
may be turned into a monstrous phantom, and the re¬
flection of the beams of the moon from a little water be
converted into a ghost with a winding-sheet ? But why
should apparitions shun men of understanding and learn¬
ing ? Why should learning be formidable to them (a) ?
It was not so with the celestial messengers mentioned in
the Scriptures : they appeared to the patriarchs and pro¬
phets ; and the miracles there recorded were performed
in the most public places, before the eyes of Babbies,
of Scribes, and Pharisees. Indeed this circumstance is
sufficient to destroy the evidence of spectres. They
have never been seen by any but men of weak or distem-
pered minds, or by men who have previously believed
in them.
Having now considered the evidence on which the
belief of spectres rests, we will endeavour to give some
account of the foundation of it. To trace an opinion,
that has prevailed so generally in the world to its
source, is a labour not unworthy of the philosopher,
even though the opinion be false. It is always gratify¬
ing to detect the causes of error: it is no less useful; for
in order to refute error, it is often sufficient to point out
the sources from which it has sprung. To reach the
origin of the belief of spectres is not more difficult than
to account for idolatry or polytheism. In the infant
state of the intellectual powers every thing is considered
as possessing life and intelligence. The child beats the
(a) The celebrated historian De Thou had a very singular adventure at Saumur, in the year 1598. One
night, having retired to rest very much fatigued, while he was enjoying a sound sleep, he felt a very extraordi¬
nary weight upon his feet, which, having made him turn suddenly, fell down and awakened him. At first he
imagined that it had been only a dream, but hearing soon after some noise in his chamber, he drew aside the car-
tains, and saw, by help of the moon, which at that time shone very bright, a large white figure walking up and
down, and at the same time observed upon a chair some rags, which he thought belonged to thieves who had
come to rob him. The figure then approaching his bed, he had the courage to ask it what it was. “ I am
(said it) the Queen of Heaven.” Had such a figure appeared to any credulous ignorant man in the dead or
night, and made such a speech, would he not have trembled with fear, and have frightened the whole neighbour¬
hood with a marvellous description of it ? But De Thou had too much understanding to be so imposed upon.
Upon hearing the words which dropped from the figure, he immediately concluded that it was some mad wo¬
man, got up, called his servants, and ordered them to turn her out of doors j after* which he returned to bed and
fell asleep. Next morning he found that he had not been deceived in his conjecture, and that having forgot to
shut/his door, this female figure had escaped from her keepers, and entered his apartment. The brave Schom-
berg, to whom De Thou related his adventure some days after, confessed that in such a case he would not have
shown so much courage. The king also, who was informed of it by Schomfierg, made the same acknowledge¬
ment.
S P E
C 579 ]
MdK. stool over which he has fallen with the same Msgmnlli5/1^ l J S P E
-v ' he would treat his companion : The vonno o rl talks to Irr ° ’Je r’ ?bscl‘r<:1y. »nd know not what they Spectre
her dol as if if i g 11 talks to are, we have no distinct idea either j-e  ^ 1
- he would treat his companion : The young g^Xto
her doll as if it understood her: The savages ascribe
every change which they observe on the face of nature
to the action of some animated being. As knowledge
advances they single out those beings which seem to
produce the most striking effects, arrange them into
some kind of order, and divide the government of the
world among them. Unable, at the same time, to con¬
ceive any notion of a pure spirit, they imagine those di¬
vinities are corporeal beings. This is the foundation of
idolatry. Ihe belief of spectres is but another step.
Vft tiie^e animated corporeal beings, to whom they
address their prayers, and who preside over the world
should on particular occasions display themselves to the
human eye, is what they must be previously disposed to
expect. Hence the numberless appearances of the hea-
then gods, of the Persian and Mahometan genii. The
beliet ot ghosts may be easily deduced from the ooi
nirmc o n f ~ / • n   i
■> ' dim Know not wnat they
are we have no distinct idea either of their distances or
of their magnitude. We may mistake a bush that is
near us for a tree at a distance; or ifthe imagination be
nnder the influence of fear, it will easily convert it into
11 ,.S SeneralIy asserted (says Buf-
fon) that these figures exist only in the imagination : yet
they may have a real existence in the eye ; for whenever
wAaTkn0,°kher Tde jutig'ing oi' an ""known "b-
jec but by the angle it forms in the eye, its magnitude
will uniformly increase in proportion to its propinquity.
If it appears when at the distance of 2o or 30 paces,
to be only a few feet high, its height, when within two
or three feet of the eye, will be many fathoms. An ob¬
ject ot this kind must naturally excite terror and asto¬
nishment in the spectator, till he approaches and recog¬
nises it by actual feeling; for the moment a man knows
an object, the gigantic appearance it assumed in the eye
instantly diminishes, and its apparent magnitude is redo-
H I 1 f" C o 1 1 ■ "V'. s-,i-t« « __ — I') j * r* • 1 *
"ions entertained respecting a future state These oni" ^ f a.,Kl itS aPParent magnitude is redo-
# ui uaiurai
religion that there is another world in which men shall
exist when death has removed them hence. This doc¬
trine has been universally received both by savage and
civilized nations; but, as might be expected, men have
formed very different sentiments concerning the nature
ot a future state, of the situation and employments of
departed spirits, according to the degree of knowledge
which they possessed. But the general opinion in an¬
cient and rude nations was, that departed spirits retain¬
ed the same external appearance, the same passions and
principles as before. Nothing therefore was more na¬
tural than the opinion, that they might occasionally re-
visit this world, from an anxious desire to alleviate the
sufferings of those beloved friends and relations whom
they had left behind them, or to communicate from the
unseen world what might be important to their welfare.
Upon such an errand did Ceriisa appear to ^Eneas.
ihe apparition of the ghosts of murderers is easily ex¬
plained upon the same general principles. The remorse
and horror of mind which the murderer feels are suppo¬
sed to haunt him in the other world, and to render his
situation there intolerable (especially if the murder was
never detected and punished), till he return and give
information against himself. In this way, then,“we
think it highly probable the belief of spectres has origi¬
nated. But many other causes concur to confirm and
propagate this belief. These are, imperfect vision uni¬
ted with fear, dreams, opium, diseases, drunkenness,
and artifice. ’
x. Indistinct vision is one source of apparitions, espe¬
cially when the mind is under the influence of fear. It
is well known, that the sense of seeing conveys no idea
0 distance till improved by experience and observation;
and how we come at length to distinguish objects at a
distance from those that are near, has been explained
ln another place (see Metaphysics, N0 jo.).
In the daytime we seldom commit mistakes, because
we know the object at which we look; but at night,
1 . ~ men Hum ii, ne can
have no other idea of it but from the image which it
formed in Ins eye ; and, in this case, he may affirm with
tiuth that he saw an object terrible in its aspect, ami
enormous m its size. Thus the notions concerning spec¬
tres are founded 111 nature, and depend not, as some phi¬
losophers affirm, upon the imagination alone.”
In addition to these observations of Buffon, we may
take notice, that objects are always magnified in a foe ;
so that when a fog happens in the night-time, obiects
may be magnified to an enormous size. But at any
rate, whether there be a fog in the night or not,’ there is
such a great analogy between darkness and a fog, that
1 the latter deceive us with respect to the size of objects,
the former will also deceive us. The writer of this ar¬
ticle was passing the Frith of Forth at Queensferry, near
Edinburgh, one morning which was extremely foggy.
I hough the water be only two miles broad, the boat
did not get within sight of the southern shore till it ap¬
proached very near it. He then saw to his great sur¬
prise a large perpendicular rock, where he knew the
shore was low and almost flat. As the boat advanced a
little nearer, the rock seemed to split perpendicularly
into portions, which separated at a little distance from
one another. He next saw these perpendicular divisions
move ; and upon approaching a little nearer, found it
was a number of people standing on the beach, waiting
the arrival of the ferry-boat. 0
Dreams are another fertile source of apparitions.
It is well known to every person, that while the mind
is under the influence of a dream it considers it as
much a reality as it does any particular action while
awake. Now if a person of a weak superstitious mind
should have a very lively dream, which interests his pas¬
sions, particularly the passion of fear, it may make so
deep an impression, that he may be firmly convinced that
he has actually seen with his eyes what has only passed
before his imagination (see Apparition) (b). We
shall here tell a story, by way of illustration, which we
4 1} 2 have
orMUWrf*!;- th,0“?ht3are »li«» a person sleeps without the circumstances of goino to bed
drean from hlS,u .? ",|,en ^ "r'18 h,S cl,air> * is ^ry difficult, ns Hobbes remarks, to distinguish a
easily «7£av«“l^ » ''***’ ^ °f ^ "nC°Ul11 0rabSUrd faDCy’
Spectre.
S P E
have received on unquestionable authority
' India captain had an honest faithful servant named
John, for whom he had a great regard. John died, it
we recollect right, on a voyage from England to the
East Indies during a French war. As the ship ap¬
proached the place of its destination the captain had a
dream, in which John appeared to him, and earnestly
besought him not to sail to the port for which he was
bound, as it was in the hands of the French. 1 he cap¬
tain, though not addicted to superstition, thought it
prudent to follow this admonition ; and after landing at
a different port, he was informed that the place to which
he had intended to steer was, according to the informa¬
tion of the dream, captured by the French. On the
voyage home, the captain had a second dream, in which
John again appeared to him, and gave him notice that
he should soon die, and that the ship should be taken in
the mouth of the Channel by the French. _ Next morn¬
ing the captain called his first mate, told him his dream,
which he believed was prophetic, and delivered his pa¬
pers, that he might take proper care of them after his
decease. Every thing happened exactly as the dream
had foretold ; the captain died, and the vessel was taken
by a French man of war in the mouth of the Channel.
This dream, wonderful as it appears, is easily explained.
In the voyage out to India, nothing was more natural
than that the captain should sometimes be thinking, that
amidst the various chances of war, the port to which he
was bound might be taken } perhaps it was a place of
consequence, which the French might be eager to pos¬
sess. The captain being accustomed to revolve these
thoughts in the day-time, they would naturally return
at night; the regret which he felt for the loss of a faith¬
ful servant might mingle with his apprehensions, and
thus produce the dream. Perhaps the advice was such
as John would have given had he been alive. . It is
equally easy to explain the cause of the dream in the
passage home. The captain, we are told, was veiy iU,
and thought himself dying, at the very time he had the
second dream, and therefore did not expect to reach
England. This part of the dream, then, was only his
own thoughts, delivered by his servant. As to the
other part, that bis ship should be taken in the mouth of
the Channel, it might be thought unaccountable how the
very place should be foreseen. But we must recollect,
that the mouth of the Channel, being over against the
coast of France, was by far the most dangerous place in
the whole passage j and that, therefore, the captain had
more reason to be afraid of losing his ship there than in
any other place. The use which we mean to make of
this story is this : Had the captain been a man of a weak
mind, he would certainly have considered the dream as
a reality, and believed that, instead of having dreamed
of the things on which bis imagination had dwelt, he
had actually seen his servant return from the dead, and
heard him deliver the message. But on the other hand,
the captain, though he believed the dream was prophe¬
tic, mentioned it without any signs of fear ; and no man
of courage and reflection ever sees an apparition. This
sight is reserved for the weak, the timid, and the super¬
stitious. Of this many instances might be mentioned.
3. Spectres are also sometimes occasioned by opium.
Gassendi the philosopher found a number of people go¬
ing to put a man to death for having intercourse with
the devil; a crime which the poor wretch readily ac¬
ta
S P E
[ 580 ]
An East knowledged. Gassendi begged of the people that they Spectre jstre.
would permit him first to examine the wizard before put- '““’"'T -'’“V"
ting him to death. They did so; and Gassendi, upon
examination, found that the man firmly believed himself
guilty of this impossible crime. He even offered to Gas¬
sendi to introduce him to the devil. The philosopher
agreed j and when midnight came, the man gave him a
pill, which he said it was necessary to swallow before
setting off. Gassendi took the pill, but gave it to his
dog. The man having swallowed his, fell into a pro¬
found sleep; during which he seemed much agitated by
dreams. The dog was affected in a similar manner.
When the man awoke, he congratulated Gassendi on
the favourable reception he had met with from Ins sable
highness. It was with difficulty Gassendi convinced
him that the whole was a dream, the effect of soporific
medicines, and that he had never stirred from one spot
during the whole night.
4. That diseases, especially the night-mare, the hy¬
pochondria, hysteric passion, and madness, are another
source of spectres, we have the strongest reason to affirm.
Persons subject to the night-mare often imagine that
they see spectres. This is still more the case with hy¬
pochondriac and hysteric persons, and those who are in
any degree deranged in their intellects. A fact which
fell within the observation of the writer of this article
will both prove and illustrate this assertion. In a vil¬
lage in one of the midland counties of Scotland, lived a
widow distinguished among her neighbours for decency
of manners, integrity, and respect for religion. She af¬
firmed, that for several nights together she had heard a
supernatural voice exclaiming aloud, Murder! murder.
This was immediately reported through the neighbour¬
hood ; all were alarmed, and looked around them with
solicitude for the detection of the murder which they
supposed to have been committed ; and it was not long
till a discovery seemed actually to be made. It was re¬
ported, that a gentleman, who had relations at no great
distance, and had been residing in the West Indies, had
lately arrived with a considerable fortune; that he had
lodged in an inn about three miles oft; and that he had
afterwards been seen entering a house in the village
where the widow lived, from which he had never ic-
turned. It vvas next affirmed, that a tradesman passing
the churchyard about twelve at midnight had seen four
men carry a dead corpse into that cemetery. These three
facts being joined together seemed perfectly to agree and
to confirm one another, and all believed some horrib e
murder had been committed. The relations ot the gen¬
tleman thought they were called upon to make inquiry
into the truth of these allegations: they according y
came first to the churchyard, where, in company wit
the sexton, they examined all the graves with 8iea,
care, in order to discover whether any of than ha
been lately dug, or had the appearance of containing
more than one coffin. But this search was to no pui
pose, for no alteration had been made upon the giaves.
It was next reported that the murdered man hat )C^n
buried in a plantation about a mile distant from t iew
lage. As the alarm was now very general, a num ei 0
the inhabitants proposed of their own accord to exp ore
it. They accordingly spread themselves over the 'v00( ’
and searched it with care, but no grave nor new tug
earth was found. The writer of this article, w10 v
then a boy at school, was along with them. 1 e roa.
ter
Spire
S P £ r s8
ter did not rest here : The person who was said to have
seen tour men carry a dead corpse into the churchyard
at midnight was summoned to appear before a meeting
of the justices oi the peace. Upon examination he de¬
nied any knowledge of the affair, but referred the court
to another person from whom he had received his infor¬
mation. This person was examined, and the result was
the same as the former. In short, one person had heard
it from another, who had received it from a third, who
had heard it from a fourth ; but it had received a little
embellishment from every person who repeated it. It
turned out to be the same with Smollet’s story of the
three black crows, which some body was said to have
vomited.
Upon inquiry at the inn where the West Indian gen¬
tleman had lodged, no such gentleman had been seen
there. It was found afterwards he had never left the
West Indies. Still, however, the veracity of the widow
was not disputed ; and some dark and secret transaction
was suspected. But the whole affair was at length ex¬
plained by discovering that she was somewhat deranged
by melancholy. And the cries which she had at first
imagined she had heard were afterwards imitated by
some roguish person, who was highly amused with
spreading terror among the credulous.
5. Drunkenness also has the powerof creating spectres.
Its natural effect in most cases is to derange the under¬
standing, to throw it ofl its guard, and to give full scope
to that passion which has a natural disposition to gain
an ascendancy 5 and sometimes it excites passions which
scarcely seem to exist at any'other time. It makes
some men licentious, some furious, some all benevolence
and kindness, some from being cowards it renders un¬
daunted heroes. It seldom, if ever, excites fear 5 and
therefore it may he thought strange that men should
imagine they see ghosts when intoxicated. But it must
be remarked, that the ghosts which the drunkard sees,
he sees not with the same alarm and terror as men who
are sober. He is not afraid of them. He has the cou¬
rage to converse with them, and even to fight with
them, if they give him provocation. A man returning
home intoxicated, affirmed that he had met with the
devil; and that after a severe encounter he had van¬
quished him and brought him to the ground, to which
he had nailed him fast by driving bis staff throu<di his
body. Next morning the staff was found stuck with
great violence into a heap of turfs !
6. Many apparitions of spectres have no other origin
than the artifices of the waggish or self-interested. Dr
liot, in his Natural History of Oxfordshire, relates a
marvellous story, which will illustrate this assertion.
Soon after the murder of Ivmg Charles I. a commission
was appointed to survey the king’s house at Wood-
stock, with the manor, park, woods, and other de¬
mesnes to that manor belonging; and one Collins, under
a feigned name, hired himself as secretary to the com¬
missioners, who, upon the 13th of October 1649, met>
and took up their residence in the king’s own rooms.
His majesty’s bed-chamber they made their kitchen, the
council hall their pantry, and the presence-chamber was
the place where they sat for the dispatch of business.
His majesty’s dining-room they made their wood yard,
and stored it with the wood of the famous royal-oak
from the High Park, which, that nothing might be
left with the name of king about it, they had dug up
] S P £
by the roots, and split and bundled up into faggots for Snectre
then- firmg. Hungs being thus prepared, they sat on 1 v—
the 16th of the same month for the dispatch of business;
and in the midst of their first debate there entered a
hirge black dog (as they thought), which made a dread-
tul howling, overturned two or three of their chairs,
and then crept under a bed and vanished. This gave
them the greater surprise, as the doors were kept con¬
stantly locked, so that no real dog could get in or out.
1 he next day their surprise was increased, when sitting
at dinner in a lower room, they heard plainly the noise
of persons walking over their heads, though they well
knew the doors were all locked, and there could be no
body there. Presently after they heard also all the wood
of the king’s oak brought by parcels from the dining¬
room, and thrown with great violence into the presence
chamber ; as also all the chairs, stools, tables, and other
furniture, forcibly hurried about the room ; their papers,
containing the minutes of their transactions were’
lorn, and the ink-glass broken. When all this noise
had ceased, Giles Sharp, their secretary, proposed to
enter tust into these rooms; and in presence of the com¬
missioners, from whom he received the key, he opened
the doors, and found the wood spread about the room,
the chairs tossed about and broken, the papers torn, the
iuk-glass broken (as has been said, but not the least
track of any human creature, nor the least reason to
suspect one, as the doors were all fast, and the keys in
the custody of the commissioners. It was therefore un¬
animously agreed, that the power who did this mischief
must have entered the room at the key-hole. The
night following, Sharp the secretary, with two of the
commissioners servants, as they were in bed in the same
room, which room was contiguous to that where the
commissioners lay, had their bed’s feet lifted up so much
higher than their heads, that they expected to have
their necks broken, and then they were let fall at once
with so much violence as shook the whole house, and
more than ever terrified the commissioners. On the
night of the 19th, as all were in bed in the same room
for greater safety, and lights burning by them, the cau¬
dles in an instant went out with a sulphureous smell,
and that moment many trenchers of wood were hurled
about the room, which next morning were found to be the
same their honours had eaten on the tlay before, which
were all removed from the pantry, though not a lock
was found opened in the whole house. The next night
they fared still worse ; the candles went out as before
the curtains of their honours beds were rattled to and
fro with great violence ; their honours received many
cruel blows and bruises, by eight great pewter-dishes
and a number of wooden trenchers being thrown on
their beds, which being heaved off, were heard rolling
about the room, though in the morning none of these
were to he seen. This night likewise they were alarm¬
ed with the tumbling down of oaken billets about their
beds, and other frightful noises; but all was clear in the
morning, as if no such thing happened. The next
night the keeper of the king’s house and his dog lay in
the commissioners room, and then they had no distur¬
bance. But on the night of the 22d, though tile dog
lay in the room as before, yet the candles went out a
number of brick-bats fell from the chimney into the
room, the dog howled piteously, their bed-clothes were
all stripped off, and their terror increased. On the
24th
S P E [ 583 ] S P E
Spectre. 24th they thought all the wood of the king’s oak was
'.—yw.i uj violently thrown down by their bed sides ; they counted
64 billets that fell, and some hit and shook the beds in
which they lay ; but in the morning none were found
there, nor had the door been opened where the billet
wood was kept. The next night the candles were put
out, the curtains rattled, and a dreadlul crack like thun¬
der was heard j and one of the servants running in haste,
thinking his master was killed, found three dozen of
trenchers laid smoothly under the quilt by him. But all
this was nothing to what succeeded afterwards : The
29th, about midnight, the candles went out, something
walked majestically through the room, and opened and
shut the windows j great stones were thrown violently
into the room, some of which fell on the beds, others
on the floor 5 and at about a quarter after one a noise
was heard as of forty cannon discharged together,
and again repeated at about eight minutes distance.
This alarmed and raised all the neighbourhood, who
coming into their honours room, gathered up the great
stones, fourscore in number, and laid them by in the
corner of a field, where, in I)r Plot’s time, who reports
this story, they were to be seen. This noise, like the
discharge of cannon, was heard through all the country
for 16 miles round. During these noises, which were
heard in both rooms together, the commissioners and
their servants gave one another over for lost, and cried
out for help 5 and Giles Sharp, snatching up a sword,
had well nigh killed one of their honours, mistaking
him for the spirit, as he came in his shirt from his own
room to theirs. While they were together, the noise
was continued, and part of the tiling of the house was
stript off, and all the windows of an upper room were
taken away with it. On the 3°*'^ midnight some¬
thing walked into the chamber treading like a bear; it
walked many times about, then threw the warming-pan
%'iolently on the floor; at the same time a large quanti¬
ty of broken glass, accompanied with great stones and
horses bones, came pouring into the room with uncom¬
mon force. These were all found in the morning to the
astonishment and terror of the commissioners, who were
yet determined to go on with their business. But on
the first of November the most dreadful scene of all en¬
sued : Candles in every part of the room were lighted
up, and a great fire made 5 at midnight, the candles
all yet burning, a noise like the bursting of a cannon
was heard in the room, and the burning billets were
tossed about by it even into their honours beds 5 who
called Giles and his companions to their relief, other¬
wise the house had been burnt to the ground ; about
an hour after the candles went out as usual, the crack
as if many cannon was heard, and many pailfuls of
green stinking water were thrown upon their honours
beds j great stones were also thrown in as before, the
bed curtains and bedsteads torn and broken, the win¬
dows shattered, and the whole neighbourhood alarmed
with the most dreadful noises 5 nay, the very rabbit-
stealers that were abroad that night in the warren were
so terrified, that they fled for fear and left their ferrets
behind them. One of their honours this night spoke,
and, in the name of God, asked what it was, and why
it disturbed them so? No answer was given to this ; but
the noise ceased for a while, when the spirit came again j
and, as they all agreed, brought with it seven devils worse
than itself. One of the servants now lighted a large
3
candle, and set it in the door-way between th^ two Spectre,
chambers, to see what passed; and as he watched it,
he plainly saw a hoof striking the candle and candle¬
stick into the middle of the room, and afterwards ma¬
king three scrapes over the stuff, scraped it out. Up¬
on this the same person was so bold as to draw a sword j
but he had scarce got it out when he felt another in¬
visible hand holding it too, and pulling it from him ;
and at length prevailing, struck him so violently on the
head with the pummel, that he fell down for dead with
the blow. At this instant was heard another burst like
the discharge of the broadside of a ship of war, and at
about a minute or two’s distance each no less than 19
more such : these shook the house so violently, that they
expected every moment it would fall upon their heads.
The neighbours, on this, as has been said, being all
alarmed, flocked to the house in great numbers, and all
joined in prayer and psalm singing ; during which the
noise still continued in the other rooms, and the dis¬
charge of cannons was heard as from without, though
no visible agent was seen to discharge them. But
what was the most alarming of all, and put an end to
their proceedings effectually, happened the next day as
they were all at dinner, when a paper, in which they
had signed a mutual agreement to reserve a part of the
premises out of the general survey, and afterwards to
share it equally amongst themselves, (which paper they
had hid for the present under the earth in a pot in one
corner of the room, and in which an orange-tree grew),
was consumed in a wonderful manner, by the earth’s
taking fire with which the pot was filled, and burning
violently with a blue fume, and an intolerable stench j
so that they were all driven out of the house, to which
they could never again be prevailed upon to return.
This wonderful contrivance was all the invention of
the memorable Joseph Collins of Oxford, otherwise
called Funny Joe, who having hired himself as secre¬
tary, under the name of Gilts Sharp, by knowing the
private traps belonging to the house, and the help of
pulvisfulminans and other chemical preparations, and
letting his fellow-servants into the scheme, carried on
the deceit without discovery to the very last; insomuch
that the Dr Plot, in his Natural History, relates the
whole for fact, and concludes in this grave manner,
“ That though tricks have been often played in affairs
of this kind, many of the things above related are not
reconcileable with juggling j such as the loud noises, be¬
yond the power of man to make without such instill¬
ments as were not there j the tearing and breaking the
beds 5 the throwing about the fire j the hoof treading
out the candle ; and the striving for the sword, and the
blow the man received from the pummel of it.”
Spectre of the Broken, a singular phenomenon ob¬
served on the top of the Broken, one of the Haitz
mountains in Hanover, of which M. Haue has given
the following account. “ After having been here (says
he) for the thirtieth time, and having procured informa¬
tion respecting the above-mentioned atmospheric phe¬
nomenon, I was at length, on the 23d of May 1797’ s0
fortunate as to have the pleasure of seeing it; and per¬
haps my description may afford satisfaction to others w 10
visit the Broken through curiosity. The sun rose a out
four o’clock, and, the atmosphere being quite serene to¬
wards the east, his rays could pass without any obstruc¬
tion over the Heinrichshohe. In the south-west, how¬
ever,
jctre
,s p E [ 5
ever towai-ds Aciitermannshohe, a brisk west wind car-
ulum v'T be |°re l\ ■ Un tj;an*Pfrent v»pourS, which were not
, yet condensed into thick heavy clouds.
“ Aliout a quarter past four I went towards the inn,
and looked round to see whether the atmosphere would
permit me to have a free prospect to the south-west;
wuen 1 observed, at a very great distance towards Ach-
termannsho.ie, a human figure of a monstrous size. A
violent gust of wind having almost carried away my
hat I clapped my hand to it by moving my arm to-
wards my head, and the colossal figure did the same.
I he pleasure which I felt on this discovery can
hardly be desenbed j for I had already walked many a
weary step m the hopes of seeing this shadowy image,
without being able to gratify my curiosity. I imme¬
diate y made another movement by bending my body,
and the colossal figure before me repeated it. I was
desirous ^of doing the same thing once mere-—but my
colossus nad vanished. I remained in the same position,
waiting to see whether it would return j and in a few
minutes it again made its appearance on the Achter-
mannshohe. I paid my respects to it a second time,
and it did the same to me. I then called the landlord
of the Broken j and having both taken the same posi¬
tion which I had taken alone, we looked towards^ the
Achteimannshohe, but saw nothing. We had not
however, stood long, when two such colossal figures’
were formed over the above eminence, which repeated
our compliments by bending their bodies as we did •
after which they vanished. We retained our position ;
kept our eyes fixed on the same spot, and in a little the
two figures again stood before us, and were joined by a
bird, r.very movement that we made by bending our
bodies these figures imitated—but with this difference
tuat the phenomenon was sometimes weak and faint’
sometimes strong and well defined. Having thus had
an opportunity of discovering the whole secret of this
phenomenon, I can give the following information to
such of my readers as may be desirous of seeing it them¬
selves. When the rising sun, and according to analogy
the case will be the same at the setting sun, throws hi
lays over the Broken upon the body of a man standing
opposite to fine light clouds floating around or hover
mg past him, he needs only fix his eyes stedfastly upon
them, and in all probability, he will see the singular
spectacle of his own shadow extending to the length of
five or six hundred feet, at the distance of about two
miles before him.”
SPECULARIS Lapis, composed of large plates of
extreme thinness. (See Talc, Mineralogy Index)
1 he white variety with large and broad leaves, com¬
monly called isinglass and Muscovy glass, is imported
m great quantities ; the miniature-painters cover their
pictures with it j the lantern-makers sometimes use it
instead of horn j and minute objects are usual!y pre¬
served between two plates of it, for examination by the
microscope. ^
SPECULATIVE, something relating to the the-
tical S°me ^ °r SC^ence’ *n contradistinction to prac-
SPECULUM for reflecting telescopes, is made of
d kind ot white copper consisting of 32 parts fine red
copper, one of brass, 15 of grain-tin, and three of
white arsenic. The process given bv the late J. Ed
wards, who was rewarded by the Board of Longitude
83 I S P E
N-.ulSC!°A,ng ^ ? I1’16 P"b,ic’ WaS Pushed In the Specula*.
•Nautical Almanack for 1787, and is as follows : Melt
ie copper in a large crucible, employing some black
lux, composed of two parts of tartar and one of nitre :
when melted, add to it the brass and the silver. Let
the pure tin be melted in another crucible, also with
some black flux. lake them both from the fire, and
crurih)16 mVed ll'1 int.° ^ fused .mass in the largeCronstedt't
f lir ^ie whole well with a dry snatula tktiVwra/o-
0 birch, and pour off the fused metal immediately in-^’ vo1'
to a large quantity of cold water. The sudden chill ofP- 7”’
the water will cause the fluid metal to divide into an
sta^tly nUmber°f Sma11 Prides, which will cool in-
of one1 nb.r])pe,r Ii" C0np,ejely saturated, the fracture
one piece of this mixed metal will appear bright
silver^ “ gr? ■I°°k’ rrbliD* tile of pure qufckl
^ h 11 a brown reddish colour, it wants
a tie more Un. To ascertain tbe required p^portion
metif mi', quantity, known by weight, of the mixed
metal, With a known very small part of tin 3 and, if
fracTurj^f il>Peat t ie with different doses, till the
fractuie oi the new mixture looks as already described.
aving now ascertained the necessary addition of tin
Miat is required, proceed to the last' melting of the
whole metal, together with the additional proportional
dose of . fuse he wholej observing thPsaPme ^
tions as before 5 and you will find that the mixture will
dt with a much less heat than that for the first fusion,
liave ready as many ounces of white arsenic in coarse
powder as there are pounds in the weight of the me-
with rrp ?!arsenic in a smai1 paPer’and it,
with a pair of tongs, into the crucible; stir it well
with the spatula, retaining the breath to avoid the ar¬
senical fumes or vapours (which however are not found
crurVl ffllt0 c6 1Un,gS) tiH they disappear ; take the
crucible oft the fire, clear away the dross from the top
• 16 ™eta1’ Pour 10 about one ounce of powdered ro¬
sin, with as much nitre, in order to give the metal a
flask’s and P°Ur °Ut tbe raetal int° the moulded
The speculum , should be moulded with the con¬
cave surface downwards, and many small holes should
fie made through the sand upwards, to discharge the
Ted 1 TT / fr°m Hi8hgate near London,
y le founders, is as good as any for casting
t iese metallic mirrors. The cast metal should be taken
out from the sand of the flasks whilst it is hot, or else
it may happen to crack if left to cool within. See Te¬
lescope.
But in addition to what has now been said, we must
notice some other information relative to the grinding,
polishing, and other important circumstances connected
with the method of preparing the most perfect speculum
fox telescopes. The metal being taken out of the flask,
as already noticed, and this should be done as soon as it
has become solid, and while it is yet red hot, care must
he taken to keep the face downwards to prevent it from
sinking. Holding it in that position by the git, force
out the sand from the hole in the middle of the mirror
with a piece of wood or iron, and place the speculum in
an iron pot, with a large quantity of hot ashes or small
coals, so as to bury the speculum in them a sufficient
depth. If the sand is not forced out of the hole in the
manner above directed, the metal, by sinking as it cools,
will
S P E
[ 584 ]
S P E
Speculum, will embrace the sand in the middle of the speculum so
' y) tight, as to cause it to crack before it becomes entirely
cold. And if the metal be not taken out of the sand,
and put in a pot with hot ashes or coals to anneal it, the
moisture from the sand will always break the metal. Let
the speculum remain in the ashes till the whole is be¬
come quite cold. The git may be easily taken off by
marking it round with a common fine half round file,
and giving it then a gentle blow. The metal is then to
be rough ground and figured.
But before we proceed to describe that process,
it may be proper to give an account of another com¬
position for the speculum of a reflecting telescope,
which has been employed with great success, by Rochon
director of the marine observatory at Brest. Of this
composition the principal ingredient is platina ; which,
in grains, must be purified in a strong fire by means of
nitre and the salt of glass, or that flux which in the
English glass-houses is called by the workmen sandijer.
To the platina, when purified, add the eighth part
of the metal employed in the composition of common
specula j for tin without red copper would not produce
a good effect. This mixture is then to be exposed to
the most violent heat, which must be still excited by
the oxygen gas that disengages itself from nitre when
thrown into the fire. One melting would be insuffi¬
cient : five or six are requisite to bring the mixture to
perfection. It is necessary that the metal should be in
a state of complete fusion at the moment when it is
poured into the mould. By this process I have been
enabled (says the author) to construct a telescope with
platina, which magnifies the diameters of objects five
hundred times, with a degree of clearness and distinct¬
ness requisite for the nicest observations. The large spe¬
culum ef platina weighs fourteen pounds : it is eight
inches in diameter, and its focus is six feet. Though
the high price of platina will, in all probability, for
ever prevent it from coming into general use for the
speculums of telescopes, we thought it proper to notice
this discovery, and shall now proceed to the grinding of
the speculum.
For accomplishing this object, a very complicated
process is recommended in Smith’s Optics, and one not
much more simple, by Mr Mudge in the 67th volume
of the Philosophical Transactions; but according to
Mr Edwards, whose speculums are confessedly the best,
neither of these is necessary. Besides a common grind¬
stone, all the tools that he made use of are a rough
grinder, which sertes also as a polisher, and a bed of
hones. When the speculum was cold, he ground its
surface bright on a common grindstone, previously
brought to the form of the gage ; and then took it to
the rough grinder.
The tool is composed of a mixture of lead and tin,
or of pewter, and is made of an elliptical form, of such
dimensions, that the shortest diameter of the ellipse is
equal to the diameter of the mirror or speculum, and
the longest diameter is to the shortest in the proportion
of ten to nine. This rough grinder may be fixed upon
a block of wood, in order to raise it higher from the
bench ; and as the metal is ground upon it with fine
emery, Mr Mudge, with whom, in this particular, Mr
Edwards agrees, directs a hole or pit to be made in
the middle of it as a lodgement for the emery, and deep
grooves to be cut out across its surface with a graver
for the same purpose. By means of a handle fixed on Speculum.
the back of the metal with soft cement, the speculum '   
can be whirled round upon this grinder so rapidly, that
a common labourer has been known to give a piece of
metal, four inches in diameter, so good a face and figure
as to fit it for the hones in the space ol two hours. The
emery, however fine, will break up the metal very much ;
but that is remedied by the subsequent process of hon¬
ing and polishing.
When the metal is brought to a true figure, it must
be taken to a convex tool, formed of some stones from
a place called Edgedon in Shropshire, situated between
Ludlow and Bishop’s Castle. The common blue hones,
used by many opticians for this purpose, will scarcely
touch the metal of Mr Edwards’s speculums-, but where
they must be employed for want ol the others, as little
water should be used as possible when the metal is put
upon them ; because it is found by experience that they
cut better when but barely wet, than when drenched
with water. The stones, however, from Edgedon are
greatly preferable 5 for they cut the metal more easily,
and having a very fine grain, they bring it to a smooth
face. These stones are directed by Mr Mudge. to be
cemented in small pieces upon a thick round piece of
marble, or of metal made of tin and lead like the former
composition, in such a manner, that the lines between
the stones may run straight from one side to the other j.
so that placing the teeth of a very fine saw in each of
these divisions, they may be cleared from one end to
the other of the cement which rises between the stones.
As soon as the hones are cemented down, this tool
must be fixed in the lathe, and turned as exactly true
to the gage as possible. It should be ot a circular fi¬
gure, and but very little larger than the metal intended
to be figured upon it. If it be made considerably lar¬
ger, it will grind the metal into a larger sphere and a
bad figure } and if it be made exactly of the same size,
it will work the metal indeed into a figure truly sphe¬
rical, but will be apt to shorten its focus, unless the me¬
tal and tool be worked alternately upwards. On these
accounts Mr Edwards recommends it to be made about
one twentieth part longer in diameter than the speculum,
because he has found that it does not then alter its fo¬
cus and he earnestly dissuades the use of much water
on the hone pavement at the time of using it, otherwise,
he says, that the metal in different parts of it will be of
different degrees of brightness.
The metal being brought to a very fine face and
figure by the bed of stones, is ready to receive a polish,
which is given to it by the elliptical rough grinder co¬
vered with pitch. With respect to the consistency of
this pitch, Mr Mudge and Mr Edwards give very dif¬
ferent directions. Whilst the former says that it should
be neither too hard nor too soft, the latter affirnis that
the harder the pitch is, the better figure it will g>v®
to the metal. Pitch may be easily made of a sufficient
hardness by adding a proper quantity of rosin
when it is hardened in this way, it is not so brittle as
pitch alone, which is hardened by boiling. Mr
wards advises to make the mixture just so hard as to
receive, when cold, an impression from a moderate pyeS
sure of the nail of one’s finger. When the elliptical
tool is to be covered with this mixture, it must be ma e
pretty warm, and in that state have the mixture P0^^
upon it when beginning to cool in the crucible, ^r
5 culum
5 P E [■ .8.
antliot recommends this coating to be made everywhere
ot about the thickness of half a crown j and to give it
the proper form, it must, when somewhat cool be
pressed upon the face of the mirror, which has first
been dipped in cold water, or covered over with very
fine writing paper. If it be not found to have taken the
exact figure from the first pressure, the surface of the
pitch must be gently warmed, and the operation repeat¬
ed as before. All the superfluous pitch is now to be
taken away from the edge of the polisher with a pen
knife, and a hole to be made in the middle, accurately
round, with a conical piece of wood. This hole should
go quite through the tool, and should be made of the
same size, or somewhat less than the hole in the middle
the speculum. Mr Edwards says, that he has always
found that small mirrors, though without any hole 'in
the middle, polish much better, and take a more cor¬
rect figure, for the polisher’s having a hole in the mid¬
dle of it.
Ihe polisher being thus formed, it must be very
gently warmed at the fire, and divided into several
squares by the edge of a knife. These, by receiving the
small portion of metal that works off in polishing, will
cause the figure of the speculum to he more correct
than if no such squares had been made. Mr Mudge
directs the polisher to he strewed over with very fine
putly ; but Mr Edwards prefers Coixothar of vitriol.
Eutty (says he) gives to metals a white lustre, or, as
workmen call it, a silver hue ; but good colcothar of
vitriol will polish with a very fine and high black lustre
so as to give the metal finished with it the complexion
of polished steel. Tu know if the colcothar of vitriol is
good, put some of it into vour mouth, and if you find
it dissolves away it is good ; but if you find it hard, and
crunch between your teeth, then it is bad, and not well
burned. Good colcothar of vitriol is of a deep red, or
of a deep purple colour, and is Soft and oily when rub¬
bed between the fingers ; bad colcothar of vitriol is of a
light red colour, and feels harsh and gritty. The col¬
cothar of vitriol should be levigated between two sur¬
faces of polished steel, and wrought with a little water ■
when it is worked dry, you may add a little more wa¬
ter, to carry it lower down to what degree you please.
\ hen the colcothar of vitriol has been wrought dry
three or four times, it will acquire a black colour, and
will be low enough, or sufficiently fine, to give an ex¬
quisite lustre. This levigated colcothar of vitriol must
he put into a small phial, and kept with some water up-
on it. When it is to be used, every part of the pitcli-
poiislrer must he first brushed over with a fine camel’s
hair brush, ivhich has been dipped in pure water, and
rubbed gently over a piece of dry clean soap. The
washed colcothar of vitriol is then to he put upon the
polisher; and Mr Edwards directs a large quantity of it
to he put on at once, so as to saturate the pitch, and
form a fine coating. If a second or third application of
tins powder be found necessary, it mast he used very
sparingly, or the polish will he destroyed which has
been already attained. When the metal is nearly po¬
lished, there will always appear .some black mud upon
its surface, as well as upon the tool. Part of this must
be wiped awav with some very soft wash leather ; hut
if tile whole of it be taken away, the polishifur will not
be so well completed.
With respect to the parabolic figure to he given to
Vol. XIX. Part II. *
] S P E
the mirror, Mr Edwards assures us, that a very little Sneculuu.
expenence in these matters will enable any one to give jj
it with certainty, by polishing the speculum in the com- Spell.
mon manner, only with cross strokes in every direction ' 
upon an elliptical tool of the proper dimensions.
Speculum, a looking-glass or mirror, capable of re¬
flecting the rays of the sun.
Speculum, in Surgery, an instrument for dilating a
wound, or the like, in order to examine it attentively.
See Surgery.
SPEECH, in general, the art or act of expressing a
person s thoughts by means of articulate sounds, which
we call words. See Language, Grammar, Read¬
ing, and Oratory, Part IV.
k-PEED, John, an English historian, was born at
I armgton, in Cheshire, in the year 1542. He was by
profession a taylor, and freeman of the company of mer¬
chant taylors in the city of London. In 1606, he pub¬
lished Ins Theatre of Great Britain, which was afier-
wards reprinted in folio, under the title of the Theatre
. IjmPtre ?/ Great Britain. His genealogies of
Scripture were first bound up with the Bible in 1611,
when the first edition of the present translation was
printed. In 1614 appeared his History ofi Great Bri-
tain, which has been translated into Latin ; and in
1616 he published his Cloud of Witnesses, in octavo.
He lived in marriage 57 years with his wife, by whom
he had twelve sons and six daughters; and died in
1629. He was interred in the church of St Giles’s,
Cripplegate, London, where a monument was erected*
to his memory.
«mJ?PW£.LL' See Veronica> Botany Index.
SPELL, a charm consisting of some words of oc¬
cult power, generally attended with some ceremony.—
In order to explain it, we will produce a few examples.
II St Agnes’s night, 21st of January, take a row of
pins, and pull out every one, one after another, saying
a 1 ater-noster on sticking a pin in your sleeve, and you
will dream of him or her you shall marry.
Another method to see a future spouse in a dream, civ¬
ile party inquiring must lie in a different county from Provincial
that in which he commonly resides, and on going to Glossary.
bed must knit the left garter about the right-legged
stocking, letting the other garter and stocking alone ;
and as he rehearses the following verses, at every com¬
ma, knit a knot :
This knot I knit,
lo know the thing I know not yet;
That I may see
The man (woman) that shall my husband (wife) bey
How he goes, and what he wears,
And what he does all days and years.
. Accordingly, in a dream, he will appear with the in¬
signia of his trade or profession.
Another, performed by charming the moon, thus :
At the first appearance of the new moon, immediately
after the new year’s day, (though some say any other
new moon is as good), go out in the evening, and stand
over the spars of a gate or stile, and, looking on the
moon, repeat the following lines :
All hail to the moon ! all hail to thee !
I prithee, good moon, reveal to me
This night who my husband (wife) must be.
.4 B Immediately
S P E [ 586 ] s P E
Spell Immediately after you must go to bed, when you will
|| dieam of the person destined ior your future husband or
Spelman. w;fe.
 v  SPELLING, in Grammar, that part of orthography
which teaches the true manner of resolving words into
their syllables.
All words are either simple or compound, as vse,
disuse; dove, undove; and the rules for dividing each
must be such as are derived from the analogy of lan¬
guage in general, or from the established custom of
speaking •, which, for the English language, are re¬
duced to the following rules : 1. A consonant between
two vowels must be joined with the latter in spelling,
as na-ture, ve-m-ly, ge-ve-rous ; except, however, the
letter x, which is joined to the first, as in jiax-en, ox¬
en, &c. and compound wTords, as in up-on, U7i-used, &c.
2. A double consonant must be divided, as in let-ter,
man-ver, &-C. 3. I hose consonants which can begin
a w'ord, must not be parted in spelling, as in de-fraud,
re-prove, distinct; however, this rule is found some¬
times to fail for though gn begins a word, as gnaw,
gnat, &c. yet it must be divided in spelling, as in cog-
ni-%ance, ma-lig-ni-ty, &c. 4. 'ihose consonants which
cannot begin a word must be divided, as Id in seldom, It
in mul-ti-tude, mp in temper, rd in ar-dent; but in final
syllables there are exceptions, as tl in ti-tle, dl in han¬
dle, &c. 5. When two vowels come together, and are
both of them distinctly sounded, they must be separated
in spelling, as in co-e-val, mu-tu-al,&.c. 6. I he gram¬
matical terminations or endings must be separated in
spelling, as ed in wing-ed, edst in de-h-ver-edst, ivg
in hear-ing, ance in de-h-ver-avce, &c. 7. Compound
words must be resolved into their simple or component
words, as up-on, in-to, ne-ver-the-less, not-with-stand¬
ing, &c.
SPELMAN, Sir Henry, an eminent English an¬
tiquarian, was descended from an ancient family, and
born at Cengnam, near Lynn in Norfolk, about the
year 1561. He was knighted by King James I. who
had a particular esteem for him on account of his known
capacity for business j and he employed him several
times in Ireland on public affairs. When he was
about 50 years of age, he went to reside in London }
where falling into a study to which his own genius had
always inclined him, he collected all such books and
MSS. as concerned the subject of antiquities, either fo¬
reign or domestic. In 1626, he published the first part
of his well-known Glossary, which he never carried be¬
yond the letter L ; because, as some have suggested, he
had said things under “ Magna charta,” and “ Maxi¬
mum consilium,” that could not then have appeared
without giving oflence. Upon his death all his papers
came into the hands of bis son Sir John Spelman, a gen¬
tleman who had abilities to have completed his father’s
design, if death had not prevented him. The second
part was afterwards published by Sir William Dugdale ;
but with all the marks of a scanty unfinished perform¬
ance. The next work he entered upon was an edition
of the English Councils, of which he published the first
volume about two years before his death, leaving the
second volume, as well of this as of his Glossary, to be
published by Sir William Dugdale. Sir Henry wrote
several other things, all relating to ancient laws and
customs, and died in 1641. His Posthumous Wrorks
were published in folio, 1698, under the inspection of Salman
Mr Gibson, afterwards bishop of London. j|
SPELTER, in Metallurgy, the same with Zinc. , Spciw-
SPENCE, Joseph, an eminent writer, was fellow of
New College, Oxford, where he took the degree of A.M.
in 1727. About that time he became first known as an
author, bv an Essay on Pope's Odyssey, in which some
particular beauties and blemishes oj that work ore con¬
sidered ; a work of great merit, and which for sound
criticism and candid disquisition is almost without a
parallel. Pie was elected professor of poetry by tire
university in 1728, and held that office ten years, vvhiclv
is as long as the statutes will allow. Plis History of
Stephen Duck was first published in 1731 *> but it was
afterwards much altered, and prefixed to an edition of
Duck’s poems.
About this time he travelled into Italy as tutor to
the earl of Lincoln, afterrvards duke of Newcastle.—
In 1736 he republished Gorboduc, at Mr Pope’s de»
sire, with a preface giving an account of the author, the
earl of Dorset. He quitted his fellowship in 1742, up¬
on being presented by the Society of New College to
the rectory of Great Harwood in Buckinghamshire.—
H e never resided in his livings but paid it an annual
visit, distributing large sums of money among the poor,
and providing for many of their children. The same
year he was made professor of modern history at Ox¬
ford. In 1747 he published Polymetis ; or an inquiry
concerning the agreement between the works of the
Roman poets and the remains of ancient artists, being
an attempt to illustrate them mutually from each other.
This work was treated by Gray with a contempt which
it did not deserve. He raises objections because the au¬
thor did not illustrate his subject from Greek writers,
that is, because he failed to execute what he never un¬
dertook. He ivas installed prebendary of the seventh
stall at Durham the 24th May J754- publnPa^
the same year, “ An Account of the Life, Character,
and Poems, of Mr Blacklock, student of philosophy at
Edinburgh which evas afterwards prefixed to his
Poems. The prose pieces which he printed in the Mu¬
seum he collected and published, together with some
others, in a pamphlet called Moralities, by Sir Harry
Beaumont. Under the same name he published “ Crifco,
or a Dialogue on Beauty,” and “ A particular Account
of the emperor of China’s Gardens near Pekin, in a let¬
ter from F. Attiret, a French missionary now employed
by that emperor to paint the apartments in those gar¬
dens, to his friend at Paris.” Bosh these treatises are
printed in Dodsley’s fugitive pieces, as is also “ A Let¬
ter from a Swiss Officer to his friend at Rome 5 w 1C
Mr Spence first published in the Museum. In 175
he published “ A Parallel, in the Manner of Plutarch,
between a most celebrated man of I lorence and one
scarce ever heard of in England.” Ibis was also in
serted in the fugitive pieces. rlhe same year he m *
a journey into Scotland, which he described in an a
tionate letter to Mr Shenstone, published in Hall s 0 -
lection of Letters, 1778. In 1764 lie was very we
described by Mr James Ridley, in his admirable
of the Genii, under the name of Phesoi Ecneps (p*
name read backwards), dervise of the groves. A et *
from Mr Spence to that ingenious moralist, uuder e
same signature,, is preserved in the 3d volume of ^
S P E [
ters of Eminent Persons.” In 1768 he published “ He- his
marks and Dissertations on Virgil, with some other
classical observations, by the late Mr Holdsworth.”
On the 20th of August the same year he was unfortu¬
nately drowned in a canal in his garden at Byfleet in
Surrey. He was found flat upon his face at the ed<>e of
the canal, where the water was so shallow as not even
to cover his head. The accident, it was supposed, for
he was quite alone, was owing to a fit.
Ihe duke of Newcastle possesses some manuscript vo¬
lumes of anecdotes collected by Mr Spence, from which
Dr Johnson was permitted to insert many extracts in
his Lives of the Poets.
. SPENCER, Dr John, an eminent divine, was born
m Kent in 1630, and educated at Cambridge. He was
chosen fellow of his college, and took a doctor’s degree
in 1663. j667 he was chosen master of Corpus
Lhnsti College, and preferred to the deanery of Ely in
1677. He d'ed on the 20th of May 1695. His works
are, 1. 'Ihe Righteous Ruler; a Sermon on Proverbs
xxix. 2. preached June 28. 1660. 2. A Discourse con¬
cerning Prodigies, wherein the vanity of presages by
them is reprehended, and their true and proper ends as¬
serted and vindicated. To this excellent work was af¬
terwards added, A Discourse concerning vulgar prophe¬
cies, wherein the vanity of receiving them as the certain
indications of any future event is exposed ; and some
marks of distinction between true and pretended pro¬
phets are laid down. 3. A Latin dissertation concern¬
ing Urim and rhummim. 4. His famous treatise De
kgibus Hebrceorum ritualibus et earum rationibus. The
intention of this book, as he informs us himself, was to
vindicate the Deity from the imputation of acting from
arbitrary and fantastical motives. It has been highly
and justly esteemed both for the elegance of style and
the uncommon erudition and sound sense which it dis¬
plays. It has, however, (that part of it particularly
which endeavours to deduce some of the Jewish cere¬
monies from the practices of their heathen neighbours),
alarmed many persons, as if such a doctrine, if it could’
he proved, would derogate from the Divine wisdom,
and undermine revelation. But this is so far from bein<’
the case, that Dr Spencer’s attempt, whether success^
ful or not, deserves the gratitude of Christians, because
it has a tendency to throw light on an important and
difficult subject.
. SPENSER, Edmund, the poet, wa5 born in London
in the year 1553, and descended from an ancient fami¬
ly of the Spensers in Northamptonshire. All wre know
concerning his education is, that he was admitted a
sizer of Pembroke hall in Cambridge, and matriculated
in 1569. At this time began his intimacy with Mr
Gabriel Harvey, a man of genius and a poet. In 1376,
having completed his degrees in arts, he left the univer¬
sity, as is conjectured, for want of subsistence, and re¬
tired to the north of England. Here he had the mis¬
fortune to become enamoured of his Rosalind, who, after
flattering his passion for a time, at length preferred
1 S P E
appier rival. Spenser continued in the country till Spenser
the year 1578, when at the persuasion of his friend Mr SperRiik.
Harvey he removed to London, where that gentleman  v 
introduced him to. Mr Sidney (afterwards Sir Philip
Sidney). Concerning his first introduction to Sir Phi-
hp, there is indeed a different story, which was first
told by the writer of his life, prefixed to his works in
1670, and transcribed by Hughes, Cibber, and several
others ; which, nevertheless, is certainly not true. The
purport of it is, that Spenser, being unknown to this
Mecaenas of the age, went to Leicester-house, and sent
in the 9th canto of the first book of the Fairy Queen •
that, on reading part of it, Sir Philip ordered his stew!
art to give the bearer 50I. ; on reading a little farther
50!. more; then 200I. ; bidding him to make haste and
pay the money, lest he should give the poet his whole
estate. ihe story tells prettily enough ; but it is very
certain, that the Fairy Queen was begun long after his
aquaintance with Sir Philip. By this universal patron
ot genius, however, he was presented to Queen Eliza¬
beth, who honoured him with the place of poet-laureat.
About this time he finished his Shepherd’s Calendar
which was first printed in 1579; and in the following
year, being recommended by his patron to the earl of
Leicester he went to Ireland as secretary to the lord
Grey of Wilton, then appointed lord-lieutenant of that
kingdom. Lord Grey was recalled in 1582, and with
him Spenser returned to London, where he continued
ti 1 afler the death of Sir Philip Sidney in 1 ;86 ; a loss
which he bewailed to the end of his life. The foilow-
ing year, our poet, having obtained a royal grant of
3003 acres of forfeited lands in the county of Cork in
.Ireland, set out for that kingdom, took possession of
his estate, and fixed his residence in the castle of Kil-
colman, which had belonged to the earl of Desmond.
Jn tins retirement he resumed his great work of th#
lairy Queen ; and continued in Ireland till, being vi¬
sited by his old friend Sir Walter Raleigh in 1 c8o he
came over with him to England, but returned to Ire¬
land the year following, where he fell in love with a
country girl, and married her. Soon after his marriage
he paid another visit to his native country, where wo’
also find him in 1596. In the following year he re-
turned once more to Kilcolman ; but on the rebellion of
Lord i yrone, who ravaged the whole county of Cork
he was obliged to fly for safety with his family to’
England, where, in the year 1599, he died in extreme
poverty (a). He was buried in Westminster Abbey
according to his request, near Chaucer. A monument
was erected to his memory by Ann countess of Dorset
W e know but little of his character as a man ; as a
poet, considering the age in which he lived, he deserves
om utmost veneration. He wrote various pieces be¬
sides those above mentioned. His whole works, with
his life by Hughes, were published in six volumes i2mo,
in 1713 and 1730.
. SPERGULA, Spurrey, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class of decandria; and in the natural system
4 E 2 arranged
(a) This is Camden’s account, and it has been generally believed ; but Mr Malone, the last editor of
8 enseTol,1; “ ?? ’ ^ t ^ .ro11’ 33 Eli*, p. 3- has discovered, that i’n February 690-/
at present^ ^ ^ QUCen E 'Zab l annUlty or Pension of 5o1- durinS his life 5 a 6um equivalent to 200L
S P E [ 588 ] S P H
s la arranged under the 22d order, Catyop/njUeX. See Eo-
jf TANY Index.
Spermaceti SPERM, the seed whereof an animal Is formed. See
v  Physiology.
SPERMACETI, a whitish, unctuous, flaky sub¬
stance, prepared from oil, but chiefly from the brains of
a species of whale called physeter macrocephalus.
The method of preparing spermaceti is kept a secret j
but the process is said to be this : 'Ihe brains being
taken out of the animal, are then, as some say, melted
over a gentle fire, poured into moulds, and when cold
melted again; and this process is continued till they are
purified. Others say, that after being pressed and drain¬
ed they are more thoroughly purified by steeping them
in a ley of alkaline salt and quicklime. 'Ihe brains are
then washed, and cut into thin flakes or slices with
wooden knives. One fish is said to aflord some tons of
brains. Good spermaceti is glossy and semitransparent,
in fine white flakes; solt and unctuous to the touch, yet
dry and friable; in taste, somewhat like butter, and of
a faint smell like that of tallow. Some adulterate it
with wax ; but the deceit is discovered, either by the
smell of the wax or by the duluess of the colour. Some
also sell a preparation of oil taken from the tail of the
whale instead of that from the brain ; but this kind
turns yellow as soon as exposed to the air. Indeed it
is apt in general to grow yellowish, and to contract a
rancid fishy smell if not carefully secured from the air.
The more perfectly it has been purified at first, the
less susceptible it is of these alterations ; and after it
has been changed, it may be rendered white and sweet
again by steeping it afresh in a ley of alkaline salt and
quicklime. It melts in a small degree of heat, and
congeals again as it cools.
Spermaceti is of use in medicine. Quincy says it is
a noble remedy in the asthma, &c. though chiefly used
in bruises, inward hurts, and after delivery. For inter¬
nal use, it may be dissolved in aqueous liquors into the
form of an emulsion, by trituration with almonds, the
yoke or white of an egg, and more elegantly by muci¬
lages ; or made into a lohoch, by mixing two drams ot
it with a suitable quantity of yolk of egg, then adding
half an ounce of fresh drawn oil of almonds, and an
ounce of balsamic syrup. Spermaceti is not capable ot
being dissolved by caustic alkalies, and of forming soaps,
like other oily matters : but it is altogether soluble in
oils, and unites by liquefaction with wax and resins ;
and in these forms is applied externally. But it is cer¬
tain, its greatest property, and that which makes it so
much in vogue in many places, is its softening the skin.
Wh ence it comes to be used by the ladies in pastes,
washes, &c.
Spermaceti candles are of modern manufacture : they
are made «mooth, with a fine gloss, free from rings and
scars, superior to the finest wax candles in colour and
lustre: and, when genuine, leave no spot or stain on the
finest silk, cloth, or linen.
A meth d has been lately proposed by Dr Smith
Gibbes of Bristol, to convert animal muscle into a sub¬
stance much resembling spermaceti. The process is re-
markablv simple: Nothing more is necessary than to
take a dead carcase and expose it to a stream ot running
water: it will in a short time be changed to a mass ot
fatty matter. To remove the offensive smell, a quantity
of nitrous acid may then be poured upon it, which unit- spernuccu
ing with the fetid matter, the fat is separated in a pure jj
state. This acid indeed turns it yellow, hut it may be Sphsraa 1
rendered white and pure by the action of the oxygena- v ^,IS- ' ^
ted muriatic acid. Mr Gibbes brought about the same
change in a much shorter time. He took three lean
pieces of mutton and poured on them the three mineral
acids, and he perceived that at the end of three days
each was much altered ; that in the nitrous acid was
much softened, and on separating the acid from it, he
found it to be exactly the same with that which he had
before got from the water ; that in the muriatic acid
was not in that time so much altered; the vitriolic acid
had turned the other hlack.
SPERMACOCE, Button-wood, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of tetrandria; and in the natural
system arranged under the 47th order, Stella tee. See
Botany Index.
SPERMATIC, in Anatomy, something belonging to
the sperm or seed.
SPEUSIPPUS, an Athenian philosopher, the ne¬
phew and successor of Plato. Contrary to the practice of
Plato, Speusippus required from his pupils a stated gra¬
tuity. He placed statues of the Graces in the school
which Plato had built. On account of his infirm state
of health, he was commonly carried to and from the aca¬
demy in a vehicle. On his way thither he one day met
Diogenes, and saluted him ; the surly philosopher re¬
fused to return the salute, and told him, that such a fee¬
ble wretch ought to be ashamed to live ; to which
Speusippus replied, that he lived not in his limbs, but
in his mind. At length, being wholly incapacitated, by
a paralytic stroke, for the duties of the chair, he resign¬
ed it to Xenocrates. He is said to have been of a vio¬
lent temper, fond of pleasure, and exceedingly avari¬
cious. Speusippus wrote many philosophical works,
which are now lost, but which Aristotle thought suffi¬
ciently valuable to purchase at the expence of three
talents. From the few fragments which remain of his
philosophy, it appears that he adhered very strictly to
the doctrine of his master.
SPEY, a river of Scotland, rising from a lake of the
same name in Badenoch, and, after a serpentine course
of 76 miles, passes by Rothes castle, and falls into the
German sea at Garnoch near Elgin. Mr Pennant tells
us, that the Spey is a dangerous neighbour to Castle
Gordon, overflowing frequently in a dreadful manner,
as appears by its ravages far beyond its banks. The
bed of the river is wide and full of gravel, and the chan¬
nel very shifting. In 174^ ^,e Cumberland
passed this river at Belly church near Castle Gordon,
when the channel was so deep as to take an officer, from
whom Mr Pennant had the account, and who was six
feet four inches high, up to the breast. 'Ihe banks are
here very high and steep; so that had not the rebels
been infatuated in such a manner as to neglect opposi¬
tion, the passage must have been attended with consi¬
derable loss. On this river there is a great salmon-
fishery ; about 1700 barrels full are caught in the sea¬
son, and the shore was formerly rented tor about 1200!.
per annum : now it is probably doubled.
SPHACELUS, in Surgery and Medicine, an abso¬
lute and perfect corruption or death of the parts.
SPHiERANTHUS, a genus of plants belonging to
the
S P H
Icni-
Mo-e’s
ttot/ieck
Cfassieai,
C 589
the class of svngenesia, and to the order of polygamia
S( gr(gata j and in the natural system arranged under
the 49th order, Composite. See Botany Index.
SI HAGNUAI, Bog-MOSS, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the class of cryptoganua and order of musci.
See Botany Index.
Os SPHENOIDES, the seventh hone of the crani¬
um or skull. See Anatomy, N° 11.
SPHERE, is a solid contained under one uniform
round surface, every point of which is equally distant
from a certain point in the middle called its centre; and
is formed by the revolution of a semicircle about its di¬
ameter. See Geometry.
Projection of the Spheiie. See Projection.
Sphere, in Astronomy^ that concave orb or expanse
which invests our globe, and in which the heavenly bo¬
dies appear to be fixed, and at an equal distance from
the eye.
I he better to determine the places of the heavenly
bodies in the sphere, several circles are supposed to be
described on the surface thereof, hence called \k\e circles
of the sphere: of these some are called great circles, as
the equinoctial, ecliptic, meridian, &c. and others small
circles, as the tropics, parallels, &c. See Geography j
and Astronomy, passim.
Arnullary Sphere. See Geography.
Sphere of Activity, of a Body, is that determinate
space Oi extent to which, and no farther, the effluvia
continually emitted from that body reach $ and where
they operate according to their nature.
SPHERES, in Optics, the same with metalline mir¬
rors, for telescopes or other purposes. See Mirror.
SPHEROID, in Geometry, a solid approaching to
the figure of a sphere. It is generated by the entire
revolution of a semi-ellipsis about its axis. When the
revolution is made round the largest axis, the spheroid
is called prolate; and when round the shortest, oblate.
This last is the figure of the earth, and probably of all
the planets.
SPHEX, Ichneumon Wasp, or Savage; a genus of
insects belonging to the order of hymenopterce. See
Entomology Index.
SPHINCTER, in Anatomy, a term applied to a
kind of circular muscles, or muscles in form of rings,
which serve to close and draw up several orifices of the
body, and prevent the excretion of the contents.
SPHINX, in fabulous history, a monster which had
the head and breasts of a woman, the body of a dog, the
tail of a serpent, the wings of a bird, the paws of a lion,
and a human voice. It sprang from the union of Orthos
with the Chimaera, or of Typhon with Echidna. The
Sphinx had been sent into the neighbourhood of
Thebes by Juno, who wished to punish the family of
Cadmus, which she persecuted with immortal hatred,
and it laid this part of Boeotia under continual alarms,
by proposing enigmas, and devouring the inhabitants, if
unable to explain them. In the midst of their conster-
uation the Thebans were told by the oraefe, that the
sphinx would destroy herself as soon as one of the en¬
igmas she proposed was explained. In this enigma she
wished to know what animal walked on four legs in the
morning, two at noon, and three in the evening. Upon
this Creon king of Thebes promised his crown and his
sister Jocasta in marriage to him who could deliver his
]
s p 1
country from the monster by a successful explanation Snhinx.
of the enigma. It was at last happily explained by Spigel.a.
Uedipus, who observed, that man walked on his hands     
and feet w hen young, or in the morning of life ; at the
noon of life he walked erect j and in the evening of his
days he supported his infirmities upon a stick. CVid.
Oedipus). The sphinx no sooner heard this explanation
than she dashed her head against a rock, and immedi¬
ately expired. Some mythologists wish to unriddle the
fabulous traditions about the sphinx by the supposition
that one of the daughters of Cadmus, or Laius, infest¬
ed the country of Thebes by her continual depreda¬
tions, because she had been refused a part of her 1‘atherV
possessions. The lion’s paw expressed, as they observe,
hei cruelty, the body of the dog her lasciviousness,
her enigmas the snares she laid for strangers and tra¬
vellers, and her wings the dispatch she used in her ex¬
peditions.
Among the Egyptians the sphinx was the symbol
of religion, by reason of the obscurity of its mysteriesf
and on the same account the Romans placed a sphinx
in the pronaos or porch of their temples. Sphinxes :
were used by the Egyptians to show the beginning of
the water’s rising in the Nile : with this view, as it had
the head of a woman and body of a lion, it signified
that the Nile began to swell in the months of July and
August, when the sun passes through the signs of Leo
and Virgo. There are several of these still to be seen;
one in particular, near the pyramids, much spoken of
by the ancients ; being of a prodigious size, and cut out
of the rock ; the head and neck appear only at present,
the rest of the body being hid in the sand. This, accord¬
ing to Thevenot, is 26 feet high, and 15 feet from the
eai to the chin : but Eliny assures us, the head was no
less than 102 feet in circumference, and 62 feet hi<>h
from the belly, and that the body was 143 feet long,
and was thought to be the sepulchre of King Amasis.
The learned Mr Bryant * observes that the sphinx * Ancient
seems to have been originally a vast rock of different
strata ; which,Jrom a shapeless mass, the Egyptians fa-» -
shioned into an object of beauty and veneration. The1* ^ *
Egyptians used this figure in their building; from them
the Greeks derived it, and afterwards improved it into
an elegant ornament. It is also frequently used in mo¬
dern architecture.
It is proper to observe, that the sphinx of the Egyp-f. 'Vol. ii,
tians is said in the Asiatic Researches f to have been p.334.
found in India. Colonel Pearse was told by Murari
Pandit, a man of learning among the Hindoos, that the
sphinx, there called singh, is to appear at the end of the
world, and as soon as he is horn will prev on an ele¬
phant : he is therefore figured seizing an elephant in his
claws ; and the elephant is made small, to show that the
singh, even a moment after his birth, will he very large
in proportion to it. But in opposition to this account
given by Murari Pandit, the late Sir William Jones, the
learned and illustrious president of the Asiatic Society,
was assured by several Brahman?, that the figure taken
for a sphinx was a representation of a lion seizing a
young elephant. This point therefore requires farther
investigation.
Sphinx, HAWK-Moth, a genus of insects belonging
to the order of lepidoptercr. See ENTOMOLOGY Index,
SPIGELIA, Worm-grass, a genus of plants be-
longing^
S P I [ 59° 1 S P 1
i„e]ja longing to the class of pentandria ", and in the natural
1’1| ' . system arranged under the 47th order, Stellate. See
Spinet. Botany and Materia Medica Index.
SPICE, any kind of aromatic drug that has hot and
pungent qualities •, such are pepper, nutmeg, ginger,
cinnamon, cloves, &c.
SpiCE-Islands, in the East Indies. See Banda,
MoLuccA-lslands, and Ceylon.
SPIDER. See Aranea, Entomology Index.
SPIDERWORT. See Phalangium, 7 Botany
SPIGNEL. See Athamanta, Index.
SPIKE, or Oil of Spike, a name given to an essen¬
tial oil distilled from lavender, and much used by the
varnish-makers and the painters in enamel.
SPIKENARD. See Nardus, Botany Index.
SPILANTHUS, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of syngenesia. See Botany Index.
SPINA CERVINA, an old name for rhamnus cathar-
ticus. See Rhamnus, Botany Index.
Spina Ventosa, in Surgery, that species of corruption
of the bones which takes its rise in the internal parts,
and by degrees enlarges the bone, and raises it into a
tumor. S'ee Surgery.
SPINACIA, Spinage, a genus of plants belonging
to the class of dioecia ; and in the natural system arran¬
ged under the 12th order, Holoraeeee. See Botany
Index ; and for an account of the method of cultivating
spinage in the garden, see Gardening.
SPINAGE, or Spinach. See Spinacia.
SPINJE, in Botany, thorns, rigid prickles : a species
of arma, growing on various parts of certain plants for
their defence 5 epirue xamorum arcent pecora. On the
branches we find examples in the pyrus primus, citrus,
hippophaes, gmelina, rhamnus, lycium, &c. ; on the
leaves, in the aloe, agave, yucca, ilex, hippomane, theo-
phrasta, carlina, &c. ; on the calyx, in the carduus
cnicus, centaurea, moluccella, galeopsis, &c. ; on the
fruit, in the trapa, tribulus, murex, spinacia, agrimo-
nia, datura, &c.
SPINAL marrow. See Anatomy Index.
SPINALIS, in the name of several muscles,
&.c. of the spine.
SPINDLE, in Geometry, a solid body generated by
the revolution of some curve line about its base or double
ordinate; in opposition to a conoid, which is generated
by the rotation of the curve about its axis or absciss,
perpendicular to its ordinate. The spindle is denomina¬
ted circular, elliptic, hyperbolic, or parabolic, according
to the figure of its generating curve.
SPINDLE-tree. See Euonymus, Botany Index.
SPINE, Sfina Dorsi. See Anatomy, N° 30.
Spine. See Spin^e.
SPINET, or Sptnnet, a musical instrument ranked
in the second or third place among harmonious instru¬
ments. It consists of a chest or belly made of the most
porous and resinous wood to be found, and a table of
fir glued on slips of wood called summers, which bear
on the sides. On the table are raised two little promi¬
nences or bridges, wherein are placed so many pins as
there are chords or strings to the instrument. It is
played on by two ranges of continued keys, tltte former
range being the order of the diatonic scale, and that be¬
hind the order of the artificial notes or semitones. The
keys are so many flat pieces of wood, which, touched
and pressed down at the end, make the other raise a
4
jack which strikes and sounds the strings by means of spinet
the end of a crow’s quill, wherewith it is armed. The ||
30 first strings are of brass, the other more delicate ones J-piioiim
of steel or iron-wire ; they are all stretched over the
two bridges already mentioned. The figure of the spi¬
net is a long square or parallelogram ; some call it an
harp couched, and the harp an inverted spinet. See tlw
article Harp.
This instrument is generally tuned by the ear, which
method of the practical musicians is founded on a sup¬
position that the ear is a perfect judge of an octave and
a fifth. The general rule is to begin at a certain note,
as C, taken towards the middle of the instrument, and
tuning all the octaves up and down, and also the fifths,
reckoning seven semitones to each filth, by which means
the whole is tuned. Sometimes to the common or fun¬
damental play of the spinet is added another similar on*
in unison, and a third in octave to the first, to make the
harmony the fuller ; they are either played separately
or together by means of a stop : these are called double
or triple spinets ; sometimes a play of violins is added,
by means of a bow, or a few wheels parallel to the keys,
which press the strings and make the sounds last as long
as the musician pleases, and heighten and soften them
more or less, as they are more or less pressed. 'J It*
harpsichord is a kind of spinet, only with another dis¬
position of the keys (see the article Harpsichord).
The instrument takes its name from the small quill end*
which touch the strings, resembling spince or thorns.
SPINIFEX, a genus of plants belonging to the class
oipolygumia. See Botany Index.
SPINNING, in Commerce, the act or art of redu¬
cing silk, flax, hemp, wool, hair or other matters, into
thread. Spinning is either performed on the wheel, or
with a distaff and spindle, or with other machines pro¬
per for the several kinds of working. Hemp, flax,
nettle-thread, and other like vegetable matters, are Bo
be wetted in spinning : silks, wools, &c. are spun dry,
and do not need water ; yet there is a way of spinning
or reeling silk as it comes off the cases or balls, wher*
hot and even boiling water is to be used (see Silk).
The vast variety, and the importance of those branches
of our manufactures, which are produced Irom cotton,
wool, and flax, spun into yarn, together with the cheap¬
ness of provisions, and the low price of labour in many
foreign countries, which are our rivals in trade, liave oc¬
casioned many attempts at home to render spinning more
easy, cheap, and expeditious ; lor which see CorYO.v-
Spinning and Cotton Mills.
To give an intelligible and accurate description of a
cotton mill would be abundant employment for a vo¬
lume. Our limits admit of nothing like this; but as
we are certain that many of our readers have viewed a
cotton mill with wonder, but not with intelligence, or
with leisure to trace the steps by which the wool from
the bag ultimately assumes the form of a very fine thread.
Bewildered by such a complication of machinery, all in
rapid motion, very few, we imagine, are able to recollect
with distinctness and intelligence the essential part of
the progress by which the form of the cotton is so won¬
derfully changed. Such readers will not think a page
or two misemployed, if they are thereby able 10 undiv*
stand this particular, to which all the rest ol the process
is subservient.
We pass over the operation of carding, by which a 1
Shnin
tire clots and inequalities of the cotton wool are remo-
 ved, and the whole is reduced to an uniform thin fleece
about 20 inches broad. This is gradually detached
h-om the finishing card, and, if allowed to hang down
from it, would pile up on the floor as long as the mill
continues to work ; but it is guided off from the card,
very tenderly, in a horizontal direction, by layin<>- its
detached end over a roller, which is slowly turned round
by the machine. Another roller lies above the fleece
pressing it down by its weight. By this pressure, a
gentle hold is taken of the fleece, and therefore the slow
motion of the rollers draws it gently from the card at
the same rate as it is disengaged by the comb ; but be¬
tween the card and the rollers a set of smooth pins are
placed in two rows, leading from the card to the rollers
and gradually approaching each other as we approach
the rollers. By these pins the broad fleece is hemmed
in on both sides, and gradually contracted to a thick roll;
and in this state passes between the rollers, and is com¬
pressed in a pretty firm flat riband, about two inches
broad, which falls oft from the rollers, and piles up in
ueep tinplate cans set below to receive it.
It is upon this stripe or riband of cotton ivool that
the operation of spinning begins. The general effect
ol the spinning process is to draw out this massive roll,
and to twist it as it is drawn out. But this is not to
be done by the fingers, pulling out as many cotton fibres
at once as are necessary for composing a thread of the
intended fineness, and continuing this manipulation regu¬
larly across the whole end of the riband, and thus, as it
were, nibbling the whole of it away. The fingers must
be directed, for this purpose, by an attentive eye. But
m performing this by machinery, the whole riband must
be drawn out together, and twisted as it is drawn. This
lequiies great art, and very delicate management. It
cannot he done at once ; that is, the cotton roll cannot
first be stretched or drawn out to the length that is ul¬
timately produced from a tenth of an inch of the roll
and then be twisted. There is not cohesion enough for
tins purpose ; we should only break off a bit of the roll
and could make no farther use of it. The fibres of cot¬
ton are very little implicated among each other in the
l oll, because the operation of carding has laid them al-
mos’t paiallel in the roll; and though compressed a little
by its contraction from a fleece of 20 inches to a riband
or only two, and afterwards compressed between the
^charging rollers of the carding machine, yet they co¬
here so slightly, that a few fibres may be drawn out
without bringing many others along with them. For
these reasons, the whole thickness and breadth of two or
tiree inches of the riband is stretched to a very minute
quantity, and then a very slight degree of twist’is given
it, viz. about three turns in the inch j so that it shall
now compose an extremely soft and spungy cylinder,
which cannot be called a thread or cord, because it has
scarcely any firmness, and is merely rounder and much
slenderer than before, being stretched to about thrice its
tornier length. It is now called slab, or roove.
Although it be still extremely tender, and will not
carry a weight of two ounces, it is much more cohesive
than before, because the twist given to it makes all the
longitudinal fibres bind each other together, and com¬
press those which lie athwart; therefore it will require
more force to pull a fibre from among the rest, but still
Uot nearly enough to break. it. In drawing out a single
C 591 ]
s p I
fibre, o hers are drawn out along with it; and if we
taKe hold of the whole assemblage, in two places, about
an inch or two inches asunder, we shall find that we
may draw it to near twice its length without any risk
of its separating in any intermediate part, or becoming
much smaller in one part than another. It seems to
yield equably over all.
Such is the state of the slab or roove of the first for¬
mation. It is usually called the preparation; and the
operation of spinning is considered as not yet begun.
Ibis preparation is the most tedious, and requires more
attendance and hand labour than any subsequent part of
the process. For the stripes or ribands from which it
is made are so light and bulky, that a few yards only
can oe piled up in the cans set to receive them. A per¬
son must therefore attend each thread of slab, to join
fresh stripes as they are expended. It is also the most
important in the manufacture : for as every inch of th«
slab meets with precisely the same drawing and the same
twisting in the subsequent parts of the process, therefore
every inequality and fault in the slab (indeed in the
fleece as itquits the finishing card) will continue throuo-h
the whole manufacture. The spinning of cotton yarn
now divides into two branches. The first, performed
by what are called jennies, perfectly resembles the an¬
cient spinning with the distaff and spindle.; the other
. , spinning of twist, is an imitation of the spinning
with the fly-wheel. They differ in the same manner as
the spinning with the old wool or cotton wheel differs
from the spinning with the flax-wheel. Mr Arkwright’s
chief invention, the substitution of machinery for the im¬
mediate work of the human finger, is seen only in the
manufacture of twist. We shall therefore confine our
attention to this.
. T|ie rest of the process is little more than a repeti¬
tion of that, gone through in making the first slab or
roove. It is formed on bobins. These are set on the
back part of the drawing frame ; and the end of the
slaffps brought forwards toward the attending work-
man. As it comes forward, it is stretched or drawn to
about four-thirds of its funner length, or lengthened one-
tlmd ; and is then twisted about twice as much as be¬
fore, and m this state wound up on another bobin. In
some mills two rooves, after having been properly drawn
are brought together through one hole, and twisted into
one ; but we believe that, in the greater number of
mills, this is deferred to the second drawing. It is on¬
ly after the first drawing that-the produce of the opera¬
tion gets the name of slab ; before this it is called pre¬
paration, or roove, or by some other name. The slab is
still a very feeble, soft, and delicate yarn, and will not
carry mucli^ more weight than it did before in the form
yd roove. The perfection of the ultimate thread or yarn
depends on this extreme softness; for it is this only
which makes it susceptible of an equable stretching ; all
the fibres yielding and separating alike.
.The next operation is the second drawing, which no
way differs from the first, except in the different pro-
portionings of the lengthening, and the proportion be¬
tween the lengthening and the subsequent twist. On
these points we cannot give any very distinct infor¬
mation. It is different in different mills, and with dif+
ferent species of cotton wool, as may be easily imagin¬
ed. The immediate mechanism or manipulation must
be skilfully accommodated to the nature of that friction
whiciti
S P I
[ 592 ]
S P I
Suinnhist wlilcli the fibres of cotton exert on each other, ena-
t_Lv L bling one of them to pull others along with it. This
is greatly aided by the contorted curled form of a cot¬
ton fibre, and a considerable degree of elasticity which
it possesses. In this respect it greatly resembles woollen
fibres, and differs exceedingly from those of flax : and
it is for this reason that it is scarcely possible to spin
flax in this way : its fibres become lank, and take any
shape by the slightest compression, especially when
damp in the slightest degree. But besides this, the sur¬
face of a cotton fibre has a harshness or roughness, which
greatly augments their mutual friction. 1 his is pro¬
bably the reason why it is so unfit for tents and other
dressings for wounds, and is refused by the surgeon
even in the meanest ho-pitals. But this harshness and
its elasticity fit it admirably for the manufacture of
yarn. Even the shortness of the fibre is favourable ;
and the manufacture would hardly he possible if the
fibre were thrice as long as it generally is. If it be
just so long that in the finished thread a fibre will rather
break than come out from among the rest, it is plain
that no additional length can make the yarn any strong¬
er with the same degree of compression hy twining. A
longer fibre will indeed give the same firmness of adhe¬
rence with a smaller compression. This would be an
advantage in any other yarn ; but in cotton yarn the
compression is already as slight as can be allowed-, were
it less, it would become woolly and rough hy the smallest
usatie, and is already too much disposed to tear.le out.
It can hardly be used as sewing thread. Now suppose
the fibres much longer ; some of them may chance to
he stretched'along the slab through their whole length.
If the slab is pulled in opposite directions, by pinching
it at each end of such fibres, it is plain that it will not
stretch till this fibre he broken or drawn out; and that
while it is in its extended state, it is acting on the other
fibres in a very unequal manner, according to their
positions, and renders the whole apt to separate more
irregularly. This is one great obstacle to the spinning
of flax by similar machinery ; and it has hitherto pre¬
vented (we believe) the working up of any thing hut
the shorts or tow, which is separated from the long fine
flax in the operation of hatcbeling.
A third, and sometimes even a fourth, drawing is
given to the slab formed on the boh ins of this second
operation. The slab produced is now a slender, but still
extremely soft cord, susceptible of considerable exten¬
sion, without risk ot separation, and without the small¬
est chance of breaking a single fibre in the attempt. In
one or more of the preparatory drawings now described,
two, and sometimes three slabs, of a former drawing,
are united before the twist is given them. The prac¬
tice is different in different mills. It is plain, that un¬
less great care be taken to preserve the slab extremely
soft and compressible during the whole process, the sub¬
sequent drawing becomes more precarious, and we run a
risk of at last making a bad loose thread instead of a
uniform and simple yarn, buch a thread will have very
little lateral connection, and will not hear much hand¬
ling without separating into strands. The perfection of
the yarn depends on having the last slab as free of all
appearance of strands as possible.
The last operation is the spinning this slab. This
.hardly differs from the foregoing drawings in any thing
bat the twist that is given it after the last stretching in
.5
its length. This is much greater than any of the pre- Spinnbi
ceding, being intended to give the yarn hardness and '—“v"*
firmness, so that it will now break rather than stretch
anv more.
The reader, moderately acquainted with mechanics,
cannot hut perceive that each of the operations now
described, by which the rcove is changed into the soft
slab, and each of these into one slenderer and somewhat
firmer, by alternately teazling out and twining the soft
cord, is a substitute for a single pull of the finger and
thumb of the spinster, which she accommodates precise¬
ly to the peculiar condition of the leek of wool which
she touches at the moment. She can follow this through
all its irregularities; and perhaps no two succeeding
plucks are alike. But when we cannot give this mo¬
mentary attention to every minute portion, we must be
careful to introduce the roove in a state of perfect uni¬
formity; and then every inch being treated in the same
manner, the final result will be equable—the yarn will
be uniform.
We are now to describe the mechanism hy which all
this is effected. But we do not mean to describe a cot¬
ton mil! ; we only mean to describe what comes into
immediate contact with the thread ; and in so doing,
to confine ourselves to what is necesary for making the
reader perceive its ability to perform the required task.
We see many cases where individuals can apply this
knowledge to useful purposes. More than this would,
we think, be improper, in a national point of view.
Let ABC (fig. 1.) represent the section of a roller, p,ate
whose pivot 13 does not turn in a pivot hole, but in the CCg'“1I‘
bottom of a long narrow notch DE, cut in an iron
standard, or A e is the section of another iron roller,
whose pivot d is in the same notches at each end, while
the roller itself lies or rests on the roller ABC below
it. The surfaces of these rollers are fluted lengthwise
like a column : only the flutings are very small and
sharp, like deep strokes of engraving very close toge¬
ther. It is plain, that if the roller ABC be made to
turn slowly round its axis hy machinery, in the direc¬
tion ABC (as expressed by the dart), the roughness of
the flutings will take hold of the similar roughness ol
the upper roller a be, and carry it round also in the
direction of the dart, tvhile its pivots are engaged in
the notches DE, which they cannot quit. If there¬
fore we introduce the end I of the cotton string or ri¬
band, formed by the carding machine, it will he pulled
in by this motion, and will be delivered out on the other
side at H, considerably compressed by the weight of the
upper roller, which is of iron, and is also pressed down
by a lever which rests on its pivots, or other propel
places, and is loaded with a weight. 1 here is nothing
Ho hinder this motion of the riband thus compressed
between the rollers, and it will therefore be drawn
through from the cans. The compressed part at H
would hang down, and be piled upon the floor as it i*
drawn through ; but it is not permitted to hang down
in this manner, hut is brought to another pair of sharp
fluted iron rollers K andL. Supposing this pair of rollers
to be of the same diameter, and to turn round in the
same time, and in the same direction, with the rollers
ABC, abc; it is plain that K and L drag in the com¬
pressed riband at I, and would deliver it on the ether
side at M, still more compressed. But the roller K i*
made fbv the wheelwork) to turn round more swift r
than
pumnig.
^ ^ [ 593 ]
The difference of velocity at the surface frame.
than ABC
of the rollers is, however, very small, seldomexceedhm
one part m 12 or 15. But the consequence of this dif¬
ference is, that the skein of cotton HI will be lenothen-
ed in the same proponion 5 for the upper roll expres¬
sing on the under ones with a considerable force, their
sharp flu tings take good hold of the cotton between
them ; and since K and L take up the cotton faster
tnan ABC and abc deliver it out, it must either be for¬
cibly pulled through between the first rollers, or it must
be stretched a little by the fibres slipping among each
other, or it must break. When the extension is «o very
moderate as we have just now said, the only effect of it
is merely to begin to draw the fibres (which at present
are lying in every possible direction) into a more favour¬
able^ position for the subsequent extensions.
The fibres being thus drawn together into a more
favourable position, the cotton is introduced between a
third pair of rollers O, P, constructed in the same way,
but so moved by the wheelwork that the surface of O
moves nearly or fully twice as fast as the surface of K.
I he roller P being also well loaded, they take a firm
hold of the cotton, and the part between K and O is
nearly or fully doubled in its length, and now requires
a little twining to make it roundish, and to consolidate
it a little.
It is therefore led sloping downwards into a hole or
eye in the upper pivot of the first fly, called a jack. This
turns round an upright axis or spindle ; the lower end
of which has a pully on it to give it motion by means
ot a band or belt, which passes round a drum that is
turned by the machinery. This jack is of a very inge¬
nious and complicated construction. It is a substitute
lor the fly of the common spinning wheel. If made
precisely in the form of that fly, the thread, being so
very bmky and spongy, and unable to bear close pack¬
ing on the bobin, would swag out by the whirling of the
liy, and would never coil up. The bobin therefore is
made to lie horizontally j and this occasions the compli¬
cation, by the difficulty of giving it a motion round
a horizontal axis, in order to coil up the twisted roove.
Mr Arkwright has accomplished this in a very ingenious
manner ; the essential circumstances of which we shall
here briefly describe. A is a roller of hard wood, ha¬
ving its surface cut into sharp flutes longitudinally. On
the axis, which projects through the side of the general
frame, there is a pulley P, connected by a band with
another puliey Q, turning with the horizontal axis
. . . ax*s ‘s niade to turn by a contrivance
which is different in every different cotton mill. The
simplest of all is to place above the pulley C (which is
turned by the great band of the machinery, and thus
gives motion to the jack), a thin circular disc 1), loose
upon the axis, so as to turn round on it without ob¬
struction. If this disc exceed the pulley in breadth
a out T5Bi ol an inch, the broad belt which turns the
pulley will also turn it; but as its diameter is greater
than that of the pulley, it will turn somewhat slower,
and will therefore have a relative motion with respect
to the axis Qlt. This can be employed in order to
give that axis a very slow motion, such as one turn of
it for 20 or 30 of the jack. This we leave to the in¬
genuity ot the reader. The bobiu B, on which the
roove is to be coiled up, lies on this roller, its pivots
passing through upright slits in the sides of the general
Vol. XIX. Part II. S f
s p I
It lies on A, and is moved round by it, in the s.inni,
same manner as the uppermost of a pair of drawing rol-
lers lies on the under one, and receives motion from it.
It is,evident that the fluted surface of A, by turning
slowly round, and carrying the weight of the bobin,
compresses a little the cotton that is between them ;
and us flu tings, being sharp, take a slight hold of it
and cause it to turn round also, and thus coil up the*
roove pulling it in through the hole E in the upper
pivot (which resembles the fore pivot or eye of a spin¬
ning wheel fly) in so gentle a manner as to yield when¬
ever the motion of the bobin is too great for the speed
witn winch the cotton skein is discharged by the rollers
O and P.-N. B. The axis QR below, also gives mo¬
tion to a guide within the jack, which leads the roove
gradually from one end of the bobin to the other, and
back again, so as to coil it with regularity till the bo-
, !s J1*1.1, whole of this internal mechanism of
the jackals commonly shut up in a tin cylinder. This
is particularly necessary when the whirling motion must
be rapid, as in the second and third drawings. If open
the jacks would meet with much resistance from the air’
winch would load the mill with a great deal of useless
work.
The reader is desired now to return to the beginning
ot the process, and to consider it attentively in its differ¬
ent stages. We apprehend that the description is suffi¬
ciently perspicuous to make him perceive the efficacy of
the mechanism to execute all that is wanted, and prepare
a slab that is uniform, soft, and still very extensible ; in
short, fit for undergoing the last treatment, by which it
is made a fine and firm yarn.
As this pa it of the process differs from each of the
former, merely by the degree of twist that is given to
the yarn, and as this is given by means of a fly, not ma¬
terially different from that of the spinning wheel for flax,
we do not think it at all necessary to say any thing more
about it.
The intelligent reader is surely sensible that the yarn
produced in this way must be exceedingly uniform. The
uniformity really produced even exceeds all expectation:
for even although there be some small inequalities in the
carded fleece, yet if these are not matted clots, which
tne card could not equalise, and only consist of a little
more thickness of cotton in some places than in others
w nen such a piece of the stripe comes to the first roller*
it will he rather more stretched by the second, and again
by the bobin, after the first very slight twining. That
this may be done with greater certainty, the weights of
the first rooving rollers are made very small, so that the
middle part of the skein can be drawn through, while
the outer parts remain fast held.
It is said that a pound of the finest Bourbon cotton
has been spun into a yarn extending a few yards beyond
119 miles! Ta
These contrivances have in some parts of Scotland tiZTof'the
been applied to the spinning of flax. Society fov
Spinning Wheel. A very considerable improvementtkeEncou-
has been made by Mr Antis of Fulneck near Leeds
the common spinning wheel, it is well known, that ’
hitherto much time has been lost by stopping the wheel
in order to shift the thread from one staple on the flyer
to another; but in Mr Antis’s wheel the bobin is made
to move backwards and forwards, so as to prevent the
necessity of this perpetual interruption, as well as to ob-
. 4F viate
S P I
[ 594 ]
S P I
Spinning
II
Spinoza.
viate the clanger of breaking the thread and losing the
end. This is effected by the axis of the great wheel
being extended through the pillar next the spinner, and
formed into a pinion of one leaf A (fig. 2.), which takes
into a wheel B, seven inches diameter, having on its
periphery 97 teeth 5 so that 97 revolutions of the great
wheel cause one of the lesser wheel. On this lesser wheel
is fixed a ring of wire ccc; which, being supported on
six legs, stands obliquely to the wheel itself, touching it
at one part, and projecting nearly three quarters of an
inch at the opposite one : near the side of this wheel is
an upright lever C, about 15 inches long, moving on a
centre, three inches from its lower extremity, and con¬
nected at the top to a sliding bar D *, from which rises
an upright piece of brass E, which working in the notch
of a pulley drives the bobin F backward and forward,
according as the oblique wire forces a pin G in or out,
as the wheel moves round. To regulate and assist the
alternate motion, a weight H hangs by a line to the
sliding bar, and passing over a pulley I rises and falls as
the bohin advances or recedes, and tends constantly to
keep the pin in contact with the wire. It is evident,
from this description, that one staple only is wanted to
the flyer ; which, being placed near the extremity K,
the thread passing through it is by the motion of the
bohin laid regularly thereon. For this invention the
Society instituted at London for the Encouragement of
Arts. &c. gave the author a premium of 20 guineas.
SPINOSUS caulis, in Botanyy astern covered with
strong woody prickles, whose roots are not superficial,
but proceeding from the body of the stem. When ap¬
plied to a leaf, spinosum folium, it indicates the margin
running out into rigid points or prickles, quod margins
exit in acumina duriora, rigida, pungentia.
SPINOUS, in Botany. See Spinosus.
Spixous Fishes, such as have some of the rays of the
back fins running out into thorns or prickles, as the
perch, &c.
SPINOZA, Benedict, was born at Amsterdam
the 24th November 1632. His father was a Jew of
Portugal, by profession a merchant. After being taught
Latin by a physician, he applied himself for many years
to the study of theology, and afterwards devoted him¬
self entirely to philosophy. He began very early to be
dissatisfied with the Jewish religion •, and as his temper
was open, he did not conceal his doubts from the syna¬
gogue. The Jews, it is said, offered to tolerate his in¬
fidelity, and even promised him a pension of a thousand
dollars per annum, if he would remain in their society,
and continue outwardly to practise their ceremonies.
But if this offer was really made, he rejected it, per¬
haps from his aversion to hypocrisy, or rather because
he could not endure the restraint which it would have
imposed. He also refused being constituted heir to an
independent fortune, to the prejudice of the natural
claimants ; and he learned the art of polishing glass
for spectacles, that he might subsist independently of
every one.
He would probably have continued in the synagogue
for some time longer, had it not been for an accident.
As he was returning home one evening from the the¬
atre he was stabbed by a Jew: the wound was slight j
but the attempt naturally led Spinosa to conclude that
the Jews had formed the design of assassinating him.
After leaving the synagogue he became a Christian,
3
and frequented the churches of the Lutherans and Cal¬
vinists. He now devoted himself more than ever to Ins'1
favourite philosophical speculations ; and finding him¬
self frequently interrupted by the visits of his friends,
he left Amsterdam, and settled at the Hague, where he
often continued for three months together without ever
stirring from his lodging. During his residence in that
city, his hostess, who was a Lutheran, asked him one
day if she could be saved while she continued in her re¬
ligion ? “ Yes (replied Spinoza) provided you join to
your religion a peaceable and virtuous life. 1 Iiom this
answer it has been concluded that he was a Christian
in appearance only, while in reality he regarded all re¬
ligions as indifferent. But this conclusion would be
too severe, even if the woman had been a IVIahometan.
His Tractatus Theologico-politicus, which was published
about that time, is a better proof of his insincerity than
a thousand such conclusions 5 for this book contains all
those doctrines in embryo which were afterwards un¬
folded in his Opera Posthuma, and which are general¬
ly considered as a system of atheism.
His fame, which had now spread far and wide, obli¬
ged him sometimes to interrupt his philosophical reve¬
ries. Learned men visited him from all quarters. \\ bile
the prince of Conde commanded the French army in
Utrecht, he intreated Spinoza to visit him ; and though
he was absent when the philosopher arrived, he return¬
ed immediately, and spent a considerable time with him
in conversation. J he elector Palatine offered to make
Spinoza professor of philosophy at Heidelberg 5 which,
however, he declined.
He died of a consumption at the Hague on the 21st
February 1677, at the age of 45. His life was a per¬
petual contradiction to his opinions. He was tempe¬
rate, liberal, and remarkably disinterested ; he was so¬
ciable, affable, and friendly. His conversation was
agreeable and instructive, and never deviated from the
strictest propriety.
The only edition of the works of Spinoza that we
have seen is in two volumes small 4to ; the former of
which was printed at Hamburgh in the year 1670, and
the latter we know not where, in 1677, a few months
after his death. In the Tractatus Theologico-politicus,
already mentioned, he treats of pi'ophecy and prophets;
and of the call of the Hebrews, whom he affirms to have
been distinguished from other nations only by the ad¬
mirable form of their government, and the fitness of
their laws for long preserving their political state, lie
is likewise of opinion, or at least pretends to be so, that
God may, in what we call a supernatural way, have
given political institutes to other nations as well as to
the Hebrews, who were, he says, at no time a peculiar
people to the Supreme Lord of heaven and earth j for.
Spinozu,
according to him, all history, sacred and profane, testi
ery nation was blessed with the light of pro
ties that every ..— ——    
phecy. That light, indeed, if his notions of it be just,
was of very little value. He labours to prove, that t e
prophets were distinguished from other men only by t eir
piety and virtue ; that their revelations depended wholly
on their imaginations and the dispositions of then min sj
that they were often grossly ignorant and highly prfJu
diced j that the speculative opinions of one prop let are
seldom in unison with those of another; and that t eir
writings are valuable to us only for the excellent ru e
which he acknowledges they contain respecting the
n
^ ^ ^ C 595 1 S P I
** °f •Plet' ?i- the ■ ,,ro^,b t0 tre“t °f W»» of «k? sect, who wished to exeiode from
it tlie books of i roverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Ezekiel, as
; W
■ ^ r^ccua to ireat ot
t ie divine Jaw and of miracles5 and endeavours to prove
tliat no miracle, in the proper sense of the word, can
have been at any time performed ; because every thins
happens by a necessity of nature, the result of the di¬
vine decrees, which are from all eternity necessary
themselves. He acknowledges, that in the Scriptures,
wind, he professes to admit as true history, miracles
are often mentioned j but he says that they were only
singular events which the sacred historians imagined to
be miraculous : and he then gives some very extraordi¬
nary rules for interpreting the books of the Old and
Wew testaments where they treat of miracles, or ap¬
pear to foretel future events. See our articles Miracle
and rp.oPHECY.
Having thus divested the Scriptures of every thinn-
characteristic of a revelation from heaven, he next calls
in question their authenticity. He affirms, in contra-
diclion to the clearest internal evidence, that the Penta¬
teuch and all the other historical books must have been
written by one man ; and that man, he thinks, could
not have flourished at a period earlier than that of Ezra.
Hie grounds of this opinion are unworthy of the ta-
lents of Spinoza ; for that he had talents is incontro¬
vertible. His principal objection to the authenticity of
the Pentateuch is, that Moses is made to speak of him¬
self, in the third person, and to talk of the Cannanites
being then in the land j and because he finds in his
writings, as well as in the books of Joshua, Judges,
Ituth, Samuel, &c. places designed by names which he
supposes they had not in the early ages of which these
booRs contain the history, he concludes that these wri¬
tings must be one compilation from ancient records
made at a very late period ; more especially as the au-
thor^ften speaks of things of great antiquity remaining
to this day. The books of Esther, Ezra, Nehemiah,
and Chronicles, must have been compiled, he thinks,
under the Maccabees ; and he seems to consider as of
equal value with them the story of Tobit, and the other
two apocryphal treatises infilled the Wisdom of Solo¬
mon and Ecclesiasticus.
Ibese senseless cavils, worthy only of one of those
modern Ireethinkers whose learning, in the opinion of
-bishop Warburton, is not sufficient to carry them even
to the confines of rational doubt, we have sufficiently
obviated in another place (see Scripture, N° 8 
31*)- i Spinoza urges them against the other books of
the Old Testament. The prophecies of Isaiah, Jere¬
miah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Hosea, and Jonah, are, as w-e
have them, only fragments, he says, of the writings of
those men compiled by the Pharisees under the second
temple from ancient and voluminous records.
In the midst of tins dogmatical scepticism, if we may
use such a phrase, he bears such a testimony to the last
chapters of the book of Daniel, as we should not have
looked for in the writings either of a Jew or of a Deist.
After detailing the various hypotheses which in his time
were held respecting the author and the intention of the
book of iob ; in which, he says, Mcmus is called Sa-
Tan, he proceeds in these words: Transeo ad Da-
mehs 11 brum ; hie sine dubio ex cap. 8. ipsius Danielis
senpta continet. Undenam autem priora septem capi¬
ta descripta fuerint, nescio * 3” thus admitting the fa
Spinoza.
they had actually excluded others of equal value 3 but
tlie three books in question were inserted by the influ¬
ence of two of the rabbis of greater wisdom and inte-
gnty than the rest.
That so paradoxical a writer, who had been origin¬
ally a Jew, and was now almost a Deist, should have
treated the New Testament with as little ceremony as
the Did, will not surprise the intelligent reader. He
egins his remarks, however, with affirming, that no
man can peruse the Christian Scriptures, and not ac¬
knowledge the apostles to have been prophets 3 but he
t imks that their mode of prophesying was altogether
different from that which prevailed under the Mosaic
dispensation j and that the gift, whatever it was, for¬
sook them the instant that they left off preaching, as
their writings have to him every appearance of human
compositions. This distinction between Christian and
Jewish prophecy is the more wonderful, that he founds
it principally on the dissimilarity of style visible in the
writings of the Old and New Testaments ; though, in
his second chapter, which treats of the works of the
Jewish prophets, he says expressly, “Stylus deinde
prophetiae pro eloquentia cujusque prophetic variabat,
prophetiae emm Ezekielis et Amosis non sunt, ut ilia;
Tsaiae, Nachumi, eleganti, sed rudiore stylo scriptee.”
iliat the Hebrew scholar may be convinced of the
truth of this remark, he recommends to him to study
diligently the writings of these prophets, and to consi¬
der the occasions on which their prophecies were utter¬
ed : “ Ome si omnia reetd perpendentur (says he) fa-
cile ostendant, Deum nullum habere stylum peculiarem
dieendi, sed tantum pro eruditione, et capacitate pro¬
phetic eatenus esse elegantem, compendiosum, severum,
rudem, prolixum, et obscurum.” Another objection
brought by Spinoza against the prophecies of the New
-testament arises from the authors of them having been
at al times masters of themselves. This, says he, was
peculiarly the case of St Paul, who often confirms his
doctrine by reasoning, which the Jewish prophets never
condescended to do, as it would have submitted their
dogmas to the examination oi private judgment. Yet
with singular inconsistency, he affirms, that the Jewish
prophets could not know that the impressions made on
their imaginations proceeded from God, but by a si<m
given them, which by their own reason or judgment
they knew would never be vouchsafed to an impious or
a wicked man.
After these very free remarks on the Scriptures of
the Old and New Testaments, he naturally enough ex¬
presses a suspicion, that by those who consider the Bible
as the epistle of God sent from heaven to men, he will
be thought to have sinned against the Holy Ghost by
vilifying his dictates. I his leads him to inquire in what
sense the Scriptures are the word of God 3 and he
gravely determines them to be so only as they actually
contribute to make men more virtuous and holy. It is
not enough that they are Calculated to improve virtue
and holiness for should the words of the languages in
which they are written acquire in process of time a sio--
mfication different from what they had originally; should
mankind lose all knowledge of these languages; or even
CnnillH fl-xavr 4 M   1 X l. I If 1 .
Kcftjft p luerint, nescio ; thus admitting the fa- mankind lose all knowledge of these languages • or eve-.
«jo. ‘ ^ LPr°phecy of t,1‘e seventy weeks- canon of should they agree to neglect the books& whether f
e c estament, he says, was finally settled by rab- ignorance or from wilfulness—those books would cease
4^2 t0
S P 1
Soinoza. to be the avoid of God, and beoome nothing better
■ ' than waste paper and ink j just as the two tables, wine i
Moses broke on observing the idolatry of his country¬
men, Were not the covenant between Jehovah and the
Israelites, but merely two pieces of stone ! 1 he Scrip¬
tures, however, are the work ot God, because they teach
the true religion of which God is the author ; and they
have taught it in such a manner, he says, that it can
never be lost or corrupted whatever become ot the books
of the Old and New Testaments, or of the languages
in which they are written. The whole ot religion, as
the Scriptures themselves testify, consists in the love ot
God above all things, and of our neighbours as our¬
selves : whence it follows, that we must believe that
God exists, and watcheth over all things by his provi¬
dence } that he is omnipotent, and has decreed the pious
to be ultimately happy, and the impious miserable j and
that our final salvation depends solely on His grace or
favour. These truths, with their necessary consequen¬
ces, are the word ol God : they are clearly taught in the
Scriptures, and can never be corrupted 5 but every thing
else in these volumes is vain, he says, and ol no greater
importance to us than facts related in any other ancient
and authentic history.
Such are the opinions which were entertained of re¬
velation by a man, whom a Crilic, writing in a Christian
country, and professing to be a zealous Christian him¬
self, has lately pronounced to have been a chosen vessel.
For what purpose he was chosen it is not easy to con¬
ceive. His religion, as it appears in the Tractatus, is
the worst kind ol Ueism, artd ins politics are such as
our monthly critics are not wont to teach, and such as
we trust shall never be seriously taught by any British
subject. By the law of nature, he says, every man be¬
fore the formation of civil government has an unques¬
tionable right to whatever appears eligible either to his
reason or to his appetites 5 and may get possession of it
by intreaty, by violence, \iyfraud, or by any other means
attended with less trouble to himself (sive vi, sive dob,
sive precibus, sive (juocunqne demum modo facilius pote-
rit) ; and may treat as an enemy every person who
shall attempt to obstruct bis purpose. But when men
agree to devolve this right upon others, and to consti¬
tute a political state, which both reason and appetite
must persuade them to do, then are they in duty bound
to obey every mandate of the government, however ab¬
surd it may be (omnia mandata tametsi absurdissuna'),
as long as that government can enforce its edicts, and
no longer ; for according to him, right and power are so
inseparably united, that when a government loses its
power, it has no longer the smallest claim to obedience.
This doctrine, he says, is most obviously just when
taught of democratical governments ; but it is in fact
tioually true of monarchies and aristocracies: “Nam
quisquis summam habet potestatem, sive unus sit, sive
panel, sive denique omnes, cerium est ei summum jus
quicquid velit itnperandi, competere : et praitcrea quis¬
quis potestatem sc defendendi, sive sponte, sive vi coae-
tus, in alium transtulit, eum suo jure naturali plane ees-
sisse, et conscquenter eidem ad omnia absolute parere
decrevisse quod omnia praestare tenetur, quamdiu rex,
sive nobiles, sive populus summam, quam acceperunt,
* Tracta- potestatem, quae juris transferendi fundamentum fait,
tus, cap. conserva,nt j nec his plura addere opus esl*.” We hearti-
X Vj, j!), 1 0 l •
S P I
ly agree with him, that to this precious conclusion it is spine®,
needless to add a single word. v**-
Taking our leave therefore of his Tractatus Thcoh-
gieo-politicus, we shall now give our readers a short ac¬
count of his Opera Posthuma. These consist of, 1. E-
THtCA, more geometrico demonstrata; 2. Politica 'y
3. De EmENDATIONK InTELLECTUS \ 4. EPISTOI.ffi,
et ad eas Bespoksiones ; 5. Compendium Gramma-
tices Lingua Hebr-Eas.
The Ethica are divided into five parts, which treat
in order, de Deo ; denatura et origine mentis ; de ori-
gine et natura affectuum ; de servitute humana,seu
de affectuum viribusj de POTENTIA INTELLECTUS,
ssu de libertate humana. As the author professes
to tread in the footsteps of the geometers, and to deduce
all his conclusions by rigid demonstration from a few
self-evident truths, he introduces his work, after the
manner of Euclid, with a collection of definitions and
axioms. These are couched in terms generally ambi¬
guous ; and therefore the reader will do well to consider
attentively in what sense, if in any, they can be admit¬
ted y for it will not be found easy to grant his premises,
and at the same time refuse his conclusions. His de¬
finition of substance, for instance, is so expressed as to
admit of two senses ; in one of which it is just, whilst in
the other it is the parent of the most impious absurdi¬
ty. We shall give it in his own words : “ Per sub-
stantiam intelligo id, quod in se est, et per se concipi-
tur: hoc est id, cujus conceptus non indiget conceptu
alterius rei, a quo formari debeat.” If by this be
meant, that a substance is that which we can conceive
by itself without attending to any thing else, or think¬
ing of its formation, the definition, we believe, will be
admitted by every reflecting mind as sufficiently distin¬
guishing the thing defined from an attribute, which, he
says, is that which we perceive oj a substance, and
which we certainly cannot conceive as existing by it¬
self. Thus the writer of this article can shut his eyes
and contemplate in idea the small 410 volume now be¬
fore him, without attending to any thing else, or think¬
ing of its paradoxical author, or even of the Great
Being who created the matter both of him and it 5 but
be cannot for an instant contemplate the yellow colour
of its vellum boards without thinking of triple exten¬
sion, or, in other words, of body. The book therefore is
a substance, because conceivable by itself; the colour is
an attribute or quality, because it cannot be conceived
by itself, but necessarily leads to the conception of
something else. But if Spinoza’s meaning be, that no¬
thing is a substance but what is conceived as existing
from eternity, independent of every thing as a cause,
his definition cannot be admitted j for every man con¬
ceives that which in himself thinks, and wills, and is
conscious, as a substance; at the same time that he has
the best evidence possible that he existed not as a con¬
scious, thinking, and active being, from eternity.
H is fourth axiom is thus expressed: “ Eflectus cog-
nitio a cognitione causae dependet, eteandem involvit j
and his fifth, “ Quae nihil commune cum se invicem
habent, etiam per se invicem intelligi non possunt, sive
conceptus unius alterius conceptu m non involvit.” I he
former of these propositions, so far from being self-evi¬
dent, is not even true; and the latter is capable of two
senses very different from each other. That every ef-
J feet
[ 596 f
S P I
S'loza
Herd i
Dia/«^j
God.
feet proceeds from a cause, is indeed an axiom } but
- surely we may know the effect accurately, though AVe
be ignorant of the particular cause from which it oro-
cceds (see Philosophy, N° 36 ; and Physics, N° or,
&c.) ; nor does the knowledge of tlie one by any means
involve the knowledge of the other. If different things
have nothing in common, it is indeed true that the
knowledge of one of them will not give us an adequate
conception of the other; but it will in many cases com¬
pel us to believe, that the other exists or has existed.
A parcel of gunpowder lying at rest has nothing in
common with the velocity of a cannon-ball ; yet when
we know that a ball has been driven with velocity
from a cannon, we infer with certainty that there has
been a parcel of powder at rest in the chamber of that
cannon.
It is upon such ambiguous definitions and axioms as
these that Spinoza has raised his pretended demonstra¬
tions, that one substance cannot produce another ; that
every substance must necessarily be infinite ; that no
substance exists or can be conceived besides God ; and
that extended substance or body is one of the infinite
attributes 0$. QrcA. We shall not waste our own time
or the reader’s with a formal confutation of these im¬
pious absurdities. We trust they are sufficiently con¬
futed in other articles of this work (see Metaphysics,
Part Ifl. Providence, and Theology, Part I.) ; and
whoever wishes for a more particular examination of the
author’s principles, may find it in Dr Clarke’s Demon¬
stration of the Being and Attributes of God. The truth,
however, is, that no man will need the assistance of that
eminent metaphysician to discover the fallacy of the rea¬
soning by which they are attempted to be proved, if he
affix any one precise meaning to the definitions and
axioms, and adhere to that meaning steadily through the
whole process of the pretended demonstrations.
By way of apology for this jargon, it has been late-
jy said, that 46 Spinoza takes the word substance in its
most simple and perfect sense ; which is necessary, as he
writes mathematically, and proposes a simple idea as the
foundation of his theory. What is the proper signifi¬
cation of a substance P It is not that which stands alone,
which has the cause of its existence within itself P I
wish that this simple meaning of the word could be uni-
\ersally admitted in philosophy. Strictly speaking, no
worldly thing is a substance ; since all mutually depend
on each other, and finally on God, who, in this exalted
sense, is the only substance. I he word modification sounds
harsh and improper, and therefore it cannot be expect¬
ed to gain a place in philosophy ; but if the school of
Leibnitz may term matter the appearance of substances,
v.'liy may not Spinoza be allowed a bolder term ? World¬
ly substances are kept in union by divine power, as it
was by divine power that they bad existence. They
represent also, it you please, modified appearances of di¬
vine power; each according to the station, the time,
and the organs, in and with which it appears. The
1 597 ]
S P I
phrase used by Spinoza is concise, and it gives an unity Spinoza,
and simplicity to his w’hole system, however strange itv-—y—“>
may souik! in our ears.”
Iron) this account of Spinozism, one who had never
looked iino the works of the author would be led to
suppose that his system is the same with that of Berke¬
ley ; which, denying the existence of material substance,
attributes all our perceptions of what we call the qua¬
lities oi body to the immediate agency of the Deity on
our minds (see Metaphysics, Part II. chap. 3.). But
Spinoza s doctrine is very different. According to him,
bodies are either attributes or affections of God ; and as
he says there is but one extended substance, be affirms
that substance to be indivisible, and employs a lung
scholium i to prove that those are mistaken who sup-ic™}.-
pose it finite and not essential to the Deity. That we do Prop, xv?
not misrepresent his sentiments, the learned reader will Sec. ’
be convinced by the two following definitions, with
which he introduces that part of his ethics which treats
of the nature and origin of mind. 1. “ Per corpus in-
teliigo modum, qui Dei essentiam, quatenus, ut res ex-
tensa consideratur, certo et determinato mode expri-
mit.” 2. “ Ad essentiam alicujus rei id pertinere dico,
quo dato res necessario ponitur, et quo sublato res neces-
sario tolhtur ; vel id, sine quo res, et vice versa quod
sine re nec esse nec concipi potest.” In conformity
with these definitions, he attempts to prove that God is
an extended as well as a thinking substance ; that as a
thinking substance he is the cause of the idea of a circle*, Prop. vii.
and as an extended substance of the circle itself; and**- fartii,
that the minds of men are not substances, hut certain
modifications of the divine attributes ; or, as he some¬
times expresses it, “ Quod humanae mentis actuale con-
stituit, est idea rei singularis actu existentis.” Hence
he says, it follows that the human mind is a part of the
intellect of the infinite God ; so that when we speak of
the human mind perceiving this or that, we can only-
mean that God, not as he is infinite, but as he appears
in the human mind or constitutes its essence, has this or
that idea ; and when we speak of God’s having this or
that idea, we must conceive of Him not only as consti¬
tuting the human mind, but as, together with it, having
the idea of something else (a). In another place he
tells us, that the human mind is nothing hut the idea
which God has of the human body as actually existing •
that this idea of the body, and the body itself, are one
and toe same thing ; and that thinking and extended
substances are in reality but one and the same substance
which is sometimes comprehended under one attribute
of the Deity, and sometimes under another*. * p vii>
Jl this impious jargon he not Atheism, or as it has xiii. x.x’i.
been sometimes called Pantheism, ive know not what it i>alt ii-
is (see Pantheism). According to Spinoza, there is
hut one substance, which is extended, infinite, and in¬
divisible. That substance indeed he calls God ; but he
labours to prove that it is corporeal ; that there is no
difference between mind and matter; that both are at¬
tributes
(a) Hmc sequitur mentem humanam partem esse infiniti intellectus Dei; ac proinde cum dicimus mentem
humanam hoc vel illud percipere, nihil aliud dicimus quam quod Deus, non quatenus infinitus est, sed quatenus
pei naturam humanae mentis explicatm , sive quatenus humanae mentis essentiam constituit, hanc vel illam habet
i yam . et cum dicimus Deum hanc vel illam id earn habere, non tantum, quatenus naturam humante mentw con
&Utuit; sed quatenus simul cum mente liumana alterius rei etiam habet ideam. Carol, prop. xi. part 2.
S P I
[ 598 ]
S P I
Spinor a.
* Prop,
xcxiii.
Part r.
tributes of the Deity variously considered *, that the hu-
> man soul is a part of the intellect of God ; that the
same soul is nothing but the idea of the human body;
that this idea of the body, and the body itself, are one
and the same thing ; that God could not exist, or be
conceived, were the visible universe annihilated ; and
therefore that the visible universe is either the one sub¬
stance, or at least an essential attribute or modification
of that substance. He sometimes indeed speaks ol the
power of this substance ; but when he comes to explain
himself we find that by power he means nothing but
blind necessity* ; and though he frequently talks of
the wisdom of God, he seems to make use of the word
without meaning. This rve think evident from the
long appendix to his 36th proposition ; in which he
labours to prove that the notion of final causes is an idle
figment of the imagination, since, according to him,
nothing but the prejudices of education could have led
men to fancy that there is any real distinction between
good and evil, merit and demerit, praise and reproach, or¬
der and confusion; that eyes were given them that they
might be enabled to see; teeth for the purpose of chew¬
ing their food; herbs and animals for the matter of that
food ; that the sun was formed to give light, or the ocean
to nourish/sAes. If this be true, it is impossible to dis¬
cover wisdom in the operations of his one substance;
since, in common apprehension, it is the very character¬
istic of folly to act without any end in view.
Such are the reveries of that writer, whose works a
German philosopher of some name has lately recom¬
mended to the public, as calculated to convey to the
mind more just and sublime conceptions of God than
are to be found in most other systems. The recommen¬
dation has had its effect. A literary journalist of our
own, reviewing the volume in which it is given, feels a
peculiar satisfaction from the discovery, that Spinoza,
instead of a formidable enemy to the cause of virtue and
religion, was indeed their warmest friend ; and piously
hopes that we shall become more cautious not to suffer
ourselves to be deceived by empty names, which those
who cannot reason fSir Isaac Newton and Dr Clarke
perhaps) give to those who can (Hobbes, we suppose,
and Spinoza). But though we have the honour to
think on this question with our illustrious countrymen,
we have no desire to depict Spinoza as a reprobate, which
the critic says has often been done by ignorance and
enthusiasm. We admit that his coaduct in active life
was irreproachable ; and for his speculative opinions, he
must stand or fall to his own Master. His Ethics ap¬
pear to us indeed a system shockingly impious ; and in
the tract intitled Politica, power and right are con¬
founded as in the former volume ; but in the treatise
De Intellectus EmendatIONE, are scattered many
precepts of practical wisdom, as well as some judicious
rules for conducting philosophical investigation ; and ive
only regret, that the reader must wade to them through
pages of fatalism, scepticism, and palpable contradic¬
tions. His Compendium Grammatices Linguee Hebrcecr,
though left imperfect, appears to have so much merit,
that it is to be wished he had fulfilled his intention of
writing a philosophical grammar of that language, in¬
stead of wasting his time on abstruse speculations, which
though they seem not to have been injurious to his own
virtue, are certainly not calculated to promote the vir¬
tue of others, or1 to increase the sum of human happi¬
ness.
SPIRAEA, a genus of plants belonging to the class
of icosandria, and to the order of pentagynia ; and in
the natural system arranged under the 26th order, Po-
mncece. See Botany Index.
SPIRAL, in Geometry, a curve line of the circular
kind, which in its progress recedes from its centie..
SPIRE, in Architecture, was used by the ancients
for the base of a column, and sometimes for the astragal
or tore ; but among the moderns it denotes a steeple
that continually diminishes as it ascends, whether coni¬
cally or pyramidally.
SPIRIT, in Metaphysics, an incorporeal being or
intelligence ; in which sense God is said to be a spirit, as
are angels and the human soul. See Metaphysics,
Part III.
Spirit, in Chemistry and Pharmacy, a name applied
to every volatile liquid which is not inspid like phlegm
or water; and hence the distinction into acid, alkaline,
and vinous spirits.
Spirit of JPine. See Alcohol, Chemistry tudex;
Distillation, and Materia Mehica Index.
SPIRITS, or Animal Spirits. See Anatomy,
Part V.N° 136.
SPIRITUAL, in general something belonging to or
partaking of the nature of spirit. See Spirit.
SPIRITUOUS LIQUORS have in all nations been
considered as a proper subject of heavy taxation foi the
support of the state. This has naturally occasioned a
nice examination of their strength. It having been at
last found that this was intimately connected with the
specific gravity, this has been examined with the most
scrupulous attention to every circumstance which could
affect it, so that the duties might be exactly proportion¬
ed to the quantity of spirit in any strong liquor, inde¬
pendent on every other circumstance of flavour or taste,
or other valued quality. The chemist at last found
that the basis of all strong liquors is the same, produced
by the vinous fermentation of pure saccharine matter
dissolved in water. He also found, that whether this
vegetable salt be taken as it is spontaneously formed 111
the juices of plants and fruits, or as it may be formed
or extricated from farinaceous fruits and roots by a cer¬
tain part of the process of vegetation, it produces the
same ardent spirit, which has always the same density
in every mixture with water. The minute portions of
aromatic oils, which are in some degree inseparable from
it, and give it a different flavour according to the sub¬
stance from which it was obtained, are not found to
have any sensible effect on its density or specific gravity.
This seems very completely established in consequence
of the unwearied attempts of the manufactuieis to lessen
the duties payable on their goods by mixtures of other
substances, which would increase their density without
making them less palatable. The vigilance of the re¬
venue officers was no less employed to detect eveiy sue
contrivance. In short, it is now an acknowledged point,
that the specific gravity is an accurate test of t ie
strength. . .
But though this is true in general, we cannot derive
much benefit from it, unless we know the precise re a
tion between the strength and the density 01 a spuitu
ous liquor. Do they increase pam passu, 01 by
Spinor,' ■
|| i).M
SpirituoM, <
Liquors
s P I
Sf uou* Jaw are they connected ? It was natural to expect that
IJwra. equal additions of ardent spirits or alcohol to a given
quantity of water would produce equal diminutions of
density. Areometers were accordingly made on this
principle above 200 years ago, as may he seen in the
works ot Gaspar Schottus, Sturmius, Agricola, and
other old authors. But when mathematical physics be¬
came more generally known, this was easily discovered
to be erroneous; and it was shown (we think first by
Mr Boyle) that equal additions to the specific gravity
would be produced by successively taking out of anv
vessel a certain measure of alcohol and replacing it with
an equal measure of water. This was the most conve¬
nient discovery for all parties, because then the duties
payable on a cask of spirits would be in the exact pro¬
portion ot the diminution of its density. But it was
soon found by those who were appointed guardians of
t e revenue that this conclusion was erroneous, and
that a mixture which appeared by this rule to contain
3 9 gallons of alcohol, did really contain 35^. This they
found by actually making such a mixture : 18 gallons
of alcohol mixed with 18 of water produced only qr
gallons of spirits. The revenue officers, finding that
this condensation was most remarkable in mixtures of
equal parts of water and the strongest spirits which could
then be procured, determined to levy the duties by this
mixture ; because, whether the spirituous liquor was
stronger or weaker than this, it would appear, by its
specific gravity, rather stronger than it really was. This
sagacious observation, and the simplicity of the compo¬
sition, which could at all times he made for comparison,
seem to be the reasons for our excise offices selecting
this mode of estimating the strength and levying the
duties. A mixture of nearly equal measures of water
j and alcohol is called PROOF spirit, and pays a certain
duty per gallon ; and the strength of a spirituous liquor
is estimated by the gallons, not of alcohol, but of proof
' fpl j.t2cwIuch the cask contaJns. But because it might
be difficult to procure at all times this proof spirit Vor
j comparison, such a mixture was made by order of the
board of excise: and it was found, that when six gallons
599 1
S P I
of it was mixed with one gallon of water, a wine gal- Spi*;tm>u«
on 01 the mixture weighed 7 pounds 13 ounces avoir- .Liquors.
dupois. The board therefore declared, that the spirituous '   '
liquor of which the gallon weighed 7 pounds 13 ounces
should be reckoned 1 to 6 or 1 in 7 under proof. This
is but an awkward and complex formula ; it was in
order to suit matters to a mode of examination which
had by time obtained the sanction of the board. Mr
Clarke, an ingenious artist of that time, bad made a
hydrometer incomparably more exact than any other,
and constructed on mathematical principles fit for com¬
putation. Ihis had a set of weights corresponding to
the additions of water or proof spirit, and the mixture
l to 6 or 1 in 7 was the only one which weighed an ex¬
act number of ounces per gallon without a fraction.
. P1118 stands the excise law 9 and Clarke’s hydrometer
is still the instrument of authority, although others have
been since constructed by Dicas, Quin^ and others,
which are much more ingenious and convenient. The
mathematician who examines Dicas’s hydrometer, with
its sliding scale, by which it is adjusted to the different
temperatures, and points out the condensations, will
perceive a beautiful and sagacious combination of quan¬
tities, which he will find it difficult to bring under any
analytical formula. Perhaps Quin’s may have some
preference in respect of conveniencyj butfaci/e inventis
adclere. Mr Dicas’s was original (a).
As naturalists became more accustomed to exact ob¬
servations in every topic of inquiry, the condensation
which obtains in the mixture of different substances be¬
came more familiarly known. This evidently affects
the present question; and both the excise and the distil¬
lers are interested in its accurate decision. This occa¬
sioned an application to the Royal Society ; 3nd a most
scrupulous examination of the strength of spirituous
liquors was made by Sir Charles Blagden and Mr Gil¬
pin, of which they have given a very particular account
in the Philosophical Transactions for 1790 and 1792.
M e have taken notice of this in the article Specific
Gravity, mentioning such circumstances of the results
as suited our purposes of physical discussion. At pr&-
sent
Jthe u,Zsge,tl'„y,r',,,S C"ntr!vances. been thought of, among manufacturers and dealers, as well as
high nricedPaiid I,;„l, 'j' |for ,i*scert»lning the specific gravity, and consequently the real strength and value of
cilifvPnf r g taxed liclui(ls> ye are persuaded there is none equal, in point of accuracy, simplicity andfa-
the ori!-rPP ,C? ’ thC a]re°Ttr1‘-al beads latd-V announced t0 the Public by Mrs Lovi of Edinburgh, under
the use ofifsirr! f and W,th tllIS Per?uaSK,n we have no hesitation in recommending them to those to whom
liauors O P 6 ^ aCCUrate ^trument is of great importance in determining the value of high-priced spirituous
acquainted ^ not solely on our own opinion, hut is supported by that of others who are well
uJL, 1 .A 1 s,uc 1 811 y0.0’*8: We know, too, that the beads have been examined and compared by several intel-
der'l d ann,.aC ure,!s and dealers with some of the most accurate hydrometrical instruments, and after a fair trial a
dec ded preference has been given to the beads. The whole apparatus consists of 100 beads, a sliding rule 1 ther-
which nointlT f? , T ’ ^,ich T Packed in a neat Sma11 box’ and k ls accompanied with directions,
een L> and 80°' II "r" T"48. T* be ascertai"ed at any given temperature be-
ictP,] „„ 1 ° 1 • . *-uc ‘“•villages ot tnese beads are, that being matle ot a substance -which is little
„l . T c ,cmical agents, they are less liable to be injured by use, than instruments composed of metal ; and
i; • ea 1aPPens t0 be broken, it can be easily replaced. They possess this farther advantage, that with the
t .11 f 100 ° 11 le™iometer, aild the calculation of the sliding-rule, the real strength of the spirits may betaken
* all temperatures. It lias been suggested, that these beads, from their being less liable to change than other in-
e7’ u.Se u y employed in checking the errors and variations of other hydrometers. Beads are
paiet y i rs Govi on the same principle for ascertaining the strength of worts, acids, &c.
3
S P I
Spirituous sent we give the general resuit in the table oi specific
Liquors, gravity, as peculiarly belonging to spirituous liquors,
‘““•"v—affording the most exact account of their density in
every state of dilution of alcohol with water. And
as the relation between the proportion ot ingredients
and the density is peculiar to every substance, so that
scarcely any inference can be made from one to another,
the reader will consider the tables here given as charac¬
teristic with I'espect to alcohol. In all solutions of salts
we found that the condensation increases continually with
the dilution, whereas it is greatest when equal bulks of
water and alcohol are mixed j yet we do not consider
this as an exception; for it is certain, that in the strong¬
est brine the saline ingredient bears but a small propor¬
tion to the water—and when we mix two solutions, the
condensation is greatest when they are nearly equal in
hulk. But we think ourselves entitled to infer, that al¬
cohol is not a dilution of a substance in a quantity of
water; but that water, in a certain proportion, not very
distant from what we can produce by slow distillation, is
an ingredient of alcohol, or is one of its component parts,
and not merely a vehicle or menstruum. We therefore
imagine that proof spirit contains nearly equal bulks of
water and ardent spirits.
The great difficulty in this examination arose from
the very dissimilar expansions of water and alcohol by
heat. This determined Sir Charles Blagden to estimate
the proportions of ingredients by weight, and made it
absolutely necessary to give a scale ol specific gravity and
strength for every temperature. For it must he remark¬
ed, that the question (whether in commerce or philoso¬
phy) always is, “ How many gallons of alcohol and ol
water, taken just now and mixed together, will pro¬
duce a hundred gallons of the spirit we are examin¬
ing ?” The proportion of these two will he different
according to the temperature of both. As many mix¬
tures therefore must have been made in each proportion
as there were temperatures considered ; hut by taking
the ingredients by weight, and examining the density
of the compound in one temperature, it is then heated
and cooled, and its change of density observed. Calcu¬
lation then can tell us the change in the proportion of
the bulks or numbers of gallons in the mixture, by
means of a previous table showing the expansions of wa¬
ter and of alcohol.
The alcohol selected for this examination had the
specific gravity 0.825. This is not the purest that can
be procured ; some was produced of 0.816, of 0.814,
and 0.813, both obtained from rum, from brandy, and
from malt spirit. We are informed that Dr Black has
obtained it of the specific gravity 0.8 by digesting al¬
cohol with fixed ammoniac (muriatic acid united with
lime) made very dry. It dephlegmates alcohol very
powerfully without decomposing it, which always hap¬
pens when we use caustic alkali. Alcohol of 0.825 "as
chosen because expressed by a number of easy manage¬
ment iu computation.
The examination commenced by ascertaining the ex¬
pansions of water and alcohol. The temperature 6o°
of Fahrenheit’s scale was selected for the general tem¬
perature of comparison, being easily attainable even in
cold weather, and allowing the examinator to operate
at ease. The first and last compartments of the tables
contain the weights and specific gravities of alcohol and
water for every fifth degree of heat from 30° to ioo°.
1
[ 600 ] S P I
From these we have constructed the two following little Spirlm !«••
tables of expansion. The hulk of icoo ounces, pounds, Liquoi ^
or other weight of water and of alcohol of the tempera- *’V*-*^
ture 6o°, occupies the bulks expressed in the tables for
every other temperature. Water could not be easily or
usefully examined when of the temperature 30°, because
it is with great difficulty kept fluid in that temperature.
It is very remarkable, that when it can he so kept, it
expands instead of contracting ; while cooling down
from 350 or thereabouts, and as it approaches to 32°,
it expands rapidly. We observe the same thing in the
crystallization of Glauber salt, martial vitriol, and some
others, which contain much water in their crystals. We
observe, on the other hand, a remarkable contraction
in the zeolite just before its beginning to swell into
bubbles by a red heat.
Heat.
30°
35
40
45
5°
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
Bulk of ioo,o0o ounces.
Of Water.
99910
99906
999r4
99932
99962
100000
100050
100106
100x70
1co24i
100320
100404
100500
100608
Diff.
— 4
+ 8
18
3°
38
5°
56
64
71
79
84
96
108
Of Alcohol.
119195
ii95'4
119839
120172
120514
120868
121122
i2i565
121919
122279
122645
123017
123393
123773
124157
DitV.
3I9
325
332
342
348
35°
353
354
560
366
372
376
380
384
This being premised, the examination was conducted
in the following manner. It was determined to mix
100 parts by weight of pure alcohol with five, ten, fil-
teen, twenty, parts of distilled water, till they were
compounded in equal quantities, and then to mix 100
parts of distilled water with, 95, 90, 85, 80, &c. parts
of alcohol, till they were mixed in the proportion of ico
to 5. Thus a series of mixtures would he obtained, ex¬
tending from pure alcohol to pure water. I his senes
■would he such, that the examinations would he most
frequent in the cases most usual iu the commerce of
strong liquors. A set of phials, fitted with Lnomni
stoppers, were provided, of sizes fit to hold the intended
mixtures. These mixtures were made by suspending
the phial to the arm of a very nice balance, in the op¬
posite scale of which (besides the counterpoise ot tie
phial) there was placed the weight 100. Spirit was
then poured into the phial till it exactly balanced the
weight 100. The weight for the water to be added
was then put into the opposite scale, and water was
poured into the phial by means of a slender glass funnel,
by small quantities at a time, and the phial frequently
agitated to promote the mixture. \\ lien the additions
.weight was exactly balanced, the phial was taken ofl, its
stopper put in, and leather tied over it, and it was set b,
for at least a month, that the mixture and the who e
process of condensation might be completed. Inc same
^ ^ C 6$ I I ^ P T i
method was followed in the mivfnrps *1 ^ J . ^ x x
‘ ie Water ]iqu°i’ sensibly sluggish, so that when the balance was Spirituous
brought to a levs . there     r , . t.
Wris predominant. . - j >viicu me uaiauce was
When the ingredients of these mixtures were indtred nf °wS V!^ * Jt''1’ t!'ere VVas not a Perfect equilibrium
to have completely incorporated, their specific m-avltv :n oD'glt ’ ^ee wha\we ,mve said of this matter
was examined by weighing with the most scrnnnlm^ '1IF-C iGRAV^TY)* Gilpin also tried the
.Liquors.
• , , J iijoji hpecinc eravitv
was examined by weighing with the most scrupulous
precision the contents of a vessel which held 292c trov
grains ot water, of the temperature 6o°. The balance
was so exceedingly sensible, that the 50th part of a grain
greatly deranged its position when loaded with the
scales and their contents. It was constructed by Mr
Kamsden, and some account of its exquisite sensibility
may be seen in the Journal de Physique, vol. xxxiii.
ihis quantity of materials was therefore thought abun¬
dantly sufficient for ascertaining the density of the li¬
quor. It is needless to detail the precautions which
were taken for haying the contents of the weighing
bottle brought to the precise temperature proper for
the experiment. They were such as every person con-
versant with such things is accustomed to take.—The
bottle had a slender neck, and being put on a lathe,
a mark was made round it with a diamond. The bot¬
tle was filled till the bottom of the hollow surface of
the fluid was in the plane of this mark; and to judge
of the accuracy attainable in filling the bottle, the ope-
ration was several times repeated and the contents weigh¬
ed, Without the difference of TLth of a grain in 292 r.
. on,y 80U.rce <>f error which was to be guarded
against was air-bubbles adhering to the inside of the
bottle, or moisture condensing (in the experiments with
low temperatures) on the outside. Both of these were
attended to as much as possible.
This method of determining the specific gravity was
preferred to the usual method, observing the weight lost
by a Jump of glass when suspended in water: for Mr
Lrilpin had been enabled, by means of this nice ba¬
lance, to discover, even in pure water and in alcohol,
a want of perfect fluidity. Something like viscidity
rendered the motion of a lump of glass through the
ingenious instrument proposed for such experiments
by Mr Itamsden, and described by him in a pamphlet
on this very subject; and he found the anomalies
of experiment much greater than in this method by
weig nng. Indeed the regular progression of weights
to be seen in the annexed tables is an unquestionable
proofof the sufficiency of the method ; audit has the
evident advantage of all other methods in point ofsim-
p icity and practicability without any uncommon ap¬
paratus. Any person possessed of a good ordinary ba¬
lance and a set of exact weights may examine all ques¬
tions of this kind, by weighing pure water and the li¬
quor which he may have occasion to examine in a com-
mon 6 or S ounce phial. For this reason, it is recom¬
mended (in preference to all hydrometers) to the board
of excise to provide this simple apparatus in every prin-
cipal office. J r
Every experiment was made at least three times: and
the mean result (which never differed one grain from
the extreme) was taken.
From these experiments the annexed tables were
constructed, The first is the simple abstract of the ex,
penments, containing the weights of the contents of
the bottle of every mixture. The second contains the
specific gravities deduced from them.
We have said that the experiments appear surprising¬
ly accurate. Ihis w'e said on the authority of the re¬
gular progression of the specific gravity in any of the
horizontal rows. In the series, for instance, for the
temperature 6o°, the greatest anomaly is in the mixture
of 50 parts of spirit with 100 of water. The specific
gravity is 94804, wanting 3 or 4 of the regular pro*
gression. Ihis does not amount to 1 in 18000.
Vol, XIX. Part II.
f
Table
S P I
[ 602 ]
S P I
Table I. Weights at the different Degrees of Temperature.
Heat.
deg.
3°
35
40
45
5°
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
00
The pure
bpint.
too grains
of spirit to
5 g™ins
of water.
Grains
2487-35
2480.87
2474 30
2467.62
2460.75
2453,80
2447.OO
2440.12
2433-23
2426.23
2419.02
2411.92
2404.90
2397.68
2390.60
too grains
of spirit to
10 grains
of water.
Heat.
too grain
of spirit to
70 grains
of water.
deg.
3°
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
ICO
Heat.
deg
3°
35
40
45
5°
55
60
65
75
80
85
90
95
iOO
Grains.
2CI9.92
2513-43
2506.75
2500.14
2493-33
2486.37
2479.56
2472.75
2465.88
2458.78
2451.67
2444.63
2437.62
243°-33
2423.22
too grains
of spirit to
15 grains
of water.
Grains.
2744.20
2738.13
2732.24
2726.09
2719.93
2713.60
2707.40
27OI.05
2694.76
2688.14
2681.50
2674.95
2668.29
2661.51
2654.76
Grains.
2 1548.42
254i-84
.2535-4I
2528.75
2521.96
25
2508.27
2501*53
2494.56
2487.62
2480.45
2473-33
2466.32
2459-I3
2452.13
too grains
of spirit to
75 Krains
of water.
too grains
of spirit to
80 grains
of water.
Grains.
2753-75
2747.74
2741.86
2735-77
2729.64
2723-51
2717,30
2710.96
2704.64
2698.07
2691.50
2684.98
2678.49
2671.82
2664.99
60 grains
of spirit to
100 grain ■
of water.
Grains.
2852,03
2847.45
2842.62
2837.64
2832.76
2827.68
2822.65
2817.49
2812.16
2806.7 5
2801.25
2795.69
2790.13
2784.36
2778.64
55 grams
if spirit to
too grains
of water
Grains.
2573.80
2567.26
2560.74
2554.09
2547-47
2540.60
2533-83
2526.99
2520.03
2513.08
2506.08
2499.OI
249I-99
2484.74
2477.64
00 grains
of spirit to
20 grains
of water.
too grains
of spirit to
25 grains
of water.
too grains
of spirit to
30 grains
of water.
Grains.
2762.72
2756.91
2750.96
2744.82
2738.74
2732.64
2726.52
2720.25
2713.87
2707.49
2700.94
2694.53
2687.99
2681.34
2674.62
Grains.
2596.66
2590.16
2583.66
2577.10
257042
2563.64
2556.9°
2 550.22
2543-32
2536-39
2529.24
2522.29
25i5-28
2508.10
2500.91
Grains
2617.30
2610.87
2604.50
2597.98
2591.38
2584.65
2577-95
2571.24
2564 47
2557.61
255°-50
2543-54
2536-63
2529.46
2522.30
100 grains
of spirit to
35 grains
of water.
too grams
of spirit ti
$5 grains
of water.
too grains
of spiiit to
90 grains
of water.
Grains.
2771.08
2765.32
2759-5°
2753-36
2747.27
274I.24
273 5-17
2728.98
2722.75
27i6-35
2709.76
27°3-33
2696.91
2690.33
2683.63
go grains
of spirit to
1 O'.- grain
of water.
45 grams
of spirit to
too grains
of water.
too grains
of spirit to
93 grains
of water.
Grains.
2778.99
2773-22
2767.48
2761.42
2755-37
2749.27
2743.28
2737.09
2730.94
2724.64
2718.12
2711.86
2705.37
2698.86
2692.2 5
40 grams
of spirit to
too grains
of water.
Grains.
2859.71
2855.32
2850.
2846.16
2841.52
2836.69
283 1.90
2826.90
2821.78
2816.63
28 11.23
2805.85,,
2800.40
2794.91
2789.32
Grains.
2867.12
2863.16
2859.06
2854.67
28 CO.29
2845.72
2841.10
2836.30
2831.61
2826.56
2821.38
2816.32
2811.05
2805.79
2800.25
Grains.
2874.43
2870.87
:867,g8
2863.04
2858.96
2S54-75
2850.50
2845.97
2841.42
2836.80
2831.92
2827.12
2822.15
2817.08
2811.80
Grains.
2636.23
2629.92
2623.56
2617.03
2610.54
2603.80
2 C97.22
259°-55
2583.88
2576-93
2569.86
2563.01
23 3*6.11
2549.13
254I-92
100 gram
of spirit to
too grain
of water.
Grains.
2786.36
2780.39
2774.90
2768.85
2762.95
2756-83
275°-93
2744.86
2738-73
2732-39
2726.06
27J9-74
2713.32
2706.88
2700.33
too grain
of spirit to
40 grains
of water.
Grains.
2653.73
2647.47
2641.08
2634.64
2628.21
2621.50
2615.03
2608.37
601.67
2594.80
2587-93
2580.93
2574-°2
2567.03
2559-96
too grain-
of spirit t<
45 grains
of water.
Grains.
2669.83
2663.64
2657.23
2650.87
2644.43
2637.86
263 I.37
2624.75
2617.96
2611.19
2604.29
2597-45
2590.60
2583-65
2576.56
too grain
of spirit to
50 grains
of water.
95 S™*118
>f spirit to
too grains
of water.
Grains.
2793.22
2787.54
2781.84
2775-94
2770.14
2764.09
2758-i7
2752,21
2746.06
2739.89
2733-53
2727.25
2721.01
2714.61
2708.04
35 8nuns
of spirit ti
too grain;-
of water.
30 grains
of spirit to
100 grain;
of water,
Grains.
2881.34
2878.21
2874.81
2871.22
2867.52
2863.75
2859.87
2855-65
285I-53
2847.14
2842.56
2838.07
2833.38
2828.46
2823.55
Grains.
2887.77
2885.06
2882.30
2879.22
2875.98
2872.67
2869.15
2865.45
2861.63
28 97.70
2853.38
2849.28
2844.81
2840.26
2835-3°
Grains.
2799-85
2794.19
2788.69
2782.99
2777.19
2771.29
276 C.40
2759 47
2753-4I
2747.23
2740.93
2734-8°
2728.59
2722.23
27I5-73
Grains.
2684.74
2678.60
2672.30
2666.04
2659.55
2653.04
2646.53
2640.01
2633.32
2626.55
2619.72
2613.02
2606.16
2599.24
2592.14
too grains
of spirit to
55 gl'ains
0 (water.
90 grains
of spirit to
100 grains
of water.
85 grains
of spirit to
oa grains
of water.
Grains.
2894.22
2892.07
2889.78
2887-33
2884.57
2881.69
2878.72
2875.49
2872.06
2868.49
2864.54
2860.86
2856.80
2852.47
2848.18
Grains,
2806.61
2801.14
2795-7°
2789.99
2784.30
2778.54
2772.70
2766.73
2760.75
2754-73
2748.42
2742.31
2736.23
^7 29.89
2723-35
zS grains
if spii it to
too grain
of water.
20 grams
of spirit to
100 grains
of water,
Grains.
2900.85
2899.31
2897.61
2895.67
2893.58
2891.11
2888.62
885.85
2882.90
2879.67
2876.22
2872,88
2869.16
2865.15
2861.1 2
Grains.
2908.21
2907.45
2906.39
2904.98
2903.39
2901.42
2899-35
2897.09
2894.56
2891.79
2S88.73
2885.56
2882.25
2878.71
2875.07
Grains.
2698.51
2692.43
2686.32
2679.99
2673.64
2667.14
2660.62
2654.04
2647.52
2640.81
2633.99
2627.39
2620.52
2613.57
2606.50
co grains
of spirit to
60 grains
of water.
Grains.
27H.14
27°5-i4
2698.94
2692.77
2686.54
2679.98
2673-55
2667.07
2660.63
2653-99
2647.12
2640.60
2633-74
2626.94
2619.75
80 grains
of spirit to
100 grains
of water.
Grains.
2813.85
2808.52
2803.17
2797-45
2791.72
2785-96
2780.26
2774-43
2768.45
2762.58
2756-43
2750.22
2744.24
2737.98
273I-55
75 grains
of spirit to
tco grains
of water.
Grains.
2821.35
2816.07
2810.73
2805.08
2799.58
2793.82
2788.25
2782.62
2776.72
2770.93
2764.87
2758.80
27 C2.76
2746.57
2740.43
15 grams
of spirit to
ico grains
of water
Grains.
2828.90
2823.68
2818.36
281 2.93
2807.56
2801.89
2796.45
2790.81
2785 06
2779.26
2773-33
2767.44
2761.51
2755-34
2749.28
100 grains
of spirit to
6 5 gtains
of water.
Grains.
2722.89
2716.92
2710.81
27°4-57
2698.42
2691.83
2685.52
2679.15
2672.74
2666.06
2659.36
2652.78
2646.00
2639.25
2632.17
70 grains
if spiiit to
ico grains
of water,
10 grams
of spirit to
too grains
of water.
5 grains
of spirit to
;oo grain-
of water
Grains.
2917.19
2916.95
2916.41
29I5-55
2914.42
2913.02
2911.32
2909.43
29°7-33
2905.04
2902.35
2899.55
2896.58
2898.44
2890.04
Grains.
2928.80
2928.99
2928.93
2928.49
927.8 l
2926.73
2925.5°
2923.90
2922.24
29 20.17
29I7-83
2915.46
2912.84
2910.02
2906.97
Grains.
2836.39
2831.36
2826.31
2821.00
2815.71
28i0.23
2804.85
2799.38
2793.80
2788.OO
2782.14
2776.33
277O 59
2764.57
758.48
Grains,
2733-87
2727.87
2721.85
715.62
2709.48
2702.98
2696.73
2690.32
2684.02
2677.34
2670.69
2664.16
2657.41
2650.63
2643-75
65 grains
of spitit to
100 grains
of water,
Grains.
!944-53
2945.02
2945.25
2945.20
2944-73
2943.98
2942.98
2941.69
2940.13
2938-33
2936.31
2934.14
2931.77
2929.15
2926.28
Water.
Grains.
2967.14
2967.45
2967 40
2967.05
2966.34
2965.39
2964.II
2962.66
2960.97
2959.07
2956.94
2954-7°
2952.08
2949-34
Grains.
2844.16
2839.26
2834.40
2829.28
2824.12
2818.80
2813.65
2808.31
2802.88
2797.22
2791.52
2785.81
2780.II
2774.23
2768.43
Table
S P I
F it
[ 603 ] S P I
Table II. Real Specific Gravities at the different Temperatures.
The pure
spirit.
.83896
•83445
.83214
.82977
.82736
.82500
.82262
.82023
.81780
•81530
.81283
pci •81039
pjj .80788
IOC .80543
too grains
of spirit to
5 grains
of water.
Sea
too grains
[jof spirit to
]70 grains
of water.
Heat,
dcj.
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
/o
75
80
85
90
95
too
•92563
•92355
.92151
•91937
•9I723
•9I502
.91287
.91066
.90847
.90617
•90385
•9OI57
•89924
.89688
•89453
•84995
.84769
•84539
•84310
.84076
•83834
•83599
•83362
.83124
.82878
.82631
.82386
.82142
.81888
.81643
roo grains too grains
of spirit to of spiiit to
10 grains
of water.
•85957
•85729
•855=7
•85277
.85042
.84802
•84568
•84334
.84092
•83851
.82602
•83355
.83 111
.82860
.82618
15 grains
of water.
00 grain
of spirit to
75 grains
of water.
p grains
spirit to
po grains
f water.
92889
92680
•92476
.92264
.92050
.91837
.91622
.91400
.91181
.90952
.90723
.90496
.90270
90037
89798
55 grains
of spirit to
roo grains
of water.
too grains
of spirit to
80 grains
of water.
•93I9I
.92986
.92783
.92570
•92.358
•92145
•9I933
•9I7I5
•9M93
.91270
.91042
.90818
.90590
•9=358
•9OI23
.86825
.86587
.86361
.86131
.85902
.85664
•8543=
•85193
.84951
.84710
.84467
.84221
•83977
•83724
.83478
too grains
of spirit to
to grains
of water.
roo grain
of spirit to
85 grains
of water.
96209
96048
95878
957=5
95534
95357
95181
95=00
94813
94823
9443i
94236
(94042
•'3839
>3638
.96470
•96315
.96159
•95993
•95831
.95662
•95493
•95318
•95139
•94957
.94768
•94579
•94389
.94x96
•93999
50 grains
of spirit to
00 grains
of water
.96719
•96579
.96280
.961 26
.95966
.95804
•95635
•95469
•9529 2
.95XXI
•9493 2
.94748
•94563
.94368
•93474
•93274
•93072
.92859
.92647
.92436
.92225
.92010
•9I793
.91569
.9134°
.91119
.9089X
.90662
.90428
45 grains
of spirit to
ico grain:
of water.
•87585
•87357
•87I34
.86907
.86676
.86441
.86208
.85976
•85736
•85493
.85248
.85006
.84762
.84511
.84262
00 grains
of spirit to
25 grains
of water.
too grain
of spirit to
90 grains
of water.
•93741
•93541
■93341
■93 ‘31
.92919
.92707
92499
92283
.92069
•91849
.91622
,9x403
91177
90949
.90718
.88282
.88059
.8783s
.87613
.87384
.87x50
.869x8
.86686
.86451
.862x2
.85966
•85723
.85483
•85232
■84984
too grain
of spirit to
30 grains
of water.
.8S921
.8870 I
.88481
.88255
.88030,
.87796
.87568
•S7337
.87105
.86864
.86623
.86380
,86139
85896
85646
ico grain
of spirit to
35 .grains
of water.
100 grain
of spirit to
95 grains
of water.
•93991
•9379=
•93592
•93382
•93177
.9 296 3
.92758
.92*46
•92333
.92111
.91891
.91670
.9>446
.91221
.90992
100 grains
of spirit to
too grains
of water.
.89511
.89294
•89=73
.88849
.88626
•88393
.88169
.87938
.87705
.87466
.87228
.86984
•86743
.86499
.86254
too grains 100 grains
'f spirit to of spirit to
40 grains
of water.
45 grains
of water.
.90054
.89839
.89617
.89396
.89174
.88945
.88720
.88490
.88254
.88018
•87776
.87541
.87302
.87060
.86813
95 grains
of spirit to
1 co grains
of water
.96967
.96840
.96706
•96563
.96420
.96272
.96122
.95962
.95802
.95638
•95467
•95297
•95123
.94944
■94759
40 grains 35 grains
of spirit to of spirit to
100 grains roo grains
of water, of water
.94222
.94025
.93827
.93621
•93419
.93208
.93002
.92794
.92580
.92364
.92142
.9x923
•9I7°5
.91481
.91252
.97200
.97086
.96967
.96840
.96708
•96575
•96437
.96288
.96143
•95987
.95826
.95667
•955=2
•95328
•95152
.97418
•973*9
.97220
.97110
•96995
.96877
.96752
.96620
.96484
.96344
.96192
.96046
.95889
•95327
•95556
30 grams
of spirit to
: 00 grains
of water.
•94447
.94249
.94058
.93860
•93658
•9545 2
•93247
•93=4
.92828
.92613
•92393
.92179
.91962
.91740
•9*513
90 grain
of spirit to
100 grain
of water.
■97635
•97556
.97472
.97384
.97284
.97x81
•97=74
.96959
.96836
.96708
.96568
•96437
.■96293
.96139
•95983
25 grains
of spirit to
00 grains
of water.
.97860
•97801
•97737
.97666
•97589
.97500
•974=9
.97309
.97203
.97086
.96963
. 9 684
.967 n
.96568
.96424
•94675
•94484
.94295
•94096
•95897
.93696
■93493
•93285
.93076
.92865
.92646
.92432
■92220
.91998
91769
•9=558
•9=345
.90127
.89909
.89684
.89458
.89232
.89006
•88773
.88538
.88301
.88067
.87827
,87586
87340
too gram
of spirit to
50 grains
of water
.91023
.9081 x
•9=596
.90380
.90160
•89933
.89707
.89479
•89252
.89018
.88781
•88551
.88312
.88069
.87824
to grains 100 grains 100 grail
of spirit to
S5 grains
of water.
of spirit to
60 grains
of water.
•91449
.91241
•9x026
.90812
.90596
.90367
.90144
.89920
.89695
•89464
.89225
.88998
.88758
.88521
88271 I
of spirit t
65 graim
of water.
.91847
.91640
•91428
•9 I 21 1
.90997
.90768
.90549
.90328
.9OIO4
.89872
.89639
•89409
' 89173
.88937
■ 886()i
s5 grains
of spirit to
100 grains
of water.
80 grains
of spirit to
100 grain
of water.
20 gram
of spirit to
100 grains
of water.
.98108
.98076
.98033
.97980
.97920
.97847
.97771
.9768S
■97596
•97495
•97385
■97271
97^53
97025
96895
.94920
•94734
•94547
.94348
•94149
.93948
•93749
•93546
•93337
•93132
.92917
.92700
.92491
.92272
,92047
75 grain
of spirit to
too grains
of water.
•95*73
.94988
.94802
■94^=5
.94414
.94213
.94018
.93822
.93616
•93413
.93201
.92989
.92779
.92562
.92346
15 grains
of spirit to
100 grain
of water.
.98412
.98397
•98373
•98338
.98293
.98239
.98176
.98106
.98028
•97943
•97845
•97744
•97637
•97523
.97401
10 grains
of spirit to
100 giain
of water.
.98804
.98804
.98795
.98774
■9874S
.98702
98654
.98594
•98527
•98454
•98367
.98281
.9818 c
.98082
.97969
•95429
.95246
•9 C060
.94871
.94683
.94486.
.94296
.94099
.93898
•93695
.93488
.93282
•93=75
.92858
.92646
.92217
•92009
•9 *799
.91584
•9*37=
•9**44
•90927
.90707
.90484
,90252
90021
89793
•89558
.89322
.89082
70 grains
■if spirit to
ico grain.'
of wal<*r.
65 grains
of spirit to
00 grains
of water.
grains
of spirit to
00 grains
of water.
.9S68i
•955=2
•95328
•95*43
.94958
.04767
•94579
.94388
•94193
.93989
•93785
•93582
•9338i
•93170
•92957
•95944
•95772
.95602
•95423
•95243
•95=57
.94876
.94689
.94500
.94301
.94102
.93902
•937=3
•93497
•93293
Water.
99334
99344
•99345
•99338
.99316
.99284
.99244
•99*94
.99134
.99066
,98991
9891 2
98824
98729
98625
4 G 2
1.0009
1.00094
1.00086
1.00068
1.0003'
1.00000
•9995=
.99894
.99830
•99759
.99681
•99598
.99502
.99402
Spirituous
Liquors,
S p 1 [
We formerly observed, that the series of mixtures
chosen hy Sir Charles Blagden, for the advantages at¬
tending it in making the experiment, was not suited tor
solving the questions which commonly occur in the
spirit business. He accordingly suggests the propriety
of forming tables in a convenient series from the data
furnished by these experiments, indicating the propor¬
tion of ingredients contained in some constant weight or
bulk. . .
To facilitate the construction of such tables, it is ne¬
cessary to consider the subject in the most general man¬
ner. Therefore let a represent the constant number
loo. Let w and s represent the quantities of water and
spirit by weight in any mixture ; that is, the pounds,
ounces, or grains of each. Let .r represent.the quantity
per cent, of spirits also by weight *, that is, the number
of pounds of spirits contained in 100 pounds of the mix¬
ture ; and let y be its quantity per cent, in gallons, or
the number of gallons contained in 100 gallons of the
unmixed ingredients. Let tii be the bulk of a pound of.
spirit of any given temperature, the bulk of a pound of
water of the same temperature being accounted I.
Then is the weight of any mixture, and w-{-
ms is its bulk.
Wehave the following proportions: I. w-\-s : sz=.a: *,
and x — ■ a-— (Equation ist) ; and hence s may be
found when x the per centage in weight is given, for
(Equation 2d).
2. w-j-ms : ins—a : y, and
(Equation
w-\-m s
3d) 5 and s may be found when y, the per centage in
604 ] S P I
cipal line AB. Let GPL be a thin slip of whalebone, Spirituous
of uniform breadth and thickness, also divided into Liquors
equal parts properly distinguishable. Lastly, let there '—■"v——'
be a pin P fixed near the middle of the principal line
AB.
Now suppose that a value of s is to be interpolated
by means of an observed specific gravity not in the ta¬
ble. Look for the nearest to it, and not its distance
from the preceding and the following. Let these be
PH and PK on the flexible scale. Also take notice of
the lines K 10 and H 10, whose distances from AB are
equal to the constant difference between the successive
values of S, or to any easily estimated multiple of it (as
in the present case wehave taken 10 and 10, instead of
5 and 5, the running difference of Sir Charles Blag-
den’s table). Then, leaning the middle point P of the
whalebone on the pin P in the board, bend it, and place
it slantwise till the points K and H fall somewhere on
the two parallels K 10 and H 10. No matter how
oblique the position of the whalebone is. It will bend
in such a manner that its different points of division (re¬
presenting different specific gravities) will fall on the
parallels which represent the corresponding values of s.
We can say that all this may be done in less than half
a minute, and less time than is necessary for inspecting
a table of proportional parts, and not the tenth part of
that necessary for interpolating by second differences.
Yet it is exact enough (if of the size of a duodecimo
page) for interpolating three decimal places. I his is
ten times more exact than the present case requires, ffo
return from this digression.
Having thus found s in the table, we get x or y by
as , ms
the equations :— = x, and a
gallons, is given j for 5 =
m y
a—y
(Equation 4th).
Plate
CCCCXCIX.
tiff- l-
The usual questions which can be solved from these
experiments are,
X. To ascertain the quantity of spirits per cent, in
bulk from observation of the specific gravity, or to tell
how many gallons of spirit are in 100 gallons of mix¬
ture.
Look for the specific gravity in the table, and at the
head of the column will be found the w and s corre¬
sponding. If the precise specific gravity observed is not
in the tables, the s must be found by interpolation. And
here it is proper to remark, that taking the simple pro¬
portional parts of specific gravity will not be sufficiently
exact, especially near the beginning or the end of the
table, because the densities corresponding to the series
of mixtures does not change uniformly. We must have responding to iv and s; while
recourse to the general rules of interpolation, hy means
of first and second differences, or be provided with a
subsidiary table of differences. A good deal of practice
in computations of this kind suggested the following me¬
thod of making such interpolations with great dispatch
and abundant accuracy. On a plate of wood or metal,
or stiff card-paper, draw a line EE (fig. 1.), as a scale
of equal parts, representing the leading or equable arith¬
metical series of any table. (In the present case EE is
the scale on which s is computed).—Through every
point of division draw the perpendiculars BA, EC, 11),
&c. Make one of them AB more conspicuous than
the rest, and distinguish the others also in such sort, that
the eye shall readily catch their distance from theprin-
-V-
w w-\-ms
But here a material circumstance occurs. I he weight
of alcohol s, and its per centage x, was rightly deter¬
mined by the specific gravity, because it was interpolated
between two values, which were experimentally con¬
nected with this specific gravity. But in making the
transition from x to y, we only give the per centage in
gallons before mixture, but not the number of gallons
of alcohol contained in an hundred gallons of mixed li¬
quor. For when we have taken a—y and y instead of
w and s; they will indeed make a similar compound
when mixed, because the proportion of their ingredients
is the same. But they will not make 100 gallons of
this compound, because there is a shrinking or conden¬
sation by mixture, and the specific gravity by wnich we
interpolated s is the physical or real specific gravity cor-
U , the specifiegra-
w X ,n s
lathematical den-
vity implied in the value of y, is the mat
sitv independent on this condensation. Since therefore y,
IOO gallons of the
ity independent
together with a—y, make less than
compound, there must in 100 gallons of it be more alco¬
hol than is expressed by y.
Let G be the mathematical specific gravity (
<U’ -}- v \
w-\-ms/*
fic gravity (which we cannot express algebraically) j
and let K be the gallons of alcohol really contained in
100 gallons of the compound. The bulk being inverse¬
ly as the density or specific gravity, it is evident that
the bulk of the compound, must be to ioq gallons asg
1 to
id g the physical or real observed speci-
S'ituons
]. nors
. ^ ^ ^ C 6°5
to G. And since we want to make it still up to 100
gallons, we must increase it in the proportion of G to
g. And because this augmentation must be of the
same strength with this contracted liquor, both ingredi¬
ents must be increased in the proportion of G to g, and
we must have G : g~y : and z~g x
instead of^, write a
G'
Now,
i
w ■irTns> an<* ^nstea^ °f q- write
which are respectively equal to them. This
w ms
w + s'
gives us %—g a x —+ X =g <7 X ^
All this will be illustrated by an example.
Suppose that we have observed the specific gravity of
a spirituous liquor of the temperature 6o° to be 0.94128
Looking into Sir Charles Blagden’s table, we find the
gravities 0.94018 and 0.94296, and the * correspond¬
ing to them is 80 and 75, the water in each mixture
being 100. By interpolation we obtain the 5 corre-
spending to 0.94128, viz. 78. At this tempei ature
m 0.825’ I,2I2I2> atI<l m s=94'54545' Therefore
=00.94128 x 100 x _
, 194-54545’
nearly 50.
We have seen even persons not unacquainted with
subjects of this kind puzzled by this sort of paradox.
1C CO 1/1 f 4- !,    _ . j /» •• •
49>997> or very
] s p 1
inTerpcratT"60 by !nSpeC,:°"- Ifn0t’ ^ mUSt ’l-M—
N. B. The value of m, which Is employed In thesev^-‘
reductions, varies with the temperature. It is always
obtained by dividing the specific gravity of alcohol of
that temperature by the specific gravity of water of the
same temperature. The quotient is the real specific
gravity ol alcohol for that temperature. Both of these
are to be had in the first and last compartments of Sir
Charles Blagden’s table.
These operations for particular cases give the answers
to particular occasional questions. By applying them
to all the numbers in the table, tables may be construct¬
ed tor solving every question by inspection.
There is another question which occurs most fre¬
quently in the excise transactions, and also in all com¬
positions of spirituous liquors, viz. What strength will
result from a mixture of two compounds of known
strength, or mixing any compound with water 3 To
solve questions of this kind by the table so often quo-
must .add int0 one suni the water per gallon of
the different liquors. In like manner, take the sum of
the spirits, and say, as the sum of the waters is to that
of the alcohols, so is a to s; and operate with a and ^ as
before.
Analogous to this is the question of the duties.
Ihese are levied on proof spirit 5. that is, a certain duty
is charged on a gallon of proof spirit ; and the gauger’s
business is to discover how many gallons of proof spirit
there is in any compound. The specification of proof
. ^   tins aui l ut parauox. UA pi uuj spirit
3 is said to be the per centage of spirit in the com- ^r.e !S in any compound. The specification of proof
pound. The compound has the same proportion of in- Tnt in our excJse ]avvs is exceedingly obscure and com-
gredients when made up to 100 gallons as before, when P ex* ^ gal,on weighing 7 pounds 13 ounces (at ^°)
y was said to he its per centage, and yet y and sz are not
the same. The fact is, that although 2; is the number
of gallons of alcohol really contained in 100 gallons of
the compound, and this alcohol is in the same propor¬
tion as before to the water, this proportion is not that
of 50 to 50 : for if the ingredients were separated again,
there would be 50 gallons of alcohol and ^2,876 of
water. 7
.The proportion of the ingredients in their separate
state is had by the 3d equation y~a——, which
U l * 7
is equivalent to G a
771 S
  ,
iv -\- m s
For the present example
w —|— s
y "HI ^)e f°lifld 48.599, and a—y, or the water per
cent. 51.401, making 100 gallons of unmixed ingre¬
dients. We see then that there has been added 1.398
gallons of alcohol ; and since both ingredients are aug¬
mented in the proportion of G to g, there have also
been added 1.478 of water, and the whole addition for
making up the 100 gallons of compound is 2.876
gallons ; and ii the ingredients of the compound were
separate, they would amount to 102,876 gallons. This
might have been found at the first, by the proportion,
^ ■ S—G —100 : (The addition^.
I be next question which usually occurs in business is
10 what density will result from any proposed mix-
ture per gallon. This question is solved by means of
11 • w V
be equation zjY~S' exanHnati011 it will
he most convenient to make iv—a. If the value of s
fuund in this manner falls on a value in the tables, we
Z.
plex. A gallon weighing 7 pounds 13 ounces (at cc°)
is accounted 1 to 6 under proof. The gallon of water
contains 58476 grains, and this spirit is 54688. Its
density therefore is 0.93523 at 550, or (as may he in¬
ferred from the-table) 0.9335 at 60°. This density
corresponds to a mixture of 100 grains of water with
93-457 °f alcohol. If this be supposed to result from
the mixture of 6 gallons of alcohol with 1 of water (as
is supposed by the designation of 1 to 6 under proof),
the gallon of proof spirits consists of 100 parts of spirits
by weight, mixed with 75 parts of water. Such a spirit
will have the density 0.9162 nearly.
This being premised, in order to find the gallons of
proof spirits in any mixture, find the quantity of alco¬
hol by weight, and then say, as 100 to 175, so is the
alcohol in the compound to the proof spirit that may be
made of it, and for which the duties must he paid.
We have considered this subject at some length, be¬
cause it is of great importance to the spirit-trade to have
these circumstances ascertained with precision ; and be¬
cause the specific gravity is tile only sure criterion that
can be had ol the strength. Firing of gunpowder, or
producing a certain bubble by shaking, are very vague
tests ; whereas, by the specific gravity, we can very se-
curely ascertain the strength within one part in 500, as
will presently appear.
Sir Charles Blagden, or Mr Gilpin, has published * * phi>ot
a most copious set of tables, calculated from these valu- Tranmc.
able experiments. In these, computations are made for I794-
every unit of the hundred, and for every degree of the
thermometer. But these tables are still not in the most
commodious form for business. Mr John Wilson an
ingenious gentleman residing at Dundee, has just pub¬
lished
S P I [ 606 ] S P I
Spirituous lished at Edinburgh tables somewhat similar, founded
Liquors, on the same experiments. Both of these tables show
 v 1 the quantities by measure corresponding to every unit
by weight of Sir Charles Blagden’s experiments, and
for every degree of temperature. They also show the
per centage of alcohol, and the condensation or the
quantity lost by mixture. But as they both retain the
original series of parts by weight, which is very unusual,
the spirit traders will find considerable difficulty in
making use of them. Retaining this series also causes
all the per centage numbers (which are the only inte¬
resting ones to the trader) to be fractional, and no an¬
swer can be had without a double interpolation.
We have therefore calculated a table in the form in
which it must be most useful and acceptable to those
who are engaged in the spirit trade, showing at once
the specific gravity which results from any proportion of
admixture in hundredth parts of the whole. This an¬
swers immediately the chief questions in the terms in
which they are usually conceived and proposed. The
two first or leading columns show the px-oportion in gal¬
lons, pints, or other cubic measures, of the mixture, the
whole quantity being always 100. The second column
shows the corresponding specific gravity: so that we
can either find the proportion of the ingredients by the
observed specific gravity, or find the gravity resulting Spirits
from any proportion of the ingredients. A third co- Liquors
lumn shows how much the hundred measures of the two '—v—
ingredients fall short of making an hundred measures of
the compound. A simple proportion, which can be
done without the pen, will determine what part of this
deficiency must be made up by spirit. The use of this
table must now be so familiar to the reader’s mind,
that we need not give further instructions about it.
This is followed by another similar table, giving an
immediate answer to the most usual question, “ How
many measures of alcohol are there really contained in
100 measures ? This is also accompanied by a column
of condensation. It would have been somewhat more
elegant, had the specific gravities in this table made the
equable series and leading column. But we did not ad¬
vert to this till we had computed the table, and the la¬
bour was too great to be repeated for slight reasons.
The tables ax-e only for the temperature 6o°. To this
the spirituous liquors can always be brought in these
climates; and in cases where we cannot, a moment’s
inspection of Sir Charles Blagden’s table will point out
very nearly (or exactly, by a short computation) the
necessary corrections.
Compound.
W.
IOO
99
98
97
96
95
94
93
92
91
90
89
88
87
86
85
84
8.3
82
Specific
Gravity.
79
78
77
76
75
74
73
72
71
70
69
68
67
66
!3
J4
15
16
17
18
81 19
80 20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
3°
31
32
33
34
0.8250
0.8278
0.8306
0-8333
0.8360
0.8387
0.8413
0.8439
0.8465
0.8491
0.8^16
0.8542
0.8567
0.8592
0.8617
0.8641
0.8666
0.8690
0.8713
0-8737
0.8760
0.8764
0.8807
0.8830
0.8853
0.88761
0.8899
0.8921
0.8944
0.8966
0.8988
o 9010
0.9031
0-9055
0.9073
Cond.
per
cent.
0.19
0-33
0.4
o-5
0.6
0.7
0.8
1.9
1.
1.1
1.2
i-3
M
1.5
1- 5
1.6
x-7
x-7
x-7
1.8
1.9
2.
2.
2.1
2.1
2.2
2.2
2- 3
2-3
2.4
2-5
2-5
2-5
2-5
Compound.
W.
66
65
64
63
62
61
60
59
58
57
56
55
54
53
52
51
50
49
48
47
46
45
44
43
42
41
40
39
38
37
36
35
34
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
5°
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
Specific
Gravity.
Cond.
per
cent.
O.9073
O.9095
O.91 16
°-9I37
0.9157
0.9177
0.9198
0.9218
0.9238
0.9257
0.9277
0.9296
0.9316
o-9335
0-9353
0-9371
0.9388
0.9406
0.9423
0.9440
0.9456
0-9473
0.9489
0-9505
0.9520
0 9535
0-9549
0-9563
0-9577
0.9590
0.9603
0.9616
0.9628
0.9640
2-5
2.6
2.6
2.6
2.6
2.7
2.7
2.7
2.7
2.7
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.8
2.7
2-7
2.7
2.7
2.7
2.6
2.6
2.6
2.5
2-5
2.4
2.4
2- 3
3- 3
Compound.
S. W
33
32
31
3°
29
28
27
26
25
24
23
22
21
20
J9
18
17
16
1S
*4
*3
12
11
10
Specific
Gravity.'
67
68
69
7°
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
8 j 92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
0.9640
0.9651
0.9662
0.9673
0.9683
0.9693
0.9704
0-9713
0.9724
0-9734
0.9744
0-9754
0.9763
0-9773
0.9783
o-9793
0.9802
0.9812
0.9822
0.9832
0.9842
09853
0.9863
0.9874
0.9886
0.9897
0.9909
0.9921
0-9933
0.9946
0-9959
0.9972
c.9985
1 .GOOD
Cond.
per
cent.
2-3
2-3
2.2
2.1
2.
1.9
1 9
1.8
I-7
1.6
1.6
i-5
1-4
i-3
1.2
1.2
x.x
1.
0.9
0.9
0.8
O 7
0.7
0.6
o-5
04
0-3
c-3
0.2
0.1
0.07
0.03
0.01
0.00
S P I
S P I
Sp »°»*
L.jrs,
[ 607 ]
Spir
per
cent,
IOO
99
98
97
96
95
94
93
92
91
90
89
88
87
86
85
84
83
82
81
80
79
78
77
76
75
74
73
72
71
70
69
68
67
66
Specific
Gravity.
Contr.
O.8250O
O.82629
O.83I42
0.83449
0.837 CO
0.84048
0-84339
0.84621
0.84900
0.85172
0-85443
0.8 9704
0.85971
0.86228
0.86483
8.86737
86987
0.8723 c
0.87481
0.87726
0.87969
0.88207
.88445
0.88676
0.88909
0.89140
89367
°'89593
0.89815
0-90035
0.90241
0.90464
0.90675
0.90885
°-9I095
0.18
°-34
0.46
°-57
0.68
0.8
0.9
1.oi
1.11
1.21
I-3r
I*39
I-47
i-54
1.61
1.67
i-74
1.81
1.88
1- 94
2.
2.05
2.11
2.17
2.22
2.26
2.31
2.36
2.41
2.49
2.47
2- 51
2-55
2-59
Spir.
per¬
cent
66
65
64
63
62
61
60
59
58
57
56
55
54
53
52
51
So
49
48
47
46
45
44
43
42
41
40
39
38
37
36
35
34
33
Specific
Gravity.
0.91095
0.91306
O.91511
O.91714
O.91914
O.92112
0.92308
O.92 501
0.92692
0.92883
0-93°72
0.93238
c-9343^
0.93612
0.93786
0.93958
0.94128
0.94293
°-94455
0.94610
0.94768
0.94923
0.95074
0.95210
°-953^4
°'95502
0.95636
0.95766
0.95894
0.96019
0.96141
0.96258
0.9637!
0.96481
Contr.
2-59
2.62
2.64
2.66
2.68
2.70
2.72
2.74
2.76
2.77
2.78
2.80
2-8i
2.81
2.82
2.81
2.79
2.78
2.76
2-73
2.71
2.70
268
2.66
2.63
2.60
2.58
2-54
2.49
2.46
2-43
2.38
2-33
2.27
Spir.
per
cent.
.Specific
Gravity.
33
32
3r
30
29
28
27
26
25
24
23
22
21
20
J9
18
J7
16
x5
J4
!3
12
11
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
o
0.96481
0.96587
0.96691
0.96793
0.96894
0.96992
0.97089
o.97i85
0.97280
°-97374
0.97468
0.97 361
0.97654
0.97747
0.97841
0.97936
0.98032
0.98129
0.98228
0.98328
o-98430
0.98634
0.98640
0.98748
0.98858
0-98973
0.99091
0.99211
°-99334
0.99461
0.99591
0.99725
0.99861
.00000
Contr.
2.27
2.21
2.15
2.08
2.00
I-93
1.86
1.79
I-7i
1.63
1.56
1.48
M
1.32
1.24
1.17
1.08
1.00
•93
.85
.78
•71
.66
.61
•51
•43
•34
•25
.18
.12
•7
•3
.1
.0
Spiritnaus
Liquor**
In the first table, of which the sole intention is to
point out the proportion of ingredients, the specific gra¬
vities are computed only to four places, which will al¬
ways give the answer true to 7^th part. In the last,
winch is more immediately interesting to the merchant
in his transactions with the excise office, the computa¬
tion is carried one place further.”
The consideration of the first of these two tables will
! furnish some useful information to the reader who is in-
I terested in the philosophy of chemical mixture, and who
endeavours to investigate the nature of those forces which
connect the particles of tangible matter. These vary
with the distance of the particle ; and therefore the lavv
of their action, like that of universal gravitation, is to
be discovered by measuring their sensible effects at their
various distances. Their change of distance is seen in
the change of density or specific gravity.
I)id the individual densities of the water and spirit re-
wain unchanged by mixture, the specific gravity would
change by equal differences in the series of mixtures on
which this table is constructed ; for the bulk being al¬
ways the same, the change of specific gravity must be
he difference between the weight of the gallon of water
*hich is added and that of the gallon of spirit which
is taken out. The whole difference of the specific gra¬
vities of spirits and water being 1.750 parts in 10.000
the augmentation by each successive change of a mea¬
sure of spirit for a measure of water would be the loodth
part of this, or 17.5. But, by taking the successive
differences of density as they occur in die table, we see
that they are vastly greater in the first additions of wa¬
ter, being then about 10; after which they gradually
diminish to the medium quantity 17*. when water and
spirits are mixed in nearly equal bulks. The differences
of specific gravity still diminish, and are reduced to 9,
when about 75 parts of water are mixed with 25 of spi¬
rit. The differences now increase again 5 and the last,
when 99 parts of water are mixed with one part of spi¬
rit, the difference from the specific gravity of pure wa¬
ter is above 14.
The mechanical effect, therefore, of the addition of
a measure of water to a great quantity of spirit is great¬
er than the similar effect of the addition of a measure of
spirits to a great quantity of water. What we call me¬
chanical effect is the local motion, the change of distanc*
of the particles, that the corpuscular forces may again
be in equilibrio. Observe, too, that this change is
greater than in the proportion of the distance of the
particles ^
S P I
[ 608 ]
S P 0
Plate
ccccxcix.
&£. 2.
Spirituous particles •, for the density of water Is to that of spirits
.Liquors, nearly as 6 to 5, and the changes of specific gravity are
nearly as 6 to 3.
We also see that the changing cause, which produces
the absolute condensation of each ingredient, ceases to
operate when 75 parts of water have been mixed with
25 of alcohol: for the variation of specific gravity, from
diminishing comes now to increase ; and therefore, m
this particular state of composition, is equable. Things
are now in the same state as if we were mixing two
fluids which did not act on each other, but were mutually
disseminated, and whose specific gravities are nearly as
9 to 10 5 for the variation 9 of specific gravity may be
considered as the looth part of the whole difference, in
the same manner as 17.7 would have been had water
and alcohol sustained no contraction.
The imagination is greatly assisted in the contempla¬
tion of geometrical quantity by exhibiting it in its own
form. Specific gravity, being an expression of density
(a notion purely geometrical), admits of this illustra¬
tion.
Therefore let AB (fig. 2.) represent the bulk of any
mixture of water and alcohol. The specific gravity of
water may be represented by a line of such a length,
that AB shall be the difference between the gravities
of alcohol and water. Suppose it extended upwards, to¬
wards (it till B a is to A a as 10,000 to 8230. It will
suit our purpose better to represent it by a parallelogram
a BF e, of any breadth BF. In this case the difference
of the specific gravities of alcohol and water will be ex¬
pressed by the parallelogram ABFE. If there were no
change produced in the density of one or both ingredi¬
ents, the specific gravity of the compound would increase
as this parallelogram does, and AGUE would be the
augmentation corresponding to the mixture of the quan¬
tity AG of alcohol with the quantity GB of water, and
so of other mixtures. But, to express the augmentation
of density as it really obtains, we must do it by some
curvilineal area DABCHD,. which varies at the rate
determined by Sir CharlesBlagden’s experiments. This
area must be precisely equal to the rectangle ABB'E.
It must therefore fall without it in some places, and be
deficient in others. Let DMHKC be the curve which
corresponds with these experiments. It is evident to the
mathematical reader, that the ordinates LM, GH, IK,
&c. of this curve are in the ultimate ratio of the differ¬
ences of the observed specific gravities. If A *, « fi, &c.
are each = 5, the little spaces A » £ D, u b$, &c.
will be precisely equal to the differences of the specific
gravities 0.8250-, 0.8387 j 0.8516; &c. corresponding
to the different mixtures of water and alcohol. The
curve cuts the side of the parallelogram in K, where the
ordinate GK expresses the mean variation of density
0.0017.5. IK is the .smallest variation. The conden¬
sation may be expressed by drawing a curve d m G f k
parallel to DMGKB', making D r/—AE. The conden¬
sation is now represented by the spaces comprehended
between this last curve and the abscissa AGB, reckoning
those negative which lie on the other side of it. This
shows, not only that the condensation is greatest in the
mixture AG X GB, but also that in mixing such a com¬
pound with another AlxIB, there is a rarefaction.
Another curve ANOPB may be drawn, of which the
ordinates LN, GP, 10, &c. are proportional to the
areas ALmr/, AG m F), AlkGmd ( = AGmc!—GI/c),
&c. This curve shows the whole condensation.
This manner of representing the specific gravities of
mixtures will suggest many curious inferences to such as
will consider them in the manner of Boscovich, with a
view to ascertain the nature of the forces of cohesion
and chemical affinities: And this manner of viewing
the subject becomes every day more promising, in con¬
sequence of our improvements in chemical knowledge;
for we now see, that mechanism, or motive forces, are
the causes of chemical action. We see in almost every
case, that chemical affinities are comparable with me¬
chanical pressures ; because the conversion of a liquid
into a vapour or gas is prevented by atmospheric pres¬
sure, and produced by the great chemical agent heat.
The action of heat, therefore, or of the cause of heat,
is a mechanical action, and the forces are common me¬
chanical forces, with which we are familiarly ac¬
quainted.
“ It may be also remarked in the column of contrac¬
tions, that in the beginning the contractions augment
nearly in the proportion of the quantity of spirits (but
more slowly); whereas, in the end, the contractions are
nearly in the duplicate proportion of the quantity of
water. This circumstance deserves the consideration of
the philosopher. We have represented it to the eye by
the curve tgh rf.”
Attempts are made to elude some part of the duties,
by adding some ingredient to the spirits. But it would
be doing no service to the trader to put fraud more in
his power. There are some salts which make a very
great augmentation of density, but they render the lb
quor unpalatable. Sugar is frequently used with this
view ; 16 grains of refined sugar dissolved in 1000
grains of proof spirits gave it no suspicious taste, and
increased its specific gravity from 0.920 to 0.925, which
is a very great change, equivalent to the addition of 9
grains of water to a mixture of too grains of alcohol
and 80 of water. B^or an account of the process of ma¬
nufacturing spirits, see Distillation, Supplement. 1
SPIRLING, a species offish. See Salmo, Ichthy¬
ology, p. 99.
SPITHEAD, a road between Portsmouth and the
isle of Wight, where the royal navy of Great Britain
frequently rendezvous.
SPITTLE, in Physiology. See Saliva.
SPITZBERGEN. See Greenland, N° 10.
SPLACHNUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of cryptogamia, and order of musci. See Botany
Index.
SPLEEN. See Anatomy Index.
Spleen-W^orti See Asplenium, Botany Index.
SPLENETIC, a person afflicted with an obstruction
of the spleen.
SPLENT, or Splint, among farriers, a callous in¬
sensible excrescence, breeding on the shank-bone 0
horses. See B'arriery. . .
SPLICING, in the sea-language, is the untwisting
the ends of two cable* or ropes, and working the severa
strands into one another by a fidd, so that they become
as strong as if they were but one rope.
SPOILS, whatever is taken from the enemy in time
of war. Among the ancient Greeks, the spoils were
divided among the whole army ; only the general’s s.>are
was
Spirit^-!
Liquor
s P o
tl,e Eomans'the 8p°iis
SPOLETTO a duchy of Italy, bounded on the north
by the marqu*sate of Ancona and duchy of Urbino, on
the east by Farther Abruzzo, on the south by Sabina
and the patrimony of St Peter, and on the west by Or-
vieto and Perugmo. It is about 55 mile9 in length and
40 m breadth. It was anciently a part of Umbria, and
mw belongs totbe pope. The name of the capital city
is also Spoletto It was formerly a large place, but in
1703 was ruined by an earthquake j from whence it has
never recovered itself,
SPOLFATION, in ecclesiastical law, is an injury
done by one clerk or incumbent to another, in taking
the fruits of his benefice without any right thereunto,
but under a pretended title. It is remedied by a decree
to account for the profits so taken. This injury, when
the jus patronatvs, or right of ad vowson, doth not come
in debate, is cognizable in the spiritual court: as if a
patron first presents A to a benefice, who is instituted
and inducted thereto 5 and then, upon pretence of a va-
cancy, the same patron presents B to the same living,
aud he also obtains institution and induction. Now if A
disputes the Fact of the vacancy, then that clerk who is
kept out of the profits of the living, whichever it be
raay sue the other m the spiritual court for the spoliation!
©r taking the profits of his benefice. And it shall there
be tried, whether the living were or were not vacant:
upon which the validity of the second clerk’s pretensions
must depend. But if the right of patronage comes at all
*nto dispute, as if one patron presented A, and another
patron presented B, there the ecclesiastical court hath no
cognizance, provided the tithes sued for amount to a
fourth part of the value of the living, but may be pro-
h.bited at the instance of tire patron by the king’s writ
0f tnd1cav.it. So also if a clerk, without any colour of
title,ejects another from bis parsonage, this injury must
be redressed in the temporal courts: for it depends upon
no question <deternunable by the spiritual law (as plura-
ityof benefices .or no plurality, vacancy or no vacancy),
nut is merely a civil injury.
.SF>0NDE£, in ancient poetry, a foot consisting of
itwo long .syllables, as omnes.
SPONDIAS, Brasilian or Jamaica Plum a ge-
of plants belonging to the class of decandria. See
Botany Index..
SPQNGIA, Sponge j a genus of animals belonging
to the class .of vermes, and order of zoophy ta. It is fix¬
ed, flexible, and very torpid, growing in a variety of
turras, composed either of reticulated fibres, or masses of
small spines interwoven together, and clothed with a
•.living gelatinous flesh, full of small mouths or bales on
its surface, by which it sucks in and ,throws out the wa-
(i. i ifty species have already been discovered, of
which 10 belong to the British coasts. See Helmin¬
thology Index.
Bo early ;as ,the days 0f Aristotle sponges were suppo-
•sed to possess animal Life; the persons employed in col-
iectmg them having observed them shrink when torn
trom the rocks, thus exhibiting symptoms of sensation.
sUie same opinion prevailed .in the .time,of Plinv : But
no attention was paid to this subject till Count Marsfeli
examined them, and declared them vegetables. Dr Pev-
sonell, in a paper which be sent to the-Royal Society in
tile year 1752, and in a second in .1757, affirmed they
> OL. AIX. Part 11.
[ 609 ]
s P o
Spongia
were not vegetables, but the production of animals; and
h^accordinglyd bed the animals, and the process „
ch they performed in making the sponges. Mr El- Spotswood.
is, in the year 1762, was at great pains to discover’ ^  
these animals. 1 or this purpose he dissected the spongia
urens, and was surprised to find a great number of small
worms of the genus of nereis or sea scolopendra, which
had pierced their way through the soft substance of the
sponge in quest of a safe retreat. That this was really
the case, he was fully assured of, by inspecting a nunl
ber pf specimens of the same sort of sponge, j^ust fresh
from the sea. He put them into a glass filled with sea-
J lnStead 0f SqeinS any of the ani¬
mals which Dr Peysonell described, he observed the pa-
pill* or small holes with which the papillm are surround-
ed contract and dilate themselves. He examined another
rS 7,1 6 Sp-eCieS °f Sl,onge’ and Plainly per-
ived the small tubes inspire and expire the water! He
herefore concluded that the sponge is an animal, and
Uiat the ends or openings of the branched tubes are the
mouths by which it receives its nourishment, and dis-
cuaiges its excrements.
wbo^f0*8’ an,Tg .Christi»”s. are those persons
Who, in the office of baptism, answer or are sureties for
the persons baptized.
of tb a term applied to such motions
of the body and operations of the mind as we perform of
ourselves without any constraint.
/Jl]^00N'BILL’ See Platalea> Ornithology
whS™~’ In t,;e.Sea'lan§uage> h said of a ship,
which being under sail in a storm at sea, is unable to
wind ’ Und COnSeqUent,y forced t0 go right before the
. SP0RADES, among ancient astronomers, a name
fatfen t0 SUC1 StarS ^ ^ n0t included in any constel-
SPORADIC diseases, among physicians, are such
as seize particular persons at anytime or season, and in
anyplace; m which sense they are distinguished from
epidemical and endemical diseases.
SPOTS in Astronomy, certain places of the sun’s or
moon s disk, observed to be either more bright or dark
than the rest; and accordingly called faculce et macula:.
oee Astronomy Index.
. fOISWOOD, John, archbishop of St Andrew’s
in Scotland, was descended from-the lairds of Spotswood
in the JVler&e, and was born in the year 1 c6c. He was
educated in the university of Glasgow, and succeeded bis
lather in the parsonage of Calder when but 18 years of
age. In 1601 lie attended Lodowick duke of Lennox
as his chaplain, in an embassy to the court of France for
confirming the ancient amity between the two nations,
and returned m the ambassador’s retinue through Eog-
fand. When he entered into the archbishopric of Glas¬
gow, he found there was not jool. sterling of yearly re¬
venue left,; yet such was his care for his successors, that ;
he greatly improved it, and much to the satisfaction of
his diocese. After having filled this see 11 years he
was .raised to that of St Andrew’s in 1615, and made
primate and metropolitan of all Scotland. He presided
in several assemblies for restoring the ancient discipline
and bringing the cll^ch of Scotland to some degree of
uniformity with that of England. He continued in high
esteem with King James I. nor was he less valued by
4 H King
S ? It
t 61
SBouweod Kins Charles I. who was crowned by him in 1633, in
the abbey-church of Holyroodhouse. In 1635, upon
the death of the earl of Kinnoul chancellor of Scotland,
our primate was advanced to that post; but had scarce y
held it four years, when the confusions beginning in
Scotland, he was obliged to retire into England ; and
being broken with age, grief, a*nd sickness, died at J^on-
don in 1639, and was interred in \Vestminster-abbey.
He wrote A History of the Church of Scotland from the
year 203 to the reign of King James V]. in iolio.
SPOUT, or Water-SpouT. See Jf ateR-Spout.
Spout-Fish. See Solen, Concho logy Index.
SPRAT, Dr Thomas, bishop of Rochester, was born
in i6;6. He had his education at Oxford, and after
the Restoration entered into holy orders. He became
fellow of the Royal Society, chaplain to George duke
of Buckingham, and chaplain in ordinary to King
Charles IL In 1667 he published the History ot the
Royal Society, and a Life of Mr Cowley; who, by his
last will, left to his care his printed works and Mob.
which were accordingly published by him. In 1668 he
was installed prebendary of Westminster; m 1680, was
appointed canon of Windsor ; in 1683, dean of et't*
minster; and in 1684, consecrated to the bishopric ot
Rochester. Hewas clerk of the closet to King James II.;
in 1685, was made dean of the chapel royal ; and the
year following, was appointed one of the commissioners
for ecclesiastical affairs. In 1692 his lordship, with se¬
veral other persons, was charged with treason by two
men, who drew up an association, in which they whose
names were subscribed declared their resolution to restore
King James ; to seiz.e the princess of Orange, dead or
alive; and to be ready with 30,000 men to meet King
James when he should laud. To this they put the
names of Bancroft, Sprat, Marlborough, Salisbury, and
ethers. The bishop was arrested, and kept at a messen¬
ger’s, under a strict guard, for eleven days. His house
was searched, and his papers seized, among which no¬
thing was found of treasonable appearance, except one
memorandum, in the following words : Thorough-paced
doctrine. Being asked at his examination the meaning
of the words, he said that, about 20 years before, curi¬
osity had led him to hear Daniel Burgess preach ; and
that being struck with his account of a certain kind of
doctrine, which he said entered at one car, and pacing
through the head went out at the other, he had inserted
the memorandum in his table-book, that he might not
lose the substance of so strange a sermon. His innocence
/being proved, he w'as set at liberty, when he published
an account of his examination and deliverance ; which
made such an impression upon him, that he commemo¬
rated it through life by an yearly day of thanksgiving.
He lived to the 79th year of his age, and died May 20.
jyig. His works, besides a few poems of little value,
are, “ The History of the Royal Society;” “ The Life
©f Cowley ;” The Answer to Sorbiere ;” “ The Hi¬
story of the Rye-house Plot“ The Relation of his
own Examination ;” and a volume of “ Sermons.” Dr
Johnson says, “ I have heard it observed with great just¬
ness, that every book is of a different kind, and that
each has its distinct and characteristical excellence.”
Sprat. See Clupea, Ichthyology Index.
SPRAY, the sprinkling of the sea, which is driven
from the top of a wave in stormy weather. It differs
fccm spoon-drift, as being only blown occasionally from
o ] S F R
the broken surface of a high wave ; whereas the latter
continues to fly horizontally along the sea, without
intermission, during the excess ol a tempest or hurri-
Cane.
SPRING, in Natural History, a fountain or source
of water rising out of the ground.
Many have been the conjectures of philosophers con¬
cerning the origin ol fountains, and great pains have
been taken both by the members of the Royal Society
and those of the Academy of Sciences at Paris, in or¬
der to ascertain the true cause of it. It was Aristotle’#
opinion, and held by most of the ancient philosophers
after him, that the air contained in the caverns of the
earth, being condensed by cold near its surface, was
thereby changed into water ; and that it made its way
through, where it could find a passage. But we have
no experience of any such transmutation of air into wa¬
ter.
Those who imagine that fountains owe their origin
to waters brought from the sea by subterraneous ducts,
give a tolerable account how they lose their saltness
by percolation as they pass through the earth . but they
find great difficulty in explaining by what power the
water rises above the level oi the sea to near the. tops
of mountains, where springs generally abound ; it be¬
ing contrary to the laws ol hydrostatics, that a fluid
should rise in a tube above the level oi its source. How¬
ever, they have found two ways whereby they endea¬
vour to extricate themselves from this difficulty. Ihe
one is that of Des Cartes, who imagines, that after
the water is become fresh by percolation, it is raised
out of the caverns of the earth in vapour towards it»
surface ; where meeting with rocks near the tops of
mountains in the form of arches or vaults, it sticks to
them, and runs down their sides, (like water in an
alembic), till it meets with proper receptacles, from
which it supplies the fountains. Now this is a mere
hypothesis, without foundation or probability : lor, in
the first place, we know of no internal heat ot the earti
to cause such evaporation ; or it that were allowed, yet
it is quite incredible that there should be any caverns so
smooth and void of protuberances as to answer the ends
of an alembic, in collecting and condensing the vapours
together in every place where fountains arise. I here
are others (as Yarenius, &c.) who suppose that the wa¬
ter may rise through the pores of the earth, as througi
capillary tubes, by attraction. But hereby they show,
that they are quite unacquainted with what relates to
the motion of a fluid through such tubes: lor when a
capillary tube opens into a cavity at its upper en , or
grows larger and larger, so as to cease to be capi ary
at that end, the water will not ascend through that tube
into the cavity, or beyond where the tube is capillary V
because that part of the periphery of the cavity, wire
is partly above the surface of the water, and partly be¬
low it, is not of the capillary kind. Nay, if the ca¬
vity is continually supplied with water, it wil ? a
tracted into the capillary tube, and run down it
through a funnel, il the lower end is immerge in
same fluid, as in this case it is supposed to be.
It has been a generally received opinion, an mu
espoused by Mariotte (a diligent observer of na ure »
that the rise of springs is owing to the rains an ”ie .
snow. According to him, the rain-water whic
upon the hills and mountains, penetrating the su^aet|
8 P ft fj i
i>rkg. meets with clay or rocks contiguous to each other*
-*v ' along which it runs, without being able to penetrate’
them, till, being got to the bottom of the mountain, or
to a considerable distance from the top, it breaks out of
the ground, and forms springs.
In order to examine this opinion, Mr Perrault, De
la Hire, and D. Sideleau, endeavoured to make an es¬
timate of the quantity of rain and snow that falls in the
space of a year, to see whether it would be sufficient
to afford a quantity of water equal to that which is an¬
nually discharged into the sea by the rivers. The re¬
sult of their inquiries was, that the quantity of rain and
snow which fell in a year into a cylindrical vessel would
fill it (if secured from evaporating) to the height of
about nineteen inches. Which quantity D. Sideleau
showed, was not sufficient to supply the rivers 5 for that
those of England, Ireland, and Spain, discharge a
greater quantity of water annually, than the rain° ac¬
cording to that experiment, is able to supply. Besides
which, another observation was made by them at the
same time, viz. that the quantity of water raised in va¬
pour, one year with another, amounted to about thirty-
two inches, which is thirteen more than falls in rain : a
plain indication that the water of fountains is not sup¬
plied by rain and melted snow.
Thus the true cause of the origin of fountains re¬
mained undiscovered, till Dr Halley, in making his ce¬
lestial observations upon the tops of the mountains at
St Helena, about 800 yards above the level of the sea,
found, that the quantity of vapour which fell there (even
when the sky was clear) was so great, that it very much
impeded his observations, by covering his glasses with
water every half quarter of an hour j and upon that he
attempted to determine by experiment the quantity of
vapour exhaled from the surface of the sea, as far as it
rises from heat, in order to try whether that might be
a sufficient supply for the water continually discharged
by fountains. The process of his experiment was as
iollows: He took a vessel of water salted to the same
degree with that of sea water, in which he placed a
thermometer j and by means of a pan of coals brought
]
8 P ft
the water to the same degree of heat, which is observed
to be that of the air in our hottest summer; this done,
be fixed the vessel of water with the thermometer in it
to one end of a pair of scales, and exactly counterpoised
it with weights on the other : then, at the end of two
hours, he found, by the alteration made in the weight
ot the vessel, that about a sixtieth part of an inch of
the depth of the water was gone oft' in vapour; and
therefore, in twelve hours, one tenth of an inch would
have gone off. Now this accurate observer allows the
Mediterranean sea to be forty degrees long; and four
broad, (the broader parts compensating for the narrow¬
er, so that its whole surface is 160 square degrees) ;
which, according to the experiment, must yield at least
5,280,000,000 tons of water: In which account no re¬
gard is had to the wind and the agitation of the surface
of the sea, both which undoubtedly promote the evapo¬
ration.
It remained now to compare this quantity of water
with that which is daily conveyed into the same sea by
the rivers. The only way to do which was to compare
them with some known river ; and accordingly he takes
his computation from the river Thames ; and, to avoid
all objections, makes allowances, probably greater than
what were absolutely necessary.
.The Mediterranean receives the following consider¬
able rivers, viz. the Iberus, the Rhone, the Tiber, the
Po, the Danube, the Niester, the Borysthenes, the Ta-
nais, and the Nile. Each of these he supposes to brinw
down ten times as much water as the Thames, whereby
he allows for smaller rivers which fall into the same sea.
Ihe Ihames, then, he finds by measuration to discharge
about 20,300,000 tons of water a-day. If therefore
the above-said nine rivers yield ten times as much water
as the Thames doth, it will follow, that all of them to¬
gether yield but 1827 millions of tons in a day, which
is but little more than one-third of what is proved to be
raised in vapour out of tho Mediterranean in the same
time. We have therefore from hence a source abun¬
dantly sufficient for the supply of fountains.
Now having found that the vapour exhaled from the
sea is a sufficient supply for the fountains, he proceed*
in the next place to consider the manner in which they
are raised; and how they are condensed into water
again, and conveyed to the source of springs.
In order to this he considers, that if an atom of water
was expanded into a shell or bubble, so as to be tea
times as big in diameter as when it was water, that atom
would become specifically lighter than air; and there¬
fore would rise so long as the warmth which first se¬
parated it from the surface of the water should conti¬
nue to distend it to the same degree; and consequently,
that vapours may be raised from the surface of the sea
in that manner, till they arrive at a certain height ia
the atmosphere, at which they find air of equal specific
gravity with themselves. Here they will float till, being
condensed by cold, they become specifically heavier
than the air, and fall down in dew ; or being driven by
the winds against the sides of mountains (many of which
far surpass the usual height to which the vapours would
ot themselves ascend), are compelled by the stream of
the air to mount up with it to the tops of them ; where
being condensed into water, they presently precipitate,
and gleeting down by the crannies of the stones, part
ot them enters into the caverns of the hills; which be¬
ing once filled, all the overplus of water that comes thi¬
ther runs over by the lowest place, and breaking oufc
by the sides of the hills forms single springs. Many of
these running down by the valleys between the ridges
of the hills, and coming to unite, form little rivulets^or
brooks ; many of these again meeting in one common
valley, and gaining the plain ground, being grown less
rapid, become a river; and many of these being united
m one common channel, make such streams as the Rhin«
and the Danube ; which latter, he observes, one would
hardly think to be a collection ol water condensed out
ot vapour, unless we consider how vast a tract of
ground that river drains, and that it is the sum of all
those springs which break out on the south side of the
Carpathian mountains, and on the north side of the im¬
mense ridge of the Alps, which is one continued chain
of mountains from Switzerland to the Black sea.
Thus one part of the vapours which are blown on
the land is returned by the rivers into the sea from
whence it came. Another part falls into the sea before
it reaches the land ; and this is the reason why the ri¬
vers do not return so much water into the Mediterra-
4 & ? aeuii
Spris*
Spring.
S P R [ 61
nean as is raised in vapour. A third part falls on the
' low lands, where it affords nourishment to plants ; yet
it does not rest there, hut is again exhaled in vapour by
the action of the sun, and is either carried by the winds
to the sea to fall in rain or d^w there, or else to the
mountains to become the sources of springs.
However, it is not to be supposed that all fountains
are owing to one and the same cause ; but that some
proceed from rain and melted snow, which, subsiding
through the surface of the earth, makes its way into cer¬
tain cavities, and thence issues out in the form of springs j
because the waters of several are found to increase and
diminish in proportion to the rain which falls : that
others again, especially such as are salt, and spring near
the sea-shore, owe their origin to sea-water percolated
through the earth •, and some to both these causes:
though without doubt most of them, and especially such
as spring near the tops of high mountains, receive their
waters from vapours, as before explained.
This reasoning of Ur Halley’s is confirmed by more
recent observations and discoveries. It is now found,
that though water is a tolerable conductor of the electric
fluid, dry earth is an electric per se, consequently the
dry land must always be in an electrified state compared
with the ocean, unless in such particular cases as are
mentioned under the article Earthquake, N® 82. It
is also well known, that such bodies as are in an electri¬
fied state, whether plus or tfttnus, will attract vapour,
or other light substances that come near them. Hence
the vapours that are raised from the ocean must necessa¬
rily have a tendency to approach the land in great quan¬
tity, even without the assistance of the wind, though
this last must undoubtedly contribute greatly towards the
same purpose, as Dr Halley justly observes. In like
manner, the higher grounds are always in a more elec¬
trified state than the lower ones: and hence the vapours
having once left the ocean and approached the shore,
jve attracted by the high mountains; of which Mr Pen¬
nant gives an instance in Snowdon. Hence we may see
the reason why springs are so common in the neighbour¬
hood of mountains, they being so advantageously formed
in every respect for collecting and condensing the va¬
pours into water.
The heat of springs is generally the same with the
mean temperature of the atmosphere. The mean tem¬
perature of the south of England is 48° ; in Scotland,
near Edinburgh, it is 450; in the north of Ireland it is
48°, and on the south coast about 510. At Upsal, in
Sweden, it is 43°, and in Paris 53°. According to ac¬
curate experiments made by eminent philosophers, the
heat of the springs in these different countries corre¬
sponds with the medium temperature. We have not
heard that similar experiments have been made in other
countries, or we should have been careful to collect
them. We do not, however, doubt but they have been
made in most countries of Europe; yet we suspect little
attention has been paid to this subject within the tropi¬
cal regions. See Climate, Supplement.
Though this coincidence of the heat of springs with
the mean temperature of the climate where they flow,
seems to be a general fact, yet it admits of many excep¬
tions. In many parts of the world there are springs
which not only exceed the mean temperature, hut even
the strongest meridian heat ever known in the tomd re¬
gions. The following table will give a distict notion
2 ] S P R
of the degrees of heat which different springs have been
found to possess, according to the experiments ol philo¬
sophers. It is necessary to remark that experiments
made upon the same springs, made by different persons,
vary a little from one another, which may be owing to
many accidents easily accounted for. Where this is the
case, we shall mention both the lowest and highest de¬
gree of heat which has been ascribed to the same spring,
according to Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
Placet.
Bristol,
Buxton,
Matlock,
Bath,
Aix-la-Chapelle,
Barege,
Pisa
Caroline baths in
Bohemia,
Iceland,
Spring*,
St Vincent’s or
the hot well, 84
Gentleman’s bath, 82
69
King’s bath,
Highest de- Loweit de¬
gree of heat, gree ot heat.
76
Prudel or furi¬
ous,
Geyzer,
119
146
122
IO4
JI3
136
'*5
212
In cold countries where congelation takes place, the
heat of the earth is considerably above the freezing point,
and continues so through the whole year. From experi¬
ments that have been made in mines and deep pits, it
appears that this heat is uniform and stationary at a cer¬
tain depth. But as the heat of these springs far exceeds
the common heat of the internal parts of the earth, it
must be occasioned by causes peculiar to certain places;
but what these causes are it is no easy matter to deter¬
mine. We are certain, indeed, that hot springs receive
their heat from some subterranean cause; but it is a mat¬
ter of difficulty to investigate how this heat is produced
and preserved. Theories, however, have been formed
on this subject. The subterranean heat has been ascribed
to the electrical fluid, and to a great body of fire in the
centre of the earth: But we suspect that the nature of
the electrical fluid and its effects are not sufficiently un¬
derstood. As to the supposition that the heat of springs
is owing to a central lire, it is too hypothetical to re¬
quire any refutation. From what then does this heat
originate, and whence is the fuel which has produced it
for so many ages ? To enable us to answer these ques¬
tions with precision, more information is necessary than
we have hitherto obtained respecting the structure of the
internal parts of the earth. It is peculiarly requisite
that we should he made acquainted with the fossils which
are most common in those places where hot springs »'
bound. We should then perhaps discover that hot
springs always pass through bodies of a combustible na¬
ture. It is well known to chemists, that when water is
mixed with the vitriolic acid, a degree of heat is produ¬
ced superior to that of boiling water. It is also an esta
blished fact, that when water meets with pyrites, that is,
a mixture of sulphur and iron, a violent inflammation
takes place. If, therefore, we could prove that t iese
materials exist in the strata from which hot spiings are
derived, we should he enabled to give a satisfactory ac
count of this curious phenomenon. As some apoogy
for this supposition, we may add, that most of t ie
springs mentioned above have been found by ana ysl^
be impregnated with sulphur, and some ol them w‘
W
w/ri
■ijrai
•iktl
H ing
II
SJuce-
] nr.
u..,—J
Cfiis Let
Urr'rom
Ceram]
tnc'wit-
tenul.
S P R > [ 613
iron. It must, however, be acknowledged, that (he
hot springs of Iceland, which are 2120, the heat of boil-
ing water, according to an accurate analysis of their
contents by the ingenious JDr Black, were neither found
to contain iron nor sulphur. It will therefore, perhaps,
be necessary that we should wait with patience, and con¬
tinue to collect facts, till the sciences of chemistry and
mineralogy shall be so far advanced as to enable "us to
form a permanent theory on this subject.
Springs are of different kinds. Some are perennial,
or continue to flow during the whole year ; others flow
only during the rainy season ; some ebb and flow. At
Torbay there is one of this kind, which ebbs and flows
five or six inches every hour. There is another near Co-
riso in Italy, which ebbed and flowed three times a-day
in the time of Pliny, and continues to do so still. A
spring near Henly sometimes flows for two years toge¬
ther, and then dries up for an equal period. For the
ingredients found in springs, see Mineral- Waters.
Spring, in Mechanics, denotes a thin piece of tem¬
pered steel, or other elastic substance, which being
wound up serves to put machines in motion by its elasti¬
city, or endeavours to unbend itself: such is the spring
of a watch, clock, or the like.
Spring, Fer, in cosmography, denotes one of the
seasons of the year; commencing, in the northern parts
of the world, on the day the sun enters the first degree
of Aries, which is about the 10th day of March, and
ending when the sun’s leaves Gemini; or, more strictly
and generally, the spring begins on the day when the
distance of the sun’s meridian altitude from the zenith,
being on the increase, is at a medium between the great¬
est and least. The ending of the spring coincides with the
beginning of summer. See Summer.
E/ater Spring, in Physics, denotes a natural faculty
or endeavour of certain bodies, to return to their first
state, after having been violently put out of it by com¬
pressing or bending them. This faculty is, by philo¬
sophers, usually denominated elasticforce, or elasticity.
SpRiNG-l'ide. See Astronomy Index, and Tide.
Burning Springs. See Burning Springs.
Springer, or Spring-BoL See Capra, Mamma¬
lia Index.
SPRIT, a small boom or pole which crosses the sail
of a boat diagonally, from the mast to the upper hind¬
most corner of the sail, which it is used to extend and
elevate ; the lower end of the sprit rests in a sort of
wreath or collar called the smotter, which encircles the
mast in that place.
SPRITSAIL. See Sail and Ship.
SpRirsAiL-Topsail. See Sail and Ship.
SPRUCE-tree. See Pinus, Botany Index.
SPRUCE-Beer, a cheap and wholesome liquor, which
is thus made: Take of water 16 gallons, and boil the
half of it. Put the water thus boiled, while in full heat,
to the reserved cold part, which should be previously
put into a barrel or other vessel ; then add 16 pounds of
treacle or molasses, with a few table spoonfuls of the
essence of spruce, stirring the whole well together; add
half a pint of yeast, and keep it in a temperate situa¬
tion, with the bung hole open, for two days, till the
fermentation be abated. Then close it up or bottle it
off, and it will be fit for being drunk in a few days af¬
terwards. In North America, and perhaps in other
] S Q u
countries, where the black and white spruce firs abound,
instead of adding the essence of the spruce at the same
time with the molasses, they make a decoction of
the leaves and small branches of these trees, and find
the liquor equally good. It is a powerful anti¬
scorbutic, and may prove very useful in long sea voy¬
ages.
SPUNGE, or Sponge. See Spongia.
SPUNGING, in Gunnery, the cleaning of the inside
of a gun with a sponge, in order to prevent any sparks
of fire from remaining in it, which would endanger the
life of him that should load it again.
SPUN-yarn, among sailors, is a kind of line made
from rope yarn, and used for seizing or fastening things
together.
SPUNK. See Boletus, Botany Index.
SPUR, a piece of metal consisting of two branches
encompassing a horseman’s heel, and a rowel in form of
a star, advancing out behind to prick the horse.
SpuR-Jf inged JFuter-IIcn. See Parra, Ornitho¬
logy Index.
SPURGE. See Euphorbia, T
SpuRGE-Laurel. See Daphne, t Botany Index
SPURREY. SeeSPERGULA, j
SPY, a person hired to watch the actions, motions,
&c. of another ; particularly what passes in a camp!
When a spy is discovered, he is hanged immediately.
SQUADRON, in military affairs, denotes a body of
horse whose number of men is not fixed ; but it is usually
from IOO to 200. 3
Squadron oj Ships, either implies a detachment of
ships employed on any particular expedition, or the third
part of a naval armament.
SQUADS, in a military sense, are certain divisions
of a company into so many squads, generally into three
or four. Ihe use of forming companies into as many
squads of inspection as it has serjeants and corporals, is
proved by those regiments who have practised that me¬
thod ; as by it the irregularity of the soldiers is consider¬
ably restrained, their dress improved, and the discipline
of the regiment in general most remarkably forwarded.
E\eiy officer should have a roll of his company by
squads. J J
SQUALL, a sudden and violent blast of wind usu¬
ally occasioned by the interruption and reverberation of
the wind from high mountains. These are very frequent
in the Mediterranean, particularly that part of it which
is known by the name of the Levant, as produced by
the repulsion and new direction which the wind meets
with in its passage between the various islands of the
Archipelago.
SQUALUS, the Shark; a genus of fishes arranged
by Linnaeus under the class of amphibia, and the order
of nantes, but by Gmelin referred to the class of pisces,
andorderof chondropterygii. See Ichthyology Index.
SQUAMARIA. See Lathraea, Botany Index.
SQUAMOUS, in Anatomy, a name given to the
spurious or false sutures of the skull, because composed
of squamae or scales like those of fishes.
SQUARE, in Geometry, a quadrilateral figure both
equilateral and equiangular. See Geometry.
Square Root. See Algebra and Arithmetic,
N° 33. and 34.
Hollow Square, ia the military art, a body of foot
drawn
S pruce-
iieei
II
Square.
Square,
Squaring.
S Q U [614
drawn up with an empty space in the middle, for the
colours, drums, and baggage, faced and covered by
the pikes every way to keep off the horse.
Square, among mechanics, an instrument consisting
of two rules or branches, fastened perpendicularly at
one end of their extremities, so as to form a right angle.^
It is of great use in the description and mensuration ot
right angles, and laying down perpendiculars.
T. Square, or Tee Square, an instrument used in
drawing, so called from its resemblance to the capital
letter T. . . . ,
Square-Rigged, an epithet applied to a ship whose
yards are very long. It is also used in contradistinc¬
tion to all vessels whose sails are extended by stays or
lateen-yards, or by booms and gaffs ; the usual situa¬
tion of which is nearly in the plane of the keel j and
hence,
SauARE-Sail, is a sail extended to a yard which
hangs parallel to the horizon, as distinguished from the
other sails which are extended by booms and stays placed
obliquely. This sail is only used in fair winds, or to scud
under in a tempest. In the former case, it is furnished
with a large additional part called the bonnet, which is
then attached to its bottom, and removed when it is ne-
tessary to scud. See Scudding.
SQUARING or Quadrature of the Circle, sig¬
nifies the finding a square exactly equal to the area of a
given citcle. This problem however has not been, and
probably cannot be, strictly resolved by the commonly
admitted principles of geometry j mathematicians having
liitherto been unable to do more than to find a square
that shall differ from the area of any proposed circle by
as small a quantity as they please. The quadrature of
the circle is a problem of the same degree of difficulty,
and indeed may be regarded as identical with another
geometrical problem, namely, the Rectification oj the
circle, or the finding a straight line equal to its circum¬
ference *, for the area of a circle is equal to that of a
rectangle contained by the radius and a straight line
equal to half the circumference (GEOMETRY, Sect. \ I.
Prop, 3.) : therefore, if a straight line exactly equal to
the circumference could be found, a rectilineal space
precisely equal to the area might also be found, and the
contrary. But although no perfectly accurate resolu¬
tion of the problem has been obtained undef either form,
we can always find approximate values of the area and
circumference j and therefore it is now customary to
apply the terms quadrature and rectification of the cir¬
cle also to these.
The problem of the quadrature of the circle appears
to have engaged the attention of geometers at a very
early period ; for we are told that Anaxagoras, who
lived about 5O0 years before Christ, attempted its solu¬
tion while confined in prison on account of bis philoso¬
phical opinions. We are ignorant of the result of his
researches j but although we cannot suppose they were
attended with any success, we may reasonably conclude
that we are indebted to them for tbe discovery of some
of the properties of the figure, which are now known as
elementary propositions in geometry.
Hippocrates of Chios was likewise engaged in trying
to resolve the same problem, and it was no doubt in the
course of his inquiries into this subject that lie discovered
the quadrature of the curvilineal space, which is now
"known by the name of the Lune of Hippocrates. The
5
]
S Q U
nature of this discovery may be briefly explained al
follows. Let ABCD be a circle (Plate D. fig. 1.),
H its centre, AC its diameter, ADC a triangle in¬
scribed in the semicircle, having its sides AD, DC
equal to one another. On D as a centre, with DA or
DC as a radius, let the quadrantal arch AEC be de¬
scribed, then shall the curvilineal space bounded by the
semicircle ABC and the quadrantal arch AEC (which
is the Lune of Hippocrates) be equal to the rectilineal
triangle ADC. For because circles are to one another
as the squares of the radii (Geometry, Sect. VI. Prop.
4.) ; the circle having DA for its radius will be to the
circle having HA for its radius as the square of DA to
the square of HA, that is, as 2 to 1 j hence the former
of these circles will be double the latter, and conse¬
quently one fourth of the former will be equal to one
half of the latter ; that is, the quadrant AECD will be
equal to the semicircle ABC j from these equals take
away the common space bounded by the diameter AC
and the arch AEC, and there will remain the triangle
ADC equal to the lunular space AECBA.
Although Hippocrates’s discovery has led to no im¬
portant conclusion either relating to the quadrature of
the circle or that of any other curve, yet at the time it
was made it might be regarded as of some consequence,
chiefly because it shewed the possibility of exhibiting a
rectilineal figure equal to a space bounded by curve
lines, a thing which we have reason to suppose was then
done for the first time, and might have been fairly
doubted, eonsidering the insuperable difficulty that wa#
found to attend the quadrature of the circle or its recti¬
fication.
Aristotle speaks of two persons, viz. Bryson and An¬
tiphon, who about his time, or a little earlier, were oc¬
cupied with the quadrature of the circle. The former
appears, according to the testimony of Alexander Apro-
diseus, to have erred most egregiously •, he having con¬
cluded that the circumference was exactly 3^ times the
diameter. And the latter seems to have proceeded
pretty much in the same manner as Archimedes after¬
wards did in squaring the parabola, that is, by first in¬
scribing a square in the circle, then an isosceles triangle
in each of the segments of the curve, having for its base
a side of the square ; and next again a series of triangles
in the segments, having for their bases the sides of the
former series, and so on : this mode of procedure, how¬
ever, could not be attended with any success, as it is
well known that the spaces thus formed do not, as in
the case of the parabola admit of being absolutely
summed.
It may naturally be supposed that Archimedes exerted
his utmost efforts to resolve this problem ; and probably
it wras only after long meditation on the subject that he
lost all hopes of success, and contented himself with that
approximation to the ratio of the diameter to the cir¬
cumference which is contained in his treatise De Circu 1
Dime mimic, which has been preserved from the period in
which he wrote, about 250 years before Christ, to the
present times. He found his approximation to the ratio,
by supposing a regular polygon of 96 sides to be e-
scribed about tbe circle, and another of the same num"
her of sides to be inscribed in it, and by shewing t at
tbe perimeter of the circumscribing polygon was ess
than 3^4 or 34 times tbe diameter, but that the peU
meter of the inscribed figure was greater than 370
Squarisg,
Starch.
Mamifac t u i- c
of.
Fhj. 6.
% *
S-MlMr/S/rt'/p /
'
[U3!
s Q U [6
•inrr. the iliameter j now the circumference of the circle be-
Fig,.
ing less than the perimeter of the one polygon but great¬
er than that of the other, it follows that the circumfer¬
ence must be less than 3^ times the diameter, but greater
than times ; so that, taking the first of these limits
as being expressed by the smallest numbers, the circum¬
ference will be to the diameter as 3^ to 1, or as 22 to
7 nearly.
Although the approximate ratio investigated by Ar¬
chimedes be the oldest known to have been found in the
western world, yet one more accurate seems to have
been known at a much earlier period in India. This
we learn from the Institutes of Akbar {Ayeen Akberry)
where it is said that the Hindoos suppose the diameter
of a circle to be to its circumference as 1250 to 3927.
Now this ratio, which is the same as that of 1 to 3.1416,
when found in the simplest and most elementary man¬
ner must have required the inscription of a polygon of
768 sides in the circle, and must have been attended
with nine extractions of the square root, each carried
as far as ten places of figures.
We learn from Simplicius that Nicomedes and Apol¬
lonius both attempted to square the circle, the former
by means of a curve which he called the Quadratrix;
the invention of which, however, is ascribed to Dino¬
stratus, and the latter also by the help of a curve deno¬
minated the sister to the tortuous line or spiral, and
which was probably no other than the quadratrix of
Dinostratus ; the nature of which, and the manner of
its application to the subject in question, we shall brief¬
ly explain.
Let AFB be a quadrant of a circle (fig. 2.) and C
its centre •, and conceive the radius CF to revolve uni¬
formly about C from the position CA until at last it
coincide with CB j while at the same time a line DG
is carried with an uniform motion from A towards CB ;
the former line continuing always parallel to the latter,
until at last they coincide j both motions being supposed
to begin and end at the same instant. Then the point
E in which the revolving radius CF and the moveable
line DG intersect one another will generate a certain
curve line AEH, which is the Quadratrix of Dino¬
stratus.
Draw EK, FL both perpendicular to CB ; then be¬
cause the radius AC and the quadrantal arch AFB are
uniformly generated in the same time by the points D
and F, the contemporaneous spaces described will have
to one another the same ratio as the whole spaces j that
is, AD : AF :: AC : AB ; hence we have AC : AB ::
DC, or EK : FB. Now as the moveable point F ap¬
proaches to B, the ratio of the straight line EK to the
arch FB will approach to, and will manifestly be ulti¬
mately the same as the ratio of the straight like EK to
the straight line FL, wliich again is equal to the ratio
of CE to CF $ therefore the ratio of the radius AC to
the quadrantal arch AFB is the limit of the ratio of
CE to CF, and consequently equal to the ratio of CH
to CB, H being the point in which the quadratrix meets
CB. Since therefore CH : CB :: CA or CB : quad,
arch AFB, if by any means we could determine the
point H, we might then find a straight line equal to the
quadrantal arch, (by finding a third proportional to CH
and CB) and consequently a straight line equal to the
circumference. The point H, however, cannot be de¬
termined by a geometrical, construction, and therefore
15 3 s ^ u
all tlie ingenuity evinced by llie person wlio first thouglit
01 this method of rectifying the circle (which certainly '
is considerable) has been unavailing.
The Arabs, who succeeded the Greeks in the culti¬
vation of the sciences, would no doubt have their pre¬
tended squares of the circle. We however know no¬
thing more than that some one of them believed he had
discovered that the diameter being unity, the circum-
erence was the square root of 10 ; a very gross mis¬
take ; for the square root of 10 exceeds 3.162 j but
Archimedes had demonstrated that the circumference
was less than 3.143.
It appears that, even during the dark ages, some
attempts were made at the resolution of this famous
problem, which however have always remained in
manuscripts buried in the dust of old libraries. But
upon the revival of learning the problem was again
agitated by different writers, and particularly by the
celebrated Cardinal De Cusa, who distinguished himself
by his unfortunate attempt to resolve it. His mode of
investigation, which had no solid foundation in geome¬
try, led him to conclude, that if a line equal to the sum
of the radius of a circle and the side of its inscribed
square were made the diameter of another circle, and
an equilateral triangle were inscribed in this last, the
perimeter of this triangle would be equal to the circum¬
ference of the other circle. This pretended quadrature
of the cardinal’s was refuted by Regiomontanus ; and
indeed the task was not difficult j for, according to his
construction, the diameter being x, the circumference
was greater than 3f; a conclusion which must be absurd,
seeing that Archimedes had demonstrated that it must
be less than that number.
It would be trespassing too much upon the patience of
our readers, were we to mention all the absurd and er¬
roneous attempts which have been made during the last
throe centuries to square the circle. In a supplement to
Montucla’s excellent work, Histoire desMathematiques
we find upwards of forty pretenders to the honour of
this discovery enumerated. These were almost all very
ignorant ol geometry j and many of them were wild vi¬
sionaries, pretending to discover inexplicable relations
between the plain truths of mathematics and the most
mysterious doctrines of religion. If those who have
sought the quadrature of the circle had been previous¬
ly initiated in the doctrines-of geometry, although they
missed attaining the object they had in view, yet they
could not have failed to have extended the boundaries of’
the science by the discovery of many new propositions.
From such persons, however, as have generally pursued
this inquiry, no improvement whatever of the science
was to be expected 5 although, indeed, in some instances,
it has derived advantage from the labours of such as have
undertaken to expose tlie absurdity of their conclusions 5
as in the case of Metius, who in refuting the quadrature
of one Simon a Quercu, found a much nearer approxi¬
mation to the ratio of the diameter to the circumference
then had been previously known, at least in Europe, viz.
that of 113 to 355, which reduced to decimals is the
same as the ratio of I to 3.1415929, differing from the
truth only in the seventh place of decimals.
Among the most remarkable of those who have re¬
corded their own folly by publishing erroneous resolu¬
tions of the problem, we may reckon the celebrated Jo-,
seph Scaliger. Full of self-conceit, he believed that, en¬
tering.
S Q U [ 616 ]
So'jarinff. entering upon the study of geometry, lie could not fail
l—^-v—J to surmount by the force of bis genius those obstacles
which had completely stopt the progress of all preced¬
ing inquirers. He gave the result of his meditations
to the world in 1592, under the title Now Cyc/ome-
tria ; but he was refuted by Clavius, by Vieta, and
others, who shewed that the magnitude he had assign¬
ed to the circumference was a little less than the peri¬
meter of the inscribed polygon of 192 sides, which pro¬
ved beyond a doubt that he was wrong. Scaliger, how¬
ever, was not to be convinced of the absurdity of his
conclusion ; and indeed, in almost every instance, pre¬
tenders to this discovery have not been more remarkable
for their folly in committing absurd blunders, than for
their obstinacy in maintaining that they were in the
right, and all who held a contrary opinion in an error.
The famous Hobbes came also upon the field about
the year 1650, with pretensions not only to the qua¬
drature of the circle, but also to the trisection of an
angle, the rectification of the parabola, &cc.j but his
pretended solutions were refuted by Dr Wallis.. And
this circumstance afforded him occasion to write not
only against geometers, but even against the science of
geometry itself.
We find it recorded by Montitcla^ as a sort of phe¬
nomenon, that one Richard White, an English Jesuit,
having happened upon what he conceived to be a qua¬
drature of the circle, which he published under the title
Chrysaespis seu Quadratura Circuit, suffered himself at
last to be convinced by some of his friends that he was
wrong both in his quadrature of the circle, and in his
rectification of the spiral. But a solution of the same
problem found out by one Mathulen of Lyons, did not
produce in the end so much advantage to its author.
This man in 1728 announced to the learned world that
he had discovered both the quadrature of the circle and
a perpetual motion ; and he was so certain of the truth
of these discoveries, that he consigned 1000 ecus (about
125I.) to be paid to any one who should demonstrate
that he was deceived in either. The task was not dif¬
ficult. Nicole of the Academy of Sciences demon¬
strated that he was wrong, and he himself allowed it j
but he hesitated to pay the money, which Nicole had re¬
linquished in favour of the Hotel Dieu of Lyons. Hie
affair went before a court of justice, which adjudged the
money to be paid, as Nicole had destined it, to the
poor. At a later period, viz. in 1753, the Chevalier de
Causans, a French officer, and a man who was never
expected to be a mathematician, suddenly found a qua¬
drature of the circle in procuring a circular piece of
turf to be cut 5 and rising from one truth to another,
he explained by his quadrature the doctrine of original
sin, and the Trinity. He engaged himself by a public
writing to deposit with a notary the sum of 300,000
francs, to be wagered against such as should oppose him,
and he actually lodged 10,000, which were to devolve
to him who should demonstrate his error. This was
easily done, as it resulted from his discovery that a circle
was equal to its circumscribing square, that is, a part to
the whole ! Some persons came forward to answer his
challenge, and in particular a young lady sued him at
one of the courts of law ; but the French king judged
that the Chevalier’s fortune ought not to suffer on ac¬
count of his whim 5 for, setting aside this piece of folly,
in every other respect he was a worthy man. The pro-
3
S Q U
cedure was therefore stopt, and the Wager declared Sqimrhm
void. v —
We shall not enter farther into the history of these
vain and absurd attempts to resolve this important pro¬
blem, but proceed to state what has actually been done
by men of sound minds and real mathematical acquire¬
ments towards its solution. And in the first place it
may be observed that the problem admits of being pro¬
posed under two different forms : for it may be required
to find either the area of the whole circle, or, which is
the same thing, the length of the whole circumference •,
or else to find the area of any proposed sector or seg¬
ment, or, which is equivalent, the length of the arch
of the sector or segment. The former is termed the
definite and the latter the indefinite quadrature of the
circle. The latter evidently is more general than the
former, and includes it as a particular case. Now if
we could find by any means a finite algebraic equation
that should express the relation between any proposed
arch of a circle, and some known straight line or lines,
the magnitude of one or more of which depended on
that arch, then we would have an absolute rectification
of the arch, and consequently a rectificatioB or quadra¬
ture also of the whole circle. We here speak of an
analytical solution of the problem j the ancients, how¬
ever, who were almost entirely ignorant of this branch
of mathematical science, must have endeavoured to treat
it entirely upon geometrical principles. It is now’ well
known, however, that all geometrical problems may be
subjected to analysis j and that it is only by such a mode
of proceeding they have in many cases been resolved.
With respect to the definite quadrature of the circle,
it is commonly understood that no unexceptionable de¬
monstration of its impossibility has hitherto been pub¬
lished. It is true that James Gregory, in his vera circnli
et Hyperbolce quadratura, has given what he considered
as such a demonstration 5 but it has been objected to,
particularly by Huygens, one of the best geometers of
his time. We are, however, certain that the ratio of the
diameter to the circumference, as also, that the ratio of
the square of the diameter to the square of a straight line
equal to the circumference, cannot be expressed by ra¬
tional numbers, for this has been strictly demonstrated
bv Lambert in the Berlin Memoirs for 1761. A demoB-
stration is also given in Legendre’s Geometric. As to
the indefinite quadrature, if Newton’s demonstration of
the 28th lemma of the first book of bis Principia be cor¬
rect, the thing ought to be absolutely impossible. For
the object of that proposition is to prove that in no ova
figure whatever, that returns into itself, can the area cut
off by straight lines at pleasure be universally found by
an equation of a finite dimension, and composed of &
finite number of terms. If this be true, then it wi
be impossible to express any sector of a circle taken at
pleasure in finite terms. It is how’evcr to be remarked,
that the accuracy of the reasoning by which Newton
has attempted to establish the truth of the general pro¬
position has been questioned by no less a geometer than
D’Alembert; and indeed we know one oval c_*’ivre»
which returns into itself, and which, according to New¬
ton’s proposition, ought therefore not to admit of an in
definite quadrature; yet this is by no means the.case, or
it does really admit of such a quadrature. Ihe oune
we mean is the lemniscata, the equation of wine 119
(a-1—?/a), where x and y denote its co
v -r? ; \ j *' ordinates,
uaring.
S Q U
ordinates, and a is put for a given line, j ne ngure ot
the curve is nearly that of the numeral character 8.
Upon the whole then we may infer that an unexcep¬
tionable demonstration of the impossibility of expressimr
either the whole circle, or any proposed sector of it by
a finite equation, is still among the desiderata of ma¬
thematics.
We come now to speak of the different methods
which have been found for approximating to the area
or to the circumference. We have already noticed the
approximation to the ratio of the diameter to the cir¬
cumference found by Archimedes, and the earlier and
more accurate approximation of the Indian mathemati¬
cians. Archimedes’s ratio is the only one found by the
ss. ...iv, uue louna oy tin
ancients m the western world that has descended to mo¬
dern times, and it appears to have been the most accu¬
rate known, until about the year 1585, when Metius,
in refuting a pretended quadrature, found the more
accurate ratio of 113 to 355, as we have already no¬
ticed. About the same time Yieta and Adrianus Ro-
manus published their ratios expressed in decimals, the
former carrying the approximation to ten decimals in¬
stead of six, (which was the number of accurate figures
expressed by Metius’s ratio), and the latter extending
it to 17 figures. Vieta also gave a kind of series, which
being continued to infinity, gave the value of the
circle.
These approximations, however, were far exceeded
by that of Ludolph Van Ceulen, who in a work pub-
Jished in Dutch m 1610, carried it as far as 36 figures
showing that if the diameter were unity, the circumfe¬
rence would be greater than 3.141 co.gfica c Scnos
23846,26433,83279,50288, but less than the s^me num¬
ber with the last figure increased by an unit. This
work was translated into Latin by Snellius, and pub-
lished under the title, De Circulo et Achcriptis. In
finding this approximation, Van Ceulen followed the
method of Archimedes, doubling continually the num¬
ber of sides of the inscribed and circumscribed polygons,
until at length he found two which differed only by an
unit in the 36th place of decimals in the numbers ex¬
pressing their perimeters. This, however, must have
been rather a work of patience than of genius; and in¬
deed the labour must have been prodigious. He seems
to have valued highly this singular effort, for in imita¬
tion of Archimedes, whose tomb was adorned with a
sphere and cylinder, in commemoration of his discovery
of the proportion which these solids bear to one another
he requested that the ratio he had found might be in¬
scribed on his tomb; which was accordingly done.
Snellius found means to abridge greatly the labour
of calculation by some very ingenious theorems ; and al¬
though he did not go beyond Van Ceulen, yet he veri¬
fied his result. His discoveries on this subject are con¬
tained in a work called Willebrordi SnelliiCyclometricus
ae Circuit Dimensioned &c. Lugd. Bat. 1621.
Descartes found also a geometrical construction, which
eing lepeated continually, gave the circumference, and
trom which he might easily have deduced an expression
in the form of a series.
Gregory of St Vincent distinguished himself also on
this subject. It is true he committed a great error in
supposing he had discovered the quadrature of both the
circle and hyperbola; but he had previously made so
many beautiful geometrical discoveries deduced with
Vol. XIX. Part II. t
n, f [ f'7 l S Q U
• %Ure °f 7cl‘ ?,efnc,! aft«'t1’" of the ancient,, that S,„„;n
it would be wrong to number him with those absurd —, 
pretenders which we have already noticed. Gregory’s
mistake was the cause of a sharp controversy carried on
between his disciples on the one side, and by Huygens,
ersennus, and Lestaud, on the other; and it was this
tliat gave Huygens occasion to consider particularly the
quadrature of the circle, and to investigate various
new and curious theorems relating to it, which are con-
tained in his Iheoremata de Quadratura Hyperboles. El¬
lipsis et Circuit, 1651; and in his work De Circuli Mur-
nitudine Inventa, 1654. In particular he showed, that
it c denote the chord of an arch, and 5 its sine, then the
arch itself will be greater than c-j-j (c—s), hut less
A n o
tban C+^Xt(^:
he also showed that the
arch is less than the sum of f of its sine and 4- of its tan-
yp. I rtUU y Ui tan-
gen., ihese theorems greatly shorten the labour of
approximating to the ratio of the diameter to the cir¬
cumference, by means of inscribed and circumscribed
gures, insomuch that by the inscribed polygons of 6
and 12 sides, we may obtain it to the same degree of
accuracy as Archimedes did by the inscribed and cir¬
cumscribed polygons of 96 sides.
James Gregory, in his VeraCirculi et Hyperbola; Qua-
aratura, gave several curious theorems upon the relation
0 the circle to its inscribed and circumscribed polygons,
and their ratios to one another ; and by means of these
he found with infinitely less trouble than by the ordi¬
nary methods, and even by those of Snellius, the mea¬
sure of the circle as far as 20 places of figures. He
gave also, after the example of Huygens, constructions
for finding straight lines nearly equal to arches of a
circle, and of which the degree of accuracy was greater,
lor example, he found that if A be put for the chord
of an arch of a circle, and B for twice the chord of
bait the arch, and C be taken such that A-f-B : B ::
8 C-j-8 B* A*5'1 arC^ nearly equal to
, but a little less, the error in the case of
15
a complete semicircle being less than its part:
and when the arch does not exceed 120°, it is less thau
its T —“• - 1 f -
To000 Part j and finally, for a quadrant the error is
crrpnf'Pv flvon Cfo i _ _ ^ Air*..
"ot gyeater ^lan t°oTooo- Part* And farther, that
if D be such that A : B :: B : D, then the arch is
nearly equal to 1^+4 ^—D
but a little greater, the
error in the semicircle being less than its T^part, and
in a quadrant less than its part.
Hie discoveries of Dr Wallis, delivered in his Arith-
metica Infinitorum published in 1655, led him to a sin¬
gular expression for the ratio of the circle to the square
of its diameter. He found that the former was to the
latter as 1 to the product
3X3X5X5X7X7X9X9X11X11 &c.
2X4X4X6x6x8x8x10X10x12
the fractions f, |, 4, &c. being supposed infinite in
number. I he products being supposed continued to in¬
finity, we have the ratio exactly; but if we stop at any
finite number of terms, as must necessarily be the case
111 its application, the result will be alternately too great
and too small, according as we take an odd or an even
number of terms of the numerator and denominator.
41 Thus
Squaring.
S Q U [ 618
Thus the fraction | is too great j on the other hand,
■? —4 is too small, and ^ ^ - — 4^ too great,
2X4 2X4X4
and so on. But to approach as near as possible in each
case, Wallis directs to multiply the product by the square
root of a fraction formed by adding to unity the reci¬
procal of the last factor in either its numerator or deno¬
minator •, then the result, although much nearer, will
be too great if the number whose reciprocal is taken be
the last in the numerator, but too small if it be the
number in the denominator. Thus the following series
of expressions will give approximate values of the infinite
product ———which are alternately
J 2X4X4Xox6xoXo
too great and too small.
1
^ (1 _|_x) •, ^ (1+|) j
2.4.4.6 v v 2.4.4 6
^ (J +i) J —-v41| \/ (I +1) > &c-
2 4.4.6.6.8 v ^ > 2.4.4.6.6.0
these values, alternately too great and too small, fall be¬
tween the known limits.
An expression of another kind for the ratio of the
circle to the square of the diameter was found by Lord
Brounker. He showed that the circle being unity, the
square of the diameter is expressed by the continued
fraction
2 +
2-f
25
*+r49
2-)-,&c.
which is supposed to go on to infinity, the numerators
1,9, 25, 49, &c. being the squares of the odd numbers
j’ 3* ^ ^ &c. By taking two, three, four, &c. terms
of this fraction, we shall have a series of approximate
values which are alternately greater and less than its
accurate value.
Such were the chief discoveries relating to the qua¬
drature of the circle made before the time of Newton :
many others, however, were quickly added by that truly
great man, as well as by his contemporaries. In parti¬
cular, Newton himself showed that if s denote the sine,
and v the versed sine of an arch, then the radius being
unity, the arch is equal to either of the following se¬
ries,
2-3
2.4.5 ' 2.4.6.7 ‘ 2.4 6.8.9
/—1.2 u* .
'At'x
i.3-W*4. &c )
2.4.6.8.Q.24+’ J
t3 tS *7 , o
4 + , &c.
3 5 7 9
S Q U
137, of the article FLUXIONS: the Squaring.
and the third at §
second is easily obtained from the first by considering
that since the sine of an arch is half the chord of twice
the arch, that is, half of a mean proportional between
the diameter and versed sine of twice the arch ; we have
therefore only to multiply the first series by 2, and to
substitute 4 2v instead of 5, and wre get the second
series.
By taking 5=|, then, because in this case the arch
contains 30°, we have half the circumference to the ra¬
dius 1, or the whole circumference to the diameter I,
expressed by the infinite series
3C1
i-3
I-3-5
I-3-5-7
2.3.2*
-f, &c.).
2.4.5.24 ~ 2.4.6.7.26 2.4.6.8.9.2®
And by supposing that in the third series t— I, in which
case the arch is one-eighth of the circumference, we
have the same things expressed by the series
1 I 1 . 1 I . p \
4(1 -j "1 77+) &c.).
3 5 7 9 11
which was given by Leibnitz as a quadrature of the
circle in the Leipsic Acts in the year 1682; but was
discovered by him 1673. Gregory, however, had
found the series under its general form several years
before. By the first of these two numeral series we can
readily compute the circumference of the circle to a to¬
lerable degree of accuracy, but the second is altogether
inapplicable in its present form on account of the slow¬
ness of its convergency j for Newton has observed that
to exhibit its value exact to twenty places of figures,
there would be occasion for no less than five thousand
millions of its terms, to compute which would take up
above a thousand years.
The slowness of the convergency has arisen from our
supposing t-l. If we had supposed f greater than 1,
then the series would not have converged at all, but on
the contrary diverged. But by giving to £ a value less
than 1, then the rate of convergency will be increased,
and that so much the more, as t is smaller.
If we suppose the arch of which t is the tangent to
be 30°, then t will be and therefore half
the circumference to radius unitv, or the circumference
. * • • <8
to the diameter unity, which in this case is 6* (1— "
t* fit* p . ... ,
4- L , &c.) will be
5 7 9
x//> 12 fj — |_ —  —I—  , &c.).
( 3-3+ 5-32 7-33+ 9-34
And James Gregory found that t being put for the tan¬
gent, the arch is expressed by the very simple series
We have investigated the first of these series at § 140,
By means of this series, in an hour’s time the circum¬
ference may be found to be nearly 3‘J4I59265359<:?>
which is true to 11 decimal places, and is a very consi¬
derable degree of accuracy, considering the smallness 0
the labour. But Mr Machin, enticed by the easiness ot
the process, was induced, about the beginning of t.e
last century, to continue the approximation as ar as
100 places of figures, thus finding the diameter to e
to the circumference as 1 to 3,I4I59’2^5355
23846,26433,83279,50288,4i97i)69399>375IO>5S2C9
74944,59230,78x64,06286,20899,86280,34825,34 ^
70680. After him, De Lagny continued it as
s Q U
*> glaring
128 figures. But lie lias also been outdone j for in fiad-
' ?!lPe,s 1,braiT at Oxford, there is a manuscript in which
zt zs carried as tar as 150 figures :
Although this last series, which was first proposed by
Ur Halley, gives the ratio of the diameter to the cir¬
cumference with wonderful facility when compared with
the opeiose method employed by Van Ceulen, yet others
have been since found which accomplish it with still
[ 6l9 }
s Q u
tile furmer, the remainder will be the arch of
If we substitute j- instead of t in the general series,
Rhu I hoxm  L  1  ^ . . P f
45
3.2393'*'5.239* 7.239?*'’ &c* Now, since four
times the arch to tan. j- diminished by the arch to tan.
'o e9ual t0 tlle arch to tan. 1, that is, to the arch
jV 45 » 01’ i of the semicircumference ; therefore, half
the circumference of a circle to rad. = 1, or the whole
circumference, the diameter being 1, is equal to
-<y
6(~S 3-5s+5*5s 7*57^"9*5p ’ ^cc‘)
■» &c. ^
t tt V it with still & 6ec ine area
greater ease. In Halley’s series we have to compute the whose tano-ent is ~4 exnre^pd 1 v ti • 1
irrational quantity 12, because of tbe irrational value ° expressed by the series — —
which it was necessary to give to t in order to render it 1 T T
sufficiently small, and at the same time an exact part of
tbe whole circumference; but Mr Macliin contrived
by a very ingenious artifice, to reduce the computation’
of an arch of 450, and consequently tbe length of the
whole circumference, to two series which contain only
rational quantities, and which at the same time con¬
verge with great rapidity. The nature of this artifice,
and the manner in which it occurred to its author is
explained by Dr Hutton in bis very excellent treatise
on Mensuration, as follows : “ Since tbe chief advan¬
tage (in the application of Gregory’s series to the recti-
hcation of the circle) consists in taking small arches
whose tangents shall be numbers easy to manage, Mr
Machin very properly considered, that since the tangent
of 45 is 1, and that the tangent of any arch being
given, the tangent of the double of that arch can easily
be had; if there be assumed some small simple number
as the tangent of an arch, and then the tangent of the
double arch be continually taken, until a tangent be
found nearly equal to 1, which is the tangent of 450
by taking the tangent answering to the small difference
of 450 and this multiple, there would be found two very
small tangents, viz. the tangent first assumed, and the
tangent of tbe difference between 450 and the multiple
arch ; and that therefore the lengths of the arches cor¬
responding to these two tangents being calculated, and
the arch belonging to the tangent first assumed being so
often doubled as the multiple directs, the result, in¬
creased or diminished by the other arch, according as
the multiple should be below or above it, would he the
arch of 450.
“Having thus thought of his method, by a few trials
he was lucky enough to find a number (and perhaps the
only one) proper for his purpose ; viz. knowing that the
tangent of f of 450 is nearly —he assumed j- as the tan¬
gent of an arch. Then, since if t be the tangent of an arch,
the tangent of the double arch will be —, the radius
1—t*
being 1 ; the tangent of the double arcli to that of
1 ‘2.39 3-2393 ‘ 3.239* 7.2397 9.2399 .
and,this is Maclun’s series for the rectification of the
The happy idea which Machin had conceived of re¬
ducing the rectification of the arch whose tangent is
urnty to that of two arches whose tangents are snfall ra¬
tional fractions, having each unity for a numerator an-
pears also to have occurred to Euler; and the same
thought has, since his time, been pursued bv other ma¬
thematicians, who have contrived to resolve an arch of
45 three or more such arches. We shall shew how
tins may be done, beginning with the investigation of
the following problem.
Problem. Supposing », *, and y, to denote three
whole numbers, such, that the arch whose tangent is
n is e<2ual to the sum °f two arches whose tangents are
1 j 1
- and -, radius being unity, it is required to determine
all possible values of the numbers ^ and y in terms of the
number n.
Solution. It is manifest from the formula for the tan¬
gent of the sum of two arches (Algebra, J 368.) that
winch f is the tangent will be Ts7, and the tangent of the
double of this arch will he which being very near¬
ly equal to r, shews, that the arch which is equal to
four times the first arch is very near 450. Then, since
the tangent of the difference between anarch of45°,
and an arch greater than 450, whose tangent is T, is’
we shall have the tangent of the difference be¬
tween 450, and the arch whose tangent is-|4£ equal to
2-7-9. Now, by calculating from the general series the
arches whose tangents are f and (which may be
quickly done by reason of the smallness and simplicity
®f the numbers), and taking the latter arch from four
.-*• y
1—LJ
xy
hence we have -
n
xy—
and n x-^-n y
—XV—Is
n ,v-\-1
and y (x—1 ;
n*+i,
-71
and, lastly, y—
Now, as by hypothesis, y is a
whole number, it is manifest that must be a whole
x—n
number, therefore, X"-~~7i must be a divisor of 71* j j
Letp be any divisor of n2+i, and q the quotient, that
is, \etp qz=n2-\-i, then x—n—p, and x~n-\-p .- And
«* + ! pq ,
Sinct~^n~yZ=:q' thereforey~n-\-q ; thus the va¬
lues of x and y are determined in terms of n as required •
and by giving to p and q all possible values, we shall
4 I 2 have
Squarin'
j   * * .u me ricucjtti series,
we shall have the arch whose tangent is f expressed by
theories-, “j + ~f~ ~7 +» &c. ; and, in like
manner, by substituting for t, we get the arch
Squaring.
S Q U [620
have all the values of .r and y that can exist. This so¬
lution affords us the following theorem.
]
S Q U
Theorem. Let n denote any whole number, and
Jet be resolved into any two factors p and <7, (one
of which may be unity), that is, let p <7 = «*-}-1 J the
arch whose tangent is — is equal to the sum of the arches
whose tangents are —;—, and —j respectively.
11’VP n\(l
For the sake of brevity, let A ^ be put to denote the
arch, having for its tangent ^ j then, according to this
notation, our theorem will be expressed thus,
A- =
n
X.  . Let us now suppose n—l} then
n+p' »+<? \
t — 1 — r x 2, therefore, the only values which we
Can give in this case to p and q are p=i, q=2, and
these being substituted, we have
A izzAf + A^-.
From which it appears, that the arch whose tangent is
unity (that is, ^ of the circumference), is the sum of
the arches whose tangents are \ and This is Filler’s
theorem, and by means of it, putting and y for t in
the general series t—\ J5 —? + , &c. we get
half the circumference to radius I equal to
r
1 * 3'-
I 1 1
7 ——
' 9-2:
3.3s ^"5.3s
1 x
7‘37 9'59
9—, &c
—, &C
:}
get, by exterminating Af, the two following expres- Squaring,
sions for Ai, an arch of 450. ^— y -J
Let us now suppose «—2, then «2-f-i=5=: 1X5:
hence the only values which p and q can have are 1 and 5 j
and in this case our general formula gives A^zrxV^-j-A^*
If now from the two equations
Ai=Af-f-A4; Af=Af, -{-A4,
we eliminate successively A§ and Ay, we shall obtain
the two following:
A 1=2 A44-A4 5 A i~2 Af—A-f.
From the first of these it appears that -§■ of the circum¬
ference is equal to the sum of twice the arch to tan. y,
and once the arch to tan. y-; and from thg second, that
the same quantity is equal to the excess of twice the
arch to tan. f above the arch to tan. 4 and from each
of these, an expression for the whole circumference may
he obtained analogous to that which we have found
above from Euler’s formula, but which will converge
faster, and therefore is better.
The resolution of an arch of 450 into three other
arches, may be effected by means of our general for¬
mula, as follows : Put «=3, then «z+ 1 = 10=1 X 10
= 2X5> hence we have p=i, and <7—10, and also
p~2, and <7=5 j therefore, substituting, we get two
different values of Ay, viz.
Af=A| -f-Ayy J A-J =r A-J -}-Ay.
From these, and the equation Ais=2 Ay+A-f, we
A1=2 A-J -J-Af 2 Ayy j A1 =s 2 Af A4 -f- 2 A f.
These give such an expression for the circumference
composed of three series. The labour, however, of
computing by either of them, particularly the latter,
will probably be less than by any of the formulas com¬
posed of two series, on account of the gi’eater degree of
quickness with which the series will converge. All the
preceding formulas have been investigated in different
ways by different mathematicians. That, however,
which we are about to investigate, we believe, is new.
Let n in the general formula be taken equal to 5 j then
72*4- 1 = 26=1 X 26=2 X 13, thereforep=i, q—26, al¬
so p—2, <7=13, hence we find Af=A^-fiAyT, and al¬
so Af=rA44-ATy. From this last equation, and the
equation Ai = 2 Af+A-f-f-2Ay, let Af be eliminated,
and the result is
A i=3A4+2Af + 2A-!^.
This appears to be the most convenient expression of
any we have yet found, because the fractions are small¬
er, while at the same time two of the denominators con¬
sist of only one figure, and the third, which consists of
two, admits of being resolved into factors. By the
same mode of reasoning we have found this expression
Ai = 2Af-f-3Af-f-2AXy4-3AyV,
which consists of four terms j but for the sake of brevity
we omit its investigation.
We shall now apply the formula Ai=:3A-4-{-2Af
-}-2ATy to the actual calculation of the arch of 45*,
the radius of the circle being unity.
I. Calculation of the length of the arch whose tan¬
gent is 4*
In this case, because t—*-, wre have
. 1 1 1 , 1 1 , 1 o
A- —~s + TZl” + ’ &c*
5‘7
1
9-79
i
7 7 3-7 5-7
=.1428571428571
=.0000118998037
'3-1
=.0000000027534
=.0000000000008
=.0009718172983
~ =.0000001734665
7-7
• =.0000000000460
11.71
+ .1428690454150
—.0009719908108
.0009719908108
amount of positive terms,
amount of negative terms.
A^=. 1418970546042
IT. Calculation of the length of the arch whose tan¬
gent is f.
Here therefore,
1 I 1
AI_I z,
8“ 8 3.83"1" 5.8s
-^+>&c-
S'sring.
g =.1250000000000
I
Ws
I
I
S Q
000
=.0000061035156
=.0000000008278
u
I
1
7^
1
11.8“
[
=.0006510416667
=.0000000681196
'.0000000000106
=.0000000000001
+.1250061043435
—.0006511097969
. 1
Ag-1243549945465
III. Calculation of the arch whose
Here t = xrT, therefore,
A~~ 1
18 - 18'
3.i8*'r5.i8s 7.187
=*°555555555556
1
jYgj =.0000001058443
1
=.0000000000006
+-°5555566x4005
—.0000571561547
A 1 "
=-0554985°52458
3*i83
1
7.18*
] s Q u
everTvir.t?0'""8 of 7'i ^ - tow- S,^
ever evident that any one of these being known, the ^
aich itself becomes immediately known. The first
senes is as follows. Let a denote any arch of a circle
and let its tangent, the tangents of its half, &c. be
briefly denoted by tan. c, tan. 4 «, &c. Then shall
1 _ 1
.0006511097969 ^ f tan* “ a+i tan- I «+? tan. ’ «
+ TV tan. ^ c + T + T7 + S.
Here the arches a, -^a, ±a, ^a, &c. constitute a geome¬
trical progression, having the number of its teims in-
tinite, and their common ratio + The letters T and T'
are put for any two adjoining terms (after the first) of
the series, and S is put for the sum of all the terms fol-
owing these ; and this sum is always contained between
two htmts, one of which is 4 of the latter of the two
’ and tht ?thf 13 a third proportional to
their difference j and the last of the two being always
less than the first of these limits, but greater than the
second. As a specimen of the way of applying this
series, we shall give the calculation of the length of an
arch of 90° to six decimal places. In this case 1
_ tan. a
— co^ an. a o, tan. f a— 1, the remaining quantities
tan. xa, tan. 4 a, &c. are to be computed from tan. I a
.000057156,547 byt,,isformula>tan..A=r y_J__ X
V tan.* A ~ /
Accordingly we find
tan. |«=i. tan. iTB-ar=.09849i4
an. a .4142136 tan. 7-20=.0491268
tan. ia= .1989123 tan. ^=.0245486
tangent is
+, &c.
:.oooc57i5592i4
.0000000002333
tan. A*
3A 4 =.4256911638126
2A 8 =.2487099890932
2AT-g-=. IIO9970 IO4916
4 of the circum. or A I =.785398163397
Thus by a very easy calculation we have obtained one-
- fourth of the circumference true to 12 decimal places •
and indeed by this method we may find an approxi-
mate value of the ratio of the diameter to the circum-
1 ference to 200 places of figures, with perhaps as much
, ease as Vieta or Romanus found it to 10 or 15 figures.
We have already observed that Van Ceulen desired
! that his quadrature, which extended only to 35 deci¬
mals, might be inscribed on his tomb 5 from which we
may reasonably infer that the time and labour he had
! bestowed in the calculation must have been very great •
but by an artifice of the kind we have been explaining
| Luler m 18 hours verified Lagny’s quadrature of 128
figures.
In concluding this article we shall briefly notice
some series for the indefinite rectification of the circle
which have just appeared in the sixth volume of the
Edinburgh Philosophical Transactions. They are given
by Mr W. Wallace of the Royal Military College in
a paper entitled, New Series for the Quadrature of the
Conic Sections, and the Computation of Logarithms.
These series do not give the arch directly, but only its
-§ tan. 4 °=.5000000
f Atan- f fl=-I035534
tan. -g c—.0248640
^ tan. tV0'=.oo6i557
1-_TXtan.Tv0=.ooi5352
j- — <5-3; tan. ^ g=.ooo38?6
0^1.0001278,77 „
Sl^.OOQI277,7 J ■”'ence S=.OOOI278
^=.6366 i97
Arch of 9o0=ai—1.570796
The second series given in this paper Is expressed
as follows. Let cos. «, cos. |a, &c. denote the co¬
sine ot the arch, the cosine of its half, &c. Then
1  ix +cos. a
0* 4 1—cos. a
-(
1 1-
-cos. g-q t 1 1—cos. 4^
. 4* i + cos- 1 4J 1 + cos. 4«
, I 1—cos. 4« \
+?r+wp---+T+T'+s)-
44 i+«
Here, as before, the letters T, T' denote any two ad¬
jacent terms of the series in the parenthesis, and S is
put for the sum of all the following terms, which in this
case is always less than t'tT', but greater than a third
proportional to T—T' and V. This second series con¬
verges
S T A [62
Squaring verges quicker than the first, and is besides better adapt-
|| ° ed to calculation, because the cosines of the series oi
stabbing. arches-§-a, ?a, 8tc. are now easily deduced from the
1“'“—cosine of 0 and one another than the tangents. The
//i+C0S*A\
formula in this case being cos. 4- A=:\/f   1*
There are various other series for the rectification of
any arch of a circle given,in the same paper, some of
which converge faster than either of the two we have
here specified, and all have the property of being appli¬
cable to every possible case, and of having very simple
limits, between which the sums of all their terms fol¬
lowing any proposed term are always contained. It
may also be observed that the principles from which t hey
are deduced are of the most simple and elementary kind,
insomuch that the author has stated it as his opinion,
that their investigation might even be admitted into
and form a part of the elements of geometry.
SQUATINA. See Squalus, Ichthyology In¬
dex.
SQUILL. See Scilla, Botany and Materia
Medica Index.
SQUILLA, the name of a species of cancer. See
Cancer, Entomology Index.
•SQUINTING. See Medicine, N° 383.
SQUIRREL. See Sciurus, Mammalia Index.
STABBING, in Law. The offence of mortally
stabbing another, though done upon a sudden provoca¬
tion, is punished as murder j the benefit of clergy be¬
ing taken away from it by statute. (See Murder).
For by Ja. I. c. 8. when one thrusts or stabs another,
not then having a weapon drawn, or who hath not then
first stricken the party stabbing, so that he dies thereof
within six months after, the offender shall not have the
benefit of clergy, though he did it not of malice afore¬
thought. This statute was made on account of the fre¬
quent quarrels and stabbings with short daggers between
the Scotch and the English at the accession of James I. j
and being therefore of a temporary nature, ought to
have expired with the mischief which it meant to remedy.
For, in point of solid and substantial justice, it cannot
be said that the mode of killing, whether by stabbing,
strangling, or shooting, can either extenuate or enhance
the guilt; unless where, as in the case of poisoning, it
carries with it internal evidence of cool and deliberate
Blacktt ’ malice. But the benignity of the law hath construed
Comment. statute 80 favourably in behalf of the subject, and
,?ol. iv. so strictly when against him, that the offence of stab-
P- 19j> bing now stands almost upon the same footing as it did
at the common law. Thus, (not to repeat the cases
mentioned under Manslaughter, of stabbing an adul¬
teress, &c. which are barely manslaughter, as at com¬
mon law), in the construction of this statute it hath been
doubted, whether, if the deceased had struck at all be¬
fore the mortal blow given, this does not take it out of
the statute, though in the preceding quarrel the slabber
had given the first blow j and it seems to be the better
opinion, that this is not within the statute. Also it hath
been resolved, that the killing a man, by throwing a
hammer or other weapon, is not within the statute j and
whether a shot with a pistol be so or not is doubted.
But if the party slain had a cudgel in his hand, or had
thrown a pot or a bottle, or discharged a pistol at the
party stabbing, this is a sufficient reason for having a
1
2 ] S T A
weapon drawn on his side within the words of the sta- stahLui*
tute. ||
STACHYS, Hedge-nettle, or All-heal, a genus Stadthoid.
of plants belonging to the class of didynamia, and order , ^
of gymnospermia j and in the natural system arranged
under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See Botany Index.
STADIUM, an ancient Greek long measure, con¬
taining 125 geometrical paces, or 625 Roman feet, cor¬
responding to our furlong. The word is said to be
formed from the Greek word “ a station,” or
“ to stand,” because it is reported that Hercules having
run a stadium at one breath, stood still at the end of it.
The Greeks usually measured distances by stadia, which
they called Stadium also signified the course
on which their races were run.
STADTHOLDER, formerly the principal magi¬
strate or governor of the Seven United Provinces. Al¬
though this office is now abolished and that of king
substituted, our readers will probably not be ill pleased
with a short account of the several powers and claims
connected with it. To render that account the more
intelligible, we shall trace the office of a stadtholder
from its origin.
The Seven Provinces of the Low Countries were
long governed by princes invested with the sovereignty,
though limited in their powers, and under various titles j
as Counts of Holland, Dukes of Guelder, Bishop of
Utrecht, &c. When these countries fell to the princes
of the house of Burgundy, and afterwards to those of
Austria, who had many other dominions, the absence
of the sovereign was supplied by a stadtholder or gover¬
nor, vested with very ample powers. These stadthol-
ders or lieutenants had the administration of the govern¬
ment, and presided in the courts of justice, wdiose juris¬
diction was not at that time confined merely to the trial
of causes, but extended to affairs of state. I he stadt-
holders swore allegiance to the pnnces at their inaugu¬
ration, jointly with the states of the provinces they go¬
verned. They likewise took an oath to the states, by
which they promised to maintain their fundamental laws
and privileges.
It was upon this footing that W illiam the First,
prince of Orange, wras made governor and lieutenant-
general of Holland, Zealand, and Utrecht, by Philip
the Second, upon his leaving the Low Countries to go
into Spain. The troubles beginning soon alter, this
prince found means to bring about an union, in 1576,
between Holland and Zealand j the states ot which tivo
provinces put into Ins hands, as far as was in their
power, the sovereign authority (for so long time as the}
should remain in war and under arms), upon the same
footing as Holland had intrusted him with it the year
before. In 1581 the same authority wras again renew¬
ed to him by Holland, as it was soon after by Zealand
likewise •, and in 1584, being already elected count ot
Holland, upon certain conditions he would have been
formally invested with the sovereignty, had not a wretch
hired and employed by the court of fepain, put an en
to his life by a horrid assassination.
In the preamble of the instruments by which the
states in 1581 conferred the sovereign authority upon
Prince William the First, we find these remarka e
words, which are there set down as fundamental ru es -
“ That all republics and communities ought to pic
serve
. . S T A , f 62
Wh.ch being impossible to be kept tTp alwTvs amon7so;
many members, often differing in inclinations and senti-
men s it is consequently necessary that the government
shou^be placed m the hands of one single chief mao-i-
nf H e'’ b ^fany g^ Fol.tidans, and the greatest part
of the inhaoitants of these provinces, since the establish¬
ment of the republic, looked upon the stadtholderian
government as an essential part of her constitution: nor
has she been without a stadtholder but twice, that is to
say, from the end of 1650 to 1672, and again from
March 1702 till April 1747. The provinces of Fries-
Jand and Groningen, with Ommelands, had always a
stadtholder without interruption: their instructions may
stt 7t|Zema ’ bUt formerly (,1e powers of the
stadtholder of these provinces were confined within nar-
rower bounds, and till William the Fourth there was
no stadtholder of the seven provinces together.
he stadtholder could not declare war°sr make peace,
but he had, in quality of captain-general of the union
the command in chief of all the forces of the state (a)
and military persons were obliged to obey him in every
hing that concerned the service. He was not limited
by instructions j but he bad the imporant power of gi¬
ving out orders for the march of troops, and the dis¬
position of all matters relative to them. He not only
directed their marches, but provided for the garrisons,
and changed them at pleasure. All military edicts and
regulations came from him alone ; he constituted and
authorised the high council of war of the United Pro¬
vinces and as captain-general of every province, dis¬
posed of all military offices, as far as the rank of colonel
inclusively. The higher posts, such as those of velt-
marshals, generals, lieutenant-generals, major-generals
were given by the states-general, who chose the persons
recommended by bis highness. He made the governors
commandants, Sic. of towns and strong places of the re-
Pu) ic, and of the barrier. The persons nominated pre¬
sented their instruments of appointment to their high
mightinesses, who provided them with commissions.
lie states-general had likewise great regard to the re¬
commendation of the prince stadtholder in the disposi¬
tion of those civil employments which were in their gift
Ihe power of the stadtholder as high-admiral, ex-
tended to every thing that concerned the naval force of
the republic, and to all the other affairs that were here
within the jurisdiction of the admiralty. He presided
at these boards either in person or by his representatives;
and as chief of them all in general, and of every one in
particular, he had power to make their orders and in¬
structions be observed by themselves and others. He
bestowed the posts of lieutenant-admiral, vice-admiral
and rear-admiral, who commanded under him : and he
made likewise post-captains.
The stadtholder granted likewise letters of grace, par-
3 i S T A
don, and abolition, as well for the crimes called Com- j., ,
ZT? > T,! aS ,for '‘A™"8- I" Holla,.,1 ca
and Zealand these letters were made out for crimes of v 
the first sort, in the name of the states, with the advice
of his highness. In military offences he consulted the high
council of war; and upon the communia delicta he took
the advice of the courts of justice, of the counsellors,
committees of the provinces, of the council of state, and
the tribunals of justice in the respective towns, accord¬
ing to the nature of the case.
In the provinces of Holland and Zealand, the stadt-
ho der elected the magistrates of the towns annually,
out of a double number that were returned to him by
the towns themselves. "
™en»"y °f the$e °ffices became va'ant, which, at
t e tune there was no governor, were in the disposal of
e states of Holland, or as formerly in that of the
chamber of accounts, the stadtholder had his choice of
two, or in some cases, of three candidates, named by
their noble and great mightinesses. He chose likewise
TAio00! ,0’ ,nsPect01s the dykes of Rynland
Del Hand, and Scheeland, out of three persons presented
to him by the boards of the counsellors inspectors ;
HoNand°ar<S WerC °f VeiT ancient establishment in
His highness presided in the courts of Holland, and
m the courts of justice of the other provinces ; and his
name was placed at the head of the proclamations and
acts called m Dutch Mandamenten, or Provision van
Jus title. In Overyssel and in the province of Utrecht
the possessors of fiefs held of the prince stadtholder.
He was supreme curator of the universities of Guelder,
i nesland, and Groningen j grand forester and grand
veneur in Guelder, 1.1 Holland, and other places® In
r'l Pr°vince of Utrecht, his highness, by virtue of the
regulation of 1674 disposed of the provostships and
other benefices which remained to the chapters, as also
of the canonical prebends that fell in the months which
were formerly the papal months.
% first article of the council of state of the Unit-
StadthoIder "as the first member of
of 277 a-Mght °f VOtingTTere’ with an appointment
of 25,000 guilders a-year. He assisted also, as often as
he thought it for the service of the state, at the delibe¬
rations of the states-general, to make propositions to
them and sometimes also at the conferences which the
deputies of their high mightinesses held in their differ-
ent committees, m consequence of their standing orders.
He likewise assisted at theassembliesof the states of each
part,cular province, and at that of the counsellors com-
mittees. In Guelder, Holland, and Utrecht, his high-
ness had a share of the sovereignty, as chief or president
of the body of nobles; and m Zealand, where he posses¬
sed the marquisate of Veer and Flushing, as first noble
and representing the whole nobility. In his absence he
had
^lleSVLr^^^^ "r- I? accompany the stadhol-
fairs, such as giving battle, or undertakinn a Lee Vr IV ‘"''T*- 'X. ^ >he most important af.
William the Third to the crown of (inat’ Britan, ’ ami-.f, "r''jS f,'™53 I" acUse<l nl tte accession of King
« chief of the army of the repnUic I„ 7,1, and t?3 ■<,ll?l"d. ,'eSi,r‘l tlle g«crj
more limited power. f 747 "d '748 there ’v<;re l,kew,se dellut,<!S "'i‘t the army, but with
STA [624] STA
Stadtiiold- had »n Zealand his representatives, who had the first
er place and the first voice in all the councils, and the first
H of whom was always first deputy from the province to
, Staffs. ^ tjie assembly of theif high mightinesses.
'r~~^ In 1749 the prince stadtholder was created by the
states-geueral, governor-general and supreme director of
the East and West India companies ; dignities which
gave him a great deal of authority and power, and which'
had never been conferred upon any of his predecessors,
nor had they hitherto been made hereditary. He had
his representatives in the several chambers of the com¬
pany, and chose their directors out of a nomination of
three qualified persons. The prince enjoyed this prero¬
gative in Zealand from the time of his elevation to the
stadtholderate. ,
The revenues of the stadtholderate of the seven Unit¬
ed Provinces were reckoned (including the 25,000
guilders which the prince enjoyed annually as the first
member of the council of state, and what he had from
the India company’s dividends) to amount to 300,000
guilders a-year. As captain-general of the union, his
serene highness had 120,000 guilders per annum j be¬
sides 24,000 from Friesland, and 12,000 from Gronin¬
gen, in quality of captain-general of those provinces.
In times of war the state allowed extraordinary sums to
the captain-general for the expence of every campaign.
All these powers and privileges were held by the
prince of Orange previous to the revolutionary war or
France. But since Holland was relieved from French
thraldom, and united with the Belgic provinces, the
prince has assumed the title of king of the Nether¬
lands.
STiEHELINA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of syngenesia, and order of polygamia aequalis :
and in the natural system arranged under the 49th or¬
der, Compositce. See Botany Index.
STAFF, an instrument ordinarily used to rest on in
walking. The staff is also frequently used as a kind of
natural weapon both of oftence and defence j and for
several other purposes.
Staff, a light pole erected in different parts ol a ship,
whereon to hoist and display the colours.
The principal of these is reared immediately over the
stern, to display the ensign j another is fixed on the
bowsprit, to extend the jack 5 three more are erected at
the three mast heads, or formed by their upper ends, to
show the flag or pendant of the respective squadron or
division to which the ship is appropriated. See En¬
sign, Mast, Jack, and Pendant.
Staff, in military matters, consists of a quarter¬
master-general, adjutant-general, and majors of brigade.
The staff properly exists only in time of war. See
Quarter-Master General, &c.
Regimental Staff, consists in the adjutant, quarter¬
master, chaplain, surgeon, &c.
Staff, in Music, five lines, on which, with the inter¬
mediate spaces, the notes of a song or piece of music are
marked.
Fnre-STAFF. See Fore-Staff.
STAFFA, one of the Hebrides or Western Islands
of Scotland, remarkable for its basaltic pillars. ItAvas
visited by Sir Joseph Banks, Avho communicated the
following account of it to Mr Pennant.
“ The little island of Staffa lies on the west coast ol
Mull, about three leagues north-east from Iona, or Ico-
2
lumbkill: its greatest length is about an English mile, staffs
and its breadth about half a one. On the east side of1—
the island is a small bay where boats generally land 5 a
little to the southward of which the first appearance of
pillars is to be observed j they are small j and instead
of being placed upright, lie down on their side, each
forming a segment of a circle. From thence you pass
a small cave, above Avhich the pillars, hoav grown a lit¬
tle larger, are inclining in all directions: in one place
in particular, a small mass of them very much resembles
the ribs of a ship. From hence having passed the cave,
which, if it is not low-water, you must do in a boat, you
come to the first ranges of pillars, which are still not
above half as large as those a little beyond. Over
against this place is a small island, called in Erse jBoo-
sha-la, separated from the main by a channel not many
fathoms wide. The whole island is composed of pillars
Avithout any stratum above them j they are still small,
but by much the neatest formed of any about the place.
“ The first division of the island, for at high Avater it
is divided into tivo, makes a kind of a cone, the pil¬
lars converging together toAvards the centre : on the
other they are in general laid doAvn flat: and in the
front next to the main, you see Iioav beautifully they
are packed together, their ends coming out square Avith
the bank which they form. All these have their trans¬
verse sections exact, and their surfaces smooth ; which
is by no means the case Avith the large ones, Avhich are
cracked in all directions. I must question, however,
if any part of this whole island of Boo-sha-la is two feet
in diameter.
w The main island opposite to Boo-sha-la, and farther
toAvards the north-west, is supported by ranges of pil¬
lars pretty erect, and, though not tall (as they are not
uncovered to the base), of large diameters j and at
their feet is an irregular pavement, made by the upper
sides of such as have been broken off, which extends as
far under Avater as the eye can reach. Here the forms
of the pillars are apparent j these are of three, four, five,
six, and seven sides j but the numbers of five and six are
by much the most prevalent. The largest I measured
was of seven ; it was four feet five inches in diameter.
“ The surfaces of these large pillars, in general, are
rough and uneven, full of cracks in all directions ; the
transverse figures in the upright ones never fail to run
in their true directions. The surfaces upon Avhich avc
Avalked were often flat, having neither concavity nor
convexity •, the larger number, hoAvever, was concave,
though someAvere very evidently convex. In some places,
the interstices within the perpendicular figures Avere
filled up Avith ayelloAV spar : in one place, a vein passed
in among the mass of pillars, carrying here and there
small threads of spar. Though they were broken and
cracked through in all directions, yet their perpendicu¬
lar figures might easily be traced : from whence it is
easy to infer, that Avhatever the accident might have
been that caused the dislocation, it happened after the
formation of the pillars.
“ From hence proceeding along shore, you arrive at
Fingal’s cave. Its dimensions I have given in the form
of a table :
Length of the cav7e from the rock without,
From the pitch of the arch,
Feet
37i 6
250 0
Breadth
S T A
Breadth of ditto at the mouth,
i At the farther end,
Hei^l^t of the arch at the mouth,
At the end,
Height of an outside pillar,
Of one at the north-west corner,
Depth of water at the mouth,
At the bottom,
53
20
II7
70
39
54
18
9
“ The cave runs into the rock in the direction of
north-east by east by the compass.
“ Proceeding farther to the north-west, you meet with
the highest ranges of pillars; the magnificent appear¬
ance of which is past all description. Here they are
bare to their very basis, and the stratum below them is
also visible: in a short time it rises many feet above
the water, and gives an opportunity of examining its
quality. Its surface is rough, and has often large lumps
of stone sticking in it as if half immersed : itself, when
broken, is composed of a thousand heterogeneous parts
which together have very much the appearance of a
ava ; and the more so, as many of the lumps appear
to be of the very same stone of which the pillars are
formed. Ibis whole stratum lies in an inclined posi¬
tion, dipping gradually towards the south-east. As
hereabouts is the situation of the highest pillars, I shall
625 ] S T A '
7 Stratum below the pillar of lava-like matter,
-Length of pillar,
Stratum above the pillar,
“ N° 5. Another part to the westward.
Stratum below the pillar,
Height of the pillar, - . . ’ _
Stratum above, . ..
“ N° 5. Another pillar farther to the west¬
ward.
II
54
61
*7
50
51
*9
55
54
Stratum below the pillar,
Height of the pillar,
Stratum above,
“ The stratum above the pillars, which is here men¬
tioned, is uniformly the same, consisting of numberless
small pillars, bending and inclining in all directions
sometimes so irregular that the stones can only be said
to have an inclination to assume a columnar form - in
others more regular, but never breaking into or distm b-
[ng the stratum ot ,a»’ge pillars, whose tops everywhere
keep an uniform and regular line. J
“rrocewliuguowa'TOg tIle shore rou„a (|](, nort(i
end of Ihe island, you arrive at 0,w na scarve, or the
Corvoram s Cave. Here the stratum under the pillars
is .tied upverylngk; the pillars above are consider-
ably Jess Hifin at- t-K**  ^ i .
mention my measurements of them, and^t mdiil'erent ably it 11,7 ''^tM'’' ‘’t''8 ab0Ve !
strata in tds place, pre„,is|„g, tbal , itmtnt mlt Sntd tX fe^tS t "t ““ ’“W
a l,Mr i-J1- ."-O of » person cuts deep ij, the islati rinding it In tha “pCt
more than t) r....jr,l' :i ^ . 1 1M’L
were made with a line held in the hand of a person
who stood at the top of the clift, and reaching to the
bottom ; to the lower end of which was tied a white
maik, which was observed by one who staid below for
the purpose : when this mark was set off from the wa¬
ter, the person below noted it down, and made signal to
him above, who made then a mark in bis rope : "when¬
ever tnis mark passed a notable place, the same signal
was made, and the name of the place noted down as
before : the line being all hauled up, and the distances
between the marks measured and noted down, gave,
when compared with the book kept below, the distances’
as for instance in the cave :
“ N° I. in the book below, was called from the wa¬
ter to the foot of the first pillar in the book above;
N i. gave 36 feet eight inches, the highest of that as¬
cent, which was composed of broken pillars.
N 1. Pillar at the west corner of FingaPs cave.
Feet. In.
I From the water to the foot of the pill
2 Height of the pill ar,
3 Stratum above the pillar,
“ N° 2. Fingal’s cave.
1 From the water to the foot of the pillar,
2 Height of the pillar,
3 From the top of the pillar to the top of the
arch, - - - _
4 1 hickness of the stratum above,
By adding together the three first measure¬
ments, we got the height of the arch from
the water,
“ N° 3. Corner pillar to the westward of
Fingal’s cave.
VOL. XIX. Part II.
1 2
37
66
36
39
31
34
10
3
9
117 6
more than a quarter of a mile over. On the sides of
this hay, especially beyond a little valley, which almost
cuts the island into two, are two stages of pillars, hut
small ; however, having a stratum between them exact-
y tie same as that above them, formed of innumerable
little piilars, shaken out of their places, and leaning in
all directions. °
“ Having passed this hay, the pillars totally cease; the
rock is of a dark brown stone, and no signs of regularity
occur till you have passed round the south-east end of
the is and (a space almost as large as that occupied by
the pillars) which you meet again on the west side be-
ginnmg to form themselves irregularly, as if the stratum
had an me .nation to that form, and'soon arrive at the
bending pillars where I began.
“ Tt)® S1t0"f of, which tlie pillars are formed, is a
coarse kind of hasaltes, very much resembling the Giant’s
Causeway in Ireland, though none of them are near so
neat as the specimens of the latter which I have seen at
the liritish Museum; owing chiefly to the colour, which
in ours is a dirty brown, in the Irish a fine black; in-
deed the whole production seems very much to resemble
the Giant’s Causeway.”
STAFFORD the county town of Staffordshire, in
” * TnZ' 2- 8- N- Lat* 53- o- It stands on the river
bow, has two parish-churches, a fine square market-place
and a flourishing cloth-manufacture. It sends two mem¬
bers to parliament, and is 135 miles from London. The
population was 4868 in 1811.
STAFFORDSHIRE, a county of England, bound¬
ed on the south by Worcestershire, by Cheshire and Der¬
byshire on the north, by Warwickshire and Derbyshire
on the east, and Shropshire and Cheshire on the west.
The length is reckoned 62 miles, the breadth 33, and
the circumference 180. It contains five hundreds’, 1 co
parishes, 810,000 acres, 18 market-towns, and in
4K i8n_
Slafla
H
Stafford¬
shire.
Stafford -
shire,
Staff.
S T A [ 626 ]
i8xt, 295,153 inlia^'ltan^3, ^ie a'r, exc^P^ in the
parts called the Moorlands and Yv oodlands, and about the
mit,es, is good, especially upon the hills, where it is ac¬
counted very line. The soil in the northern mountain¬
ous parts is not fertile j but in the middle, where it is
watered by the Trent, the third river in England, it is
both fruitful and pleasant, being a mixture of arable and
meadow grounds. In the south, it abounds not only
with corn, but with mines of iron and pits of coal.
The principal rivers of this county, besides the 'I rent,
which runs almost through the middle of it, and abounds
with salmon, are the Dove and Tame, both of which
are well stored with fish. In this county are also a great
many lakes, and meres or pools, as they are called ;
which, having streams either running into them or from
them, cannot be supposed to be of any great prejudice
to the air 5 they yield plenty of fish. In divers parts ot
the county are medicinal waters, impregnated with dif¬
ferent sorts of minerals, and consequently of difterent
qualities and virtues j as those at Hints and Bressford-
house, which are mixed with bitumen j those at In-
gestre, Codsalwood, and Willoughbridge park, which
are sulphureous. Of the saline kind are the Brine-pits
at Chertley, Epsom, Pensnet-close, of which very good
salt is made. There is a well at Nbwcastle-under-Eine
that is said to cure the king’s evil •, another called El¬
der-well near Blemhill, said to be good for sore eyes }
and a third called the Spa, near Wolverhampton.
Great flocks of sheep are bred in this county, espe¬
cially in the moorlands, or mountains of the northern
part of it; but the wool is said to be somewhat coarser
than that of many other counties. Of this wool, how¬
ever, they make a variety of manufactures, particularly
felts. In the low grounds along the rivers are rich pas-
tures for black cattle and vast quantities of butter and
cheese are made. In the middle and southern parts
not only grain of all kinds, but a great deal ol hemp
and flax, are raised. This county produces also lead,
copper, iron ; marble, alabaster, millstones, limestone j
coal, salt, and marles of several sorts and colours*, brick-
earth, fullers earth, and potters clay, particularly a sort
used in the glass manufacture at Amblecot, and sold at
seven-pence a bushel; tobacco-pipe clay 5 a sort of red¬
dish earth called slip, used in painting divers vessels; red
and yellow ochres; fire-stones for hearths of iron fur¬
naces, ovens, &c.; iron-stones of several sorts ; blood¬
stones, or haematites, found in the brook Tent, which,
when wet a little, will draw red lines like ruddle ; quar¬
ry-stones, and grind-stones. For fuel the country is well
supplied with turf, peat, and coal of several sorts, as
eannel-coal, peacock-coal, and pit-coal. The peacock-
coal is so called, because, when turned to the light, it
displays all the colours of the peacock’s tail ; but it is
fitter for the forge than the kitchen. Of the pit-coal
there is an inexhaustible store : it burns into white
ashes, and leaves no such cinder as that of the New¬
castle coal. When used for malting it is charred, and
in that state makes admirable winter-fuel for a chamber.
This county is in the diocese of Litchfield and Co¬
ventry, and the Oxford circuit. It sends ten members
to parliament; namely, two for the county, two for the
city of Litchfield, two for Stafford, two for Newcastle-
under-Line, and two for Tamworth. See Stafford¬
shire, Supplement.
STAG. See Cervus, Mammalia Index.
S T A
See Lucanus, Entomology Index. sfa
Stag-Beetle.
STAGE, in the modern drama, the place of action j,
and representation, included between the pit and the Stalagmite,
scenes, and answering to the proscenium or pulpitum of 1
the ancients. See Playhouse and Theatre.
STAGGERS. See Farriery Index.
STAHL, George Ernest, an eminent German
chemist, was born at Qnold in Franconia in 1660, and
chosen professor of medicine at Hall, when a university
was founded in that city in 1694. The excellency of
his lectures whilst he filled that chair, the importance of
his various publications, and his extensive practice, soon
raised his reputation to a very great height. He receiv¬
ed an invitation to Berlin in 1716, which having accept¬
ed, he was made counsellor of state and physician to the
king. He died in 1734, in the 75th year of his age.
Stahl is without doubt one of the greatest men of which
the annals of medicine can boast: his name marks the
commencement of a new and more illustrious era in
chemistry. He was the author of the doctrine of phlo¬
giston, which, though now completely overturned by
the discoveries of Lavoiser and others, was not without
its use ; as it served to combine the scattered fragments
of former chemists into a system, and as it gave rise to
more accurate experiments and a more scientific view of
the subject, to which many of the subsequent discoveries
were owing. rJ his theory maintained its ground for
more than half a century, and was received and sup¬
ported by some of the most eminent men which Europe
has produced ; a sufficient proof of the ingenuity and
the abilities of its author. He was the author also of
A Theory of Medicine, founded upon the notions which
he entertained of the absolute dominion of mind over
body ; in consequence of which, he affirmed, that every'
muscular action is a voluntary act of the mind, whether
attended with consciousness or not. '1 his theory he
and his followers carried a great deal too far, but the
advices at least which he gives to attend to the state of
the mind of the patient are worthy of the attention of
physicians.
His principal works are, 1. Expenmenia et Obscrva-
tiones Chemicce et Ehysicce, Berlin, 1731, 8vo. 2. T)is-
sertationes Medtcce, Hall, 2 vols 4to. This is a collec¬
tion of theses. 3. Theoria Med tea vera, 1737* 4l0,
4. Opusculum Chymico-physico-medicnm, 1740' 4to*
3. A Treatise on Sulphur, both Inflammable and fixed,
written in German. 6. Negoth/m Ot/osum, Hall, 1J20,
4to. It is in this treatise chiefly that he establishes his
system concerning the action of the soul upon the body.
7. Fu/idamenta ChymiceDogmatic# et Experimentahs,
Nuremberg, 1747, 3 vols 4to. 8. A Treatise on Salts,
written in German. 9. Commentarnttn in Metallur-
giam Beccheri, 1723.
STAINING or Colouring o/Bone, Horn, Mar¬
ble, Paper, Wood, &c. See these articles.
STAIRCASE, in Architecture, an ascent inclosed
between walls, or a balustrade consisting ot stairs or
steps, with landing places and rails, serving to make a
communication between the several stories ot a house.
See Architecture, N° 89, &c.
STALACTITES, in Mineralogy, crystalline spars
formed into oblong, conical, round, or irregular bodies,
composed of various crusts, and usually found hanging
in form of isicles from the roofs of grottoes, &c.
STALAGMIT1S, a genus of the moncecia order,
belonging
! IhIH!)-
j i utics.
• T A [ ^2^
lapiilis belonging to the polygamia class of plants : and in the
i! natural method ranking under the 38th order Tricoc
C^q-a TeT?°TANY a'Kl MaterIa Medica Index.
~ A,!r 1’ am0nf ,SP.ortsmfn» a living fowl put in a
place to allure and bring others where they may he ta-
ken. For want of these, a bird shot, his entrails taken
out, and dried in an oven in his feathers, with a stick
thrust through to keep it in a convenient posture, mav
serve as well as a live one. J
Stale is also a name for the urine of cattle.
ANmATED STALK. This remarkable animal was
found by Mr Ives at Cuddalore : and he mentions se¬
veral kinds of it ; some appearing like dry straws tied
together, others like grass 5 some have bodies much lar¬
ger than others, with the addition of two scaly imper¬
fect wings ; their neck is no bigger than a pin, but
twice as long as their bodies j their heads are like those
of an hare, and their eyes vertical and very brisk. They
hye upon flies, and catch these insects very dexterously
with the two fore-feet, which they keep doubled up in
three parts close to their head, and dart out very quick
on the approach of their prey; and when they have caught
it, they eat it very voraciously, holding it in the same
manner as a squirrel does its food. On the outer joints
of the fore-feet are several very sharp hooks for the ea¬
sier catching and holding of their prey; while, with the
other feet, which are four in number, they take hold of
trees or any other thing, the better to surprise whatever
they he in wait for. They drink like a horse, putting
their mouths into the water. Their excrements, which
are very white, are almost as large as the body of the
anima,, and as the natives say, dangerous to the eyes.
STALLION, or Stone-horse, in the manege, a
horse designed for the covering of mares, in order to pro¬
pagate the species. See Equus, Mammalia Index.
STAMFORD, an ancient town of Lincolnshire in
England ; seated on the river Welland, on the edge of
Northamptonshire. It contains six parish-churched, se¬
veral good streets, and fine buildings. It had formerly
a college, the students of which removed to Brazen Nose
college in Oxford. The population in 1811 was 4582.
It has no considerable manufactories, but deals cbiefly
in malt. W. Long. 1. 27. N. Lat. 52. 40.
STAMINA, in Botany, are those upright filaments
which, on opening a flower, ive find within the corolla
surrounding the pistillum. According to Linnseus, they
are the male organs of generation, whose office it is
to prepare the pollen. Each stamen consists of two di¬
stinct parts, viz. the FILAMENTUM and the anthera.
Stamina, in the animal body, are defined to be those
simple original parts which existed first in the embryo
oi- even in the seed ; and by whose distinction, augmen¬
tation, and accretion by additional juices, the animal
body at its utmost bulk is supposed to be formed.
S FAM1-duties, a branch of the perpetual revenue.
See Revenue.
In Great Britain there is a tax imposed upon all
parchment and paper, whereon any legal proceedings or
private instruments ot almost any nature whatsoever are
written ; and also upon licenses for retailing w'ines, of
all denominations ; upon all almanacs, newspapers, ad¬
vertisements, cards, dice, &c. These imposts are very
various ; being higher or lower, not so much according
to the value of the property transferred, as according to
the nature of the deed. The highest do not exceed
] s T A
Six pounds upon every sheet of paper or skin of parch¬
ment; and these high duties fall chiefly upon grants
from the crown, and upon certain law pfoceidimr,,
without any regard to the value of the subject. Tbeie
aie in Great Britain no duties on the registration of
deeds or writings, except the fees of the officers who
keep the register; and these are seldom more than a
reasonable recompense for their labour. The
derives no revenue from them.
I he stamp-duties constitute a tax which, though in
some instances it may be heavily felt, by greatly increa¬
sing ihe ex pence of all mercantile as well as legal pro-
ceedmgs, yet (if moderately imposed) is of service to
and rendC,in ’ autllefiticating instruments
and ^ndering lt much more difficult than formerly to
forge deeds o any standing; since, as the officers of
this branch ot the revenue vary their stamps frequently
by marks perceptible to none but themselves, a man that
ami be al f T °f time, must know
In Franc 1 C<H,nter eU the st‘™P of that date also.
1 i ranee and some other countries the duty is laid on
conm lT ltSd ! ,10t 011 the instrument in which it is
contained; as, with us too in England (besides the stamps
0 the indentures), a tax is laid, by statute 8 Ann. c. o
on every apprentice-fee ; of6d. in the pound ifit be col
undei, and is. m the pound if a greater sum • but
this tends to draw the subject into a thousand nice dis¬
quisitions and disputes concerning the nature of bis con-
mers’of"^ 6 lertaXable ^ J in'vhich the far¬
mer of the revenue are sure to have the advantage
nr general method answers the purposes of the stftn
as well, and consults the ease of the subject much better.
cand 6SW'‘‘Sr ^ the St,aTdl,ties was statute
5 aqd 6 W and M. c. 21. and they have since, in many
amouTt!8’ ^ mCreaSed t0 five times their original
STANCHION, or Stanchions, a sort of small pil¬
lars of wood or iron used for various purposes in a ship ;
as to support the decks, the quarter-rails, tbe nettings
he awnings, &c. The first of those are two ranges^f
smal! columns fixed under the beams, tbrougbmS the
ships length between decks; one range being on tbe
stai board and the other on the larboard side of the hatch-
7>;S‘ 1 fy are cllie% intended to support the weight
oi tbe artillery. 5
Si AND m commerce, a weight from two hundred
and a halt to three hundred of pitch.
STANDARD, in JFar, a sort of banner or flao-
borne as a signal for the joining together of the several
troops belonging to the same body.
Standard,_ in commerce, the original of a weight
measure, or coin, committed to the keeping of a magis¬
trate, or deposited in some public place, to regulate, ad-
jusL and try the weights used by particular persons in
traffic. See Money.
S1ANH0PE, Philip Dormer, Earl of Ches-
TERFIELD, was born in 1695, and educated in Trinity-
ball, Cambridge ; which place he left in 1714, when
by his own account, he was an absolute pedant. In this’
character he went abroad, where a familiarity with good
company soon convinced him he was totally mistaken in
almost all his notions : and an attentive study of the air
manner, and address of people of fashion, soon polished a
man whose predominant desire was to please; and who
as it afterwards appeared, valued exterior accomplish-
4K2 ments
Stamp..
ii
Stanhope.
Smith's
Wealth of
Nations,
crown V0‘- ih-
T A [ 628 ] S T A
stanl.on- ments beyond any other human acquirement. While
y~ Lord Stanhope, he got an early seat m parliament •, and
in 1722, succeeded to his father’s estate and titles. In
3728, and in 1745, he was appointed ambassador ex¬
traordinary and plenipotentiary to Holland: which
high character he supported with the greatest dignity •,
serving his own country, and gaining the esteem of the
states-general. Upon his return from Holland, he was
sent lord-lieutenant of Ireland ; and during his admini¬
stration there, gave general satisfaction to all parties.
He left Dublin in 1746, and in October succeeded the
earl of Harrington as secretary of state, in which post
he officiated until February 6th 1748. Being seized
with a deafness in 1752 that incapacitated him for the
pleasures of society, he from that time led a private
and retired life, amusing himself with books and his
per.*, in particular, he engaged largely as a volimteer
in a periodical miscellaneous paper called Ike World,
in which his contributions have a distinguished degree
of excellence. He died in 1773, leaving a character
for wit and abilities that had few equals. He distin¬
guished himself by his eloquence in parliament on many
important occasions of which we have a characteristic
instance, of his own relating. He was an active pro¬
moter of the bill for altering the style on which oc¬
casion, as he himself writes in one of his letters to his
son, he made so eloquent a speech in the house, that
every one was pleased, and said he had made the whole
very clear to them “ when (says he), God knows, 1
had not even attempted it. I could just as soon have
talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them, as astronomy; and
they would have understood me full as well.” Lord
Macclesfield, one of the greatest mathematicians in Eu¬
rope, and who had a principal hand in framing the bill,
spoke afterwards, with all the clearness that a thorough
knowledge of the subject could dictate ; but not having
a flow of words equal to Lord Chesterfield, the latter
gained the applause from the former, to the equal credit
of the speaker and the auditors. The high character
Lord Chesterfield supported during life, received no
small injury soon after his death, from a fuller display
of it by his own hand. He left no issue by his lady,
but had a natural son, Philip Stanhope, Esq. whose edu¬
cation was for many years a close object of his attention,
and who was afterward envoy extraordinary at the court
of Dresden, but died before him. When Lord Chester¬
field died, Mr Stanhope’s widow published a course of
letters, written by the father to the son, filled with in¬
structions suitable to the different gradations of the
young man’s life to wdiom they were addressed. These
letters contain many fine observations on mankind, and
rules of conduct: but it is observable that he lays a great¬
er stress on exterior accomplishments and address, than
on intellectual qualifications and sincerity ; and allows
greater latitude to fashionable pleasures than good morals
will justify, especially in paternal instructions. Hence
* Dr John-it is that a celebrated writer*, and of manners some-
*on. what different from those of the polite earl of Chester¬
field, is said to have observed of these letters, that “ they
inculcate only the morals of a whore, with the manners
of a dancing-master.”
Stanhope, Dr George, an eminent divine, was born
at Hertishorn in Derbyshire, in the year 1660. His
father was rector of that place, vicar of St Margaret’s
church in Leicester, and chaplain to the earls of Ches¬
terfield and Clare. His grandfather, Dr George Stan- Stan])opei
hope, was chaplain to James I. and Charles I.j had the
chancellorship of York, where he was also a canon-resi¬
dentiary, held a prebend, and was rector of Weldrake
in that county. He was for his loyalty driven from his
home with eleven children ; and died in 1644. Our
author was sent to school, first at Uppingham in Rut¬
land, then at Leicester -, afterwards removed to Eaton ;
and thence chosen to King’s college in Cambridge, in
the place of W. Cleaver. He took the degree of B. A.
in 1681 5 M. A. 3685 was elected one of the syndics
for the university of Cambridge, in the business of Al¬
ban Francis, 3687 -, minister of Quo! near Cambridge,
and vice-proctor, 1688 ; was that year preferred to the
rectory of Tring in Hertfordshire, which after some
time he quitted. He was in 3689 presented to the vi¬
carage of Lewisham in Kent by Lord Dartmouth, to
whom he had been chaplain, and tutqr to his son. He
was also appointed chaplain to King William and Queen
Mary, and continued to enjoy that honour under Queen
Anne. He commenced D. D. July 5th 1697, pei‘-
forming all the offices required to that degree publicly
and with great applause. He was made vicar of Dept¬
ford in 1703 -, succeeded Dr Hooper as dean ol Canter¬
bury the same year ; and was thrice chosen prolocutor
of the lower house of convocation. His uncommon di¬
ligence and industry, assisted by his excellent parts, en¬
riched him with a large stock of polite, solid, and useful
learning. His discourses from the pulpit were equally
pleasing and profitable a beautiful intermixture of the
clearest reasoning with the purest diction, attended with
all the graces of a just elocution. TLlie good Christian,
the solid divine, and the fine gentleman, in him were
happily united. His conversation was polite and deli¬
cate, grave without preciseness, facetious without levity.
His piety was real and i-ational, his charity great and
universal, fruitful in acts of mercy, and in all good
works. He died March 18th 1728, aged 68 years j
and was buried in the chancel of the church at Lewis¬
ham. The dean was twice married : first to Olivia
Cotton, by whom he had one son and four daughters.
His second lady, who was sister to Sir Charles Wager,
survived him, dying October 3st I73^» aged about 54.
One of the dean’s daughters was married to a son of
Bishop Burnet. Bishop Moore ol Ely died the day be¬
fore Queen Anne ; who, it has been said, designed our
dean for that see when it should become vacant. Dr
Felton says, “ The late dean of Canterbury is excellent
in the whole. His thoughts and reasoning are bright
and solid. His style is just, both for the purity of the
language and for the strength and beauty of expression j
but the periods are formed in so peculiar an order of
the words, that it was an observation, nobody could pro¬
nounce them with the same grace and advantage as him¬
self.” His writings, which are an inestimable treasure
of piety and devotion, are, A Paraphrase and Comment
upon the Epistles and Gospels, 4 vols, 3705, 8vo. Ser¬
mons at Boyle’s Lectures, 1706, qto. Fifteen Sermons,
3700, 8vo. Twelve Sermons on Several Occasions,
1727, 8vo. Thomas a Kempis, 1696, 8vo. Epictetus s
Morals, with Simplicius’s Comment, and the Life 0
Epictetus, 1700, 8vo. Parson’s Christian Directoiy,
1716, 8vo. Rochefoucault’s Maxims, 1706, 8vo.
Funeral Sermon on Mr Richard Sare bookseller,
two editions 4to. Twenty Sermons, published singly
between
Si hope,
St islaus
S T A [6
between the years 1692 and 1724. Private Prayers
for every Day in the Week, and for the several Parts
of each Day; translated from the Creek Devotions of
bishop Andrews, with Additions, 1730. In his trans¬
lations it is well known, Dr Stanhope did not confine
himself to a strict and literal version : he took the liber¬
ty of paiaplu ising, explaining, and improving upon his
author ; as will evidently appear (not to mention any
other work) by the slightest perusal of St Ammstine’s
Meditations, and the Devotions of Bishop Andrews
STANISLAUS Leczikso, king of Poland ivas
born at Leopold the 20th of October 1677. His father
was a Polish nobleman, distinguished by his rank and the
important offices which he held, but still metre by his
firmness and courage. Stanislaus was sent ambassador
in 1704 by the assembly of Warsaw to Charles XII. of
Sweden, who had conquered Poland. He was at that
time 27 years old, was general of Great Poland, and
had been ambassador extraordinary to the Grand Sig-
mor in 1699. Charles was so delighted with the frank¬
ness and sincerity of his deportment, and with the firm¬
ness and sweetness which appeared in his countenance,
that he offered him the crown of Poland, and ordered
him to be crowned at Warsaw in 1705. He accom¬
panied Charles XII. into Saxony, where a treaty was
concluded with King Augustus in 1705, by which that
prince resigned the crown, and acknowledged Stanislaus
king of 1 oland. The new monarch remained in Saxony
with Charles till 1707, when they returned into Poland
and attacked the Russians, who were obliged to eva¬
cuate that kingdofli in 1708. But Charles being de¬
feated by Peter the Great in 1709, Augustus returned
in\? ,0'ant,’. aiul be!ng assisted by a Russian army,
obliged Stanislaus to retire first into Sweden, and after-
Avards into Turkey. Soon after he took up his residence
at Weissenburg, a town in Alsace. Augustus dispatched
Sum his envoy to France to complain of this ; but the
duke of Orleans, who was then regent, returned this
answer : “ Tell your king, that Fiance has always been
the asylum of unhappy princes.” Stanislaus lived in ob¬
scurity till 1725, when Louis XV. espoused the princess
Mary his daughter. Upon the death of King Augustus
I733> returned to Poland in hopes of remounting
tie throne of that kingdom. A large party declared
for him ; but his competitor the young elector of Saxony,
being supported by the emperor Charles VI. and the
empress of Russia, was chosen king, though the majority
was against him. Dantzic, to which Stanislaus had re¬
tired, was quickly taken, and the unfortunate prince
made his escape in disguise with great difficulty, after
hearing that a price was set upon his head by the Rus¬
sians. When peace was concluded in 1736 between
the emperor and France, it was agreed that Stanislaus
should abdicate the throne, but that he should be ac¬
knowledged king of Poland and grand duke of Lithu¬
ania, and continue to bear these titles during life ; that
all his effects and those of the queen his spouse should be
restored ; that an amnesty should be declared in Poland
for all that was past, and that every person should be
restored to his possessions, rights, and privileges: that
fhe elector of Saxony should be acknowledged king of
A oland by all the powers who acceded to the treaty:
that Stanislaus should be put in peaceable possession of
the duchies of Lorraine and Bar ; but that immediately
after his death these duchies should be united for ever to
29] s T A
the crown of France. Stanislaus succeeded a race ofc,
princes in Lorraine, who were beloved and regretted • a,1S;,
and his subjects found their ancient sovereigns revived in
11m. He tasted then the pleasure which he had so long
desired, the pleasure of making men happy. He assist¬
ed h,s new subjects ; he embellished Nancy and Lune-
viile ; he made useful establishments ; he founded col-
eges and built hospitals. He was engaged in these
noble employments, when an accident occasioned his
death. His night-gown caught fire, and burnt him so
severely before it could be extinguished, that he was
seized with a fever, and died the 23d of February 1766.
. occasioned a public mourning : the tears of
ns subjects indeed are the best eulogium upon this prince.
In his youtn he had accustomed himself to fatigue, and
had thereby strengthened his mind as well as his consti¬
tution. He lay always upon a kind of mattress, and
seldom required any service from his domestics. He was
temperate, liberal, adored by his vassals, and perhaps
the only nobleman in Poland who had any friends. He
was in Lorraine what he had been in his own country,
gentle, affable, compassionate, treating his subjects like
equals, participating their sorrows and alleviating their
misfortunes. He resembled completely the picture of a
philosopher which he himself has drawn. “ The true
philosopher (said he) ought to be free from prejudices,
and to know the value of reason : he ought neither to
think the higher ranks of life of more value than they
are, nor to treat the lower orders of mankind with
greater contempt than they deserve : he ought to enioy
pleasures without being a slave to them, riches without
icing attached to them, honours without pride or vani¬
ty : he ought to support disgraces without either feaiing
or courting them: he ought to reckon what he possesses
sufficient for him, and to regard what he has not as use¬
less: he ought to be equal in every fortune, always tran¬
quil, always gay: he ought to love order, and to ob-
serve it in all his actions : he ought to be severe to him¬
self, but indulgent to others: he ought to be frank
and ingenuous without rudeness, polite without false¬
hood, complaisant without baseness : he ought to have
the courage to disregard every kind of glory, and to
reckon as nothing even philosophy itself.” Such .was
Stanislaus m every situation. His temper was aff'ec- .
tionate. He told his treasurer one day to put a certain
officer on his list, to whom he was very much attached:
‘ in what quality (said the treasurer) shall I mark him
down ?” “ As my friend” (replied the monarch). A
young painter conceiving hopes of making his fortune if
his talents vyere made known to Stanislaus, presented
him with a picture, which the courtiers criticised severe¬
ly. 1 he prince praised the performance, and paid the
painter very generously : then turning to his courtiers,
he said, “ Do ye not see, gentlemen, that this poor man
must provide for his family by his abilities? if you dis¬
courage him by your censures, he is undone. We ought
always to assist men; we never gain any thino- by hurt-
ing them.” His revenues were small
but were we to
judge of him by what he did, we should probably rec¬
kon him the richest potentate in Europe. A single in¬
stance will be sufficient to show the well-judged economy
with which his benevolent plans were conducted. He
gave 18000 crowns to the magistrates of Bar to be em¬
ployed in purchasing grain, when at a low price, to
be sold out again to the poor at a moderate rate when
the
S T A [ 630 ] S T A
Stanislaus
li
Stapelia.
the price should rise above a certain sum. By this
arrangement (say the authors of the Dictionaire Hiato-
rique), the money increases continually, and its good
effects may in a short time be extended over the whole
province. .
lie was a protector of the arts and sciences: he wrote
several works of philosophy, politics, and morality, which
were collected and published in France in I765> 4
vols, 8 vo, under the title of Oeuvres de Philosophe Bien-
faisant, “ the works of the Benevolent Philosopher.”
J STANITZAS, villages or small districts of the banks
of the Don, inhabited by Cossacs.
STANLEY, Thomas, a learned English writer in
the tyth century, was the son of Sir Thomas Stanley ot
Cumberlow-Green in Herefordshire, knight. He was
horn at Cumberlow about 1644, and educated in his
father’s house, whence he removed to the university of
Cambridge. He afterwards travelled •, and, upon his
return to England, prosecuted his studies in the Middle
Temple. He married, when young, Dorothy, the eldest
daughter of Sir James Engan of Flower, in Northamp¬
tonshire. He wrote, 1. A volume of Poems. 2. His-
. tory of Philosophy, and Lives of the Philosophers. 3.
A Translation of Eschylus, with a Commentary j and
several other works. He died in 1678.
STANNARIES, the mines and works where tin is
dug and purified ; as in Cornwall, Devonshire, &c.
STANNARY COURTS, in Devonshire and Corn¬
wall, for the administration of justice among the tinners
therein. They are held before the lord-warden and his
substitutes, in virtue of a privilege granted to the work¬
ers in the tin-mines there, to sue and be sued only in
their own courts, that they may not be drawn from their
business, which is highly profitable to the public, by at¬
tending their law-suits in other courts. The privileges
of the tinners are confirmed by a charter, 33 Edw. I.
and fully expounded by a private statute, 50 Edw. HI.
which has since been explained by a public act, 16
Bluckst. Car. I. c. 15. What relates to our present purpose is
Comment, only this: That all tinners and labourers in and about
vol. iii. die stannaries shall, during the time of their working
p.^79. and t]|erejn l)0na fide, be privileged from suits ot other
courts, and be only pleaded in the stannary court in all
matters, excepting pleas of land, life, and member. No
writ of error lies from hence to any court in Westmin¬
ster hall as was agreed by all the judges, in 4 .lac. I.
But an appeal lies from the steward of the court to the
under warden ; and from him to the lord warden ; and
thence to the privy-council of the prince of Wales, as
duke of Cornwall, when he hath had livery or investi¬
ture of the same. And from thence the appeal lies to
the king himself, in the last resort.
STANNUM, Tin. See Tin, Chemistry and
Mineralogy Index.
STANZA, in Poetnj, a number of lines regularly
adjusted to each other j so much of a poem as contains
every variation of measure or relation of rhime used in
that poem.
STAPELIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class pentandria and order digynia, and in the natural
orders arranged under the Succulentee. See Botany
Index. This singular tribe of plants is peculiar to the
sandy deserts of Africa and Arabia. They are extreme¬
ly succulent. From this peculiarity of structure, the
power of retaining water to support and nourish them,
they are enabled to live during the prevalent droughts stapeli*
of those arid regions. On this account the stapelia (|
has been compared to the camel j and we are told that, Stapliylt-
by a very apt similitude, it has been denominated “ the , ^
camel of the vegetable kingdom.” We must confess
ourselves quite at a loss to see the propriety or aptitude
of this comparison. In many parts ot tb« animal and
vegetable economy there is doubtless a very ubvious and
striking analogy : but this analogy has been often car¬
ried too far •, much farther than fair experiment and
accurate observation will in any degree support. It is
perhaps owing to this inaccuracy in observing the pe¬
culiarity of structure and diversity of functions, that a
resemblance is supposed to exist, as in the present case,
where in reality there is none. The camel is provided
with a bag or fifth stomach, in addition to the lour
with which ruminant animals are furnished. T bis filth
stomach is destined as a reservoir to contain water ; and
it is sufficiently capacious to receive a quantity ol that
necessary fluid, equal to the wants of the animal, lor
many days: and this water, as long as it remains in
the fifth stomach, is said to be perfectly pure and un¬
changed. The stapelia, and other succulent plants,
have no such reservoir. The water is equally, or near¬
ly so, diffused through the whole plant. Every vessel
and every cell is fully distended. But besides, this
water, whether it be received by the roots, or absorbed
from the atmosphere, has probably undergone a com¬
plete change, and become, after it has been a short time
within the plant, a fluid possessed of very dift'erent qua¬
lities.
The peculiar economy in the stapelia, and other sue-
culent plants, seems to exist in the absorbent and exha-
lant systems. The power of absorption is as much in¬
creased as the power ot the exhalant or perspiratory
vessels is diminished. In these plants, a small quantity
of nourishment is required. There is no solid part to
be formed, no large fruit to be produced. They gene¬
rally have very small leaves, often are entirely naked j
so that taking the whole plant, a small surface only is
exposed to the action of light and heat, and consequent¬
ly a much smaller proportion of water is decomposed
than in plants which are much branched and furnished
with leaves.
Two species of stapelia only were known at the be¬
ginning of the century. The unfortunate Forskal, the
companion of Niebuhr, who was sent out by the king
of Denmark to explore the interior of Arabia, and who
fell a sacrifice to the pestilential diseases of those inhos¬
pitable regions, discovered two new species. I nun-
berg, in his Prodromus, has mentioned five more. For¬
ty new species have been discovered by Mr Masson of
Ivew Gardens, who was sent out by his present Ma¬
jesty for the purpose of collecting plants round tha
Cape of Good Hope. Descriptions ot these, with eU-
gant and highly finished coloured engravings, have late¬
ly been published. They are chiefly natives of the ex¬
tensive deserts called Kan o, on the western side of the
Cape.
STAPHYLEA, Bladder-nut, a genus of plants
belonging to the class of pentandria and order of tngy*
nia; and in the natural system arranged under the 23“
order, Prihilatce. See Botany Index.
STAPHYLINUS, a genus of insects belonging to
the order of coleoptera. See Entomology Index.
V STAPLE,
!|:;ple
fikckst.
fom r0j
*r- p. a6)i
^ ^ [ 63T
STAPLE, primarily signifies a public place or mar-
- ket’ w‘uther merchants, &c. are obliged to bring their
^ goods to be bought by the people; as the Greve, or
the places along the Seine, for sale of wines and corn
at Pans, whither the merchants of other parts are obli¬
ged to bring those commodities.
Formerly, the merchants of England were obliged to
carry dieir wool, cloth, lead, and other like staple"5com¬
modities of this realm, in order to expose them by
wholesale ; and these staples were appointed to be con¬
stantly kept at 1 ork, Lincoln, Newcastle-upon-Tyne
Norwich, Westminster, Canterbury, Chichester, Win¬
chester, Exeter, and Bristol ; in each whereof a public
mart was appointed to be kept, and each of them had a
court of the mayor of the staple, for deciding differ-
«ices, held according to the law-merchant, in a summa¬
ry way.
SIWR, in Astronomy, a general name for all the
heavenly bodies, which, like so many brilliant studs,
are dispersed throughout the whole heavens. The stars
are distinguished, from the phenomena of their motion,
&c. into fixed, and erratic or wandering stars: these last
are again distinguished into the greater luminaries, viz.
the sun and moon ; the planets, or wandering stars, pro¬
perly so called, and the comets ; which have been all
fully considered and explained under the article Astro¬
nomy. As to the fixed stars, they are so called, be¬
cause they seem to he fixed, or perfectly at rest, and
consequently appear always at the same'distance from
each other.
Falling Stars, in Meteorology, fiery meteors which
dart through the sky in form of a star. See Meteor.
Twinkling of the Stars. See Optics.
Star, is also a badge of honour, worn by the knights
of the Garter, Bath, and T histle. See Garter.
Star cf Bethlehem. See Ornithogalum, Botany
Index.
Star, in Fortification, denotes a small fort, having
fue or more points, or salient and re-entering angles,
flanking one another, and their faces 90 or 100 feet
long.
Coui't of St am-chamber, {camera stellata), a fa¬
mous, or rather infamous, English tribunal, said to have
been so called either from a Saxon word signifying to
steer or govern ; or from its punishing the crimen stellio-
natus, or cosenage ; or because the room wherein it sat,
the old council-chamber of the palace of Westminster,*
(Lamb. 148.) which is now converted into the lottery-
office, and forms the eastern side of New-Palace yard
 x\_ 11 • 1 , . . , . . y ’
was full of windows ; or, (to which Sia Edward Coke,
4 Inst. 66. accedes), because haply the roof thereof was
at the first garnished with gilded stars. As all these are
merely conjectures, (for no stars are now in the roof,
nor are any said to have remained there so late as the
reign of Queen Elizabeth), it may be allowable to pro¬
pose another conjectural etymology, as plausible perhaps
as any of them. It is well known, that, before the ba¬
nishment of the Jews under Edward I. their contracts
and obligations were denominated in our ancient records
stet'ra or starrs, from a corruption of the Hebrew word,
shetar, a covenant. (Tovey’sB??^/. Judaic. 32. Selden.
tit. of bon. ii. 34. Uxor. Ebraic. i. 14.). These starrs,
by an ordinance of Richard 1. preserved by Hoveden,
were commanded ta be enrolled and deposited in chests
J s T A
under tliree keys in certain places ; one, and die most
considerable, of which was in the king’s exchequer at
Westminster : and no starr was allowed to be valid, un-
Jess it were found in some of the said repositories. (Me-
morand in Scac' P. 6. Edw. I. prefiXed to Maynard’s
year-book of Edw. If. fid. 8. Madox, hist. exch. c. vii.
S 4> 5> 6.).. I he room at the exchequer, where the
chests containing these starrs were kept, was probably
ca ed the star-chamber; and, when the Jews were ex¬
pelled the kingdom, was applied to the use of the king’s
council, sitting in their judicial capacity. To confirm
Ins, the first time the star-chamber is mentioned in any
record, it is said to have been situated near the receipt
of the exchequer at Westminster : (the king’s council
Ins chancellor, treasurer, justices, and other sages, were
assembled en la chaumbre des esteilles pres la receipt al
Westminster. Claus. 41 Edw. JJI.m. 13.). For in pro¬
cess of time, when the meaning of the Jewish starrs was
forgotten, the word star-chamber was naturally rendered
in law french, la chaumbre des esteilles, and in law La¬
tin camera stellata ; which continued to be the style in
Latin till the dissolution of that court.
This was a court of very ancient original ; but new-
modelled by statutes 3 Hen. VII. c. 1. and 21 Hen-
iy II. c. 20. consisting of divers lords spiritual and
temporal, being privy-counsellors, together with two
judges of the courts of common law, without the inter¬
vention of any jury. Their jurisdiction extended legally
over riots, perjury, misbehaviour of sheriffs, and other
notorious misdemeanors, contrary to the laws of the
am . et tms was afterwards (as Lord Clarendon in¬
forms us) stretched “ to the asserting of all proclama¬
tions and orders of state ; to the vindicating of illegal
commissions and grants of monopolies ; holding for ho¬
nourable that which pleased, and for just that which
profited; and becoming both a court of law to determine
civil rights, and a court of revenue to enrich the trea¬
sury : the council-table by proclamations enjoining to
the people that which was not enjoined by the laws, and
prohibiting that -which was not prohibited; and the star-
chamber, which consisted of the same persons in different
rooms, censuring the breach and disobedience to those
proclamations by very great fines, imprisonments, and
corporal severities: so that any disrespect to Pny acts of
state, or to the persons of statesmen, w'as in no time
more penal, and the foundations of right never more in
danger to he destroyed.” For which reasons, it was fi¬
nally abolished by statute 16 Car. I. c. 10. to the gene¬
ral joy of the whole nation. See King1 s-Bench. there
is m the British Museum (Had. MSS. vol. i. N° 1 26.)
a veiy full, methodical, and accurate account of the
constitution and course of this court, compiled by Wil¬
liam Hudson ef Gray’s Inn, an eminent practitioner
therein. A short account of the same, with copies of
all its process, may also he found in 18 Rym. Feed. 102
&c. y *
SrAR-Board, the right side of the ship when the eve
of the spectator is directed forward.
SrAR-Fish. See Asterias, Helminthology In¬
dex.
STAR-shot, a gelatinous substance frequently found
in fields, and supposed by the vulgar to have been
produced from the meteor called a falling-star: but
in reality, is the half-digested food of herons, sea-mews,
and
Star.
I
Star,
Starch.
S T A [63
and the like birds-, for these birds have been found
when newly shot, to disgorge a substance of the same
kind.
SrAR-Stone, in Natural History, a name given to cer¬
tain extraneous fossil stones, in form ol short, and com¬
monly somewhat crooked columns, composed of several
joints, each resembling the figure of a radiated star, with
a greater or smaller number of rays in the different spe¬
cies : they are usually found of about an inch in length,
and of the thickness of a goose-quill. Some ol them
have five angles or rays, and others only four and in
some the angles are equidistant, while in others they are
irregularly so : in some also they are short and blunt,
while in others they are long, narrow, and pointed; and
some have their angles very short and obtuse. Ihe se¬
veral joints in the same specimen are usually all ot the
same thickness ; this, however, is not always the case :
but in some they are larger at one end, and in others at
the middle, than in any other part of the body ; and
some species have one ol the rays bifid, so as to emulate
the appearance of a six-rayed kind.
Star-Thistle. See Centaurea,
Botany Index.
Plate
D
fig. i-
STAR-Wort. See Aster, ^
STARCH, a fecula or sediment, found at the bot¬
tom of vessels wherein wheat has been steeped in water,
of which fecula, after separating the bran horn it, by
passing it through sieves, they form a kind ol loaves,
which being dried in the sun or an oven, is alterwards
cut into little pieces, and so sold. The best starch is
white, soft, and friable, and easily broken into powder.
Such as require fine starch, do not content themselves,
like the starchmen, with refuse wheat, but use the finest
grain. The process is as follows : The grain, being
well cleaned, is put to ferment in vessels full ol water,
which they expose to the sun while in its greatest heat ;
changing the water twice a-day, for the space ot eight
or twelve days, according to the season. When the
grain bursts easily under the finger, they judge it suffi¬
ciently fermented. The fermentation perfected, and
the grain thus softened, it is put, handful by handful,
into a canvas-bag, to separate the flour from the husks ;
which is done by rubbing and beating it on a plank
laid across the mouth of an empty vessel that is to re¬
ceive the floor.
As the vessels are filled with this liquid flour, there
is seen swimming at top a reddish water, which is to be
-carefully scummed off from time to time, and clean wa¬
ter is to be put in its place, which, after stirring the
whole together, is also to be stramed through a cloth
or sieve, and what is left behind put into the vessel with
new water, and exposed to the sun for some time. As
the sediment thickens at the bottom, they drain off the
water four or five times, by inclining the vessel, but
without passing it through the sieve. What remains at
bottom is the starch, which is cut in pieces to get out,
and left to dry in the sun. W7hen dry, it is laid up
for use.
The following mill, was invented by M. Baume for
grinding potatoes, with a view to extract starch from
them.
He had a grater made of plate iron, in a cylindrical
form (fig. l.) about sevenin dies in diameter, and about
eight inches high ; the burs made by stumping the holes
are on the inside. This grater is supported upon three
feet AAA, made of flat iron bars, seven feet high,
3
2 ] S T A
strongly rivetted to the grater; the bottom of each
foot is bent horizontally, and has a hole in it which re- v-
ceives a screw, as at A, fig. 4. A little below the up¬
per end of the three feet is fixed a cross piece B (fig. 1.
and 4.), divided into three branches, and rivetted to the
feet. This cross piece not only serves to keep the feet
at a proper distance from each other, and to prevent
their bending ; but the centre of it having a hole cut in
it, serves to support an axis or spindle of iron, to be pre¬
sently described.
The upper end of this cylindrical grater has a diver¬
ging border of iron C (fig. 1.4. and 7.), about ten inches
in diameter at the top, and five inches in height.
Within this cylindrical grater is placed a second gra¬
ter (fig. 2. and 3.), in the form of a cone, the point of
which is cut off. The latter is made of thick plate iron,
and the burs of the holes are on the outside ; it is fixed,
with the broad end at the bottom, as in fig. 4. At the
upper end of the cone is rivetted a small triangle, or
cross piece of iron, consisting of the three branches D
(fig. 2.), in the middle of which is made a square hole,
to receive an axis or spindle ; to give more resistance to
this part of the cone, it is strengthened by means of
a cap of irrn E, which is fixed to the grater by means of
rivets, and has also a square hole made in it, to let the
axis pass through.
Fig. 3- represents the same cone seen in front; the
base F has also across piece of three branches,rivetted
to a hoop of iron, which is fixed to the inner surface of
the cone ; the centre of this cross piece has also a square
hole for the passage of the axis.
Fig. 5. is a spindle or axis itself ; it is a square bar of
iron about 16 inches long, and more than halt an inch
thick ; round at the bottom, and also towards the top,
where it fits into the cross piece I, fig. 7. and B. fig. 1.
and 4. ; in these pieces it turns round, and by them it is
kept in its place. It must be square at its upper extre¬
mity, that it may have a handle, about nine inches long,
fixed to it, by means of which the conical grater is turn¬
ed round. At G, (fig. 5.), a small hole is made through
the axis, to receive a pin PI, by means of which the co¬
nical grater is kept at its proper height within the cy¬
lindrical one.
Fig. 6. is a bird’s-eye view, in which the mill is re¬
presented placed in an oval tub, like a bathing-tub. . I
is the fore-mentioned triangular iron cross, fixed with
screws to the side of the tub; the centre of it has a
round hole, for the axis of the mill to move in when it
is used. , . .
Fig. 7. represents the mill in the oval tub ; it is pla¬
ced at one end of it, that the other end may be left free
for anv operation to be performed in it which may >e
necessary. A part of the tub is cut oft, that the nisi e
of it, and the manner of fixing the mill, may be seen.
That the bottom of the tub may not be worn by the
screws which pass through the feet of the mill, a tea
board, about an inch thick, and properly shaped, is pla¬
ced under the mill. . ,
When we wish to make, use of this mill, it IS t0_ ,e
fixed by the feet, in the manner already described ; it is
also fixed at the top, by means ol the cross piece , g* '
and 7. The tub is then to have water poured into it a
high as K, and the top of the mill is to be fil et wi^
potatoes, properly wTashed and cut; the handle > is
be turned round, and the potatoes, after being ft,oU
’ 1 between
Stardt.
JHcrcli.
S T A [ 63
lettveen the two graters, go out gradually at tbe lower
par being assisted by tbe motion produced in tbe water
by tbe action of tbe mill.
To prepare starch from potatoes, says M. Baume, any
quantity of these roots may be taken, and soaked in a
tub of water for about an hour ; they are afterwards to
have their fibres and shoots taken off, and then to be
rubbed with a pretty strong brush, that tbe earth, which
is apt to lodge in the inequalities of their surface, may
be entirely removed ; as this is done, they are to hi
washed and thrown into another tub full of clean water
When the quantity which we mean to make use of has
been thus treated, those which are too large are to be
cut into pieces about the size of eggs, and thrown into
the mill, that being already fixed in the oval tub, with
the proper quantity of water: the handle is then turned
lound, and as the potatoes are grated they pass out at
the bo om of the mill. The pulp which collects about
the mill must be taken off from time to time with a
woooen spoon, and put aside in water.
When all the potatoes are ground, the whole of the
pulp is to be collected in a tub, and mixed up with a
great quantity of clean water. At the same time, an-
, 0 ier tub, very clean, is to be prepared, on the brim of
which are to be placed two wooden rails, to support a
hair sieve, which must not be too fine. The pulp and
water are to be thrown into the sieve; the flour passes
through with the water, and fresh quantities of water
are successively to be poured on the remaining pulp,
tdl the water runs through as clear as it is poured in.
In this way we are to proceed till all the potatoes that
were ground are used.
The pulp is commonly thrown away as useless : hut it
■should be boiled in water, and used as food for animals:
tor it is very nourishing, and is about ^ths of the whole
quantity of potatoes used.
It is farther to be observed that the liquor which has
passed through the sieve is turbid, and of a brownish
colour, on account of the extractive manner which
is dissolved in it; it deposits, in the space of five or
six hours, the flour which was suspended in it. When
all the flour is settled to the bottom, the liquor is to be
poured olf and thrown away, being useless; a yreat
quantity of very clean water is then to be poured upon
the Hour remaining at the bottom of the tub, which is
to be stirred up in the water, that it may he washed,
and the who e is to stand quiet till the day following.
Ihe flour will then be found to have settled at the bot¬
tom ot the tub ; the water is again to be poured off as
useless the flour washed in a fresh quantity of pure wa¬
ter, and. the mixture passed through a silk sieve pretty
tine, which will retain any small quantity of pulp which
may have passed through the hair sieve. The whole
must once more be suffered to stand quiet till the flour is
entirely settled ; if the water above it is perfectly clear
and colourless, the flour has been sufficiently washed :
ot 1 the water has any sensible appearances either of
co our or of taste, the flour must be again washed, as it
13 absolutely necessary that none of the extractive mat¬
ter be suffered to remain.
When the flour is sufficiently washed, it may be ta-
sen out of the. tub with a wooden spoon ; it is to be
placed upon wicker frames covered with paper, and
1 r Pr°perly defended from dust. When it is tho-
■ougnly dry, it is to be passed through a silk sieve, that
' ol. AlA. Part II. j.
J 1 s T A
if any clotted lumps should have been formed they may
he divided. It is to he kept in glass-vessels stopped
with paper only. ri
A patent was granted in 1796 to Lord William Mur¬
ray for his discovery of a method by which starch may
be extracted from horse-chesnuts. U is as follows : '
J ake tbe horse-chesnuts out of the outward green
pncldy husksj and either by hand, with a knife, or
other tool, or else with a mill adapted for that purpose,
very carefully pare off the brown rind, being particular
not to leave the smallest speck, and to entirely eradicate
the sprout or growth. Next take the nuts, and rasp,
giate, or grind them fine into water, either by hand, or
by a mill adapted for that purpose. Wash the pulp,
which is thereby formed in this water, as clean as possi-
e, through a coarse horse-hair sieve ; this again wash
through a finer sieve, and then again through a still
finer, constantly adding clean water, to prevent any
starch from adhering to the pulp. The last process is,
to put it with a large quantity of water (about four gal¬
lons to a pound of starch) through a fine gauze, muslin,
or lawn, so as entirely to clear it of all bran or other
impurities. As soon as it settles, pour off the water :
then mix it up with clean water, repeating this opera¬
tion till it no longer imparts any green, yellow, or other
colour to the water. Then drain it off till nearly dry
and set it to hake, either in the usual mode of baking
starch, or else spread out before a brisk fire ; being very
a tentlve to stir * frequentJy to prevent its
that is to say, turning to a paste or jelly, which, on be¬
ing dried, turns hard like horn. The whole process
should he conducted as quickly as possible.
Mention ,s here made of a mill which may be em-
ployed to grind tbe horse-chesnuts; but it is not describ¬
ed ; perhaps the one described above for grinding pota¬
toes.might answer the purpose.
STARK, Dr Milljam, known to the public by
a volume containing Clinical and Anatomical Observa-
t.ons with some curious Experiments on Diet, was born
at Manchester m the month of July 1740; but the fa- .
- y from which he sprang was Scotch, and respectable
for its antiquity. His grandfather John Stark ofKiller-
mont was a covenanter; and having appeared in arms
against his sovereign at the battle ofBothwel bridge in
he year 1679 became obnoxious to the government,
and, to conceal himself, withdrew into Ireland. There
is reason to believe that he had not imbibed either the
extravagant zeal or the savage manners of the political
and religious party to which he adhered; for after resid¬
ing a few years in the country wnich he had chosen for
the scene of his banishment, he married Elizabeth daugh-
ter of ibomas Stewart, Esq. of Balydione in the north
of Ireland; who, being descended of the noble family
of Galloway, would not probably have matched his
daughter to such an exile as a ruthless fanatic of the last
century. By this lady Mr Stark had several children ;
and his second son Thomas, who settled at Manchester
as a wholesale linen-draper, and married Margaret Stir¬
ling, daughter of William Stirling, Esq. of Northwood-
side, in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, was the father
ot the subject of this article. Another of his sons, the
reverend John Stark, was minister of Lecropt in Perth¬
shire ; and it was under the care of this gentleman that
our author received the rudiments of his education
which, when we consider the character of the master’
4 L and
Starch,
Stark.
s r a
[ 634 ]
8 T A
Stark.
ahd refiect on the relation between him and his pupd,
vie may presume was calculated to store the mind of Dr
tralhotc vktuous principles which influenced his
C° FfomLecropt young Stark was sent to ^ university
of Glasgow, wherb under the tuition ot the doctors
Smith and Black, with other eminent masters, heJearn-
ed the rudiments of science, and acquired that mathe
matical accuracy, that logical precision, and ^ con¬
tempt of hypotheses, with which he prosecuted all
future studies. Having chosen physic for ,u8 P^S,°^
he removed from the university ot Glasgow to that ot
Edinburgh, where he was soon distinguished, and ho¬
noured with the friendship ot the late Dr Cullen 5 a man
who was not more eminently conspicuous tor the superi¬
ority of his own genius, than quick-sighted in perceiv¬
ing. and liberal in encouraging, genius m his pupils.
Havin'*1 finished his studies at Edinburgh, though he
took there no degree, Mr Stark, in the year 1765, went
to London, and devoted himself entirely to the study ot
physic and the elements of surgery ; and looking upon
anatomy as one of the principal pillars of both these
arts, he endeavoured to complete with Dr Hunter vhat
he had begun with Dr Monro ; and under these two
eminent professors he appears to have acquired a lug 1
degree of anatomical knowledge. He likewise entered
himself about this time a pupil at St George’s hospital }
for bein'* disgusted, as he often confessed, with the in¬
accuracy or want of candour observable in the genera¬
lity of practical writers, he determined to obtain an ac¬
quaintance with diseases at a better school and from an
abler master; and to have from his own experience a
standard, by which he might judge of the experience ot
others. With what industry he prosecuted this plan, and
faith what success his labours were crowned, may be
seen in a series ot Clinical and Anatomical Observations,
fahich were made by him during his attendance at the
hospital, and were published after his death by his friend
DrCarmichael Smyth. These observations give the pub¬
lic no cause to complain of want of candour in their au¬
thor ; for whatever delicacy he may have observed, when
relating the cases of patients treated by ether physicians,
he has related those treated by himself with the utmost
impartiality. Whilst attending the hospital, he likewise
employed himself in making experiments on the blood,
and other animal fluids 5 and also in a course of experi¬
ments in chemical pharmacy ; hut though accounts of
these experiments were left behind him, we believe they
have not yet been given to the public.
In the year 1767 Mr Stark went abroad, and obtain¬
ed the degree of M. D. in the university of Leyden,
publishing an inaugural dissertation on the dysentery.
On his return to London, he recommenced his studies
at the hospital j and when Dr Black was called to the
chemical chair in Edinburgh, which he has long filled
with so much honour to himself and credit to the uni¬
versity, Dr Stark was solicited by several members of
the university of Glasgow to stand a candidate for their
professorship of the theory and practice of physic, ren¬
dered vacant by Dr Black’s removal to Edinburgh.
This however Dr Stark declined, being influenced by
the advice of his English friends, who wished to detain
him in London, and having likewise some prospects of
an appointment in the hospital.
In the mehh fitrie he had commenced (1769) a series
of experiments on diet, which he was encouraged to mi- glark
dertake by Sir John Pringle and Dr Franklin, whose ||
friendship lie enjoyed, and from whom he received many | Starling.-,
hints respecting both the plan and its execution. I hese
experiments, or rather the imprudent zeal with which
he prosecuted them, proved, in the opinion of his friends,
fatal to himself j for he began them on the 12th of July
1769 in perfect health and vigour, and from that day,
though his health varied, it was seldom if ever good,
till the 23d of February 1770, when he died, after
sutfering much uneasiness. His friend and biogiapber
Dr Smyth thinks, that other causes, particularly cha¬
grin and disappointment, had no small share in hastening
his death 5 and as the Doctor was intimately acquaint¬
ed with his character and disposition, his opinion is pro-
baldy well-founded, though the pernicious effects of the
experimentsare visible m Dr Stark’s own journal. When
he entered upon them, the weight of his body was 12
stone 3 lb. avoirdupois, which in a very tew days was
reduced to x 1 stone 10 lb. 8 oz : and though some kinds
of food increased it, by much the greater part of what
he used had a contrary effect, and it continued mi th*
whole to decrease till the day of his death. This in¬
deed can excite no wonder. Though the professed ob¬
ject of his experiments was to prove that z pleasant and
varied diet is equally conducive to health with a more
strict and simple one, most ot the dishes which he ate
during these experiments were neither pleasant nor
simple, but compounds, such as every stomach must
nauseate. He began with bread and water ; from which
he proceeded to bread, tvater, and sugar ; then to bread,
water-, and oil of olives ; then to bread and water with
milk ; afterwards he tried bread water with roasted
goose } bread and v'citer with boiled beef; stewed lean of
%eef with the gravy and water without bread •, stewed
lean of beef with the gravy, oil oi fat or suet and water ;
four, oil of suet, water and salt ; flour, water, and salt;
'and a number of others infinitely more disagreeable to
the stomach than even these, such as bread, fat of bacon
ham, infusion of tea with sugar ; and bread or flour with
honey and the infusion of rosemary. But though we con¬
sider Dr Stark’s experiments as whimsical, it cannot be
denied that they indicate eccentricity of genius in the
person who made them ; and such of our readers as think
genius hereditary, may perhaps be of opinion, that he
derived a ray from the celebrated Napier the inventor
of the logarithms, who was his ancestor by both pa
rents. At any rate, these experiments, of which a iull
account is given in the same volume with his clinical
and anatomical observations, display an uncommon e-
gree of fortitude, perseverance, self-denial, and zeal tor
the promoting of useful knowledge in their author } and
with respect to his moral character, we believe it is witli
great justice that Dr Smyth compares him to Cato, by
applying to him what was said of that virtuous Roman
by Sallust—“ Non divitiis cum divite, neque factione
cum factioso \ sed cum strenuo virtute, cum tnodesto
pudore, cum innocente abstinentia certabat} esse, quam
videri, bonus malebat 7
STARLING. See Sturnus, Ornithology
STARLINGS, or Sterlings, the name given to
the strong pieces of timber which were driven into t e
bed of the river to protect the piles, on the top 0
fahich were laid the flat beams upon which were ui
S T A t 635 ] S T* A
nrliags the bases of the stone piers that support the arches of
j| London bridge. In general, starlings are large piles
Statics, placed on the outside of the foundation of the piers of
bridges, to break the force of the water, and to protect
the stone work from injury by floating ice. They are
otherwise called and their place is often supplied
by large stones thrown at random round the piers of
bridges, as may be seen at Stirling bridge when the ri¬
ver is low j and as was done by Mr Smeaton’s direction
round the piers of the centre arch of London bridge,
when it was thought in danger of being undermined by
the current.
STATE of a Controversy. See Oratory, Part
I. N° 14?
STATES, or Estates, a term applied to several or¬
ders or classes of people assembled to consult of matters
for the public good.
Thus States-General, in the old government of Hol¬
land, is the name of an assembly consisting of the depu¬
ties of the seven United Provinces. These were usual¬
ly 30 in number, some provinces sending two, others
more $ and whatever resolution the states-general took
was confirmed by every province, and by every city and
republic in that province, before it had the force of a
law. The deputies of each province, of what number
soever they were, had only one voice, and were esteem¬
ed as but one person, the votes being given by provin¬
ces. Each province presided in the assembly in its turn,
according to the order settled among them. Guelder-
land presided first, then Holland, &c.
States of Holland were the deputies of eighteen cities,
and one representative of the nobility, constituting the
states of the province of Holland : the other provinces
had likewise their states, representing their sovereignty ;
deputies from which made what was called the states-
general. In an assembly of the states of a particular
province, one dissenting voice prevented their coming
to anv resolution.
STATICE, Thrift, a genus of plants belonging to
the class of pentandria, and order of pentagynia ; and in
the natural system ranging under the 48th order, Aggre-
gutcp. See Botany Index.
STATICS, a term which the modern improvements
in knowledge have made it necessary to introduce into
physico-mathematical science. It was found convenient
to distribute the doctrines of universal mechanics into
two classes, which required both a different mode of con¬
sideration and different principles of reasoning.
Till the time of Archimedes little science of this
kind was possessed by the ancients, from whom we
have received the first rudiments. His investigation of
the centre of gravity, and his theory of the lever, are
the foundations of our knowledge of common mecha¬
nics 5 and his theory of the equilibrium of floating bodies
contains? the greatest part of our hydrostatical know¬
ledge. But it was as yet limited to the simplest cases ;
and there were some in which Archimedes was igno¬
rant, or was mistaken. The marquis Guido Ubaldi, in
1578, published his theory of mechanics, in which the
doctrines of Archimedes were well explained and consi¬
derably augmented. Stevinus, the celebrated Dutch
engineer, published about 20 years after an excellent
■system of mechanics, containing the chief principles
winch now form the science of equilibrium among solid
bodies. In particular, he gave the theory of inclined
planes, which was unknown to the ancients, though it Statics.
is of the very first importance in almost every machine. v—-v 
He even states in the most express terms the principle
afterwards made the foundation of the whole of mecha¬
nics, and published as a valuable discovery by Varig-
non, viz. that three forces, whose directions and inten¬
sities are as the sides of a triangle, balance each other.
His theory of the pressure of fluids, or hydrostatics, is
no less estimable, including every thing that is now re¬
ceived as a leading principle in the science. When wr
consider the ignorance, even of the most learned, of
that age, in mechanical or physico-mathematical know¬
ledge, we must consider these performances as the works
of a great genius ; and we regret that they are so little
known, being lost in a crowd of good writings on those
subjects which appeared soon after.
Hitherto the attention had been turned entirely t*
equilibrium, and the circumstances necessary for produ¬
cing it. Mechanicians indeed saw, that the energy of a
machine might he somehow measured by the force
which could he opposed or overcome by its interven¬
tion : but they did not remark, that the force which
prevented its motion, hut did no more than prevent it,
was an exact measure of its energy, because it was in
immediate equilihrio with the pressure exerted by that
part of the machine with which it was connected. If
this opposed force was less, or the force acting at the
other extremity of the machine was greater, the me¬
chanicians knew that the machine would move, and
that work would be performed ; but what would be
the rate of its motion or its performance, they hardly
pretended to conjecture. They had not studied the ac¬
tion of moving forces, nor conceived what was done
when motion was communicated.
The great Galileo opened a new field of speculation
jn his work on Local Motion. He there considers
a change of motion as the indication and exact and ade¬
quate measure of a moving force 5 and he considers every
kind of pressure as competent to the production of such
changes.—He contented himself with the application of
this principle to the motion of bodies by the action of
gravity, and gave the theory of projectiles, which re¬
mains to this day without change, and only improved
by considering the changes which are produced in it by
the resistance of the air.
Sir Isaac Newton took up this subject nearly as Ga¬
lileo had left it. For, if we except the theory of the
centrifugal forces arising from rotation, and the theory
of pendulums, published by Huygens, hardly any thing
had been added to the science of motion. Newton con¬
sidered the subject in its utmost extent j and in his ma¬
thematical principles of natural philosophy he considers
every conceivable variation of moving force, and deter¬
mines the motion resulting from its action.-—His first
application of these doctrines was to explain the celesti¬
al motions ; and the magnificence of this subject caused
it to occupy for a while the whole attention of the ma¬
thematicians. But the same work contained proposi¬
tions equally conducive to the improvement of common
mechanics, and to the complete understanding of the me¬
chanical actions of bodies. Philosophers began to make
these applications also. They sa\y that every kind of work
which is to be performed by a machine may he consider¬
ed abstractedly as a retarding force ; that the impulse of
water or wind, which are employed as moving powers,
4 L 2 aet
g T A [ 63s 1
cu t,Vc act bv means of pressures which they exert on the im-
pelled point of the machine j and that the machine i -
self may be considered as an assemblage of bodies mc^ -
able in certain limited circumstances, with determine
directions and proportions of velocity. Iroin all these
considerations resulted a general abstract condition oi a
body acted on by known powers. And they found,
that after all conditions of equilibrium were satisfied
there remains a surplus of moving force. They could
now state the motion which will en5ue, the new resistance
which this will excite, the additional power which this
will absorb j and they at last determined a new kind ot
equilibrium, not thought of hy the ancient mechanici¬
ans, between the resistance to the machine performing
work and the moving power, which exactly balance
each other, and is indicated, not by the rest, but by the
uniform motion of the machine.—In like manner, the
mathematician was enabled to calculate that precise
motion of water which would completely absorb, or, in
the new language, balance the superiority of pressure
by which water is forced through a sluice, a pipe, or
canal, with a constant velocity.
Thus the general doctrines of motion came to be con¬
sidered in two points of view, according as they balan¬
ced each other in a state of rest or of uniform motion.
These two ways of considering the same subject itqui-
red both different principles and a different manner ot
reasoning. The first has been named statics, as expres¬
sing that rest which is the test of this kind of equi¬
librium. The second has been called Dynamics or
Universal, Mechanics, because the diflerent kinds
of motion are characteristic of the powers or forces
which produce them. A knowledge of both is indi¬
spensably necessary for acquiring any useful practical
knowledge of machines •, and it was ignorance of the
• doctrines of accelerated and retarded motions which
made the progress of practical mechanical knowledge
so very slow and imperfect. The mechanics, even of
the moderns, before Cfalileo, went no further than to
state the proportion of the power and resistance which
would be balanced by the intervention of a given ma¬
chine, or the proportion of the parts of a machine by
which two known forces may balance each other.
This view of the matter introduced a principle, which
even Galileo considered as a mechanical axiom, viz.
that what is gained in force hi) means of a machine is ex¬
actly compensated by the additional time which it obliges
us to employ. This is false in every instance, and not
only prevents improvement in the construction ot ma¬
chines, but leads us into erroneous maxims of construc¬
tion. The true principles of dynamics teach us, that
there is a certain proportion of the machine, dependent
on the kind and proportion of the power and resistance,
which enables the machine to perform the greatest pos¬
sible work.
It is highly proper therefore to keep separate these
two ways of considering machines, that both may he
improved to the utmost, and then to blend them toge¬
ther in every practical discussion.
Statics therefore is preparatory to the proper study
of mechanics *, but it does not hence derive all its im¬
portance. It is the sole foundation of many usetul parts
of knowledge. This w’ill be best seen by a brief enu¬
meration.
i. It comprehends all the doctrines of the excitement
S T A
and propagation of pressure through the parts of solid static,
bodies, by which the energies of machines are pro-
duced. A pressure is exerted on the impelled point of Statists
a machine, such as the float-boards or buckets of a mill-
wheel. This excites a pressure at the pivots of its axle,
which act on the points of support. This must be un¬
derstood, both as to direction and intensity, that it may
be effectually resisted. A pressure is also excited at the
acting tooth of the cog-wheel on the same axle, hy
which it urges round another wheel, exciting similar
pressures on its pivots and on the acting tooth peilnps
of a third wheel.—Thus a pressure is ultimately excited
in the working point of the machine, perhaps a wiper,
which lifts a heavy stamper, to let it fall agfin on some
matter to be pounded. Now statics teaches us the in¬
tensities and direction of all those pressures, and there¬
fore how much remains at the working point of the ma¬
chine unbalanced by resistance.
2. It comprehends every circumstance which influ¬
ences the stability of heavy bodies j the investigation
and properties of the centre of gravity j the theoiy of
the construction of arches, vaults, and domes j the atti¬
tudes of animals. ...
3. The strength of materials, and the principles ot
construction, so as to make the proper adjustment of
strength and strain in every part of a machine, edifice,
or structure of any kind. Statics therefore furnishes
us with what may be called a theory of carpentry, and
gives us proper instructions for framing floors, loofs,
centres, &c.
4. Statics comprehends the whole doctrine of the
pressure of fluids, whether liqtud or aeriform, whether
arising from their weight or irom any external action.
Hence therefore we derive our knowledge ot the stabili¬
ty of ships, or their power of maintaining themselves in
a position nearly upright, in opposition to the action of
the wind on the sails. We learn on what circumstances
of figure and stowage this quality depends, and what
will augment or diminish it.
Very complete examples will be given in the remain-
ing part of this work of the advantages of this separate
consideration of the condition ot a machine at rest and
in working motion ^ and in what yet remains to be
delivered of the hydraulic doctrines in our account of
IF A ter- Works in general, will be perceived the pro¬
priety of stating apart the equilibrium which is indica¬
ted by the uniform motion of the fluid. T-he observa¬
tions too which we have to make on the strength of the
materials employed in our edifices or mechanical struc¬
tures, will be examples of the investigation ot those
powers, pressures, or strains, which are excited in all
their parts.
STATIONARY, in Astronomy, the state of a pla¬
net when, to an observer on the earth, it appears for
some time to stand still, or remain immoveable in the
same place in the heavens. Uor as the planets, to sue
an observer, have sometimes a progressive motion, and
sometimes a retrograde one, there must he some point
between the two where they must appear stationary.
STATISTICS, a word lately introduced to express
a view or survey of any kingdom, county, or parish.
A Statistical view ot Germany was published in *19°
by Mr B. Clarke: giving an account oi the imperial an
territorial constitutions, forms ot government, legisla¬
tion, administration of justice, and of the ecelesiastica
StcitC J
S T A [ 637 ] S T A
iatisties. state j with a sketch of the character and genius of the
—Y—' Germans j a short inquiry into the state of their trade
and commerce •- and giving a distinct view of the domi¬
nions, extent, number of inhabitants to a square mile ;
chief towns, with their size and population ; revenues,
expences, debts, and military strength of each state.
In Prussia, in Saxony, Sardinia, and Tuscany, attempts
have also been made to draw up statistical accounts j
but they were done rather with a view of ascertaining
the present state of these countries, than as the means
of future improvement.
A grand and extensive work of this kind, founded
on a judicious plan, conducted by the most patriotic
and enlightened motives, and drawn up from the com¬
munications of the whole body of the clergy, was
undertaken in Scotland in the year 1790 by Sir John
Sinclair of Ulbster, one of the most useful members of
his country. Many praises are heaped upon genius and
learning ; but to genius and learning no applause is due,
except when exerted for the benefit of mankind : but
gratitude and praise is due to him whose talents shine
only in great undertakings, whose happiness seeais to
consist in patriotic exertions, and whose judgment is
uniformly approved by his success. A work of this
kind, so important in its object, so comprehensive in its
range, so judicious in its plan, and drawn up by more
than 900 men of literary education, many of them men
of great genius and learning, must he of immense value.
It was completed about 1799, in 21 volumes 8vo.
The great object of this work is to give an accurate
view of the state of the country, its agriculture, its
manufactures, and its commerce j the means of improve¬
ment, of which they are respectively capable; the amount
of the population of a state, and the causes of its increase
or decrease; the manner in which the territory of a coun¬
try is possessed and cultivated ; the nature and amount
of the various productions of the soil ; the value of the
personal wealth or stock of the inhabitants, and how it
can be augmented ; the diseases to which the people are
subject, their causes and their cure ; the occupations of
the people; where they are entitled to encouragement,
and where they ought to be suppressed ; the condition
of the poor, the best mode of maintaining them, and of
giving them employment; the state of schools, and other
institutions, formed for purposes of public utility; the
state of the villages and towns, and the regulations best
calculated for their police and good government ; the
state of the manners, the morals, and the religions prin¬
ciples of the people, and the means by which their tem¬
poral and eternal interests can best be promoted.
To such of our readers as have not an opportunity
of perusing this national work, or of examining its plan,
we will present the scheme for the statistical account of
a parochial district which Sir John Sinclair published
for the consideration of the clergy, and which has been
generally followed by them, though often with great
improvements.
The name of the parish and its origin ; situation and
extent of the parish ; number of acres; description of
the soil and surface; nature and extent of the sea coast;
lakes, riveis, islands, hills, rocks, caves, wood, orchards,
&c.; climate and diseases ; instances of longevity ; state
of property; number of proprietors; number of residing
proprietors ; mode cf cultivation ; implements of hus¬
bandry ; manures ; seedtime and harvest; remarkable
instances of good and bad seasons; quantity and value of Statistics
each species of crop ; total value of the whole produce ||
of the district: total quantity of grain and other articles Statuary.
consumed in the parish; wages and price of labour; ser- *
vices, whether exacted or abolished ; commerce; manu¬
factures ; manufacture of kelp, its amount, and the
number of people employed in it; fisheries ; towns and
villages; police ; inns and alehouses; roads and bridges ;
harbours, ferries, and their state ; number of ships and
vessels; number of seamen; state of the church; stipend,
manse, glebe, and patron ; number of poor ; parochial
funds, and the management of them; state of the
schools, and number of scholars ; ancient state of po¬
pulation ; causes of its increase or decrease; number
of families ; exact amount of the number of souls now
living : division of the inhabitants ; 1. by the place of
their birth ; 2. by their ages ; 3. by their religious
persuasions ; 4. by their occupations and situation in
life ; 5. by their residence, whether in town, village,
or in the country : number of houses ; number of unin¬
habited houses; number of dove-cots, and to what extent
they are destructive to the crops ; number of horses,
their nature and value; number of cattle, their nature
and value; number of sheep, their nature and value;
number of swine, their nature and value; minerals in
general ; mineral springs ; coal and fuel ; eminent men;
antiquities ; parochial records ; miscellaneous observa¬
tions ; character of the people ; their manners, customs,
stature, &c.; advantages and disadvantages ; means by
which their situation could be meliorated.
If similar surveys (says the public-spirited editor of
this work) were instituted in the other kingdoms of
Europe, it might be the means of establishing, on sure
foundations, the principles of that most important of all
sciences, viz. political or statistical philosophy ; that is,
the science, which, in preference to every other, ought
to be held in reverence. No science can furnish, to any
mind capable of receiving useful information, so much
real entertainment; none can yield such important hints
for the improvement of agriculture, for the extension of
commercial industry, for regulating the conduct of in¬
dividuals, or for extending the prosperity o? the state ;
none can tend so much to promote the general happiness
of the species.
STATIUS, Publius Papinius, a celebrated Latin
poet of the first century, was born at Naples, and was
the son of Statius, a native of Epirus, who went to
Rome to teach poetry and eloquence, and had Domitian
for his scholar. Statius the poet also obtained the favour
and friendship of that prince ; and dedicated to him his
Thebais and Achilleis ; the first in twelve books, and
the last in two. He died at Naples about the year 100.
Besides the above poems, there are also still extant his
Sylvce, in five books ; the style of which is purer, more
agreeable, and more natural, than that of his Thebais
and Achilleis. I
STATUARY, a branch of sculpture, employed in
the making of statues. See Sculpture and the next
article.
Statuary is one of those arts wherein the ancients
surpassed the moderns ; and indeed it was much more
popular, and more cultivated, among the former than
the latter. It is disputed between statuary anil paint¬
ing, which of the two is the most difficult and the most
artful.
Statuary
S T A
Statuary,
Statue.
Statuary is also used for the artificer who makes
statues. Phidias was the greatest statuary among the
ancients, and Michael Angelo among the moderns.
STATUE, is defined to be a piece of sculpture in
full relievo, representing a human figure. Daviler more
scientifically defines statue a representation, in high re¬
lievo and insulate, of some person distinguished by his
birth, merit, or great actions, placed as an ornament in
a fine building, or exposed in a public place, to preserve
the memory of his worth. In Greece one of the highest
honours to which a citizen could aspire was to obtain a
statue.
Statues are formed with the chisel, of several matters,
as stone, marble, plaster, &c. They are also cast of
various kinds of metal, particularly gold, silver, brass,
and lead. For the method of casting statues, see the
article Foundery of Statues.
Statues are usually distinguished into four general
kinds. The first are those less than the life ; of which
kind we have several statues of great men, of kings, and
of gods themselves. The second are those equal to the
life ; in which manner it was that the ancients, at the
public expence, used to make statues of persons emi¬
nent for virtue, learning, or the services they had done.
The third are those that exceed the life $ among which
those that surpassed the life once and a half were for
kings and emperors: and those double the life, for he¬
roes. The fourth kind were those that exceeded the
life twice, thrice, and even more, and were called colos-
suses. See Colossus.
Every statue resembling the person whom it is intend¬
ed to represent, is called statua iconica. Statues acquire
various other denominations. I. Thus, allegorical sta¬
tue is that which, under a human figure, or other sym¬
bol, represents something of another kind 5 as a part of
the earth, a season, age, element, temperament, hour,
&c. 2. Curule statues, are those which are represented
in chariots drawn by bigae or quadrigae, that is, by two
or four horses *, of which kind there were several in the
circuses, hippodromes, &c. or in cars, as we see some,
with triumphal arches on antique me'dals. 3. Equestri¬
an statue, that which represents some illustrious person
on horseback, as that famous one of Marcus Aurelius
at Rome: that of King Charles I. at Charing-cross j
King George II. in Leicester-Square. &c. 4. Greek
statue, denotes a figure that is naked and antique $ it
being in this manner the Greeks represented their deities,
atldette of the Olympic games, and heroes; the statues
of heroes were particularly called Achillean statues, by
reason of the great number of figures of Achilles in
most of the cities of Greece. 5. Hydraulic statue, is
any figure placed as an ornament of a fountain or grot¬
to, or that does the office oiajet d'eau, a cock, spoat,
-or the like, by any of its parts, or by any attribute it
holds: the like is to be understood of any animal ser¬
ving for the same use. 6. Pedestrian statue, a statue
standing on foot; as that of King Charles II. in the
Royal Exchange, and of King James II. in the Privy-
Gardens. 7. Homan statue, is an appellation given to
such as are clothed, and which receive various names
frprn their various dresses. Those ef emperors, with
long gowns over their armour, were called siatvee pa-
hidatce : those of captains and cavaliers, with coats of
arras, thoracat-x ; those of soldiers with cuirasses, lort-
eatx i those of senators and augurs, trabeatx ; those uf
S
[ 638 ] S T E
magistrates with long robes, togatx ; those of the people Stata5
with a plain tunica, tunicatx; and, lastly, those of wo- {)
men with long trains, stolatce. Steam.
In repairing a statue cast in a mould, they touch itv'*-'1
up with a chisel, graver, or other instrument, to finish
the places which have not come well off: they also
clear off the barb, and what is redundant in the joint#
and projectures.
STATURE. See Dwarf and Giant.
STATUTE, in its general sense, signifies a law,
ordinance, decree, &c. See Law, &c.
Statute, in our laws and customs, more immedi¬
ately signifies an act of parliament made by the three
estates of the realm ; and such statutes are either gene¬
ral, of which the courts at Westminster must take notice
without pleading them; or they are special and pri¬
vate, which last must be pleaded.
STAVESACRE, a species of Delphinium, which
see, Botany Index.
STAY, a large strong rope employed to support the
mast on the fore part, by extending from its upper end
towards the fore part of the ship, as the shrouds are ex¬
tended to the right and left, and behind it. See Mast,
Rigging, and Shroud.
The stay of the fore-mast, which is called the fore¬
stay, reaches from the mast-head towards the bowsprit
end : the main stay extends over the forecastle to the
ship’s stem; and the mizen-stay is stretched down to
that part of the main-mast which lies immediately above
the quarter-deck : the fore-top-mast-stay comes also to
the end of the bowsprit, a little beyond the fore-stay:
the main-top-mast stay is attached to the head or hounds
of the fore-mast; and the mizen-top-mast stay comes al¬
so to the hounds of the main-mast: the fore-top-gallant
stay comes to the outer end of the jib-boom ; and the
main-top-gallant stay is extended to the head of the fore¬
top-mast.
St ay-Sail, a sort of triangular sail extended upon a
stay. See Sail.
STEAM, is the name given in our language to the
visible moist vapour which arises from all bodies which
contain juices easily expelled from them by heats not
sufficient for their combustion. Thus we say, the steam
of boiling water, of malt, of a tan-bed, &.c. It is dis¬
tinguished from smoke by its not having been produced
by combustion, by not containing any soot, and by its
being condensible by cold into water, oil, inflammable
spirits, or liquids composed of these.
We see it rise in great abundance from bodies whep
they are heated, forming a white cloud, which diffuses a
itself and disappears at no very great distance from the white
body from which it was produced. In this case the cloud,
surrounding air is found loaded with the water or other
juices which se«m to have produced it, and the steam
seems to be completely soluble in air, as salt is in water,
composing while thus united a transparent elastic fluid, ^
But in order to its appeai'ance in the form of an when d«-
opaque white cloud, the mixture with or dissemination Eeminated
in air seems absolutely necessary. If a tea-kettle boils111 air‘
violently, so that the steam is formed at the spout, in
great abundance, it may be observed, that the visible
cloud is not formed at the very mouth of the spout,
but at a small distance before it, and that the vapour is
perfectly transparent at its first emission. This is ren¬
dered stiU more evident by fitting to the spout of the
tea-kettlr
S T E
[
Steam.
4.
I s>aia
o ferted
i i water
hold.
tea-kettle a glass pipe of any length, and of as large a
^ ihametei as we please, ihe steam is produced as co¬
piously as without this pipe, hut the vapour is transpa¬
rent through the whole length of the pipe. Nay, if
this pipe communicate with a glass vessel terminating
in another pipe, and if the vessel be kept sufficiently
hot, the steam will be as abundantly produced at the
mouth of this second pipe as before, and the vessel will
be quite transparent. The visibility therefore of the
matter which constitutes the steam is an accidental or
extraneous circumstance, and requires the admixture
with air j yet this quality again leaves it when united
with air by solution. It appears therefore to require a
dissemination in the air. The appearances are quite
agreeable to this notion : for we know that one per¬
fectly transparent body, when minutely divided and
diffused among the parts of another transparent body,
but not dissolved in it, makes a mass which is visible.
Thus oil beaten up with water makes a white opaque
mass.
In the mean time, as steam is produced, the water
gradually wastes in the tea-kettle, and will soon be to¬
tally expended, if we continue it on the lire. It is rea¬
sonable therefore to suppose, that this steam is nothing
but water changed by heat into an aerial or tdastic
form. If so, we should expect that the privation of
this heat would leave it in the form of water again.
Accordingly this is fully verified by experiment; for if
the pipe fitted to the spout of the tea-kettle be surround¬
ed with cold water, no steam will issue, but water will
continually trickle from it in drops *, and if the process
be conducted with the proper precautions, the water
which we thus obtain from the pipe will be found
equal in quantity to that which disappears from the tea¬
kettle.
This is evidently the common process for distilling ;
and the whole appearances may be explained by saying,
that the water is converted by heat into an elastic va¬
pour, and that this, meeting with colder air, imparts to
it the heat which it carried off as it arose from the heat¬
ed water, and being deprived of its heat it is again wa¬
ter. The particles of this water being vastly more re¬
mote from each other than when they were in the tea¬
kettle, and thus being disseminated in the air, become
visible, by reflecting light from their anterior and poste¬
rior surfaces, in the same manner as a transparent salt
becomes visible when reduced to a fine powder. This
disseminated water being presented to the air in a very
extended surface, is quickly dissolved by it, as pounded
salt is in water, and again becomes a transparent fluid,
but of a different nature from what it was before, be¬
ing no longer convertible into water by depriving it of
its heat.
Accordingly this opinion, or something very like it,,
has been long entertained. Muschenbroeck expressly
says, that the water in the form of vapour carries off
with it all the heat which is continually thrown in by
the fuel. But Dr Black was the first who attended
can of its minutely to the whole phenomena, and enabled us to
J^r 1SM)H> form distinct notion ? of the subject. He had discover-
Bl^’sdis-6^ *kat it was not sufficient for converting ice into wa-.
cor', of ter that it be raised to that temperature in which it can
hte heat, no longer remain in the form of ice. A piece of ice of
the temperature 3 2° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer will
remain a very long while in air of the temperature 50°
Steam.
htppear-
5 ex-
ed,
(U
pi
ancue
639 j S T E
before it be all melted, remaining all the while of the
temperature 320, and therefore continually absorbing —^ -
heat horn the surrounding air. By comparing the time
in which the ice had its temperature changed from 28®
to 32° with the subsequent time of its complete lique¬
faction, he found that it absorbed about 130 or 140
times as much heat as would raise its temperature one
degree 5 and he found that one pound of ice, when
mixed with one pound ol water 140 degrees warmer,
was just melted, but without rising in its temperature
above 320. Hence he justly concluded, that water dif¬
fered from ice of the same temperature by containing,
as a constituent ingredient, a great quantity of fire, or
of the cause of heat, united with it in such a way as
not to quit it for another colder body, and therefore so
as not to go into the liquor of the thermometer and ex¬
pand it. Considered therefore as the possible cause of
heat, it was latent, which Dr Black expressed by the
abbreviated term latent heat. If any more heat was
added to the water it was not latent, but would readily-
quit it for the thermometer, and, by expanding the ther¬
mometer, would show what is the degree of this re¬
dundant heat, while fluidity alone is the indication of
the combined and latent heat.
Dr Black, in like manner, concluded, that in order to
convert water into an elastic vapour, it was necessary,
not only to increase its uncombined heat till its tempe¬
rature is 2x2 , in which state it is just ready to become
elastic; but also to pour into it a great quantity of fire,
or the cause of heat, which combines with every par¬
ticle of it, so as make it repel, or to recede from, its
adjoining particles, and thus to make it a particle of an
elastic fluid. He supposed that this additional heat
might be combined with it so as not to quit it for the
thermometer $ and therefore so as to be in a latent state,
having elastic fluidity for its sole indication.
This opinion was very consistent with the pbenome-rj^g
non of boiling oft a quantity of water. The applica-peratme at',
tion of heat to it causes it gradually to rise in its tem-which it is
perature till it reaches the temperature 2X2*. It then Pl0<*uce<b
begins to send off elastic vapour, and is slowly expend-ani* l*‘e
ed in this way?^ continuing all the while of the sameiJeat whiclt.
tempei ature, I he steam also is of no higher tempera-it absorbs,
ture, as appears by holding a thermometer in it. We
must conclude that this steam contains all the heat
which is expended in its formation. Accordingly the
scalding power of steam is well known •, but it is ex¬
tremely difficult to obtain precise measures of the quan¬
tity of heat absorbed by water during its conversion in¬
to steam. Dr Black endeavoured to ascertain this point,
by comparing the time of raising its temperature a cer¬
tain number of degrees with the time of boiling it off
by the same external heat; and be found that the heat 1
latent in steam, which balanced the pressure of the at¬
mosphere, was not less than 800 degrees. He also di¬
rected Dr Irvine of Glasgow to the form of an experi¬
ment for measuring the heat actually extricated from
such steam during its condensation in the refrigeratory
of a still, which was found to be not less than 774 de¬
grees. Dr Black was afterwards informed by Mr
Watt, that a course of experiments, which he had made
in each of these ways with great precision, determined
the latent heat of steam under the ordinary pressure of'
the atmosphere to be about 948 or 950 degrees. Mr
Watt also found that water would distil with great ease
S T E
[ 640 ]
S T E
Si earn.
Steam, by
in'vcicao tvben of the temperature 70° ; and that in this
case the latent heat of the steam is not less than 1200
or 1300 degrees ; and a train of experiments, which he
had made by distilling in different temperatures, made
him conclude that the sum of the sensible and latent
heats is a constant quantity. This is a curious and not
an improbable circumstance j but vre have no informa¬
tion of the particulars of these experiments. The con¬
clusion evidently presupposes a knowledge of that parti¬
cular temperature in which the water has no heat j but
this is a point which is still sub judfce.
This conversion of liquids (for it is not confined to
bhied with 'vater> kut obtains also in ardent spirits, oils, mercury,
heat be- &c.) is the cause of their boiling. The heat is applied
light,
comes ela- to the bottom and sides of the vessel, and gradually ac
stic and cumulates in the fluid, in a sensible state, uncombined,
and ready to quit it and to enter into any body that is
colder, and to diffuse itself between them. Thus it en¬
ters into the fluid of a thermometer, expands it, and
thus gives us the indication of the degree in which it
has been accumulated in the wrater j for the thermome¬
ter swells as long as it continues to absorb sensible heat
from the wrater: and when the sensible heat in both is
in equilibrio, in a proportion depending on the nature
of the two fluids, the thermometer rises no more, because
it absorbs no more heat Or fire from the water ; for the
particles of water which are in immediate contact with
the bottom, are now (by this gradual expansion of liqui¬
dity) at such distance from each other, that their laws
of attraction for each other and for heat are totally
changed. Each particle either no longer attracts, or
perhaps it repels its adjoining particle, and now accu¬
mulates round itself a great number of the particles of
heat, and forms a particle of elastic fluid, so related to
the adjoining new formed particles, as to repel them
to a distance at least a hundred times greater than their
distances in the state of water. Thus a mass of elastic
vapour of sensible magnitude is formed. Being at least
ten thousand times lighter than an equal bulk of wa¬
ter, it must rise up through it, as a cork would do, in
form of a transparent ball or bubble, and getting to
the top, it dissipates, filling the upper part of the vessel
with vapour or steam. Thus, by tossing the liquid in¬
to bubbles, which are produced all over the bottom and
sides of the vessel, it produces the phenomenon of ebul¬
lition or boiling. Observe, that during its passage up
non of boil- through the water, it is not changed nor condensed ; for
the surrounding water is already so hot that the sensible
or uncombined heat in it, is in equilibrio writh that in the
vapour, and therefore it is not disposed to absorb any
of that heat which is combined as an ingredient of this
vapour, and gives it its elasticity. For this reason, it
and pro¬
duces the
phenome-
happens that water will not boil till its whole mass be Steam,
heated up to 212°; for if the upper part be colder, it y—
robs the rising bubble of that heat which is necessary
for its elasticity, so that it immediately collapses again,
and the surface of the water remains still. This may
be perceived by holding water in a Florence flask over
a lamp or cheffer. It will be observed, some time be¬
fore the real ebullition, that some bubbles are formed
at the bottom, and get up a very little way, and then
disappear. The distances which they reach before col¬
lapsing increase as the w ater continues to warm farther
up the mass, till at last it breaks out into boiling. If
the handle of a tea-kettle be grasped with the band,
a tremor will be felt for some little time before boiling,
arising from the little succussionswhich are produced by
the collapsing of the bubbles of vapour. This is much
more violent, and is really a remarkable phenomenon, if
we suddenly plunge a lump of red hot iron into a vessel
of cold w’ater, taking care that no red part be near the
surface. If the hand be now applied to the side of the
vessel, a most violent tremor is felt, and sometimes strong
thumps; these arise from the collapsing of very large
bubbles. If the upper part of the iron be too hot, it
warms the surrounding water so much, that the bubbles
from below come up through it uncondensed, and pro¬
duce ebullition without this succussion. The great re¬
semblance of this tremor to the feeling which we have
during the shock of an earthquake has led many to sup¬
pose that these last are produced in the same.way, anil
their hypothesis, notwithstanding the objections which
we have elsewhere stated to it, is by no means unfeasi¬
ble. _ 10
It is owung to a similar cause that violent thumps are The noise
sometimes felt on the bottom of a tea-kettle, especially observed in
one which has been long in use. Such are frequently
crusted on the bottom with a stony concretion. Tlus settle ex-
sometimes is detached in little scales. When one of plained,
these is adhering by one end to the bottom, the wa¬
ter gets between them in a thin film. Hence it may be
heated considerably above the boiling temperature, and
it suddenly rises up in a large bubble, which collapses
immediately. A smooth shilling lying on the bottom
will produce this appearance very violently, or a thimble
with the mouth down. » 11
In order to make wrater boil, the fire must be ap-Water
plied to the bottom or sides of the vessel. If ^ie iess the fire
heat be applied at the top of the water, it will waste |,e appijed
away without boiling ; for the very superficial particles to the bot-
are first supplied with the heat necessary for rendering tom nr sides
them elastic, and they fly off without agitating the 'es
rest (a).
Since this disengagement of vapour is the eflect of
its
(a) We explained the opaque and cloudy appearance of steam, by saying that the vapour is condensed by com¬
ing into contact with the cooler air. There is something in the form of this cloud which is very inexplicable.
The particles of it are sometimes very distinguishable by the eye ; but they have not the smart star-like brilliancy
of very small drops of water, but give the fainter reflection of a very thin film or vesicle like a soap bubble. It we
attend also to their motion, we see them descending very slowly in comparison with the descent of a solid drop ; and
this vesicular constitution is established beyond a doubt by looking at a candle through a cloud of steam. It is seen
surrounded by a faint halo with prismatical colours, precisely such as we can demonstrate by optical laws to belong
to a collection of vesicles, but totally different from the halo which would be produced by a collection ot solid
drops. It is very difficult to conceive how these vesicles can be formed of watery particles, each of which was sur-
> • . . . rounded
’Steam.
S T E [
its elasticity, and since tins elasticity is a determined
force when the temperature is given, it follows, that
fluids cannot boil till the elasticity of the vapour over
1*. 1 f t 1 1 in miCln C « — 4- U . ' 1 I /• 1
mbent
lies.
Plate
DL
In boil till comes the pressure of the inciimbent fluid and of the at-
Lelastiei- mosphere. Therefore, when this pressure is removed or
of the diminished, the fluids must sooner overcome what re-
reome" antl l)oil at a lower temperature. Accordingly
^pressure *l is ohserved that water will boil in an exhausted recei-
thein- ver when of the heat of the human body. If two glass
balls A and B (fig. i.) be connected by a slender Tube,
and one of them A be filled with water (a small open-
ing or pipe b being left at top of the other), and this
he made to boil, the vapour produced from it will drive
all the air out of the other, and will at last come but
itself, producing steam at the mouth of the pipe. When
the ball B is observed to be occupied by transparent va¬
pour, we may conclude that the air is completely ex¬
pelled. Now shut the pipe by sticking it into a piece
of tallow or bees-wax ; the vapour in B will soon con¬
dense, and there will be a vacuum. The flame of a
lamp and blow-pipe being directed to the little”pipe,
will cause it immediately to close and seal hermetically,
w e now have a pretty instrument or toy called a Pulse
Glass. Grasp the ball A in the hollow of the hand j
the heat of the hand will immediately expand the bub¬
ble of vapour which may be in it, and this vapour will
drive the water into B, and then will blow up through
it for a long while, keeping it in a state of violent ebul¬
lition, as long as there remains a drop or film of water
in A. But care must be taken that B is all the while
kept cold, that it may condense the vapour as fast as it
rises through the water. Touching B with the hand,
or breathing warm on it, will immediately stop the ebul¬
lition in it. Wh en the water in A has thus been dissi¬
pated, grasp B in the hand ; the water will be driven
into A, and the ebullition will take place there as it did
in B. Putting one of the balls into the mouth will
make the ebullition more violent in the other, and the
one in the mouth will feel very cold. This is a pretty
illustration of the rapid absorption of the heat by the
particles of water which are thus converted into elastic
vapour. We have seen this little toy suspended by the
middle of the tube like a balance, and thus placed in
the inside of a window, having two holes a and b cut in
the pane, in sue!) a situation that when A is full of wa¬
ter and preponderates, B is opposite to the hole b.
Whenever the room became sufficiently warm, the va¬
pour was formed in A, and immediately drove the wa¬
ter into B, which was kept cool by the air coming into
the room through the hole b. By this means B was
made to preponderate in its turn, and A was then op¬
posite to the hole a, and the process was now repeated
in the opposite direction; and this amusement continued
3 as long as the room was warm enough.
b<Ws dif- We know that liquors differ exceedingly in the tem-
in perntures necessury for their ebullition. This forms the
rat* ne_
cef7 for
%tebul.
liti *
641 ] S T E
great chemical distinction between volatile and fixed bo- Steam,
dies. But the difference of temperature in which they —y-—■
boil, or are converted into permanently elastic vapour,
under the pressure of the atmosphere, is not a certain
measure of their differences of volatility. The natural
boiling point of a body is that in which it will be con¬
verted into elastic vapour under no pressure, or in vacuo.
Ihe boiling point in the open air depends on the law of
the elasticity of the vapour in relation to its heat. A
fluid A may be less volatile, that is, may require more
heat to make it boil in vacuo, than a fluid B : But if
the elasticity of the vapour of A be more increased by
an increase of temperature than that of the vapour of
B, A may boil at as low, or even at a lower tempera¬
ture, in the open air, than B does ; for the increased
elasticity of the vapour of A may sooner overcome the
pressure of the atmosphere. Few experiments have been
made on the relation between the temperature and the
elasticity of different vapours. So long ago as the year
17^5> we "atl occasion to examine the boiling points of
all such liquors as we could manage in an air-pump;
that is, such as did not produce vapours which destroy¬
ed the valves and the leathers of the pistons : and we
thought that the experiments gave us reason to conclude,
that the elasticity of all the vapours was affected by heat
nearly in the same degree. For we found that the dif-Difference
ference between their boiling points in the air and in between
vacuo was nearly the same in all, namely, about 120 de-Vle*r b.0^'
grees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. It is exceedingly
difficult to make experiments of this kind : The va-j^ vacm a-
pours are so condensible, and change their elasticity so bout 120°.
prodigiously by a trifling change of temperature, that
it is almost impossible to examine this point with preci¬
sion. It is, however, as we shall see by and bye, a sub¬
ject of considerable practical importance in the mechanic
arts ; and an accurate knowledge of the relation would
be of great use also to the distiller: and it would be
no less important to discover the relation of their elasti¬
city and density, by examining their compressibility, in
the same manner as we have ascertained the relation in
the case of what we call aerialjluids, that is, such as we
have never observed in the form of liquids or solids, ex-
cept in consequence of their union with each other or
with other bodies. In the article Pneumatics v, e
took notice of it as something like a natural law, that
all these airs, or gases as they are now called, had their
elasticity very nearly, if not exactly proportional to their
density. This appears from the experiments of Acbard,
of Fontana, and others, on vital air, inflammable air,
fixed air, and some others. It gives us some presump¬
tion to suppose that it holds in all elastic vapours what¬
ever, and that it is connected with their elasticity ; and
it renders it somewhat probable that they are all elastic,
only because the cause of heat (the matter of fire if yen
will) is elastic, and that their law of’elastieity, in respect
of density, is the same with that of fire. But it must
he
rounded with many particles of fire, now communicated to the air, and how each of these vesicles shall include
within it a ball of air ; but we cannot refuse the fact. We know, that if, while linseed oil is boiling or nearly
boiling, tbe surface be obliquely struck with the ladle, it will be dashed into a prodigious number of exceeding¬
ly small vesicles, which will float about in the air for a long while. M. Saussure was (we think) the first who
distinctly observed this vesicular form of mists and clouds; and he makes considerable use of it in explaining se¬
veral phenomena of the atmosphere.
Vol. XIX. Part II. f 4 M
S T E
[ 642 ]
S T E
15
To what
the elasti
Steam, be observed, that although we thus assign the elasticity
of fire as the immediate cause of the elasticity of vapour
in the same way, and on the same grounds, that we
ascribe the fluidity of brine to the fluidity of the water
city of fluids which holds the solid salt in solution, it does not follow
may be ow- that this is owing, as is commonly supposed, to a repul-
*n£- sion or tendency to recede from each other exerted by
the particles of fire. We are as much entitled to infer
a repulsion of unlimited extent between the particles of
water ; for we see that by its means a single particle of
sea salt becomes disseminated through the whole of a
very large vessel. If water had not been a visible and
palpable substance, and the salt only had been visible
and palpable, we might have formed a similar notion of
chemical solution. But we, on the contrary, have con¬
sidered the quaquaversum motion or expansion of the
salt as a dissemination among the particles of water j and
we have ascribed it to the strong attraction of the atoms
of salt for the atoms of water, and the attraction of
these last for each other, thinking that each atom of salt
accumulates round itself a multitude of watery atoms,
and by so doing must recede from the other saline atoms.
Nay, we farther see, that by forces which we naturally
consider as attractions, an expansion may be produced
of the whole mass, which will act against external me¬
chanical forces. It is thus that wood swells with al¬
most insuperable force by imbibing moisture ; it is thus
that a sponge immersed in water becomes really an ela¬
stic compressible body ; resembling a blown bladder j
and there are appearances which warrant us to apply this
mode of conception to elastic fluids.—When air is sud¬
denly compressed, a thermometer included in it shows a
rise of temperature j that is, an appearance of heat now
redundant which was formerly combined. The heat
jg seems to be squeezed out as the water from the sponge.
Ascribed by Accordingly this opinion, that the elasticity of steam
some to at- ancl other vapours is owing merely to the attraction for
buTim^'o ^re’ ant^ *'‘ie consefluen*- dissemination of their particles
perly11^10 through the whole mass of fire, has been entertained by
many naturalists, and it has been ascribed entirely to
attraction. We by no means pretend to decide 5 but
we think the analogy by far too slight to found any
confident opinion on it. The aim is to solve phenomena
by attraction only, as if it were of more easy concep.
tion than repulsion. Considered merely as facts, they
are quite on a par. The appearances of nature in
which we observe actual recesses of the parts of body
from each other, are as distinct, and as frequent and fa¬
miliar, as the appearances of actual reproach. And if
we attempt to go farther in our contemplation, and to
conceive the way and the forces by which either the
approximation or recesses of the atoms are produced,
we must acknowledge that we have no conception of
the matter j and we can only say, that there is a cause
of these motions, and we call it a force, as in every ease
of the production of motion. We call it attraction or
repulsion just as we happen to contemplate an access or
a recess. But the analogy here is not only slight, but
imperfect, and fails most in those cases which are most
simple, and where we should expect it to be most com¬
plete. We can squeeze water out of a sponge, it is
true, or out of a piece of green wood 5 but when the
white of an egg, the tremella, or some gums, swell to
a hundred times their dry dimensions by imbibing wa¬
ter, we cannot squeeze out a particle. If fluidity (for
the reasoning must equally apply to this as to vapourous-
ness) be owing to an accumulation of the extended —y—
matter of fire, which gradually expanded the solid by
its very minute additions j and if the accumulation round
a particle of ice, which is necessary for making it a par¬
ticle of water, be so great in comparison of what gives
it the expansion of one degree, as experiment obliges
us to conclude—it seems an inevitable consequence that
all fluids should be many times rarer than the solids from
which they are produced. But we know that the dif¬
ference is trifling in all cases, and in some (water, for
instance, and iron) the solid is rarer than the fluid. ^
Many other arguments, (each of them perhaps of little More pn-
weight when taken alone, but which are all systemati-^^b ow-
cally connected) concur in rendering it much more ^uaUe
probable that the matter of fire, in causing elasticity, pUisiontK,
acts immediately by its own elasticity, which we cannot tween the:
conceive in any other way than as a mutual tendencyPartlcks Cl
in its particles to recede from each other 5 and we
doubt not but that, if it could be obtained alone, we
should find it an elastic fluid like air. We even think
that there are cases in which it is observed in this state.
The elastic force of gunpowder is very much beyond the
elasticity of all the vapours which are produced in its
deflagration, each of them being expanded as much as
we can reasonably suppose by the great heat to which
they are exposed. The writer of this article exploded
some gunpowder mixed with a considerable portion of
finely powdered quartz, and another parcel mixed with
fine filings of copper. The elasticity was measured by
the penetration of the ball which was discharged, and
was great in the degree now mentioned. The experi¬
ment was so conducted, that much of the quartz and
copper was collected ; none of the quartz had been
melted, and some of the copper was not melted. The
heat, therefore, could not be such as to explain the
elasticity by expansion of the vapours ; and it became
not improbable that fire was acting here as a detached
chemical fluid by its own elasticity. But to return to
our subject. jS
There is one circumstance in which we think our Probably
own experiments show a remarkable difference (at leasta Srea*
in degree) between the condensible and incondensible c0|1-
vapours. It is well known, that when air is very sud-,jensiijie
denly expanded, cold is produced, and heat when it isandincoa-
suddenly condensed. When making experiments with Sensible ra¬
the hopes of discovering the connection between theP0lir*’
elasticity and density of the vapours of boiling water,
and also of boiling spirits of turpentine, we found the
change of density accompanied by a change of tempera¬
ture vastly greater than in the case of incoercible gases.
When the vapour of boiling water was suddenly allowed
to expand into five times its bulk, we observed the de¬
pression of a large and sensible air thermometer to be at
least four or five times greater than in a similar expan¬
sion of common air of the same temperature. The che¬
mical reader will readily see reasons for expecting, on
the contrary, a smaller alteration of temperature, both
on account of the much greater rarity of the fluid, and
on account of a partial condensation of its water and the^ Js0
consequent disengagement of combined heat. soo)*^1;
This difference in the quantity of fire which is com-ftrcucem
bined in vapours and oases is so considerable, as to au-c^<,1'!.1
thorize us to suppose that there is some difference m tiietuljon 0f
chemical constitution of vapours and gases, and that thevafour.
connection
S T E [
connection between the specific bases of the vapour ami
the fire which it contains is not the same in air, for in¬
stance, as in the vapour of boiling water 5 and this dif¬
ference may be the reason why the one is easily conden¬
sible by cold, while the other has never been exhibited
in a liquid or solid form, except by means of its chemi¬
cal union with other substances. In this particular in¬
stance we know that there is an essential diH'erence—
that in vital or atmospheric air there is not only a pro¬
digious quantity of fire which is not in the vapour of
water, but that it also contains light, or the cause of
light, in a combined state. This is fully evinced by the
great discovery of Mr Cavendish of the composition of
water. Here we are taught that water (and consequent¬
ly its vapour) consists of air from which the light and
greatest part of the fire have been separated. And the
subsequent discoveries of the celebrated Lavoisier show,
that almost all the condensible gases with which we are
acquainted consist either of airs which have already
lost much of their fire (and perhaps light too), or of
matters in which we have no evidence of fire or light
being combined in this manner.
This consideration may go far in explaining this dif¬
ference in the condensibility of these different species
ol aerial fluids, the gases and the vapours 5 and it is
With this qualification only that ive are disposed to al¬
low that all bodies are condensible into liquids or solids
by abstracting the heat. In order that vital air may
become liquid or solid, we hold that it is not sufficient
that a body be presented to it which shall simply ab¬
stract its heat. Ihis would only abstract its uncom¬
bined fire. But another and much larger portion re¬
mains chemically combined by means of light. A che¬
mical affinity must be brought into action which may
abstract, not the fire from the oxygen (to speak the
language of Mr Lavoisier), but the oxygen from the
fire and light. And our production is not the detached
basis of air, but detached heat and light, and the forma¬
tion of an oxide of some kind.
. To prosecute the chemical consideration of Steams
^ erva- farther than these general observations, which are ap¬
plicable to all, would be almost to write a treatise of
chemistry, and would be a repetition of many things
which have been treated of in sufficient detail in other
articles of this work. We shall therefore conclude this
article with some other observations, which are also ge¬
neral, with respect to the different kinds of coercible
vapours, but which have a particular relation to the fol-
lowing article.
St»n rises Steam or vapour is an elastic fluid, whose elasticity
‘Afferent balances the pressure of the atmosphere ; and it has been
tera- produced from a solid or liquid body raised to a suffici¬
ent temperature for giving it this elasticity; that is, for
causing the fluid to boil. This temperature must vary
with the pressure of the air. Accordingly it is found,
that when the air is light (indicated by the barometer
being low), the fluid will boil sooner. When the ba¬
rometer stands at 30 inches, water boils at the tempe¬
rature 2120. If it stands so low as 28 inches, water
will boil at 208^-. In the plains of Quito, or at Gon-
dar in Abyssinia, where the barometer stands at about
21 inches, water will boil at 1950. Highly rectified
alcohol will boil at l6o°, and vitriolic ether will boil at
88° or 89°. This is a temperature by no means un¬
common in these places ; nay, the air is frequently
QifERAL
Hera-
4, ac-
coisnr a
th, i;ig
Hr or
Sffl
]
s T E
Steatn.
warmer. ^ itriolic ether, therefore, is a liquor which
can hardly be known in those countries. It is hardly v —
possible to preserve it in that form. If a phial have
not its stopper firmly tied down, it will be blown out,
and the liquor will boil and be dissipated in steam. On
the top of Chimborazo, the human blood must be dis¬
posed to give out air-bubbles.
We said some time ago, that we had concluded, from As fluids
some experiments made in the receiver of an air-pump, boll under
that fluids boil in vacuo at a temperature nearly I20tlle f1'68'
degrees lovyer than that necessary for their boilincr in sure of the
the open air. But we now see that this must have beert whict^
but a gross approximation; for in these experiments ascends
the fluids were boiling under the pressure of the vapour flom them,
which they produced, and which could not be abstract-the conclu-
ed by working the pump. It appears from the experi-Sed"a
ments of Lord Charles Cavendish, mentioned in the ar-N° 14. is
tide Pneumatics, that water of the temperature ^20on^y aS!0ss
was converted into elastic vapour, which balanced a aPProxima-
pressure of ^ths of an inch of mercury, and in this state1*011-
it occupied the receiver, and did not allow the mercury
in the gauge to sink to the level. As fast as this was
abstracted by working the air-pump, more of it was pro¬
duced from the surface of the water, so that the pres¬
sure continued the same, and the water did not boil.
Had it been possible to produce a vacuum above this
water, it would have boiled for a moment, and would
even have continued to boil, if the receiver could have
been kept very cold. 2
Upon reading these experiments, and some very enri-Account of
ous ones of Mr Nairne, in the Phil. Trans, vol. lxvii.exPcli-
the wnter of this article was induced to examine more
particularly the relation between the temperature of the the^dliLi
vapoui and its elasticity, in the following manner : between
ABCD (fig. 2.) is the section of a small digesterthe temPe-
made of copper. Its lid, which is fastened to the bodyrature ot
with screws, is pierced with three holes, each of which Tts^Sci-
had a small pipe soldered into it. The first hole was ty.
furnished with a brass safety- valve V, nicely fitted to it^g. 2.
by grinding. The area of this valve was exactly ^th
of an inch. There rested on the stalk at top of this
valve the arm ol a steelyard carrying a sliding weight.
This arm had a scale of equal parts, so adjusted to the
weight that the number on the scale corresponded to the
inches of mercury, whose pressure on the under surface
of the valve is equal to that of the steelyard on its top ;
so that when the weight was at the division 10, the pres¬
sure of the steelyard on the valve was just equal to that
of a column of mercury 10 inches high, and Jth of an
inch base. The middle hole contained a thermometer
T firmly fixed into it, so that no vapour could escape by
its sides. rIhe ball of this thermometer was but a little
way below the lid. 'Ihe third hole received occasion¬
ally the end of a glass-pipe SGF, whose descending leg
was about 36 inches long. When this syphon was not
used, the hole was properly shut with a plug.
1 he vessel was half filled with distilled water which
had been purged of air by boiling. The lid was then
fixed on, having the third hole S plugged up. A lamp
being placed under the vessel, the water boiled, and the
steam issued copiously by the safety-valve. The ther¬
mometer stood at 213, and a barometer in the room at
29 9 inches. The weight was then put on the fifth di¬
vision. The thermometer immediately began to rise ;
and when it was at 220. the steam issued by the sides
4 M 2 of
Steam.
S T E [ 644 ] S T E
of the valve. The weight was removed to the 10th
division ; but before the thermometer could be distinct¬
ly observed, the steam was issuing at the valve. I he lamp
was removed farther from the bottom ot the vessel, that
the progress of heating might be more moderate ; and
when the steam ceased to issue from the valve, the ther¬
mometer was at 227. The weight was now shifted to
1 j • and by gradually approaching the lamp, the steam
again issued, and the thermometer was at 1324-. Ibis
mode of trial was continued all the way to the 75th
division of the scale. The experiments were then re¬
peated in the contrary order; that is, the weight being
suspended at the 75th division, and the steam issuing
strongly at the valve, the lamp was withdrawn, and the
moment the steam ceased to come out, the thermome-
ter was observed. The same was done at the 'yoth, 65th,
division, &c. These experiments were several times re¬
peated both ways ; and the means ot all the results tor
each division are expressed in the following table, where
column 1st expresses the elasticity ot the steam, being
the sum of 29.9, and the division ot the steelyard 5 co¬
lumn 2d expresses the temperature of the steam corre-
responding to this elasticity.
I. II.
35 inches. 2190
40 226
45 23*
50 237
55 242
60 247
65 251
7° 255
75 259
80 263
85 267
90 2701-
95 2744
100 278
105 281
A very different process was necessary for ascertaining
the elasticity of the steam in lower temperatures, and
consequently under smaller pressures than that of the
atmosphere. The glass syphon SGF was now fixed in¬
to its hole in the YiA of the digester. The water was
made to boil smartly for some time, and the steam issued
copiously both at the valve and at the syphon. The
lower end of the syphon was now immersed into abroad
saucer of mercury, and the lamp instantly removed,
and every thing was allowed to grow cold. By this the
steam was gradually condensed, and the mercury rose
in the syphon, without sensibly sinking in the saucer.
The valve and all the joints were smeared with a thick
clammy cement, composed of oil, tallow, and rosin,
which effectually prevented all ingress of air. The wea¬
ther was clear and frosty, and the barometer standing at
29.84, and the thermometer in the vessel at 420. The
mercury in the syphon stood at 29-7» somewhat
higher, thus showing a very complete condensation.
The whole vessel was surrounded with pounded ice, of
the temperature 3 2°. This made no sensible change
in the height of the mercury. A mark was now made
at the surface of the mercury. One observer was sta¬
tioned at the thermometer, with instructions to call out
as the thermometer reached the divisions 42, 47, 52,
4
57, and so on by every five degrees till it should attain Steam,
the boiling heat. Another observer noted the corre- y—.
sponding descents of the mercury by a scale of inches,
which had its beginning placed at 29.84 from the sur¬
face of the mercury in the saucer.
The pounded ice was now removed, and the lamp
placed at a considerable distance below the vessel, so as
to warm its contents very slowly. These observations
being very easily made, were several times repeated, and
their mean results are set down in the following table :
Only observe, that it was found difficult to note down
the descents for every fifth degree, because they suc¬
ceeded each other so fast. Every 10th was judged suf¬
ficient for establishing the law of variation. 'Ihe first
column of the table contains the temperature, and the
second the descent (in inches) of the mercury from the
mark 29.84.
32° e
40 O.I
50 0.2
60 0.35
7° °-55
80 0.82
90 1.18
100 1.61
no 2.25
120 3.00
13° 3-95
*4° 5-I5
150 6.72
160 8.65
170 11.05
180 I4-°5
190 17.85
200 22.62
2x0 28.65
Four or five numbers at the top of the column of
elasticities are not so accurate as the others, because the
mercury passed pretty quickly through these points.
But the progress was extremely regular through the re¬
maining points ; so that the elasticities corresponding to
temperatures above 70° may be considered as very ac¬
curately ascertained.
Not being altogether satisfied with the method em¬
ployed for measuring the elasticity in temperatures above
that of boiling water, a better form of experiment was
adopted. (Indeed it was the want of other apparatus
which made it necessary to employ the former). A glass
tube was procured of the form represented in fig. 3* hav- y;g. 3,
ing a little cistern L, from the top and bottom of which
proceeded the syphons K and MN. The cistern con¬
tained mercury, and the tube MN was ol a slender bore,
and was about six feet two inches long. The end K. was
firmly fixed in the third hole of the lid, and the long
leg of the syphon was furnished with a scale ol inches,
and firmly fastened to an upright post.
The lamp was now applied at such a distance from
the vessel as to warm it slowly, and make the water
boil, the steam escaping for some time through the safe¬
ty-valve. A heavy weight was then suspended on the
steelyard 5 such as it was known that the vessel would
support, and at the same time, such as would not allow
the steam to force the mercury out of the long tube.
The thermometer began immediately to rise, as also the
mercury
s T E [645
mercury in the tube MN. Their correspondent sta¬
tions are marked in the following table:
Temperature.
212°
]
S T E
220
230
24O
250
260
270
280
Elasticity.
0.0
5-9
14.6
2 c.o
36-9
50-4
64.2
106.0
This form of the experiment is much more susceptible
of accuracy than the other, and the measures of elasti¬
city are more to be depended on. In repeating the
experiment, they were found much more constant;
whereas, in the former method, differences occurred of
two inches and upwards.
We may now connect the Iwo sets of experiments in¬
to one table, by adding to the numbers in this last table
the constant height 29.9, which was the height of the
mercury in the barometer during the last set of obser¬
vations.
*3
Wch a-
well
those
ofpr
Afird.
Temperature.
3 2°
40
5°
60
70
80
90
JOO
110
120
I30
140
150
160
170
l8o
I90
200
210
220
23O
24O
250
260
270
280
Elasticity.
0.0 ,
0.1
o.i
0-35
0-55
0.82
1.25
1.6
2.25
3-°
3-95
6.72
8.65
11.0c
14.05
^•85
22.62
28.65
35-8
44-7
54-9
66.8
80.3
94.1
io5-9
In the memoirs of the Royal Academy of Berlin for
1782, there is an account of some experiments made by
Mr Achard on the elastic force of steam, from the tem¬
perature 32° to 212°. They agree extremely well with
those mentioned here, rarely differing more than two or
three tenths of an inch. He also examined the elasticity
of the vapour produced from alcohol, and found, that
when the elasticity was equal to that of the vapour of
W’ater, the temperature was about 350 lower. ’Ibus,
when the elasticity of both was measured by 28.1 inches
of mercury, the temperature of the watery vapour was
209°, and that of the spirituous vapour was 1730. When
the elasticity was 18.5, the temperature of the water
was 189.5, ail(l of the alcohol I54-6* When the
elasticity was 11.05, th.6 water was 1680, and the al¬
cohol 134 .4. Observing the difference between the '
temperatures of equally elastic vapours of water and al¬
cohol not to be constant, but gradually to diminish, in
Air Aehard’s experiments, along with the elasticity, it
became interesting to discover whether and at what
temperature this difference would vanish altogether.
Experiments were accordingly made by the writer of
this article, similar to those made with water. They
were not made with the same scrupulous care, nor re¬
peated as they deserved, but they furnished rather an
unexpected result. The following table will give the
reader a distinct notion of them :
Steam.
Temperature.
3 2°
40
60
80
100
120
140
160
180
200
220
24O,
Elasticity.
0.0 , ,
0.1
0.8
0.8
3-9
6.9
12.2
21.3
34-
52-4.
78.5-;
“i-
We say that the result was unexpected ; for as the na- An untx-
tural boiling point seemed by former experiments to bePected re¬
in all fluids about 120° or more below their boiling sult.in com~
point in the ordinary pressure of the atmosphere, it was [’em^fra-6
reasonable to expect that the temperature at which they tures ofe-
ceased to emit sensibly elastic steam would have some qua'fy das-
relation to their temperatures when emitting steam ofllc vaP0,,vs
any determinate elasticity. Now as the vapour of alco-
hoi of elasticity 30 has its temperature about 36° lower hoi.
than the temperature of water equally elastic, it was to
be expected that the temperature at which it ceased to
be sensibly affected would be several degrees lower than
320. It is evident, however, that this is not the case.
But this is a point that deserves more attention, because
it is closely connected with the chemical relation be¬
tween the element (if such there be) of fire, and the
bodies into whose composition it seems to enter as a
constituent part. What is the temperature 320, to
make it peculiarly connected with elasticity P It is a
temperature assumed by us for our own conveniency,
on account of the familiarity of water in our experi¬
ments. Ether, we know, boils in a temperature far
below this, as appears from Dr Cullen’s experiments
narrated in the Essays Physical and Literary of Edin¬
burgh. On the faith of former experiments, we may
be pretty certain that it will boil in vacuo at the tem¬
perature—140, because in the air it boils at -|-1060.
Therefore we may be certain, tiiat the steam or vapour
of ether, when of the temperature 3 2°, will be very sen¬
sibly elastic. Indeed Air Lavoisier says, that if it be
exposed in an exhausted receiver in winter, its vapour
will support mercury at the height of 10 inches. A
series of experiments on this vapour similar to the above
would be very instructive. We even wish that those on
alcohol were more carefully repeated. If we draw a
curve line, of which the abscissa is the line of tempera¬
tures, and the ordinates are the corresponding heights of
the mercury in these experiments on water and alcohol,
w®
Steam.
25
These ex¬
periments
give rise to
important
reflections.
Vol. kx.
r6
Spontane¬
ous evapo¬
ration pro-
eared by
the dissol¬
ving power
of the air.
fig- 4-
o -L -Ui L
we shall observe, that although they both sensibly coin¬
cide at 3 2°, and have the abscissa for their common tan¬
gent, a very small error of observation may be the cause
of this, and the curve which expresses the elasticity of
spirituous vapour may really intersect the other, and go
backwards considerably beyond 32°.
This range of experiments gives rise to some curious
and important reflections. We now see that no parti¬
cular temperature is necessary for water assuming the
form of permanently elastic vapour j and that it is high¬
ly probable that it assumes this form even at the tempe¬
rature 32°} only its elasticity is too small to afford us
any sensible measure. It is well known that even ice
evaporates (see experiments to this purpose by Mr Wil¬
son in the Philosophical Transactions, when a piece of
polished metal covered with hoar-frost became perfect¬
ly clear by exposing it to a dry frosty wind).
Even mercury evaporates, or is converted into elastic
vapour, when all external pressure is removed* The dim
film which may frequently be observed in the upper
part of a barometer which stands near a stream of air,
is found to be small globules of mercury sticking to the
inside of the tube. They may be seen by the help of
a magnifying glass, and are the best test of a well made
barometer. They will be entirely removed by causing
the mercury to rise along the tube. It will lick them
all up. They consist of mercury which had evaporated
in the void space, and was afterwards condensed by the
cold glass. But the elasticity is too small to occasion a
sensible depression of the column, even when consider¬
ably warmed by a candle.
Many philosophers accordingly imagine, that sponta¬
neous evaporation in low temperatures is produced in
this way. But we cannot be of this opinion, and must
still think that this kind of evaporation is produced hy
the dissolving power of the air. When moist air is sud¬
denly rarefied, there is always a precipitation of water.
This is most distinctly seen when we work an air-pump
briskly. A mist is produced, which we see plainly fall
to the bottom of the receiver. But by this new doc¬
trine the very contrary should happen, because the ten¬
dency of water to appear in the elastic form is promo¬
ted by removing the external pressure j and we really
imagine that more of it now actually becomes simple
elastic watery vapour. But the mist or precipitation
shows incontrovertibly, that there had been a previous
solution. Solution is performed by forces which act in
the way of attraction-; or, to express it more safely, so¬
lutions are accompanied by the mutual approaches of
the particles of the menstruum and solved : all such ten¬
dencies are observed to increase by a diminution of di¬
stance. Hence it j?mst follow, that air of double densi¬
ty will dissolve more than twice as much water. There¬
fore when we suddenly rarefy saturated air (even though
its heat should not diminish) some water must be let
go. What may be its quantity w-e know not ; but it
maij be more than what would now become elastic by
this diminution of surrounding pressure ; and it is not
unlikely but this may have some effect in producing
the vesicles which we found it so difficult to explain.
These may be filled with pure watery vapour, and be
floating in a fluid composed of water dissolved in air.
An experiment of Fontana’s seems to put this matter
out of doubt. A distilling apparatus AB (fig. 4.)
Steaft.
645 ]
was so contrived, that the heat was applied above the
surface of the water in the alembic A. This was done
by inclosing it in another vessel CC, filled with hot wa¬
ter. In the receiver B there was a sort of barome¬
ter D, with an open cistern, in order to see what
pressure there w-as on the surface of the fluid. While
the receiver and alembic contained air, the heat applied
at A produced no sensible distillation during several
hours : But on opening a cock E in the receiver at
its bottom, and making the water in the alembic to boil,
steam was produced which soon expelled all the air,
and followed it through the cock. The cock was now
shut, and the whole allowed to grow cold by removing
the fire, and applying cold water to the alembic. The
barometer fell to a level nearly. Then warm water
was allowed to get into the outer vessel CC. The ba¬
rometer rose a little, and the distillation went on briskly
without the smallest ebullition in the alembic. The con¬
clusion is obvious: while there was air in the receiver
and communicating pipe, the distillation proceeded en¬
tirely by the dissolving power of this air. Above the
water in the alembic it was quickly saturated ; arid this
saturation proceeded slowly along the still air in the com¬
municating pipe, and at last might take place through
the whole of the receiver. The sides of the receiver
being kept cold, should condense part of the water dis¬
solved in the air in contact with them, and this should
trickle down the sides and be collected. But any per¬
son who has observed how long a crystal of blue vi¬
triol will lie at the bottom of a glass of still water be¬
fore the tinge will reach the surface, will see that it
must be next to impossible for distillation to go on in
these circumstances ; and accordingly none was obser¬
ved. But when the upper part of the apparatus was
filled with pure watery vapour, it wras supplied from
the alembic as fast as it was condensed in the receiver,
just as in the pulse glass.
Another inference which may be drawn from these a certain
experiments is, that Nature seems to aft'ect a certain law in tbe
law in the dilatation of aeriform fluids by heat. They
seem to be dilatable nearly in proportion of their pre-fluids‘by
sent dilatation. For if we suppose that the vapours re-jjeat,
semble air, in having their elasticity in any given tem¬
perature proportional to their density, we must suppose
that if steam of the elasticity 60, that is, supporting 60
inches of mercury, were subjected to a pressure ol 30
inches, it would expand into twice its present bulk.
The augmentation of elasticity therefore is the mea¬
sure of the bulk into which it would expand in order
to acquire its former elasticity. Taking the increase
of elasticity therefore as a measure of the bulk into
which it would expand under one constant pressure,
■we see that equal increments of temperature produce
nearly equal multiplications of bulk. Thus if a certain
diminution of temperature diminishes its bulk fth, ano¬
ther equal diminution of temperature will diminish tins
new bulk Jth very nearly. Thus, in our experiments,
the temperatures no0, 140°, 170°, 200°, 230°, are in
arithmetical progression, having equal differences; and
we see that the corresponding elasticities 2.25,
11.05, 22>62, 44.7, are very nearly in the continued
propox-tion of 1 to 2. The elasticity corresponding to
the temperature 260 deviates considerably fi'om this
law, which would give 88 or 89 instead of 80; and the
deviation
27
S T E [ 647 ]
deviation increases in the higher temperatures. But rection
1 still we see that there is a considerable approximation
to this law ; and it will frequently assist us to recollect,
that whatever be the present temperature, an increase
of 30 degrees doubles the elasticity and the bulk of wa¬
tery vapour.
That 40 will increase the'elasticity from
10 - -
124
18
22
24
26
S T E
because air, like the vapour of water, does not Steam.
expand in the exact proportion of its bulk. 1 /■—-J
We observe this law considerably approximated to in
the augmentation of the bulk or elasticity of elastic va-^.^011*
pours } that is, it is a fact that a given increment ofapproxinia-
temperature makes very nearly the same proportional ted to in
augmentation of bulk and elasticity. This gives us some tlle auS-
notion of the manner in which the supposed expanding men,tat?01?
cause produces the effect. When vapour of the bulk or elasticity
4 is expanded into a bulk 5 by an addition of 10 de-of elastic
grees ol sensible heat, a certain quantity of fire goes in- vapours,
to it, and is accumulated round each particle, in such a
manner that the temperature of each, which formerly
was ?«, is now m Let it now receive another equal
augmentation of temperature. This is now m -|- 20, and
This is sufficiently exact for most practical purposes.
Thus an engineer finds that the injection cools the cy¬
linder of a steam-engine to 1920. It therefore leaves
a steam whose elasticity is three-fifths of its full elasti¬
city, = 18 inches g . But it is better at all times to
have recourse to the table. Observe, too, that in the
lower temperatures, i. e. below no0, this increment of
,3 temperature does more than double the elasticity.
Okfcns This law obtains more remarkably in incoercible
morre- vapours ; such as vital air, atmospheric air, fixed air,
Kinco- &C* ^iave a^so ttai1" elasticity proportional
ere: i va- to their bulk inversely: and perhaps the deviation from
pout, the law in steams is connected with their chemical dif¬
ference of constitution. If the bulk were always aug¬
mented in the same proportion by equal augmentations
of temperature, the elasticities would be accurately re¬
presented by the ordinates of a logarithmic curve, of
which the temperatures are the corresponding abscissae5
and we might contrive such a scale for our thermome¬
ter, that the temperatures would be the common loga¬
rithms of the elasticities, or of the bulks having equal
elasticity 5 or, with our present scale, we may find such
a multiplier m for the number a* of degrees of our ther¬
mometer (above that temperature where the elastici¬
ty is equal to unity), that this multiple shall be the
common logarithm of the elasticity ?/; so that m x
“log- y-
But our experiments are not sufficiently accurate for
determining the temperature where the elasticity is mea¬
sured by I inch -, because in these temperatures the
elasticities vary by exceedingly small quantities. But
if we take 11.04 f°r the unit of elasticity, and number
our temperature from 170°, and make ^=1:0.010035,
we shall find the product mx to be very nearly the lo¬
garithm of the elasticity. The deviations, however,
from this law, are too great to make this equation of
any use. But it is very practicable to frame an equa¬
tion which shall correspond with the experiments to
any degree of accuracy; and it has been done for air
in a translation of General Boy’s Measurement of the
Base at Hounslow Heath into French by Mr Prony.
It is as follows : Let x be the degrees of Keaumur’s
thermometer; let y be the expansion of 10,000 parts
of air ; let e be = 10, m — 2,7979, n — 0.01768 :
then z/—e”>+"'r—62’].^, Now e being — 10, it is plain
that em'nx is the number, of which m -{- nx is the com¬
mon logarithm. This formula is very exact as far as
the temperature 6o°: but beyond this it needs a cor-
Z
? X ?
the bulk is -—^ or 6^, and the arithmetical increase of
4
bulk is 13- The absolute quantity of fire which has
entered it is greater than the former, both on account
of the greater augmentation of space and the greater
temperature. Consequently if this vapour be compres¬
sed into tbe bulk 5, there must be heat or fire in it
which is not necessary for the temperature far
less for the temperature m \o. It must therefore
emerge, and be disposed to enter a thermometer which
has already the temperature wz-j-20 : that is, the va¬
pour must grow hotter by compression ; not by squeez¬
ing out tbe heat, like water out of a sponge, but be¬
cause the law of attraction for heat is deranged. It
would be a very valuable acquisition to our knowledge
to learn with precision the quantity of sensible heat pro¬
duced in this way; but no satisfactory experiments have
yet been made. M. Lavoisier, with his chemical friends
and colleagues, were busily employed in this inqui¬
ry : but the wickedness of their countrymen deprived
the world of this and many other important additions
which we might have expected from this celebrated and
unfortunate philosopher. He had made, in conjunc¬
tion with M. de la Place, a numerous train of accurate
and expensive experiments for measming the quantity
of latent or combined heat in elastic vapours. This is
evidently a very important point to the distiller and
practical chemist. This heat must all come from the
fuel ; and it is greatly worth while to know whether
any saving may be made of this article. Thus we know
that distillation will go on either under the pressure of
the air, or in an alembic and receiver from which the
air has been expelled by steam ; and we know that this
last may be conducted in a very low temperature, even
not exceeding that of the human body. But it is un¬
certain whether this may not employ even a greater-
quantity of fuel, as well as occasion a great expence of
time. We are- disposed to think, that when there is no
air in the apparatus, and when the condensation can be
speedily performed, the proportion of fuel expended to
the fluid which comes over will diminish continually as
the heat, and consequently the density of the steam, is
augmented ; because in this case the quantity of com¬
bined heat must he less. In the mean time, we earnest¬
ly recommend the trial of this mode of distillation in
vessels cleared of air. It is undoubtedly of great ad¬
vantage to be able to work with smaller fires ; and it
would secure us against all accidents of blowing oft'
S T E
[ 648 ]
S T E
Steam.
30
.Explana¬
tion of the
phenomena
of the Gey-
zer sprintj
in Iceland
by the
force of
steam.
FiS. S'
tlie head of tlie still, often attended with terrible con¬
sequences (b).
We must not conclude this article without taking
notice qf some natural phenomena which seem to owe
their origin to the action of elastic steam.
We have already taken notice of the resemblance of
the tremor and succussions observed in the shocks of
many earthquakes to those which may be felt in a ves¬
sel where water is made to boil internally, while the
breaking out of the ebullition is stifled by the cold
of the upper parts} and we have likewise stated the
objections which are usually made to this theory of
earthquakes. We may perhaps resume the subject
under the article Volcano ; but in the mean time
we do not hesitate to say, that the wonderful appear¬
ances of the Geyzer spring in Iceland (see Huer ;
and Iceland, N° 3—5.) are undoubtedly produced
by the expansion of steam in ignited caverns. Of
these appearances we suppose the whole train to be
produced as lollow'S.
A cavern may be supposed of a shape analogous to
CBDEF (fig. 5.), having a perpendicular funnel AB
issuing from a depressed part of the roof. The part F
may be lower than the rest, remote, and red hot. Such
places we know to be frequent in Iceland. Water may
be continually trickling into the part CD. It will fill
it up to B, and even up to E e, and then trickle slowly
along into F. As soon as any gets into contact with
an ignited part, it expands into elastic steam, and is
partly condensed by the cold sides of the cavern, which
it gradually warms, till it condenses no more. This
production of steam hinders not in the smallest degree
the trickling of more water into F, and the continual
production of more steam. This now presses on the
surface of the water in CD, and causes it to rise gra¬
dually in the funnel BA ; but slowly, because its cold
surface is condensing an immense quantity of steam. We
may easily supose that the water trickles faster into F
than it is expended in the production of steam ; soBiat
it reaches farther into the ignited part, and may even
fall in a stream into some deeper pit highly ignited. It
will now produce steam in vast abundance, and of pro¬
digious elasticity; and at once push up the water through
the funnel in a solid jet, and to a great height. This
must continue till the surface of the water sinks to BD.
If the lower end of the funnel have any inequalities or
notches, as is most likely, the steam will get admission
along with the water, which in this particular place is
boiling hot, being superficial, and will get to the mouth
of the funnel, while water is still pressed in below. At
last the steam gets in at B on all sides ; and as it is con¬
verging to B, along the surface of the water, with pro¬
digious velocity it sweeps along with it much water, and
blows it up through the funnel with great force. W hen
this is over, the remaining steam blows out unmixed
whth water, growing weaker as it is expended, till the
bottom of the funnel is again stopped by the water in¬
creasing in the cavern CBD. All the phenomena above
ground are perfectly conformable to the necessary con¬
sequences of this very probable construction of the ca¬
vern. The feeling of being lifted up, immediately be¬
fore the jet, in all probability is ow ing to a real heaving
up of the whole roof of the cavern by the first expan¬
sion of the great body of steam. \S e had an accurate
description of the phenomena from persons well quali¬
fied to judee of these matters who visited these cele¬
brated springs ia 1 789*
STEAM-ENGINE,
Steam- jg tj,e nanie 0f a machine which derives its moving
■Ensinc‘ , A power from the elasticity and condensibility of the
steam of boiling water. It is the most valuable present
which the arts of life have ever received from the phi¬
losopher. The mariner’s compass, the telescope, gun¬
powder, and other most useful servants to human weak¬
ness and ingenuity, were the productions of chance,
and we do not exactly know to whom we are indebted
for them ; but the steam-engine was, in the very begin¬
ning, the result of reflection, and the production of a
very ingenious mind; and every improvement it has re¬
ceived, and every alteration in its construction and prin¬
ciples, were also the results of philosophical study.
The steam-engine was beyond all doubt invented by
the marquis of Worcester during the reign of Charles II.
This nobleman published in 1663 a small hook entitled
A Century of Inventions; giving some obscure and
enigmatical account of a hundred discoveries or contri¬
vances of his own, which he extols as of great import¬
ance to the public. He appears to have been a person
of much knowledge and great ingenuity : but Ins de¬
scription or accounts of these inventions seem not so
much
Steam-
Engine.
Steam-en¬
gine in¬
vented by _
the niarqnii
of Wor¬
cester.
(b) We earnestly recommend this subject to the consideration of the philosopher. The laws which regulate
the formation of elastic vapour, ort he general phenomena which it exhibits, give us that link which connects
chemistry with mechanical philosophy. Here we see chemical affinities and mechanical forces set in immediate
opposition to ea,ch other, and the one made the indication, characteristic, and measure of the other. We have
not the least doubt that they make hut one science, the Science of Universal Mechanics ; nor do we despair ot
seeing the phenomena of solution, precipitation, crystallization, fermentation, nav animal and vegetable secre¬
tion and assimilation, successfully investigated, as cases of local motion, and explained by the agency of central
forces. Something of this kind, and that not inconsiderable, was done when Dr Cullen first showed how the
double affinities might be illustrated by the assistance of numbers. Dr Black gave to this hint (for it was little
more) that elegant precisionNvhich characterizes all his views.
Stom- avjch intended to Instruct the public, as to raise won
Nine- ,der > and 1113 encomiums on their utility and import-
—v ance are to a great degree extravagant, resembling more
the putt of an advertising tradesman than the patriotic
communications of a gentleman. The marquis of Wor¬
cester was indeed a projector, and very importunate and
mystenons withal in his applications for public encou¬
ragement. His account, however, of the steam-engine
although by no means fit to give us any distinct notions
ot its structure and operation, is exact as far as it goes
agreeing precisely with what we now know of the sub-
J'f*’ 11 1SN° 68 of his inventions. His words are as
tollow: “ ibis admirable method which I propose of
raising water by the force of fire has no bounds if the
vessels be strong enough : for I have taken a cannon
and having filled it three-fourths full of water, and shut
up its muzzle and touch-hole, and exposed it to the fire
for 24 hours, it burst with a great explosion. Having
afterwards discovered a method of fortifying vessels in¬
ternally, and combined them in such a way that they
filled and acted alternately, I have made the waterspout
m an uninterrupted stream 40 feet high ; and one vessel
of rarefied water raised 40 of cold water. The person
who conducted the operation had nothing to do but
tuin two cocks j so that one vessel of water being con¬
sumed, another begins to force, and tli^en to fiiritself
, with cold water, and so on in succession.”
t: first re-^ It does not appear that the noble inventor could ever
P lice0by intere.st t,ie Pul)llc these accounts. His character as
d aia d Pr0Ject0''> and the many failures which persons of this
S ry, turn of mind daily experience, probably prejudiced peo¬
ple against him, and prevented all attention to his pro¬
jects. It was not till towards the end of the century,
when experimental philosophy was prosecuted all over
Europe with uncommon ardour, that these notions again
engaged attention. Captain S.ivaiy, a person also of
great ingenuity and ardent mind, saw the reality and
practicability ot the marquis of Worcester’s project. He
knew the great expansive power of steam, and had dis¬
covered the inconceivable rapidity with which it is re¬
converted into water by cold ; and he soon contrived a
machine for raising water, in which both of these pro¬
perties were employed. He says, that it w^as entirely
his own invention. Dr Desaguiliers insists that he only
copied the marquis’s invention, and charges him with
gross plagiarism, and with having bought up and burned
the copies ol the marquis’s book, in order to secure the
honour of the discovery to himself. This is a very griev¬
ous charge, and should have been substantiated by very
distinct evidence. Desaguiliers produces none such j and
he was much too late to know what happened at that
time. The argument which he gives is a very foolish
one, and gave him no title to consider Savary’s experi-
1 ment as a falsehood •, for it might have happened pre¬
cisely as Savary relates, and not as it happened to De-
saguilieis. The fact is, that Savary obtained his patent
of invention after a hearing of objections, among which
the discovery of the marquis of Worcester was not men¬
tioned : and it is certain that the account given in the
i Century of Inventions con’d instruct no'person who was
^Pffias not sufficiently acquainted with the properties of steam
the** a t0*0 able to invent the machine himself,
totij tjle Captain Savary obtained iiis patent after having ac-
t’reii Uialhj erected several machines, of which be gave a de-
seription in a book intitled The Miner’s Friend, pub-
- VOX. XIX. Pifrt II. -f
steam-engine.
6#
lisl,e,l in 1696, and in another tvork plAli.M In 1609. Slc,„
Much about tins time Dr Papin, a Frenchman and lei- Enii,
Jow of the Koyal Society, invented a method of dissolv- ' v 
ing bones and other animal solids in water, by confinin r
t lem in close vessels, which he called digesters, so as
to acquire a great degree of heat. For it must be ob¬
served in this place, that it had been discovered loin,
before (in 1684) by Dr Hooke, the most inquisitive
expeuniental philosopher of that inquisitive ao-c, that
water could not be made to acquire above ascertain
temperature in the open air 5 and that as scon as it be¬
gins to boil, its temperature remains fixed, and an in¬
crease of heat only produces a more violent ebullition,
and a more rapid waste. But Papin’s experiments made
the elastic power of steam very familiar to him : and
when he left England and settled as professor of inalhe-
matms at Marpurg, he made many awku'ard attempts
to employ this force in mechanics, and even for raising
water. It appears that he had made experiments with
this view in 1698, by order of Charles, landgrave of
Hesse. For this reason the French affect to consider
him as the inventor of the steam-engine. He indeed
published some account of his invention in 1707 ; but
he acknowledges that Captain Savary bad also,> and
without any communication with him, invented the same
thing. Whoever will take the trouble of looking at the
description which he has given of these invention?,
which are to be seen in the Acta Eruditorvjn Lipsice\
and in Leopold’s Theat rum Machinarum, will see that
they are most awkward, absurd, and impiacticable.
His conceptions of natural operatiotis w'ere always
vague and imperfect, and he was neither philosopher
nor mechanician.
TVe are thus anxious about the claim of those gentle¬
men, because a most respectable French author, Mr Bos-
sut, says in his Hydrodynainique, that the first notion of
the steam-engine was certainly owing to Dr Papin, who
had not only invented the digester, but had in 1695 pub¬
lished a little performance describing a machine forrais-
ing water, in which the pistons are moved by the vapour
of boiling water alternate!}’ dilated and condensed. Now
the fact is, that Papin’s first publication w’as in 1707,
and his piston is nothing more than a floater on the sur¬
face of the water, to prevent the waste of steam by con¬
densation 5 and the return of the piston is not produced,
as in the steam-engine, by the condensation of the steam,
hut by admitting the air and a column of water to press
it back into its place. The whole contrivance is so awk¬
ward, and so unlike any distinct notions of the subject,
that it cannot do credit to any person. We may add,
that much about the same time Mr Amontons contrived Mr Awo*-
a very ingenious hut intricate machine, which he called ton’s fire-
■x fire-wheel. It consisted of a number of buckets placed wl*cel*
in the circumference of a wheel, and communicating
with each other by very intricate circuitous passages.
One part of this circumference was exposed to the heat
of a furnace, and another to a stream or cistern of cold
water. The communications were so disposed, that the
steam produced in the buckets on one side of the wheel
drove the water into buckets on the other side, so that
one side of the wheel was always much heavier than the
other j and it must therefore turn round, and may exe¬
cute some work. The death of the inventor, and the
intricacy of the machine, caused it to be neglected.
Another member of the Parisian academy of science
4 N (Mt
650
STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
Captain Sa¬
lary's
steam-en¬
gine de¬
scribed.
Fig. 5.
(Mr Deslandes) also presented to the academy a project
of a steam-wheel, where the impulsive force ot the va¬
pour was employed ; but it met with no encouragement.
The English engineers had by this time so much im¬
proved Savary’s first invention that it supplanted all
others. We have therefore no hesitation in giving the
honour of the first and complete invention to the mar¬
quis of Worcester 5 and wTe are not disposed to refuse
Captain Savary’s claim to originality as to the construc¬
tion of the machine, and even think, it probable that
his own experiments made him see the whole indepen¬
dent of the marquis’s account.
Captain Savary’s engine, as improved and simplified
by himself is as follows.
A (fig. 6.) represents a strong copper boiler proper¬
ly built up in a furnace. There proceeds from its top
a large steam-pipe B, which enters into the top of ano¬
ther strong vessel R called the RECEIVER. This pipe
has a cock at C called the steam-COCK. In the bot¬
tom of the receiver is a pipe F, which communicates
sidewise with the rising pipe KGH. The lower end
H of this pipe is immersed in the water of the pit or
well, and its upper part K opens into the cistern into
which the water is to be delivered. Immediately be¬
low the pipe of communication F there is a valve G,
opening when pressed from below, and shutting when
pressed downwards. A similar valve is placed at I, im¬
mediately above the pipe of communication. Lastly,
there is a pipe ED which branches off from the rising
pipe, and enters into the top of the receiver. This
pipe has a cock D called the injection-COCK. The
mouth of the pipe ED has a nozzle /*pierced with small
holes, pointing from a centre in every direction. The
keys of the two cocks C and D are united, and the
handle g h is called the regulator.
Let the regulator be so placed that the steam-cock
C is open and the injection-cock D is shut j put water
into the boiler A, and make it boil strongly. The steam
coming from it will enter the receiver, and gradually
warm it, much steam being condensed in producing this
effect. When it has been warmed so as to condense no
more, the steam proceeds into the rising pipe ; the
valve G remains shut by its weight $ the steam lifts
the valve I, and gets into the rising pipe, and gradually
warms it. When the workman feels this to be the case,
or hears the rattling of the valve I, he immediately turns
the steam-cock so as to shut it, the injection-cock still
remaining shut (at least we may suppose this for the
present). The apparatus must now cool, and the steam
in the receiver collapses into waiter. There is nothing
now to balance the pressure of the atmosphere ; the
valve I remains shut by its weight; but the air incum¬
bent on the water in the pit presses up this water
through the suction-pipe HG, and causes it to lift the
valve G, and flow into the receiver R, and fill it to the
top, if not more than 20 or 25 feet above the surface of
the pit water.
The steam cock is now opened. The steam which,
during the cooling of the receiver, has been accumula¬
ting in the boiler, and acquiring a great elasticity by the
action of the fire, now' rushes in with great violence, and,
pressing on the surface of the water in the receiver,
causes it to shut the valve G and open the valve I by
its weight alone, and it now flows into the rising pipe,
and would stand on a level if the elasticity of the steam
were no more than what would balance the atmospherical
pressure. But it is much more than this, and therefore
it presses the water out of the receiver into the rising
pipe, and will even cause it to come out at K, if the*
elasticity of the steam is sufficiently great. In order to
ensure this, the boiler has another pipe in its top,
covered with a .va/cty-valve V, which is kept down by
a weight W suspended on a steelyard LM. This weight
is so adjusted lhatits pressure on the safety-valve issome-
what greater than the pressure of a column of water
VA: as high as the point of discharge K. The fire is so
regulated that the steam is always issuing a little by th«
loaded valve V. The workman keeps the steam-valve
open till he hears the valve I rattle. This tells him
that the w'ater is all forced out of the receiver, and
that the steam is now following it. He immediately
turns the regulator which turns the steam-cock, and
now, for the first time, opens the injection-cock. The
cold water trickles at first through the holes of the noz¬
zle f, and falling down through the steam, begins to
condense it ; and then its elasticity being less than tb«
pressure of the water in the pipe KEDy^ the cold wa¬
ter spouts in all directions through the nozzle, and,
quick as thought, produces a complete condensation.
The valve G now opens again \yy the pressure of tha
atmosphere on the water of the pit, and the receiver is
soon filled with cold water. The injection-cock is now
shut, and the steam-cock opened, and the whole opera¬
tion is now repeated j and so on continually.
This is the simple account of the process, and will
serve to give the reader an introductory notion of the
operation ; but a more minute attention must be paid
to many particulars before we can see the properties
and defects of this ingenious machine. $
The water is driven along the rising pipe by the Defect* *f
elasticity of the stream. This must in the boiler, andd“.sma‘
every part of the machine, exert a pressure on every c^ne
square inch of the vessels equal to that of the upright
column of water. Suppose the water to be raised 100
feet, about 25 of this may be done in the suction-pipe}
that is, the upper part of the receiver may be about
25 feet above the surface of the pit-water. The re¬
maining must be done by forcing, and every square
inch of the boiler will be squeezed out by a pressure of
more than 30 pounds. This very moderate height there¬
fore requires very strong vessels } and the marquis of
Worcester was well aware of the danger of their burst¬
ing. A copper boiler of six feet diameter must be nine-
tenths of an inch thick to be just in equilibrio with
this pressure : and the soldered joint will not be able to
withstand it, especially in the high temperature to which
the water must be heated in order to produce steam of
sufficient elasticity. By consulting the table of the
elasticity of steam deduced from our experiments men¬
tioned in the preceding article, we see that this tem¬
perature must be at leat 280° of Fahrenheit’s thermo¬
meter. In this heat soft solder is just ready to melt,
and has no tenacity ; even spelter solder is considerably
weakened by it. Accordingly, in a machine erected
by Dr Desaguiliers, the workman having loaded the
safety-valve a little more than usual to make the engine
work more briskly, the boiler burst with a dreadful ex¬
plosion, and blew up the furnace and adjoining parts of
the building as if it had been gunpowder. Mr Savary
succeeded pretty well in raising moderate quantities
of water to small heights, but could make nothing of
deep mines. Many attempts were made, on the mar¬
quis’s-
7
lat it Ban
t employ
I with
Wantage
ily in cer
in sttua-
. _ STEAM.
(Joists principle, to strengthen the vessels from within by
radiated bars and by hoops, but in vain. Very small
boilers or evaporators were then tried, kept red hot or
nearly so, and supplied with a slender stream of water
trickling into themj but this afforded no opportunity of
making a collection of steam during the refrigeration of
the receiver, so as to have a magazine of steam in readi¬
ness for the next forcing operation j and the Working of
such machines was always an employment of great dan¬
ger and anxiety.
The only situation in which this machine could be
employed with perfect safety, and with some effect, was
where the whole lift did not exceed 30 01-35 feet. In
this case the greatest part of it was performed by the
suction-pipe, and a very manageable pressure was suffi¬
cient for the rest. Several machines of this kind were
erected in England about the beginning of this cen¬
tury. A very large one was erected at a salt-work in
the south of France. Here the water was to be raised
no more than 18 feet. The receiver was capacious,
and it was occasionally supplied with steam from a small
salt-pan constructed on purpose with a cover. The
entry of the steam into the receiver merely allowed the
water to run out of it by a large valve, which was open¬
ed by the hand, and the condensation was produced bv
the help of a small forcing pump also worked by the hand".
In so particular a situation as this (and many such may
occur in the endless variety of human wants), this is a
very powerful engine; and having few moving and rub¬
bing parts, it must be of great durability. This circum¬
stance has occasioned much attention to be given to this
first form of the engine, even long after it was supplant¬
ed bv those of a much better construction. A very in¬
genious attempt was made very lately to adapt this con¬
struction to the uses of the miners. The whole depth
of the pit was divided into lifts of l 5 feet, in the same
manner as is frequently done in pump-machihes. In
each of these was a suction-pipe 14 feet long, having
above it a small receiver like R, about a foot high, and
its capacity somewhat greater than that of the pipe.
This receiver had a valve at tiie head of the suction-
pipe, and another opening outwards into the little cis¬
tern, into which the next suction pipe above dipped to
take in Water. Each of these receiveis sent up a pipe
from its top, which all met in the cover of a large Ves¬
sel above ground, which was of double the capacity of
all the receivers and pipes. This vessel was close on all
sides. Another vessel of equal capacity was placed im¬
mediately above it, with a pipe from its bottom passing
through the cover of the lower vessel and reaching near
to its bottom. This upper vessel communicates with
the boiler, and constitutes the receiver of the steam-en¬
gine. The operation is as follows : The lower vessel
is full of water. Steam is admitted into the upper ves¬
sel, which expels the air by a valve, and fills the vessel.
It is then condensed by cold water. The pressure of
the atmosphere would cause it to enter by all the suc¬
tion-pipes of the different lifts, and press on the surface
of the water in the lower receiver, and force it into the
upper one. But because each suction pipe dips in a
cistern of water, the air presses this water before it
raises it into each of the little receivers which it fills,
d allows the spring of the air (which was formerly
ENGINE.
651
— ~    ~ r * e> \  y
in them, but which now passes up into the lower recei¬
ver) to force the water out of the lower receiver into the
upper one. When this has been completed, the steam is Steam-
agam admitted into the upper receiver. This allows Engine,
the w'ater to run back into the lower receiver, and the ^ v" —
air returns into the small receivers in the pit, and allows
the water to run out of each into its proper cistern.
By this means the water of each pipe has been raised
15 feet. The operation may thus be repeated conti¬
nually.
The contrivance is ingenious, and similar to those
which are to be met with in the hydraulics of Schottus,
Sturmius, and other German writers. But the opera¬
tion must be exceedingly slow ; and w^e imagine that
the expence of steam must be great, because it must fill
a very large and very cold vessel, which must Waste a
great portion of it by condensation. We see by some
late publications ot the very ingenious Mr Blackey, that
he is still attempting to maintain the reputation of this
machine by some contrivances of this kind ; but we
imagine that they will be ineffectual, except in some
very particular situations.
lor the great defect of the machine, even when we Occasions
can secure it against all risk of bursting, is the prodigi-great waste
ous waste of steam, and Consequently of fuel. Daily °f steam
experience shows, that a few scattered drops of cold wa-aDdfu«!-
ter are sufficient for producing an almost instantaneous
condensation of a great quantity of steam. Therefore
when the steam is admitted into the receiver of Savary’s
engine, and comes into contact with the cold top and
cold water, it is condensed with great rapidity; and the
water does not begin to subside till its surface has become
so hot that it condenses no more steam. It may now
begin to yield to the pressure of the incumbent steam ;
but as soon as it descends a little, more of the cold sur¬
face of the receiver comes into contact with the steam,
and condenses more of it, and the water can descend no
farther till this addition of cold surface is heated up to
the state of evaporation. This rapid condensation goes
on all the while the water is descending. By some ex¬
periments frequently repeated by the writer of this arti¬
cle, it appears that no less than ^ths of the whole steam
is uselessly condensed in this manner, and not more than
T^th is employed in allowing the water to descend by
its own weight; and he has reason to think that the
portion thus wasted will be considerably greater, if the
steam be employed to force the water out of the receiver
to any considerable height.
Observe, too, that all this waste must be repeated in
every succeeding stroke ; for the whole receiver must he
cooled again in order to fill itself with Water.
Many attempts have been made to diminish this, 9
waste ; hut all to little purpose, because the very fill- at"
ing of the receiver with cold water occasions its sides ^^Uto
to condense a prodigious quantity of steam in the suc-dimini*h
ceeding stroke. Mr Blackey has attempted to lessen this waste
this by Using two receivers. In the first was oil; and unsuc*€s®*
into this only the steam was admitted. This oil passed^'
to and fro between the two receivers, and never touch¬
ed the water except in a small surface. But this hardly
produced a sensible diminution of the waste : for it must
now he observed, that there is a necessity for the first
cylinder’s being cooled to a considerable degree below
the boiling point; otherwise, though it will condense
much steam, and allow the water to rise into the receiver,
there will be a great diminution of the height of suction,
unless the vessel be much cooled. This appears plainly
4 N 2 by
652 STEAM-
Steam- by inspecting the table of elasticity. Thus, if the ves-
Engine. sel be cooled no lower than i8o°, we should lose one
^ ' half of the pressure of the atmosphere ; if cooled to
120, we should still lose The inspection of this
table is of great use for understanding and improving
this noble machine ; and without a constant recollec¬
tion of the elasticity of steam conesponding to its ac¬
tual heat, we shall never have a notion of the niceties
IO of its operation.
The asto- The rapidity with which the steam is condensed is
nisking ra- really astonishing. Experiments have been made on
pijJ.ty w*t’-1 steam-vessels ofsix feet in diameter and seven feet higlij
sti iin is #nd it has been found, that about four ounces of water,
condensed, as warm as the human blood, will produce a complete
condensation in less than a second } that is, will pro¬
duce all the condensation that it is capable of producing,
leaving an elasticity about one-fifth of the elasticity of
the air. In another experiment with the same steam-
vessel, no cold water was allowed to get into it, but it
was made to communicate by along pipe four inches in
diameter with another vessel immersed in cold water,
The condensation was so rapid that the time could not
be measured : it certainly did not exceed half a second.
Now this condensation was performed by a very trifling
suriace of contact. Perhaps we may explain it a little
in this way: When a mass of steam, in immediate con¬
tact with the cold water, is condensed, it leaves a void,
into which the adjoining steam instantly expands ; and
by this very expansion its capacity for heat is increased,
or it grows cold, I hat is, abstracts the heat from the
steam situated immediately beyond it. And in this ex-
pan.sion and refrigeration it is itselfpartly condensed or
converted into water, and leaves a void, into which the
circumjacent steam immediately expands, and produces
the same effect on the steam beyond it. And thus it
may happen that the abstraction of a small quantity of
heat from an inconsiderable mass of steam mav produce
a condensation which may he very extensive. Did we
know the change made in the capacity of steam for heat
by a given change of bulk, we should be able to tell ex¬
actly what would be the effect of this local actual con¬
densation. But experiment has not yet given us any
precise notions on this subject. We think that this ra¬
pid condensation to a great distance by a very moderate
actual abstraction of heat is a proof that the capacity
of steam lor heat is prodigiously increased by expansion.
We say a very, moderate actual abstraction of heat, be¬
cause very little heat is necessary to raise four ounces of
blood-warm water to a boiling temperature, which will
unfit it for condensing steam. The remarkable phenome¬
non of snow and iceproduced in the Hungarian machine,
when the air condensed in the receiver is allowed to
blow through the cock (see Pneumatics), shows this
to be the case in moist air, that is, in air holding water
in a state of chemical solution. We see something very
like it in a thunder-storm. A small black cloud some¬
times appears in a particular spot, and in a very few se¬
conds spreads over many hundred acres of sky, that is,
a precipitation of water goes on with that rapid diffu¬
sion. We imagine that this increase of capacity or de-
ENGINE.
mand for heat, and the condensation that must ensue if
this demand is not supplied, is much more remarkable in Engine,
pure watery vapours, and that this is a capital distinction “v-—<
of their constitution from vapours dissolved in air (a.)
The reader must now be so well acquainted with what
passes in the steam-vessel, and with the exterior results
from it, as readily to comprehend the propriety of the
changes which we shall now describe as having been
made in the construction and principle of the steam engine.
Of all places in England the tin-mines of Cornwall Attempt*
stood in most need of hydraulic assistance; and Mr Sa-to improY<
vary was much engaged in projects for draining themti,e,sleam-
by his steam-engine. This made its construction and uloine-
principles well known among the machinists and engi¬
neers of that neighbourhood. Among these were a
Mr Newcomen, an ironmonger or blacksmith, and j\Ir
Cawley a glazier at Dartmouth in Devonshire, who had
dabbled mucli with this machine. Newcomen was a
person of some reading, and was in particular acquaint¬
ed with the person, writings, and projects of his coun¬
tryman Dr Hooke. There are to be found among
Hooke’s papers, in the possession of the Royal Society,
some notes of observations, for the use of Newcomen his
countryman, on Papin’s boasted method of transmitting
to a great distance the action of a mill by means of pipes.
Papin’s project was to employ the mill to work two air-
pumps of great diameter. The cylinders of these pumps
were to communicate by means of pipes with equal cy¬
linders furnished with pistons, in the neighbourhood of
a distant mine. These pistons were to be connected,
by means of levers, with the piston-rods of the mine.
Therefore, when the piston of the air-pump at the mill
was drawn up by the mill, the corresponding piston at
the side of the mine would be pressed down by the at¬
mosphere, and thus would raise the piston-rod in the
mine, and draw the water. It would appear from these
notes that Dr Hooke had dissuaded Mr Newcomen
from erecting a machine on I his principle, of which
he had exposed the fallacy in several discourses before
the Royal Society. One passage is remarkable. “ Could
he (meaning Papin) make a speedy vacuum under your
second piston, your work is done.”
It is highly probable that, in the course of this spe¬
culation, it occurred to Mr Newcomen that the va¬
cuum he so much wanted might be produced by steam,
and that this gave rise to his new principle and con¬
struction of the steam-engine. The specific desidera¬
tum was in Newcomen’s mind ; and therefore, when
Savary’s engine appeared, and became known in his
neighbourhood many years after, he would readily catch
at the help which it promised.
Savary, however, claims the invention as his own;
but Switzer, who was personally acquainted with both,
is positive that Newcomen was the inventor. By his
principles (as a Quaker) being averse from contention,
he was contented to share the honour and the profits
with Savary,whose acquaintance at court enabled him to
procure the patent in 1705, in which all the three were
associated. Posterity has done justice to the modest in¬
ventor, and the machine is universally called Newco-
men’s
(a) But it has been found that the condensation requires more cold water than what is allowed above, and it is
suspected that the rapidity of condensing a large volume of steam by the cold surface of a vessel is overrated.
, STEAM.
aiKN'’s Kxgike. Its principle and mode of operation
pgnif- may be clearly conceived as follows.
-v ' Let A (fig. 7.) represent a great boiler properly
Leriptioii . 1,1 a U1 nace. At a small height above it is a
Stvr- cylinder CBBC of metal, bored very truly and smooth-
nen’s. ly. The boiler communicates with (his cylinder by
If*. ?• means of the throat or steam-pipe NQ. The lower
aperture of this pipe is shut by the plate N, which is
ground veiy flat, so as to apply very accurately to the-
whole circumference of the orifice. This plate is called
the 1 eguiatoi 01 • steam-cock, and it turns horizontally
round an axis 6 a which passes through the top of the
boiler, and is nicely fitted to the socket, like the key of
a cock, by grinding. The upper end of this axis is fur¬
nished with a handle 6 T.
A piston P is suspended in this cylinder, and made
air-tight by a packing of leather or soft rope, well filled
wiili tallow; and, lor greater security, a small quantity
ol water is kept above the piston. The piston-rod PI3
is suspended by a chain which is fixed to the upper ex¬
tremity F of the arched head FD of the great lever or
^Vorking Beam HK, which turns on the gudgeon O.
I here is a similar arched head LG at the other end of
the beam. lo its upper extremity E is fixed a chain
carrying the pump-rod XL, which raises the water from
the mine. 1 he load on this end ot the beam is made
to exceed considerably the weight of the piston Pat the
other extremity.
At some small height above the top of the cylinder is
a cistern W, called the Injection Cistern. From
this descends the Injection Pipe ZSR, which enters
the cylinder through its bottom, and terminates in a
small hole R, or sometimes in a nozzle pierced with
many smaller holes diverging from a centre in ail direc¬
tions. Fhis pipe has at S a cock called the Injection
Cock, fitted with a handle V.
At tiie opposite side of the cylinder, a little above its
bottom, there is a lateral pipe, turning upwards at the
extremity, and there covered by a clack-valve f, called
the Snifting Valve, which has a little dish round it
to hold water for keeping it air-tight.
There proceeds also from the bottom, of the cylinder
a pipe (l eg h (passing behind the boiler), of which the
lower end is turned upwards, and is covered with a valve
//. T bis part is immersed in a cistern of water Y, call¬
ed the Hot Well, and the pipe itself is called the
Eduction Pipe. Lastly, the boiler is furnished with
a safety-valve called the Puppet Clack (which is not
represented in this sketch for want of room), in the same
manner as Savary’s engine. This valve is generally
loaded with one or two pounds on the square inch, so
that it allows the steam to escape when its elasticity is
one-tenth greater than that of common air. Thus all
risk of bursting the boiler is avoided, and the pressure-
outwards is very moderate j so also is the beat. For,
by inspecting the table of vaporous elasticity, we see
that the heat corresponding to 32 inches of elasticity is
only about 216° degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer.
These are all the essential parts of the engine, and
are here drawn in the most simple form, till our know¬
ledge of their particular offices shall show the propriety
of the peculiar forms which are given to them. Let us
now see how the machine is put in motion, and what is
the nature of its work.
-ENGINE. 653
J he water in the boiler being supposed to be in a Steem-
state of strong ebullition, and the steam issuing by the Engine.
safety-valve, let us consider the machine in a state of' A—'
rest, having both the steam-cock and injection-cock jjowI^jie
shut. The resting position or attitude of the machinem^jnee
must be such as appears in sketch, the pump rods prepen- is put in
derating, and the gnat piston being drawn up to the topmotioD»
of the cylinder. Now open the steam cock by turning alu* l^e ,na*
the handle T of the regulator. The steam from the11C
boiler will immediately rush in, and flying all over the
cylinder, will mix with the air. Much of it will be
condensed by the cold surface of the cylinder and piston,
and the water produced from it will trickle down the
sides, and run off by the eduction-pipe. This conden¬
sation and waste of steam will continue till the whole
cylinder and piston be made as hot as boiling water.
When this happens, the steam will begin to open the
snifting-valve j, and issue through the pipe j* slowly at
first and very cloudy, being mixed with much air. The
blast at / will grow stronger by degrees, and more trans¬
parent, having already carried off the greatest part of.
the common air which filled the cylinder. We sup¬
posed that the air was boiling briskly, so that the steam
was issuing by the safety-valve which is in the top of
the boiler, and through every crevice. The opening of
the steam-cock puts an end to this at once, and it lias
sometimes happened that the cold cylinder abstracts the
steam from the boiler with such astonishing rapidity, that
the pressure of the atmosphere has burst up the bottom
of the boiler. We may here mention an accident of
which we were witnesses, which also shows the immense
rapidity of the condensation. The boiler was in a frail
shed at the side of the engine-house j a shoot of snow
from the top oi the house fell down and broke through
the roof of the shed, and was scattered over the bead of
the boiler, which was of an oblong or oval shape. In
an instant the sides of it were squeezed together Siy the
pressure of the atmosphere..
When the manager of the engine perceives that not
only the blast at the snifting-valve is strong and steadv,
but that the boiler is now fully supplied with steam of'
a proper strength, appearing by-the renewal of the dis-.
ebarge at the safety-valve, be shuts the steam-cock, and
opens the injection-cock S bv turning its handle V. .
The pressure of the column of water in the injection-
pipe ZS immediately forces some water through the
spout R. This coming in contact with the pure va¬
pour which now fills the cylinder, condenses it, and thus
makes a partial void, into which the more distant steam
immediately expands, and by expanding collapses (as has
been already observed). What remains in the cylinder
no longer balances the atmospherical pressure on the sur¬
face of the water in the injection-cistern, and therefore
the water spouts rapidly through the hole R by the
joint action of the column ZS, and the unbalanced pres¬
sure of the atmosphere ; at the .same time the snifting-
valve f\ and the eduction-valve A are shut by the unba¬
lanced pressure of the atmosphere. The velocity of the
injection water must therefore rapidly increase, and the
jet will dash (it single) against the bottom of the piston,
and be scattered through the whole capacity of the cy¬
linder. In a verv short space of time, therefore, the con¬
densation of the steam becomes universal, and the elas¬
ticity of what remains is almost nothing. The whole
pressure
STEAM-ENGINE.
■4
The piston
does not
begin to
descend tlie
nioroent
the injec¬
tion is
made.
pressure of the atmosphere is exerted in the upper sur¬
face of the piston, while there is hardly any on its under
side. Therefore, if the load on the outer end E of the
working beam is inferior to this pressure, it must yield
to it. The piston P must descend, and the pump piston
L must ascend, bringing along with it the water of the
mine, and the motion must continue till the great piston
reaches the bottom of the cylinder: for it is not like
the motion which would take place in a cylinder of air
rarefied to the same degree. In this last case, the im¬
pelling force would be continually diminished, because
the capacity of the cylinder is diminished by the descent
of the piston, and the air in it is continually becoming
more dense and elastic. The piston would stop at a cer¬
tain height, where the elasticity of the included air, to¬
gether with the load at E, would balance the atmosphe¬
rical pressure on the piston. But when the contents of
the cylinder are pure vapour, and the continued stream
of injected cold water keeps down its temperature to
the same pitch as at the beginning, the elasticity of the
remaining steam can never increase by the descent of the
piston, nor exceed what corresponds to this temperature.
The impelling or accelerating force therefore remains
the same, and the descent of the piston will be uniform¬
ly accelerated, if there is not an increase of resistance
arising from the nature of the work performed by the
other end of the beam. This circumstance will come
under consideration afterwards, and we need not attend
to it at present. It is enough for our present purpose
to see, that if the cylinder has been completely purged
of common air before the steam-cock was shut, and if
none has entered since, the piston will descend to the
very bottom of the cylinder. And this may be frequent¬
ly observed in a good steam-engine, where every part is
air-tight. It sometimes happens, by the pit-pump draw¬
ing air, or some part of the communication between the
two strains giving way, that the piston comes down with
such violence as to knock out the bottom of the cylin¬
der w'ith the blow.
The only observation which remains to be made on
the motion of the piston in descending is, that it does
not begin at the instant the injection is made. The
piston was kept at the top by the preponderancy of the
outer end of the working beam, and it must remain
there till the dift’erence between the elasticity of the
steam below it and the pressure of the atmosphere ex¬
ceeds this preponderancy. There must therefore be a
small space of time between the beginning of the con¬
densation and the beginning of the motion. This is very
small, not exceeding the third or the fourth part of a
second 5 but it may be very distinctly observed by an
attentive spectator. He will see, that the instant the
injection cock is opened, the cylinder will sensibly rise
upwards a little by the pressure of the air on its bottom.
Its whole weight is not nearly equal to this pressure;
and instead of its being necessary to support it by a strong
floor, we must keep it down by strong joints loaded by
heavy walls. It is usual to frame these joints into the
posts which carry the axis of the working beam, and
are therefore loaded with the whole strain of the ma¬
chine. This rising of the cylinder shows the instantane¬
ous commencement of the condensation ; and it is not
till after this has been distinctly observed that the piston
is seen to start, and begin to descend.
When the manager sees the piston as low as he thinks
3
proper, he shuts the injection-cock, and opens tfie steam- St^
cock. The steam has been accumulating above the wa- Engint.
ter in the boiler during the whole time of the piston’s—
descent, and is now rushing violently through the pup-^,^^
pet clack. The moment, therefore, that the steam-cum6laBe.
cock is opened, it rushes violently into the cylinder, ha-that nn*.
ving an elasticity greater than that of the air. It there-cecd tl>e
fore immediately blows open the snifting valve, and al-^ce.nto :
lows (at least) the water which had come in by the for-
mer injection, and what arose from the condensed steam,
to descend by its own weight through the eduction pipe
degh to open the valve h, and to run out into the hot
well. And we must easily see that this water is boiling
hot; for while lying in the bottom of the cylinder, it
will condense steam till it acquires this temperature, and
therefore cannot run down till it condenses no more.
There is still a waste of steam at its first admission, in
order to heat the inside of the cylinder and the injected
water to the boiling temperature: but the space being
small, and the whole being already very warm, this is
very soon done ; and when things are properly construc¬
ted, little more steam is Avanted than what will warm
the cylinder5 for the eduction pipe receives the injection
Avater even during the descent of the piston, and it is
therefore removed pretty much out of the way of the
steam,
This first puff of the entering steam is of great ser-EfFect« of
vice j it drives out of the cylinder the vapour Avhich itthe first
finds there. This is seldom pure watery vapour: alH111*!0^'
Avater contains a quantity of air in a state of chemical
union. The union is but feeble, and a boiling heat is
sufficient for disengaging the greatest part of it by in¬
creasing its elasticity. It may also be disengaged by
simply removing the external pressure of the atmosphere.
This is clearly seen when we expose a glass of Avater in
an exhausted receiver. Therefore the small space below
the piston contains watery vapour mixed Avith all the air
which had been disengaged from the Avater in the boiler
by ebullition, and all that Avas separated from the in¬
jection Avater by the diminution of external pressures.
All this is bloAvn out of the cylinder by the first puff of
steam. We may observe in this place, that Avaters dif¬
fer exceedingly in the quantity of air which they hold
in a state of solution. All spring Avater contains much
of it ; and water newly brought up from deep mines
contains a great deal more, because the solution avus aid* ^
ed in these situations by great pressures. Such waters of great
sparkle Avhen poured into a glass. It is therefore ofconse’
great consequence to the good performance of a steam-
engine to use water containing little air, both in theperform.
boiler and in the injection-cistern. The Avater of run-anceofa
ning brooks is preferable to all others, and the freer itst.eaD5^^
is from any saline impregnation it generally contains8’”e^ater
less air. Such engines as are so unfortunately situateden)1)]0ye(i
that they are obliged to employ the A'ery water Avhichcontain
they have brought up from great depths, are found little air*
greatly inferior in their performance to others. The
air collected beloAv the piston greatly diminishes the ac¬
celerating force, and the expulsion of such a quantity
requires a long continued blast of the best steam at the
beginning of every stroke. It is advisable to keep such
Avater in a large shallow pond for a long while before
using it. # 18
Eet us now consider the state of the piston. Itisij0wtlie
evident that it will start or begin to rise the moment piston rse4,
the
STEAM-
the steam-cock Is opened j for at that instant the ex-
cess of atmospherical pressure, by which it was kept
down in opposition to the preponderancy of the outer
end of the beam, is diminished. The piston is therefore
dragged upwards, and it will rise even although the
steam which is admitted be not so elastic as common air.
Suppose the mercury in the barometer to stand at 30
inches, and that the preponderancy at the outer end of
the beam is £th of the pressure of the air on the piston,
the piston will not rise if the elasticity of the steam is not
equal to 30-—y3, that is, to 26.7 inches nearly j but if
it is just this quantity, the piston will rise as fast as this
steam can be supplied through the steam-pipe, and the
velocity of its ascent depends entirely on the velocity of
this supply. This observation is of great importance 5
and it does not seem to have occurred to the mathema¬
ticians, who have paid most attention to the mechanism
of the motion of this engine. In the mean time, we
may clearly see that the entry of the steam depends
chiefly on the counter weight at E : for suppose there
was none, steam no stronger than air would not enter
the cylinder at all j and it the steam be stronger, it will
enter only by the excess of its strength. Writers on the
steam-engine (and even some of great reputation) fami¬
liarly speak of the steam giving the piston a push: But
this is scarcely possible. During the rise of the piston
the snifting valve is never observed to blow ^ and we
have not heard any well-attested accounts of the piston-
chains ever being slackened by the upward pressure of
the steam, even at the very beginning of the stroke.
During the rising of the piston the steam is (according
to the common conception and manner of speaking)
sucked tn^ in the same way that air is sucked into a com¬
mon syringe or pump when we draw up the piston j for
in the steam-engine the piston is really drawn up by the
counter weight. But it is still more sucked in, and
requires a more copious supply, for another reason. As
the piston descended only in consequence of the inside of
the cylinder’s being sufficiently cooled to condense the
steam, this cooled surface must again be presented to
the steam during the rise of the piston, and must con¬
dense steam a second time. I'he piston cannot rise an¬
other inch till the part of the cylinder which the piston
has already quitted has been warmed up to the boiling
point, and steam must be expended in this warming.
The inner surface of the cylinder is not only of the heat
of boiling water while the piston rises, but is also per¬
fectly dry ; for the Him of water left on it by the as¬
cending piston must be completely evaporated, other¬
wise it will be condensing steam. That the quantity
thus wasted is considerable, appears by the experiments
of Mr Beighton. He found that five pints of water
were boiled off in a minute, and produced 16 strokes of
an engine whose cylinder contained 113 gallons of 282
inches each ; and he thence concluded that steam was
2886 times rarer than water. But in no experiment
made with scrupulous care on the expansion of boiling
water does it appear that the density of steam exceeds
-th of the density of water. Desaguiliers says that
engine.
655
10,000
it i£ above 14,000 times rarer than water. We have
frequently attempted to measure the weight of steam
which filled a very light vessel, which held 12,600 grains
of water, and found it always less than one grairt j so
that we have no doubt of its being much more than
10,000 times rarer than water. This being the case, Steam-
we may safely suppose that the number of gallons of Engine,
steam, instead of being 16 times 113, were nearly five 1 v 1 -
times as much ; and that only -j-th was employed in al-
owing the piston to rise, and the remaining ^ths were
employed to warm the cylinder. But no distinct expe-
nment shows so great an expansion of water when con¬
verted into steam at 212°. Mr Watt never found it
under the pressure of the air more than 1800 times rarer
than water.
The moving force during the ascent of the pistonIts a*cent
must be considered as resulting chiefly, if not solely, clliefiy °w-
from the preponderating weight of the pit piston-rods! V*/11.*
I he office of this is to return the steam-piston to the the pit pi-
top of the cylinder, where it may again be pressed down ston-rods.
by the air, and make another working stroke by raising
the pump-rods. But the counter-weight at E has ano¬
ther service to perform in this use of the engine j name¬
ly, to return the pump pistons into their places at the
bottom of their respective working barrels, in order that
they also may make a working stroke. This requires
force independent of the friction and inertia of the mov¬
ing parts ; for each piston must be pushed down through
the water in the barrel, which must rise through the
piston with a velocity whose proportion to the velocity
of the piston is the same with that of the bulk of the
piston to the bulk of the perforation through which the
water rises through the piston. It is enough at present
to mention this in general terms : we shall consider it
more particularly afterwards, when we come to calcu¬
late the performance of the engine, and to deduce from
our acquired knowledge maxims of construction and im¬
provement.
, Fnun this general consideration of the ascent of the The ascent
piston, we may see that the motion differs greatly fromof l]le.P‘-
the descent. It can hardly be supposed to accelerate, st1°entfffcr*
even if the steam in the cylinder were in a moment an-ft-o,^^
miniated. Eor the resistance to the descent of the piston descent,
is the same with the weight of the column of water,
which would cause it to flow through the box of the
pump piston with the velocity with which it really rises
through it, and must therefore increase as the square of
that velocity increases j that is, as the square of the ve¬
locity of the piston increases. Independent of friction,
therefore, the velocity of descent through the water
must soon become a maximum, and the motion become
uniform. We shall see by and by, that in such a pump
as is generally u-ed this will happen in less than the
10th part, of a second. The friction of the pump will
diminish this velocity a little, and retard the time of its
attaining uniformity. But, on the other hand, the sup¬
ply of steam which is necessary for this motion, being
susceptible of no acceleration from its previous motion,
and depending entirely on the briskness of the ebulli¬
tion, an almost instantaneous stop is put to accelera¬
tion.
Accordingly, any person who observes with attention
the working of a steam-engine, will see that the rise of
the piston and descent of the pump-rods is extremely 2r
uniform, whereas the working stroke is very sensibly ac- The coun-
celerated. Before quitting this part of the subject, and ter-weight
lest it should afterwards escape our recollection, we may'® (b^ere^wt
observe, that the counter-weight is different during the *
two motions of the pump-rods. While the machine is tions of the
making a working stroke, it is lifting not only the co-pump-rods..
luma
656
Steam-
Engine.
22
Difference
•between
Savarj’s
and New¬
comen’s
mu. ohmes.
Superiority
of New-
•somen’s.
Gradually
improved
2 5
•and sinipli
•fied.
STEAM-
lumn of water in the pump, hot the absolute weight of
the pistons and piston-rods also : but while the pump-
rods are descending, there is a diminution of the coun¬
ter-weight by the whole weight lost by the immersion
of the rod in water. The wooden rods which are gene¬
rally used, soaked in water, and joined by iron straps,
are heavier, and but a little heavier, than water, and
they are generally about one-third of the hulk ot the
water in the pumps.
These two motions complete the period of the opera¬
tion *, and the whole may be repeated by shutting the
steam-cock and opening the injection-cock whenever the
piston has attained the proper height. We have been
verv minute in our attention to the different circum¬
stances, that the reader may have a distinct notion of
the state of the moving forces in every period of the
operation. It is by no means sufficient that we know
in general that the injection of cold water makes a void
which allows the air to press down the piston, and that
the readmission of the steam allows the piston to rise
again. This lumping and slovenly way of viewing it
has long prevented even the philosopher from seeing the
defects of the construction, and the methods of remov¬
ing them.
We now see the great difference between Savary’s
and Newcomen’s engine in respect of principle. Sava¬
ry’s was really an engine which raised water by the
force of steam j hut Newcomen’s raises water entirely
by the pressure of the atmosphere, and steam is employ¬
ed merely as the most expeditious method of producing
a void, into which the atmospherical pressure may im¬
pel the first mover of his machine. The elasticity of
the steam is not the first mover.
We see also the great superiority of this new machine.
We have no need of steam of great and dangerous ela¬
sticity, and we operate by means of very moderate
heats, and consequently with much smaller quantities of
fuel ; and there is no bounds to the power of this ma¬
chine. How deep soever a mine may be, a cylinder
may he employed of such dimensions that the pressure of
the air on its piston may exceed in any degree the weight
of the column of water to he raised. And lastly, this
form of the machine renders it applicable to almost
every mechanical purpose", because a skilful mechanic
can readily find a method of converting the reciprocat¬
ing motion of the working beam into a motion of any
kind which may suit his purpose. Savary’s engine could
hardly admit of such an immediate application, and seems
almost restricted to raising water.
Inventions improve by degrees. 1 his engine was
first offered to the public in 1705. But many difficul¬
ties occurred in tire execution, which were removed one
by one j and it was not till 1712 tint the engine seem¬
ed to give confidence in its efficacy. The most exact
and unremitting attention of the manager was required
to the precise moment of opening and shutting the
cocks ; and neglect might frequently be ruinous, by
beating out the bottom of the cylinder, or allowing the
piston to be wholly drawn out ot it. btops were con¬
trived to prevent both of these accidents; then strings
were used to connect the handles of the cocks with the
beam, so that they should be turned whenever it was in
certain positions. These were gradually changed and
improved into detents and catches of different shapes ;
at last, in 1717, Mr Brighton, a very ingenious and
5
gine.
Plate
DIf.
fig. 3.,
ENGINE.
well-informed artist, simplified the whole of these sub-
ordinate movements, and brought the machine into Engine
the form in which it has continued, without the small- '
est material change, to the present day. We shall now
describe one of these improved engines, copying almost
exactly the drawings and description given by Bossut
in his Hydrodynamique; these being by far the most
accurate and perspicuous of any that have been pub¬
lished.
Fig. 8. N° I. is a perspective view of the boiler cy-Descrip-
linder, and all the parts necessary for turning the cocks.lion of
Fig. 8. N° 2. is a vertical section of the same ; and the Be,8,lloo'»
same pieces of both are marked with the same letters of ^teara en'
reference.
The rod X of the piston P is suspended from the
arch of the working-beam, as was represented in the
preceding sketch (fig. 7.). An upright bar of timber
FG is also seen hanging by a chain. This is suspended
from a concentric arch of the beam, as may he seen
also in the sketch at <p The bar is called the plug-
beam; and it must rise and fall with the piston, but
with a slower motion. The use of this plug-beam is
to give motion to the different pieces which turn the
cocks.
The steam-pipe K is of one piece with the bottom
of the cylinder, and rises within it an inch or two, to
prevent any of the cold injection water from falling in¬
to the boiler. The lower extremity Z of the steam-
pipe penetrates the head ot the boiler, projecting a
little way. A flat plate of brass, in shape resembling a
racket or battledore, called the regulator, applies itself
exactly to the whole circumference of the steam-pipe,
and completely excludes the steam from the cylinder.
Being moveable round an upright axis, which is repre¬
sented by the dotted lines at the side of the steam-pipe
in the profile, it may be turned aside by the handle 7,
N° 1. The profile shows in the section of this plate a
protuberance in the middle. This rests on a strong
flat spring, which is fixed below it athwart the mouth
of the steam-pipe. This spring presses it strongly to¬
wards the steam-pipe, causing it to apply very close ^
and this knob slides along the spring, while the regula¬
tor turns to the right or left.
We have said that the injection-water is furnished
from a cistern placed above the cylinder. M hen the
cistern cannot be supplied by pipes from some more
elevated source, its water is raised by the machine it¬
self. A small lifting pump ik (fig. 70i called the /«c/c-
head or jacquette, is worked by a rod y ;, suspended from
a concentric arch ip. near the outer end ot the working
beam. This forces a small portion of the pit water
along the rising pipe ? LM into the injection cistern.
In fig. 8. N° 1. and 2. the letters QM 3' represent
the pipe which brings down the water from the injection
cistern. This pipe has a cock at 11 to open or shut the
passage of this water. It spouts through the jet 3', and
dashing against the bottom of the piston, it is dispersed
into drops, and scattered through the whole capacity of
the cylinder, so as to produce a rapid condensation of
the steam.
An upright post A may be observed iu the perspec¬
tive view of the cylinder, &c. This supports one end
B of a horizontal iron axis BC. The end C is sup¬
ported by a similar post, of which the place only is
marked by the dotted lines A, that the pieces connec-
s
Steam-
Engine.
T E A M - E
ted with tins axis may not be hid by it. A kind of
stirrup a b e d hangs from this axis, supported by tiie
hooks a and d. This stirrup is crossed near the bottom
by a round bolt or bare, which passes through the eyes
or rings that are at the ends of the horizontal fork h /V
whose long tail h is double, receiving between its
branches the handle! of the regulator. It is plain from
this construction, that when the stirrup is made to vi¬
brate round the horizontal axis BC, on which it hangs
ireely by its hooks, the bolt e must pull or push the
long fork hfg backwards and forwards horizontally,
and by so doing will move the regulator round its axis
by means of the handle t. Both the tail of the fork and
the handle of the regulator are pierced with several
holes, and a pin is put through them which unites them
by a joint. Bhe motion of the handle may be increased
or diminished by choosing for the joint a hole near to
the axis or remote from it $ and the exact position at
which the regulator is to stop on both sides is deter¬
mined by pins stuck in the horizontal bar on which the
end of the handle appears to rest.
This alternate motion of the regulator to the right
and left is produced as follows : There is fixed to the
axis BC a piece of iron o k /, called the Y, on account
of its resemblance to that letter of the alphabet invert-
fed. The stalk o carries a heavy lump/? of lead or iron $
and a long leather strap q p r \s fastened to p by the
middle, and the two ends are fastened to the beam above
it, in such a manner that the lump may be alternately
catched and held up to the right and left of the per¬
pendicular. By adjusting the length of the two parts
of the strap, the Y may be stopped in any desired
position. The two claws k and l spread out from each
other, and from the line of the stalk, and they are of
such length as to reach the horizontal bolt e, which
crosses the stirrup below, but not to reach the bottom
of the fork h f g- Now suppose the stirrup hanging
perpendicularly, and the stalk of the Y also held perpen¬
dicular ; carry it a little outward from the cylinder,
and then let it go. It will tumble farther out by its
weight, without affecting the stirrup till the claw /
strikes on the horizontal bolt e, and then it pushes the
stirrup and the fork towards the cylinder, and opens
the regulator. It sets it in motion with a smart jerk,
which is an effectual way of overcoming the cohesion
and friction of the regulator with the mouth of the
steam-pipe. This push is adjusted to a proper length
by the strap q /?, which stops the Y when it has gone
far enough. If we now take hold of the stalk of the
Y, and move it up to the perpendicular, the width be¬
tween its claivs is such as to permit this motion, and
something more, without affecting the stirrup. But
when pushed still nearer to the cylinder, it tumbles to¬
wards it by its own weight, and then the claw k strikes
the bolt e, and drives the stirrup and fork in the oppo¬
site direction, till the lump/? is catched by the strap r/?,
now stretched to its full length, while q p hangs slack.
Thus by the motion of the Y the regulator is opened
and shut. Let us now see how the motion of the Y
is produced by the machine itself. To the horizontal
axis BC are attached two spanners or handles 771 and n.
.The spanner m passes through a long slit in the plug-
beam, and is at liberty to move upwards or down¬
wards by its motion round the axis BC. A pin n
which goes through the plug-beam catches hold of/ra
Vol. XIX. Part II. +
N G I N E.
nhen the beam rises along with the piston ; and the pin
is so p aced, that when the beam is within an inch or two
of its highest rise, the pin has lifted m and thrown the
stalk of the Y past the perpendicular. It therefore
tumbles over with great force, and gives a smart blow
to the fork, and immediately shuts the regulator. By
this motion the spanner tn is removed out of the neigh¬
bourhood of the plug-beam. But the spanner », mo¬
ving a.ong with it in the same direction, now comes in¬
to the way of the pins of the plug-beam. Therefore
when the piston descends again by the condensation of
the steam in the cylinder, a pin marked in the side of
the plug-beam catches hold of the tail of the span¬
ner and by pressing it down raises the lump on the
stalk oi the Y till it passes the perpendicular, and it
then, falls down, outwards from the cylinder, and the
claw l again drives the fork in the direction h t, aud
opens the steam valve. This opening and shutting of
the steam valve is executed in the precise moment that
is proper, by placing the pins and <&■ at a proper
height of the plug-beam. For this reason, it is pierced
through with a great number of boles, that the places
of these pins may be varied at pleasure. This, and a
proper curvature of the spanners ni and n, make the ad¬
justment as nice as we please.
The injection cock R is managed in a similar man¬
ner. On its key may be observed a forked arm s t,
like a crab’s claw : at a little distance above it is the
gudgeon or axis w of a piece y u s, called the hammer
or the F, from its resemblance to that letter. It has
a lump of metal y at one end, and a spear u s projects
from its middle, and passes between the claws s and t
of the arm of the injection cock. The hammer y is
held up by a notch in the under side of a wooden lever
DE, moveable round the centre D, and supported at
a proper height by a spring r E, made fast to the joist
above it.
Suppose the injection-cock shut, and the hammer in
the position represented in the figure. A pin /3 of
the plug-frame rises along with the piston, and catch¬
ing hold of the detent 1)1., raises it, and disengages
the hammer y from its notch. This immediately falls
down, and strikes a board L put in the way to stop it.
I he spear u s takes hold of the claw and forces it
aside towards .r, and opens the injection-cock. The
piston immediately descends, and along with it the
plug-frame. During its descent the pin /3 meets with
the tail m 2; of the hammer, which is now raised consi¬
derably above the level, and brings it down along with
it, raising the lump y, and gradually shutting the injec¬
tion-cock, because the spear takes hold of the claw s of
its arm. When the beam has come to its lowest situa¬
tion, the hammer is again engaged in the notch of the
detent DE, and supported by it till the piston again
reaches the top of the cylinder.
In this manner the motions of the injection-cock are
also adjusted to the precise moment that is proper for
them. The different pins are so placed in the plug-
frame, that the steam-cock may be completely shut be¬
fore the injection cock is opened. The inherent mo¬
tion of the machine will give a small addition to the
ascent of the piston without expanding steam all the
while j and by leaving the steam rather less elastic than
before, the subsequent descent of the piston is promoted.
There was a considerable propriety in the gradual shut-
4 O ting
STEAM-ENGINE.
658
Steam- ting of the injection-cock. For after the first ilash of
Engine, the cold water against the bottom of the piston, the con-
* y—11' densation is nearly complete, and very little more wa¬
ter is needed 5 but a continual accession of some is ab¬
solutely necessary for completing the condensation, as
the capacity of the cylinder diminishes, and the water
warms which is already injected.
In this manner the motion of the machine will he
repeated as long as there is a supply of steam from the
boiler, and of water from the injection cistern, and a
discharge procured for what has been injected. We pro¬
ceed to consider how far these conditions also are pro¬
vided by the machine itself.
The injection cistern is supplied with water by the
jackhead pump, as we have already observed. From
this source all the parts of the machine receive their re¬
spective supplies. In the first place, a small branch
13, 13, is taken off from the injection-pipe immediately
below the cistern, and conducted to the top of the cy¬
linder, where it is furnished with a cock. I he spout is
so adjusted, that no more runs from it than what will
keep a constant supply of a foot of water above the pi¬
ston to keep it tight. Every time the piston comes to
the top of the cylinder, it brings this water along with
it, and the surplus of its evaporation and leakage runs
off by a waste pipe 14, 14. This water necessarily be¬
comes almost boiling hot, and it was thought proper to
employ its overplus for supplying the waste ol the boil¬
er. This was accordingly practised for some time.
But Mr Beighton improved this economical thought,
by supplying the boiler from the eduction-pipe, 2, 2,
the water of which must be still hotter than that above
the piston. This contrivance required attention to ma¬
ny circumstances, which the reader will understand by
considering the perspective and profile. The eduction-
pipe comes out of the bottom of the cylinder at 1 with
a perpendicular part, which bends sidewise below, and
is shut at the extremity I. A deep cup 5 communi¬
cates with it, holding a metal valve nicely fitted to
it by grinding, like the key of a cock. To secure its
being always air tight, a slender stream of water trickles
into it from a branch 6 of the waste-pipe from the top
of the cylinder. The eduction-pipe branches off at 2,
and goes down to the hot well, where it turns up, and
is covered with a valve. In the perspective view may
be observed an upright pipe 4, 4, which goes through the
head of the boiler, and reaches to within a few inches
of its bottom. This pipe is called the feeder, and rises
about three or four feet above the boiler. It is open
at both ends, and has a branch 3, 3, communicating
with the bottom of the cup 5, immediately above the
metal valve, and also a few inches below the level of
the entry 2 of the eduction pipe. This communicating
branch has a cock by which its passage may he dimi¬
nished at pleasure. Now suppose the steam in the boil¬
er to be very strong, it will cause the boiling water
to rise in the feeding pipe above 3, and coming along
th is branch, to rise also in the cup 5, and run over.
But the height of this cup above the surface of the wa¬
ter in the bailer is such, that the steam is never strong
enough to produce this effect. Therefore, on the con¬
trary, any water that may he in the cup 5 will run off
by the branch 3, 3, and go down into the boiler by the
feeding-pipe.
These things being understood, let us suppose a
quantity of injected water lying at the bottom of the gtean.
cylinder. It will run into the eduction-pipe, fill the Engine
crooked branch 1, I, and open the valve in the bottom u~vs-
of the cup (its weight being supported by a wire hang-An .*7 !
ing from a slender spring), and it will fill the cup to the
level of the entry 2 of the eduction-pipe, and will thenirtvance.
flow along 3, 3, and supply the boiler by the feeder 4, 4.
What more water runs in at 1 will now go along the
eduction-pipe 2, 2, to the hot well. By properly adjust¬
ing the cock on the branch 3, 3, the boiler may be sup¬
plied as fast as the waste in steam requires. This is a
most ingenious contrivance, and does great honour to
Mr Beighton. It is not, however, of much impor¬
tance. The small quantity which the boiler requires
may he immediately taken even from a cold cistern,
without sensibly diminishing the production of steam:
for the quantity of heat necessary for raising the sensible
heat of cold water to the boiling temperature is small,
when compared with the quantity of heat which must
then be combined with it in order to convert the water
into steam. For the heat expended in boiling off a
cubic foot of water is about six times as much as would
bring it to a boiling heat from the temperature of 550.
No difference can he observed in the performance of
such engines, and of those which have their boilers sup¬
plied from a brook. It has, however, the advantage of
being purged of air ; and when an engine must derive
all its supplies from pit water, the water from the educ¬
tion-pipe is vastly preferable to that from the top of the
cylinder.
We may here, observe, that many writers (among
them the Abbe Bossut), in their descriptions of the
steam-engine, have drawn the branch of communication
3, 3, from the feeding-pipe to a part of the crooked pipe
l, 1, lying below the valve in the cup 5. But this is
quite erroneous ; for, in this case, when the injection is
made into the cylinder, and a vacuum produced, the wa¬
ter from the boiler would immediately rush up through
the pipes 4, 3, and spout up into the cylinder: so would
the external air coming in at the top of the feeder. 2g
This contrivance has also enabled us to form some which en
judgment of the internal state of the engine during the ables us a
performance. Mr Beighton paid a minute attention
the situation of the water in the feeders and eduction-Jo“ ^ in.
pipe of an engine, which seems to have been orte of the ternai gtai
best which has yet been erected. It was lifting a co-oftheen-
lumn of water whose weight was four-sevenths of the ^'ne E
pressure of the air on its piston, and made 16 strokes,
six feet each, in a minute. This is acknowledged by all
to be a very great performance of an engine of this form.
He concluded that the elasticity of the steam in the cy¬
linder was never more than one-tenth greater or less
than the elasticity of the air. The water in the feeder
never rose more than three feet and a half above the sur¬
face of the boiling water, even though it was now lighter
hy rTTth than cold water. The eduction-pipe was only
four feet and a half long (vertically), and yet it always
discharged the injection water completely, and allowed
some to pass into the feeder. This could not be if the
steam was much more than one-tenth weaker than air.
By grasping this pipe in his hand during the rise of the
piston, he could guess very well whereabouts the surface
of the hot water in it rested during the motion, and he
never found it supported so high as four feet, 'there¬
fore the steam in the cylinder had at least eight-ninths
'k
i’tt
:ii
titu
%
]0
*tl
till
to
to
to
Steam-
STEAM
of tlie elasticity of the air. Mr Buat, in his examina-
Engine. tion of an engine which is erected at Montreiaix, in
—V—'France, by an English engineer, and has always been
considered as the pattern in that country, finds it neces¬
sary to suppose a much greater variation in the strength
of the steam, and says, that it must have been one-fifth
stronger and one-fifth weaker than common air. But
this engine has not been nearly so perfect. Its lift was
not more than one-half the pressure of the atmosphere,
and it made but nine strokes in a minute.—At W is a
valve covering the mouth of a small pipe, and surround¬
ed with a cup containing water to keep it air-tight.
This allows the air to escape which had been extricated
from the water of last injection. It is driven out by
the first strong puff of steam which is admitted into the
cylinder, and makes a noise in its exit. The valve is
therefore called the snifting-valve.
To finish our description, we observe, that besides the
safety valve 9 (called the PUPPET CLACK), which is
loaded with about 3 pounds on the square inch (though
the engine will work very well with a load of 1 or 2
pounds), there is another DISCHARGER 10,10, having a
clack at its extremity supported by a cord. Its use is
to discharge the steam without doors, when the ma¬
chine gives over working. There is also a pipe SI near
the bottom of the boiler, by which it may be emptied
when it needs repairs or cleansing.
There are two small pipes 11,11, and 12,12, with
cocks, called GAGE PIPES. The first descends to within
two inches of the surface of the water in the boiler, and
the second goes about 2 inches below that surface. If
both cocks emit steam, the water is too low, and re¬
quires a recruit. If neither give steam, it is too high,
and there is not sufficient room above it for a collection
of steam. Lastly, there is a filling pipe Q, by which
the boiler may be filled when the machine is to be set
^ to work.
TtJfoimof The engine has continued in this, form for many years,
t? mgine The only remarkable change introduced has been the
h ieen manner of placing the boiler. It is no longer placed
fo mny *je*ovv the cylinder, but at one side, and the steam is
yih the introduced by a pipe from the top of the boiler into a
TOfthangeflat box immediately below the cylinder. The use of
T t*16 this box is merely to lodge the regulator, and give room
ti loikf ^°r motions. This has been a very considerable im-
' ' provement. It has greatly reduced the height of the
building. This was formerly a tower. The wall which
supported the beam could hardly be built with sufficient
strength for withstanding the violent shocks which were
repeated without ceasing ; and the buildings seldom
lasted more than a very few years. But the boiler is
now set up in an adjoining shed, and the gudgeons of
the main beam rest on the top of upright posts, which
are framed into the joists which support the cylinder.
Thus the whole moving parts of the machine are con¬
tained in one compact frame of carpentry, and have lit¬
tle or no connection with the slight walls of the build¬
ing, which is merely a case to hold the machine, and
protect it from the weather.
It is now time to inquire what is to be expected from
H( to
asc :aiit
tb, ost
a<I tage-
tio ^f01* ^1*s machine, and to ascertain the most advantageous
twj tile proportion between the moving power and the load that
mo g is to be laid on the machine.
and It may be considered as a great pulley, and is indeed
-ENGINE.
sometimes so constructed, the arches at the ends of the
working beam being completed to a circle. It must be
unequally loaded that it may move. It is loaded, during
the working stroke, by the pressure of the atmosphere
on the piston side, and by the column of water to be
raised and the pump-gear on the pump side.—Luring
the returning stroke it is loaded, on the piston side, by a
small part of the atmospheric pressure, and on the pump
side by the pump-gear acting as a counter weight. The
load during the working stroke must therefore consist of
the column of water to be raised and this counter weight.
The performance of the machine is to be measured only
by the quantity of water raised in a given time to a given
height. It varies, therefore, in the joint proportion of
the weight of the column of water in the pumps, and
the number of strokes made by the machine in a minute.
Each stroke consists of two parts, which we have called
the working and the returning stroke. It does not,
therefore, depend simply on the velocity of the working
stroke and the quantity of water raised by it. If this
were all that is to be attended to, we know that the
weight of the column of water should be nearly J-ths of
the pressure of the atmosphere, this being the proportion
which gives the maximum in the common pulley. But
the time of the returning stroke is a necessary part of the
whole time elapsed, and therefore the velocity of the re¬
turning stroke equally merits attention. This is regu¬
lated by the counter weight. The number of strokes
per minute does not give an immediate proof of the
goodness of the engine. A small load of water and a
great counter weight will ensure this, because these con¬
ditions will produce a brisk motion in both directions.—
The proper adjustment of the pressure of the atmosphere
on the piston, the column of water to be raised, and
the counter weight, is a problem of very great difficul¬
ty ; and mathematicians have not turned much of their
attention to the subject, although it is certainly the
most interesting question that practical mechanics affords
them.
Mr Bossut has solved it very shortly and simply, upon MrBossut’
this supposition, that the working and returning stroke solutiou.
should be made in equal times. This, indeed, is gene¬
rally aimed at in the erection of these machines, and they
are not reckoned to be well arranged if it be otherwise.
We doubt of the propriety of the maxim. Supposing,
however, this condition for the present, we may com¬
pute the loadings of the two ends of the beam as fol¬
lows. Let a be the length of the inner arm of the work¬
ing beam, or that by which the great piston is supported.
Let b be the outer arm carrying the pump rods, and let
W be a weight equivalent to all the load which is laid
on the machine. Let c2 be the area of the piston j let
H be the height of a column of water having c* for its
base, and being equal in weight to the pressure exerted
by the steam on the under side of the piston 5 and let h
be the pressure of the atmosphere on the same area, or
the height of a column of water of equal weight. It is
evident that both strokes will be performed in equal
times, if h c% a—W b be equal to f/z—H) c3«-f-W$.
The first of these quantities is the energy of the machine
during the working stroke, and the second expresses the
similar energy during the returning stroke. This equa-
ihc'a—Hc*a {ih—H)e*
tion gives us W zr -
3i
lb
4 O 2
lb
If
66o
STEAM-ENGINE.
we suppose tlie arms of the lever equal and R:r^, we
have VV—c*—that is, the whole weight of the outer
founded on ^oa(^ i his way of expressing the matter would do well
end of the beam should be half the pre-ssure of the air
on the great piston. This is nearly the usual practice ;
and the engineers express it by saying, that the engine
is loaded with seven or eight pounds on the square inch.
This has been found to be nearly the most advantageous
an err one- enough, if the maxim were not founded on erroneous
ous maxim, notions, which hinder us from seeing the state of the
machine, and the circumstances on which its improve¬
ment depends. The piston bears a pressure of 15 pounds,
it is said, on the square inch, if the vacuum below it be
perfect; but as this is far from being the case, we must
not load it above the power of its vacuum, which very
little exceeds eight pounds. But this is very far from
the truth. When the cylinder is tight, the vacuum is
not more than ^th deficient, when the cylinder is cool¬
ed by the injection to the degree that is every day prac-
ticahle, and the piston really bears during its descent a
pressure very near to 14 pounds on the inch. The load
must he diminished, not on account of tbd imperfect va¬
cuum, but to give the machine a reasonable motion.
We must consider not only the moving force, hut also
the quantity of matter to he put in motion. This is so
great in the steam-engine, that even if it were balanced,
that is, if there were suspended on the piston arm a
weight equal to the whole column of water and the
counter weight, the full pressure of the atmosphere on
the steam piston would not make it move twice as fast
as it does.
This equation by Mr Bossut is moreover essentially
faulty in another respect. The W in the first member
is not the same with the W in the second. In the first
it is the column of water to be raised, together with the
counter weight. In the second it is the counter weight
only. Nor is the quantity H the same in both cases, as
is most evident. The proper equation for ensuring the
equal duration of the two strokes may he had in the fol¬
lowing manner. Let it be determined by experiment
what portion of the atmospheric pressure is exerted on
the great piston during its descent. This depends on
33
and faul¬
ty in an¬
other re¬
spect.
the remaining elasticity of the steam. Suppose it T9sths:
this we may express by a h, a being =T9oths. Let it
also he determined by experiment what portion of the
atmospheric pressure on the piston remains unbalanced
by the steam below it during its ascent. Suppose this
Toth, we may express this by b h. Then let W be the
weight of the column of water to be raised, and c the
counter weight. Then, if the arms of the beam are
equal, we have the energy during the working stroke
~a h—W—r, and during the returning stroke it is
—c—b h. Therefore c—b k=a k—W—c; and c=
h(a-\-b)—W
   J which, on the above supposition of
the values of a and b, gives us c =
h—\\
We shall
make some use of this equation afterwards j but it af¬
fords us no information concerning the most advan¬
tageous proportion of h and W, which is the material
Another P0^;
way of con- VVe must consider tins matter m another way : And
yderingthe that we may not involve ourselves in unnecessary difii-
Steam
Engin ,
culties, let us make the case as siqiple as possible, and
suppose the arms of the working-beam to he of equal
length.
We shall first consider the adjustment of things at the
outer end of the beam.
Since the sole use of the steam is to give room for the Adju^t-
action of the atmospheric pressure by its rapid conden-munt of
sihility, it is admitted into the cylinder only to allow things at
the piston to rise again, hut without giving it any iro-1*1® °^er
pulse. The pump-rods must therefore be returned to
the bottom of the working barrels, by means of a pre-sidered.
ponderancy at the outer end of the beam. It may be
the weight of the pump-rods themselves, or may be con¬
sidered as making part of this weight. A weight at
the end of the beam will not operate on the rods which
are suspended there by chains, and it must therefore be
attached to the rods themselves, but above their respec¬
tive pump-barrels, so that it may not lose part of its
efficacy by immersion in the water. We may consider
the whole under the notion of the pump-gear, and call
it p. Its office is to depress the pump-rods with suffi¬
cient velocity, by overcoming the resistances arisingfrom
the following causes.
1. From the inertia of the beams and all the parts of
the apparatus which are in motion during the descent of
the pump-rods.
2. From the loss of weight sustained by the immer¬
sion of the pump-rods in water.
3. From the friction of all the pistons and the weight
of the plug-frame.
4. From the resistance to the piston’s motion, arising
from the velocity which must be generated in the water
in passing through the descending pistons.
The sum of all these resistances is equal to the pres¬
sure of some weight (as yet unknown), which we may
call m.
When the pump-rods are brought up again, they bring
along with them a column of water, whose weight we
may call w.
It is evident that the load which must be overcome
by the pressure of the atmosphere on the steam piston
consists of w and p. Let this load he called L, and the
pressure of the air be called P.
If be = L, no water will be raised ; if ^ be rr 0,
the rods will not descend : therefore there is some in¬
termediate value of p which will produce the greatest
effect.
In order to discover this, let g be the fall of a heavy
body in a second.
The descending mass is p : but it does not descend
with its full weight $ because it is overcoming a set of
resistances which are equivalent to a weight m> and the
moving force is p—m. In order to discover the space
through which the rods will descend in a second, when
urged by the force p—771 (supposed constant notwith¬
standing the increase of velocity, and consequently of
m), we must institute this proportion p \p—m—g:
g( p—m)
P
iiitr.ur.
The fourth term of this analogy is the space re¬
quired.
Let t he the whole time of the descent in seconds.
Then ,• ; : ‘^±1. This last term
P P
IS
steam- is the whole descent or length of the stroke accomplish-
Engine. ed in the time t.
b6
p
m=L
The weight of the column of water, w'hich has now
got above the piston, is w, = L—p. This must be
lifted in the next working stroke through the space
^ • Therefore the performance of the engine
most be (L-ri
. p
_ That this may be the greatest possible, we must con¬
sider p as the variable quantity, and make the fluxion
of the fraction
P  
This will be found to give us p—*JL m ; that is, the
counter weight or preponderancy of the outer end of
the beam is — L m.
This gives us a method of determining m experimen¬
tally. We can discover by actual measurement the
quantity L in any engine, it being equal to the un¬
balanced weights on the beam and the weight of the
water in the pumps. Then
Also we have the weight of the column of water
~ L—p, — L—4^/T/t2.
When therefore we have determined the load which
is to be on the outer end of the beam during the
working stroke, it must be distributed into two parts,
which have the proportion of Lm to L— x/L m. The
first is the counter weight, and the second is the weight
of the column of water.
If w is a fraction of L, such as an aliquot part of it 5
that is, if
L L L L L .
W = —, —, —, —, —, &c.
149 16 25
L L L L L p
jP  9 9 9 9} &c.
1 2 3 4 5
The circumstance which is cdmmonly obtruded on
us by local considerations is the quantity of water, and
the depth from which it is to be raised; that is, w: and
it will be convenient to determine every thing in con¬
formity to this.
We saw that 'it'- L— x/L m. This gives us T—
STEAM-ENGINE.
force L-fy, it would acquire a certain velocity, which
we may express by x/r; but it is impelled only by the
force y, the rest of P being employed in balancing L.
The velocities which different forces generate by impel¬
ling a body along the same space are as the square roots
of the forces.
r
661
v sy
•+T +
and the counter weight
ym2 m
 1 .
Tt pro-
fin of
ad|.
itage.
4 -
Having thus ascertained that distribution of the load
ni^n. on the outer end of the beam which produces the great-
4 may est effect, we come now to consider what proportion of
"jiplied moving force we must apply, so that it may be employ-
.T' ed to the best advantage, or so that any expence of
power may produce the greatest performance. It will
be so much the greater as the work done is greater, and
the power employed is less ; and will therefore be pro¬
perly measured by the quotient of the work done divided
by the power employed.
The work immediately done is the lifting up the
weight L. In order to accomplish this, we must em¬
ploy a pressure P, which is greater than L. Let it be
also let s be the length of the stroke.
If the mass L were urged along the space s by the
Now P=L+y, =L+—, = t L.
Therefore the
Steam-
Engine.
Therefore y/L + 7/ : y/ y — </ s :
^~/r-|====- The fourth term of this analogy expresses
the velocity of the piston at the end of the stroke. The
quantity of motion produced will be had by multiply-
ing this velocity by the mass L. This gives—.
x/ P 4* y
and this divided by the power expended, or by L+y,
gives us tbe measure of the performance j namely,
L J sy 
-k+yXx/k+y
lhat this may be a maximum, consider y as the va¬
riable quantity, and make the fluxion of this formula
—o. This will give us y = —.
whole load on the outer end of the beam, consisting of
the water and the counter weight, must be two-thirds
of the pressure of the atmosphere on the steam piston.
We have here supposed that the expenditure is the
atmospheric pressure ; and so it is if we consider it me¬
chanically. But the expenditure of which we are sen¬
sible, and which we are anxious to employ to the best
advantage, is luel. Supposing this to be employed with
the same judgment in all cases, we are almost entitled,
by what we now know of the production of steam, to
say that the steam produced is proportional to the fuel
expended. But the steam requisite for merely filling
the cylinder is proportional to the al-ea of the piston,
and therefore to the atmospheric pressure. The result
of our investigation therefore is still just j but the steam
wasted by condensation on the sides of the cylinder does
not follow this ratio, and this is more than what is ne¬
cessary for merely filling it. This deranges our calcu¬
lations, and is in favour of large cylinders ; but this ad¬
vantage must be in a great measure compensated by a
similar variation in the production of the steam; for in
similar boilers of greater dimensions the fuel is less ad¬
vantageously employed, because the surface to which
the fuel is applied does not increase in the ratio of the
capacity, just as the surface of the cylinder which
wastes the steam. The rule may therefore be confided
in as pretty exact.
It is a satisfactory thing to observe these results agree Tjies^7r
very well with the most successful practice. By many suits agree
changes and trials engineers have established maxims of with the
construction, which are probably not very far from themostsuc-
best. It is a pretty general maxim, that the load ofcessfuj
water should be one-half of the atmospheric pressure. l)lactlce‘
They call this loading the engine with pounds on
the inch, and they say that so small a load is necessary
on account of the imperfect vacuum. But we have
now seen that it is necessary for giving a reasonable ve¬
locity of motion. Since, in this practice, w is made 4
or ^ths of P, and L should be TVths of P, and L is
zzw-\-p; it follows, that the counter weight should be
4th
662
STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
.33
Resistance
to the mo¬
tion of the
engine
computed.
£tli ofP5 and we have found this to he nearly the case
in several very good engines.
It must be remarked, that in the preceding investiga¬
tion we introduced a quantity M to express the resist¬
ances to the motion of the engine. This was done in
order to avoid a very troublesome investigation. The
resistances are of such a nature as to vary with the ve¬
locity, and most of them as the square of the velocity.
This is the case with the resistance arising from the mo¬
tion of the water through the pistons of the pumps, and
that arising from the friction in the long lift during the
working stroke. Had we taken the direct method,
which is similar to the determination of the motion
through a medium which resists in the duplicate ratio of
the velocity, we must have used a very intricate expo¬
nential calculus, which few of our readers would have
the patience to look at.
But the greatest part of the quantity m supposes a
motion already known, and its determination depends
on this motion. We must now show how its different
component parts may be computed.
I. W hat arises from the inertia of the moving parts
is by far the most considerable portion of it. To ob¬
tain it, we must find a quantity of matter which, when
placed at the end of the beam, will have the same mo¬
mentum of inertia with that of the whole moving parts
in their natural places. Therefore (in the returning
stroke) add together the weight of the great piston with
its rod and chains ; the pit pump-rods, chains, and
any weight that is attached to them ; the arch-heads
and iron-work at the ends of the beam, and ^ths of the
weight of the beam itself; also the plug-beam with its
arch-head and chain, multiplied by the square of its di¬
stance from the axis, and divided by the square of half
the length of the beam; also the jack-head pump rod,
chain, and arch-head, multiplied by the square of its di¬
stance from the axis, and divided bv the square of the
half length of the beam. These articles added into one
sum may be called M, and may be supposed to move
with the velocity of the end of the beam. Suppose this
beam to have made a six-foot stroke in two seconds,
with an uniformly accelerated motion. In one second
it would have moved i-J feet, and would have acquired
the velocity of three feet per second. But in one se¬
cond gravity would have produced a velocity of 32 feet
in the same mass. Therefore the accelerating force,
which has produced the velocity of three feet, is nearly
M
YTTth of the weight. Therefore—• is the first consti-
0 11
tuent of m in the above investigation. If the observed
velocity is greater or less than three feet per second, this
value must be increased or diminished in the same pro¬
portion.
The second cause of resistance, viz. the immersion of
the pump rods in water, is easily computed, being the
weight of the water which they displace.
The third cause, the friction of the pistons, &c. is al-
mostinsignificant, andmust be discovered by experiment.
The fourth cause depends on the structure of the
pumps. These pumps, when made of a proper strength,
can hardly have the perforation of the piston more than
a fourth part of the area of the working-barrel ; and
the velocity with which the water passes through it is
increased at least ^th by the contraction (see Pump).
The velocity of the water is therefore five times greater
than that of the piston. A piston 12 inches diameter, Steam-
and moving one foot per second, meets with a resistance Eneine.
equal to 20 pounds; and this increases as the square ofv-"”Y-~-t
the diameter and as the square of the velocity. If the
whole depth of the pit be divided into several lifts, this
resistance must be multiplied by the number ot lifts, be¬
cause it obtains in each pump.
Thus we make up the value of m ; and wre must ac¬
knowledge that the method is still indirect, because it
supposes the velocity to be known.
We may obtain it more easily in another way, but
still with this circumstance of being indirect. We found
/—  p%
that p was equal to^/Lm, and consequently
Now in any engine L and^? can always be had ; and
unless y? deviates greatly from the proportion which we
determined to be the best, the value of w thus obtained
will not be very erroneous. ^
It was farther presumed in this investigation, that the Observa-
motions both up and down were uniformly accelerated jtions cou-
but this cannot be the case when the resistances increase
with the velocity. This circumstance makes very little presHtnecf
change in the working-stroke, and therefore the theo-in the in-
rem which terminates the best relation of P to L may vesti^atioK.
be confided in. The resistances which vary with the
velocity in this case are a mere trifle when compared
with the moving power y. These resistances are, 1st,
The strangling of the water at the entry and at the
standing valve of each pump: This is about 37 pounds
for a pump 12 inches diameter, and the velocity one
foot per second, increasing in the duplicate ratio of the
diameter and velocity. And, 2d, The friction of the
water along the whole lift: This for a pump of the
same size and with the same velocity, lifting 20 fathoms,
is only about 2y pounds, amd varies in the simple pro¬
portion of the diameter and the depth, and in the du¬
plicate proportion of the velocity. The resistance ari¬
sing from inertia is greater than in the returning stroke;
because the M in this case must contain the momentum
of the water both of the pit-pumps and the jackhead-
pump : but this part of the resistance does not affect
the uniform acceleration. We may therefore confide
in the propriety of the formula y— —. And we may
obtain the velocity of this stroke at the end of a second
with great accuracy as follows. Let 2g be the veloci¬
ty communicated by gravity in a second, and the velo¬
city at the end of the first second of the steam piston’s
descent will be somewhat less than-^A 2^; where Mex-
presscs the inertia of all the parts which are in motion
during the descent of the steam piston, and therefore in¬
cludes L. Compute the two resistances just mentioned
y—\r
for this velocity. Call this r. Then
M
2£
ill
give another velocity infinitely near the truth.
But the case is very different in the returning stroke,
and the proper ratio of/? to L is not ascertained with
the same certainty : for the moving force p is not so
great in proportion to the resistance in; and therefore
the acceleration of the motion is considerably affected
by it, and the motion itself is considerably retarded, and
in a very moderate time it becomes sensibly iiniiorm :
for it is precisely similar to the motion of a heavy body
falling
STEAM-
Steam-
Engine.
4° .
Phe motion
falling through the air, and may be determined in the
manner laid down in the article Resistasce of Fluids
viz. by an exponential calculus. We shall content our¬
selves here with saying, that the resistances in the pre¬
sent case are so great that the motion would he to all
sense uniform before the pistons have descended one-
third of their stroke, even although there were no other
circumstance to affect it.
But this motion is affected by a circumstance quite
663
Steam-
Engine.
LllC 111VII VS 11 ^ J —  \ j » L
ffected by unconnected with any thing yet considered, depending
circum- bn conditions not mechanical, and so uncertain, that we
^rres are not ^ to ascerta‘n tl’601 with any precision ;
eserres
artieular
onsidera-
oa.
yet they are of the utmost importance to the good per-
. formance and improvement of the engine, and therefore
deserve a particular consideration.
The counter weight has not only to push down the
pump rods, but also to drag up the great piston. This
it cannot do unless the steam be admitted into the cy¬
linder. If the steam be no stronger than common air,
it cannot enter the cylinder except in consequence of the
piston’s being dragged up. If common air were admit¬
ted into the cylinder, some force would be required to
drag up the piston, in the same manner as it is required
to draw up the piston of a common syringe ; for the
air would rush through the small entry of the cylinder
in the same manner as through the small nozzle of the
syringe. Some part of the atmospheric pressure is em¬
ployed in driving in the air with sufficient velocity to
fill the syringe, and it is only with the remainder that
the admitted air presses on the undersurface of the sy¬
ringe. Therefore some of the atmospheric pressure on
its upper surface is not balanced. This is felt by the
hand which draws it up. The same thing must happen
in the steam-engine, and some part of the counter weight
is expended in drawing up the steam piston. We could
tell how much is thus expended if we knew the density
of the steam j for this would tell us the velocity with
which its elasticity would cause it to fill the cylinder.
If we suppose it 1 2 times rarer than air, which it cer¬
tainly is, and the piston rises to the top of the cylinder
in two seconds, we can demonstrate that it will enter
with a velocity not less than 1400 feet per second, where¬
as 500 feet is enough to make it maintain a density ^tbs
of that of steam in equilibrio with the air. Hence it
follows, that its elasticity will not be less than -f^ths of
the elasticity of the air, and therefore not more than-^th
of counter weight will be expended in drawing up the
steam piston.
But all this is on the supposition that there is an un¬
bounded supply ofsteam of undiminished elasticity. This
is by no means the case. Immediately before opening
the steam cock, the steam was issuing through the safe¬
ty-valve and all the crevices in the top of the boiler,
and (in good engines) was about TVth stronger or more
elastic than air. This had been gathering during some¬
thing more than the descent of the piston, viz. in about
three seconds. The piston rises to the top in about two
seconds; therefore about twice and a half as much steam
as fills the dome of the boiler is now shared between the
boiler and cylinder. The dome is commonly about six
times more capacious than the cylinder. If therefore no
steam is condensed in the cylinder, the density of the
steam, when the piston has reached the top, must be a-
bout -r^tbs of its former density, and still more elasticthan
air. But as much steam is condensed by the cold cy-
ENGINE.
Under, its elasticity must be less than this. We cannot
tell how much less, both because we do not know how
much is thus condensed, and because by this diminution
of its pressure on the surface of the boiling water, it must
be more copiously produced in the boiler; but an atten¬
tive observation of the engine will give us some infor¬
mation. The moment the steam-cock is opened we have
a strong puff of steam through the snifting valve. At
this time, therefore, it is still more elastic than air; but
after this, the snifting valve remains shut during the
whole rise of the piston, and no steam any longer issues
through the safety-valve or crevices ; nay, the whole
dome of the boiler may be observed to sink.
These facts give abundant proof that the elasticity of The elasti-
the steam during the ascent of the piston is greatly di-city of th®
minished, and therefore much of the counter weight js^eam da-
expended in dragging up the steam piston in opposition ascent of
to the unbalanced part of the atmospheric pressure. The the piston
motion of the returning stroke is therefore so much de-di-
ranged by this foreign and inappreciated circumstance,Ininislied’
that it would have been quite useless to engage in the
intricate exponential investigation, and tve must sit down
contented with a less perfect adjustment of the counter
weight and weight of water.—Any person who attends
to the motion of a steam-engine will perceive that the
descent of the pump-rods is so far from being accelera¬
ted, that it is nearly uniform, and frequently it is sensi¬
bly retarded towards the end. We learn by the rvay,
that it is of the utmost importance not only to have a
quick production of steam, but also a very capacious
dome, or empty space above the water in the boiler. In
engines where this space was but four or five times the
capacity of the cylinder, we have always observed a very
sensible check given to the descent of the pump-rods
after having made half their stroke. This obliges us to
employ a greater counter weight, which diminishes the
column of water, or retards the working stroke ; it also
obliges us to employ a stronger steam, at the risk of
bursting the boiler, and increases the expence of fuel.
It would be a most desirable thing to get an exact How-to
knowledge of the elasticity of the steam in the cylinder ; know the
and this is by no means difficult. Take a long glasseIast,eity of
tube exactly calibered, and close at the farther end. Put
a small drop of some coloured fluid into it so as to stand Under.07"
at the middle nearly.—Let it be placed in a long box
filled with water to keep it of a constant temperature.
Let the open end communicate with the cylinder, with
a cock between. The moment the steam-cock is open¬
ed, open the cock of this instrument. The drop will
be pushed towards the close end of the tube, while the
steam in the cylinder is more elastic than the air, and it :
will be drawn the other way while it is less elastic, and,
by a scale properly adapted to it, the elasticity of the’
steam corresponding to every position of the piston may
be discovered. The same thing may be done more ac¬
curately by a barometer properly constructed, so as to
prevent the oscillations of the mercury.
It is equally necessary to know the state of the cylin-Nectary
der during the descent of the steam piston. W7e haveaiso to
hitherto supposed P to be the full pressure of the atmo-knovv tl)e
sphere on the area of the piston, supposing the vacuum *ta-ei°f.t!ie
below it to be complete. But the inspection of ourdudn^tbe
table of elasticity shows that this can never be the case, descent of
because the cylinder is always of a temperature far above t}ie piston.
3 2°. We have made many attempts to discover its tem¬
perature^..
664
44
Quantity
of rold wa¬
ter to be
injected.
S T E
perature. We liave employed a thermometer in close
contact with the side of the cylinder, which soon acquir¬
ed a steady temperature : this was never less than 1450.
We have kept a thermometer in the water which lies on
the piston : this never sunk below 1350. It is probable
that the cylinder within may be cooled somewhat lower j
but for this opinion we cannot give any very satisfactory
reason. Suppose it cooled down to I20°j this will leave
an elasticity which would support three inches of mer¬
cury. We cannot think, therefore, that the unbalanced
pressure of the atmosphere exceeds that of 27 inches
of mercury, which is about 13^ pounds on a square
inch, or io£ on a circular inch. And this is the value
which we should employ in the equation PnL-j-y. This
question may be decided in the same way as the other,
by a barometer connected with the inside of the cylinder.
And thus we shall learn the state of the moving forces
in every moment of the performance, and the machine
will then be as open to our examination as any water or
horse mill 5 and till this be done, or something equiva¬
lent, we can only guess at what the machine is actual¬
ly performing, and we cannot tell in what particulars
we can lend it a helping hand. We are informed that
Messrs Watt and Boulton have made this addition to
some of their engines ; and we are persuaded that, from
the information which they have derived from it, they
have been enabled to make the curious improvements
from which they have acquh-ed so much reputation and
profit.
There is a circumstance of which we have as yet ta¬
ken no notice, viz. the quantity of cold water injected.
Here we confess ourselves unable to give any precise
instructions. It is clear at first sight that no more than
is absolutely necessary should be injected. It must ge¬
nerally be supplied by the engine, and this expends part
of its power. An excess is much more hurtful by cool¬
ing the cylinder and piston too much, and therefore
wasting steam during the next rise of the piston. But
the determination of the proper quantity requires a
knowledge, which we have not yet acquired, of the
quantity of heat contained in the steam in a latent
form. As much water must be injected as will absorb
all this without rising near to the boiling temperature.
But it is of much more importance to know how far
we may cool the cylinder with advantage ; that is,
when will the loss of steam, during the next rise of the
piston, compensate for the diminution of its elasticity
during its present descent ? Our table of elasticities
shows us, that by cooling the cylinder to 120°, we
still leave an elasticity equal to one-tenth of the whole
power of the engine; if we cool it only to 140, we
leave an elasticity of one-fifth ; if we cool it to a blood-
heat, we leave an elasticity of one-twentieth. It is ex¬
tremely difficult to choose among these varieties. Ex¬
perience, however, informs us, that the best engines are
those which use the smallest quantities of injection wa¬
ter. We know an exceedingly good engine having a
cylinder of 30 inches and a six feet stroke, which works
with something less than one-fifth of a cubic foot of wa¬
ter at each injection ; and we imagine that the quanti¬
ty should be nearly in the proportion of the capacity of
the cylinder. Hesaguliers observed, that a very good
engine, with a cylinder of 32 inches, worked rvith 300
inches of water at each injection, which does not much
exceed one-sixth of a cubic foot. Mr Watt’s observa¬
A M - E N G I N E.
tions, by means of the barometer, must have given him stearr
much valuable information in this particular, and we En»in
hope that he will not always withhold them from the
public.
We have gone thus far in the examination, in order This
4.5
seemingly to ascertain the motion of the engine when mination
loaded and balanced in any known manner, and in or- ^ongh m;
der to discover that proportion between the moving *at stac‘
power and the load which will produce the greatest; dirlcuh-
quantity of work. The result has been very unsatis-attentior’
factory, because the computation of the returning stroketo the pr :
is acknowledged to be beyond our abilities. But it has clI,al cir-
given us the opportunity of directing the reader’s atten-
cumstan-
ce?.
tion to the leading circumstances in this inquiry. Bv
knowing the internal state of the cylinder in machines
of very different goodness, we learn the connection be¬
tween the state of the steam and the performance of the
machine ; and it is very possible that the result of a full
examination may be, that in situations where fuel
expensive, it may be proper to employ a weak steam
which wull expend less fuel, although less work is per¬
formed by it. We shall see this confirmed in the clear¬
est manner in some particular employments of the new
engines invented by Watt and Boulton.
In the mean time, we see that the equation which we
gave from the celebrated Abbe Bossut, is in every re¬
spect erroneous even for the. purpose which he had in
view. We also see that the equation which we substi¬
tuted in its place, and which was intended for determi¬
ning that proportion between the counter-weight and
the moving force, and the load which would render the
working stroke and returning stroke of equal duration,
is also erroneous, because these two motions are extreme¬
ly difi'erent in kind, the one being nearly uniform, and
the other nearly uniformly accelerated. This being
supposed true, it should follow that the counter-weight
should be reduced to one-half; and we have found this
to be very nearly true in some good engines which we
have examined.
We shall add but one observation more on this head. erloDe.
The practical engineers have almost made it a maxim, 0us maxim
that the two motions are of equal duration. But the that the
only reason which we have heard for the maxim, is, tlvomo'
tions are oi
that it is awkward to see an engine go otherwise. But^aajjDI
we doubt exceedingly the truth of this maxim; and,tiou.
without being able to give any accurate determination,
we think that the engine will do more work if the
working stroke be made slower than the returning stroke.
Suppose the engine so constructed that they are made
in equal times; an addition to the counter-weight will
accelerate the returning stroke and retard the working
stroke. But as the counter-weight is but small in pro¬
portion to the unbalanced portion of the atmospheric
pressure, which is the moving force of the machine, it
is evident that this addition to the counter-weight must
bear a much greater proportion to the eounter-w'eight
than it does to the moving force, and must therefore ac¬
celerate the returning stroke much more than it retards
the working stroke, and the time of both strokes taken
together must be diminished by this addition and the
performance of the machine improved ; and this must
be the case as long as the machine is not extravagantly
loaded. The best machine which w’e have seen, in re¬
spect of performance, raises a column of water whose
weight is very nearly two-thirds of the pressure of the
atmosphere
STEAM-
atmospliere on the piston, making n strokes of six feet
each per minute, ami tl.e working stroke was almost
twice as slow as the other. This engine had worked
pumps ot 12 inches, which were changed for pumps of
14 inches, all other things remaining the same. In its
jormer state it made from 12 and a half to 13 and a
half strokes per minute, the working stroke beino- con¬
siderably slower than the returning stroke. The load
was increased, by the change of the pumps, nearly in
the proportion of three to four. This had retarded the
working stroke ; but the performance was evidently in¬
creased in the proportion of 3 X 13 to 4X / i, or of 39
to 44. About 300 pounds were added to the counter¬
weight, which increased the number of strokes to more
than 12 per minute. No sensible change could be ob¬
served in the time of the working stroke. The per¬
formance was therefore increased in the proportion of
39 to 48. We have therefore no hesitation in saying,
that the seemly equality of the two strokes is a sacrifice
to fancy. The engineer who observes the working
stroke to be slow, fears that his engine may be thomdit
feeble and unequal to its work 5 a similar notion has
long misled him in the constmction of water-mills,
especially of overshot mills ; and even now he is sub¬
mitting with hesitation and fear to the daily correction
of experience.
It is needless to engage more deeply in scientific cal¬
culations in a subject where so many of the data are so
very imperfectly understood.
We venture to recommend as a maxim of construc-
  tion (supposing always a large boiler and plentiful sup-
SS than ply of pure steam unmixed with air), that the load of
founds work be not less than 10 pounds for every square inch
of the piston, and the counter-weight so proportioned
that the time of the returning stroke may not exceed
two-thirds of that of the working stroke. A serious
objection may be made to this maxim, and it deserves
mature consideration. Such a load requires the utmost
caie of the machine, that no admission be given to the
common air j and it precludes the possibility of its
working, in case the growth of water, or deepening the
pit, should make a greater load absolutely necessary.
These considerations must be left to the prudence of
the engineer. I be maxim now recommended relates
only to the best actual performance of the engine.
. before quitting this machine, it will not be amiss to
/live some easy rules, sanctioned by successful practice,
lor computing its performance. These will enable any
ai Mst, who can go through simple calculations, to suit
the size of his engine to the task which it is to per¬
form.
The circumstance on which the whole computation
must be founded is the quantity of water which must
be drawn in a minute, and the depth of the mine 5 and
the performance which may be expected from a good
engine is at least 12 strokes per minute of six feet
each, working against a column of water whose weight
rs equal to half of the atmospheric pressure on the
steam-piston, or rather to 7.64 pounds on every square
inch of its surface.
It is most convenient to estimate the quantity of wa¬
ter in cubic feet, or its weight in pounds, recollecting
ENGINE.
that a cubic foot of water weighs 62I pounds. The
depth of the pit is usually reckoned in fathoms of six
leet, and the diameter of the cylinder and pump is
usually reckoned in inches.
Let Q be the quantity of water to be drawn per
minute in cubical feet, and / the depth of the mine in
fathoms; let c be the diameter of the cylinder, and w
that ot the pump ; and let us suppose the arms of the
beam to be of equal length.
66 ■
1st, To find the diameter of the pump, the area of
the piston in square feet 1*87/ x °‘—The lens
144 0
th
of the column drawn in one minute is 12 times 6 or '72
feet, and therefore its solid contents is7.*^ 72X0.7854
cubical feet, or ^ X 0.3927 cubical feet. Tins must bo
equal to Q; therefore 7?* must be —^— or nearly Q
47
T : load
'ork
(Id not
re7 , of the
‘ ■ re men
® 1 e pi-
» O.3927
X 2?. Hence this practical rule : Multiply the cubic
teet of water which must be drawn in a minute by 2i
and extract the square root of the product : this will be*
the diameter o( the pump in inches.
Thus suppose that 58 cubic feet must be drawn
every minute ; 58 multiplied by 2^ gives 145, of which
the square root is 12, which is the required diameter
01 the pump.
2. To find the proper diameter of the cylinder.
1 he piston is to be loaded with 7.64 pounds on every
square inch. This is equivalent to six pounds on a cir¬
cular inch very nearly. The weight of a cylinder of
water an inch in diameter and a fathom in height is
27T pounds, or nearly two pounds. Hence it follows
that 6 c* must be made equal to 2fp*, and that c* is
, t 2 /V /y
equal to or to .
6 3
Hence the following rule : Multiply the square of
the diameter of the pump piston (found as above) by
toe fathoms of lift, and divide the product bv 3; the
square root of the quotient is the diameter of the cylin¬
der.
nuppo.se the pit to which the foregoing pump is to
for
utin
•cr-
in ce
cu¬
be applied is 24 fathoms deep; then 24 gjves
115,2, of which the square root is 34 inches very near-
This engine, constructed with care, will certainly do
the work. J
. Whatever is the load of ivater proposed for the en¬
gine, let 10 be the pounds on every circular inch of the
steam piston, and make ca=y X and the square root
m
will be the diameter of the steam piston in inches.
lo free the practical engineer as much as possible
from all trouble of calculation, we subjoin the follow¬
ing Table of the Dimensions and Power of the Steam
Engine, drawn up by Mr Heighten in 1717, and fully
verified by practice since that time. The measure is
in English ale gallons of 282 cubic inches.
Voi.. XIX. Part II.
666 STEAM-ENGINE.
The first part of Uie table gives the size of the pump
suited to the growth of water. The second gives the
size of the cylinder suited to the load of water. If the
depth is greater than any in this table, take its fourth
part, and double the diameter of the cylinder. Thus if
150 hogsheads are to be drawn in an hour from the
depth ot 100 fathoms, the last column of part first gives
for 149.40 a pump of seven inches bore. In aline with
this, under the depth of 50 yards, which is one-fourth of
IDO fathoms, we find 20^-, the double of which is 41
inches for the diameter of the cylinder.
It is almost impossible to give ageneral rule for strokes
of diilerent lengths, &c. but any one who professes the
ability to erect an engine, should surely know as much
arithmetic as will accommodate the rule now given to
any length of stroke.
We venture to say, that no ordinary engineer can
tell a priori the number per minute which an engine
will give. We took 12 strokes of six feet each for a
standard, which a careful engineer may easily accom¬
plish, and which an employer has a right to expect, the
engine being loaded wdth water to half the pressure of
the atmosphere: if the load be less, there is some fault—
an improper counter weight, or too little boiler, or
leaks, &c. &c.
Mi- FTz ’■e- Such is the state in which Newcomen’s steam-engine
jald’s me- continued in use for 60 years, neglected by the phi-
thod of losopher, although it is the most curious object which
converting human ingenuity has yet offered to his contemplation,
its recipro- a|1(j abandoned to the efforts of the unlettered artist,
tioa into a use has been entirely confined to the raising of water,
continued Mr Keane Fitzgerald indeed published in thePhilosophi-
•rolatory taj Transactions a method of converting its reciprocating
enotioa, motion into a continued rotatory motion by employing
the great beam to work a crank or a train of wheel-work.
As the real action of the machine is confined to its work¬
ing stroke, to accomplish this, it became necessary to
connect with the crank or wheeled work a very large
and heavy fly, which should accumulate in itself the
whole pressure of the machine during its time of action,
and therefore continue in motion, and urge forward
the working machinery, while the steam-engine was
going through its inactive returning stroke. This will
be the case, provided that the resistance exerted by the
working machine during the whole period of the work¬
ing and returning stroke of the steam-engine, together
with the friction of both, does not exceed the whole
pressure exerted by the steam-engine during its work¬
ing stroke *, and provided that the momentum of the
fly, arising from its great weight and velocity, be very
great, so that the resistance of the work during one re¬
turning stroke of the steam-engine do not make any very
sensible diminution of the velocity of the fly. I his is
evidently possible and easy. The fly may be made of
any magnitude ; and being exactly balanced round its
axis, it will soon acquire any velocity consistent with the
motion of the steam-engine. During the working stroke
of the engine it is uniformly accelerated, and by its ac¬
quired momentum it produces in the beam the movement
of the returning stroke ; but in doing tins, its momen¬
tum is shared with the inert matter of the steam-engine,
and consequently its velocity diminished, but not entire¬
ly taken away. The next working stroke, therefore,
by pressing on it afresh, increases its remaining velo¬
city by a quantity nearly equal to the whole that it
acquired during the first stroke. We say nearly, but
not quite equal, because the time of the second working
stroke must he shorter than that of the first, on account
of the velocity already in the machine. In this manner
the fly will he more and more accelerated every succeed¬
ing stroke, because the pressure of the engine during
the working stroke does more than restore to the fly
the momentum which it lost in producing the returning
movement of the steam-engine. Now suppose the
working part of the machine to he added. The acce¬
leration of the fly during each working stroke of the
steam-engine will be less than it was before, because the
impelling pressure is now partly employed in driving the
working machine, and because the fly will lose more of
its momentum during the returning stroke of the steam-
engine, part of it being expended in driving the work¬
ing machine. It is evident, therefore, that a time will
come
Stcaifl-
Engiae-
•i impor-
inl addi-
’t'idoin
•ever
» ted.
53
great
ice pf
Come wlien the successive augmentation of the fly’s velo¬
city will cease j for, on the one hand, the continual acce¬
leration diminishes the time of the next working stroke,
and thereloie the timeol action ol the accelerating power.
Ihe acceleration must diminish in the same proportion ;
and on the other hand, the resistance of the working ma¬
chine generally, though not always, increases with its
velocity. I he acceleration ceases whenever the addi¬
tion made to the momentum of the fly, durinii a work¬
ing stroke of the steam-engine, is just equal to what it
loses by driving the machine, and by producing the re¬
turning movement of the steam-engine.
Ibis must be acknowledged to be a very important
addition to the engine, and though sufficiently obvious,
it is ingenious, and requires considerable skill and ad¬
dress to make it effective (b).
Ihe movement of the working machine or mill, of
whatever kind, must be in some degree hobbling or un¬
equal. But this may be made quite insensible, by ma¬
king the fly exceedingly large, and disposing the great¬
est part of its weight in the rim. By these means its
momentum may be made so great, that the whole force
required for driving the mill and producing the return¬
ing movement of the engine may bear a very small pro¬
portion to it. The diminution of its velocity will then be
very trifling.
No counter weight is necessary here, because the
returning movement is produced by the inertia of the
fly. A counter weight, may, however, be employed, and
should be employed, viz. as much as will produce the
returning movement of the steam-engine. It will do
this better than the same force accumulated in the fly ;
for this force must be accumulated in the fly by the in¬
tervention of rubbing parts, by which some of it is lost;
and it must be afterwards returned to the engine with a
similar loss. But, for the same reason, it would be im¬
proper to make the counter weight also able to drive the
mill d uring the returning stroke.
By this contrivance Mr Fitzgerald hoped to render
the steam-engine of most extensive use ; and he, or others
associated with him, obtained a patent excluding all
others from emp’oying the steam-engine for turning a
crank. They also published proposals for erecting mills
of all kinds driven by steam engines, and stated very
fairly th eir powers and their advantages. But their pro¬
posals do not. seem to have acquired the confidence of
the public ; for we do not know of any mill ever having
been erected under this patent.
The great obslacle to this extensive use of the steam-
engine is the prodigious expence of fuel. An engine
having a cylinder of four feet diameter, working night
and day, consumes about 3400 chaldron (London) of
good coals in a year.
STEAM-ENGINE.
667
This circumstance limits the use of steam engines ex- Steam-
ceedingly. To draw water from coal-pits, where they Engine,
can be stocked with unsaleable small coal, they are of 'r”“*
universal employment: also for valuable mines, fori-
supplying a great and wealthy city with water, and a use of
few other purposes where a great expence can be borne, steam-en-
tbey are very proper engines; but in a thousand cases§incs-
where their unlimited powers might be vastly service¬
able, the enormous expence of fuel completely excludes
them. We cannot doubt but that the attention of engi¬
neers was much directed to every thing that could pro¬
mise a diminution of this expence. Every one had his
particular nostrum for the construction of his furnace,
and some were undoubtedly more successful than others.
But science was not sufficiently advanced : It was
not till Dr Black had made his beautiful discovery of
latent heat, that we could know the intimate relation
between the heat expended in boiling off a quantity of
water and the quantity of steam that is produced.
Much about the time of this discovery, viz. 1763,
Mr James Matt, established in Glasgow in the com¬
mercial line, was amusing himself with repairing a
working model of the steam-engine which belonged to
the philosophical apparatus of the university. Mr Watt
was a person of a truly philosophical mind, eminently
conversant in all branches of natural knowledge, and
the pupil and intimate friend of Dr Black. In the
course of the above-mentioned amusement many curious vyatt
facts in the production and condensation of steam oc-discover*
curred to him ; and among others, that remarkable factual steam
which is always appealed to by Dr Black as the proof?ODtains 8n
of the immense quantity of heat which is contained inquamitrol
a very minute quantity of water in the form of elastic heat,' T°
steam. M'hen a quantity of water is heated several de¬
grees above the boiling point in a close digester, if a
bole be opened, the steam rushes out with prodigious
violence, and the heat of the remaining water is redu¬
ced, in the course of three or four seconds, to the boil¬
ing temperature. The water of the steam which has
issued amounts only to a very few drops ; and yet these
have carried off with them the whole excess of heat
from the water in the digester.
Since then a certain quantity of steam contains sohhat-
great a quantity of heat, it must expend a great qnan-tempts to
tity of fuel ; and no construction of furnace can pre-find °ut %
vent this. Mr Mratt therefore set his invention to work way t0
to discover methods of husbanding this beat. The cy- t^is'heat
linder of his little model was heated almost in an instant,
so that it could not he touched by the hand. It could
not be otherwise, because it condensed the vapour by
abstracting its heat. But all the beat thus communica¬
ted to the cylinder, and wasted by it on surrounding
bodies, contributed nothing to the performance of the
4 ^ 2 engine,
(b) Mre do not recollect at present the date of this proposal of Mr Fitzgerald ; but in 1781 the Abbe Arnal,
canon of Alais in Languedoc, entertained a thought of the same kind, and proposed it for working lighters ia
the inland navigations ; a scheme which has been successfully practised (we are told) in America. His brother,
a major of engineers in the Austrian service, has carried the thing much farther, and applied it to manufactures;
ijnd the Aulic Chamber of Mines at Vienna 1ms patronized the project: (See Journal Encyclopec/ique, 1781).
But these schemes are long posterior to Mr Fitzgerald’s patent, and are even later than the erection of several
machines driven by steam-engines which have been erected by Messrs Watt and Boulton. 'We think it our duty
to state these particulars, because it is very usual for our neighbours on the continent to assume the credit of Bri¬
tish inventions.
668
STEAM-ENGINE.
Steam-
Engine.
57
discovers a
method of
condensing
the steam
at a little
distance
from the
cylinder,
58
and re¬
moves the
difficulties
which at¬
tended this
improve¬
ment by
means of
pumps.
engine, and must be taken away at every injection, and
again communicated and wasted. Mr Watt quickly
understood the whole process which was going on with¬
in the cylinder, and which we have considered so mi-
nutelv, and saw that a very considerable portion of the
steam must be wasted in warming the cylinder. His
first attempts were made to ascertain how much was
thus wasted, and he found that it was not less than
three or four times as much as would fill the cylinder
and work the engine. He attempted to diminish this
waste by using wooden cylinders. But though this
produced a sensible diminution ot the waste, other rea¬
sons forced him to give them up. He then cased his
metal cylinders in a wooden case with light wood ashes
between. By this, and using no more injection than
was absolutely necessary for the condensation, he redu¬
ced the waste almost one half. But by using so small a
quantity of cold water, the inside ot the cylinder was
hardly brought below the boiling temperature ; and
there consequently remained in it a steam of very con¬
siderable elasticity, which robbed the engine of a pro¬
portional part of the atmospherical pressure. He saw
that this was unavoidable as long as the condensation
was performed in the cylinder. The thought struck
him to attempt the condensation at another place. His
first experiment was made in the simplest manner. A
globular vessel communicated by means of a long pipe
of one inch diameter with the bottom of his little cy¬
linder of four inches diameter and 30 inches long.
This pipe had a stop-cock, and the globe was immersed
in a vessel of cold water. When the piston was at the top,
and the cylinder filled with strong steam, he turned the
cock. It was scarcely turned, nay he did not think
it completely turned, when the sides of his cylinder
(only strong tin-plate) xvere crushed together like an
empty bladder. This surprised and delighted him. A
new cylinder was immediately made of brass sufficiently
thick, and nicely bored. When the experiment was
repeated with this cylinder, the condensation was so ra¬
pid, that he could not say that any time was expended in
it. But the most valuable discovery was, that the va¬
cuum in the cylinder was, as he hoped, almost perfect.
Mr Watt found, that when he used water in the boiler
purged of air by long boiling, nothing that was very
Sensibly inferior to the pressure of the atmosphere on the
piston could hinder it from coming quite down to the
bottom of the cylinder. This alone was gaining a great
deal, for in most engines the remaining elasticity of the
steam was not less than one eighth of the atmospherical
pressure, and therefore took away one-eighth of the
power of the engine.
Having gained this capital point, Mr Watt found
many difficulties to struggle with before he could get
the machine to continue its motion. The water pro¬
duced from the condensed steam, and the air which was
extricated from it, or which penetrated through un¬
avoidable leaks, behoved to accumulate in the con¬
densing vessel, and could not he avoided in any way si¬
milar to that adopted in Newcomen’s engine. He took
another method : He applied pumps to extract both,
which were worked by the great beam. The contri¬
vance is easy to any good mechanic j only we must ob¬
serve, that the piston of the water-pump must he under
the surface of the water in the condenser, that the water
may entei' the pump by its own weight, because there is
Slcairv
Eogint
no atmospherical pressure there to force it in. We
must also observe, that a considerable force is necessa¬
rily expended here, because, as there is but one stroke
for rarefying the air, and this rarefaction must be near¬
ly complete, the air-pump must be of large dimensions,
and its piston must act against the whole pressure of
the atmosphere. Mr Watt, however, found that this
force could be easily spared from his machine, already
so much improved in respect of power. ^
Thus has the steam-engine received a very consider-Obsem-
able improvement. The cylinder may he allowed tobonsonth'
remain very hot; nay, boiling hot, and yet the con-a^j‘ntttSw
densation be completely performed. The only e1astiC(5iSCOvCrieii
steam that now remains is the small quantity in the pipe
of communication. Even this small quantity Mr Watt
at last got rid of, by admitting a small jet of cold water
up this pipe to meet the steam in its passage to the con¬
denser. This both cooled this part of the apparatus
in a situation where it was not necessary to warm it
again, and it quickened the condensation. He found
at last that the small pipe of communication was of it¬
self sufficiently large for the condensation, and that no
separate vessel, under the name of condenser, was neces¬
sary. This circumstance shows the prodigious rapidity
of the condensation. We may add, that unless this
had been the case, his improvement would have been
vastly diminished ; for a large condenser would have
required a much larger air-pump, which would have
expended much of the power of the engine. By these
means the vacuum below the piston is greatly improved:
for it will appear clear to any person who understands
the subject, that as long as any part of the condenser is
kept of a low temperature, it will abstract and con¬
dense the vapour from the warmer parts, till the whole
acquires the elasticity corresponding to the coldest part.
By the same means much of the waste is prevented, be¬
cause the cylinder is never cooled much below the boil¬
ing temperature. Many engines have been erected by
Mr Watt in this form, and their performance gave uni¬
versal satisfaction.
We have contented ourselves with giving a very
slight description without a figure of this improved en¬
gine, because we imagine it to be of very easy compre¬
hension, and because it is only a preparation for still
greater improvements, which, when understood, will
at the same time leave no part of this more simple form
unexplained.
During the progress of these improvements Mr M att Mr Watt
made many experiments on the quantity and density ofn;ake,^e
the steam of boiling water. These fully convinced him,^
that although he had greatly diminished the waste ot ^ fore,,
steam, a great deal vet remained, and that the steam 0f steam,
expended during the rise of the piston was at least three
times more than what would fill the cylinder. The
cause of this was very apparent. Jn the subsequent
descent ot the piston, covered with water much below
the boiling temperature, the whole cylinder was neces¬
sarily cooled and exposed to the air. Mr Watt’s tertile
genius immediately suggested to him the expedient of
employing the elasticity of the steam from the boiler
to impel the piston down the cylinder, in place of the
pressure of the atmosphere ; and thus he restored the
engine to its first principles, making it an engine realty
moved by steam. As this is a new epoch in its history,
we shall be more particular in the description 3 at the
same
60
STEAM-
Sttflm- same time still restricting ourselves to the essential cir-
Eng«e- cumstances, and avoiding every peculiarity which is
to be found in the prodigious varieties which Mr Watt
has introduced into the machines which he has erected
every individual of which has been adapted to local cir¬
cumstances, or diversified by the progress of Mr Watt’s
61 improvements.
The ma0n .Let A ^ 9’) represent the boiler. This has re-
ine after ceive(1 Sreat improvements from his complete acquain-
ese ini- tance with the procedure of nature in the production of
ovements steam. [n some of his engines the fuel has been placed
re add- jn t|ie mjc]st 0f t|ie water> surrounded by an iron or
L copper vessel, while the exterior boiler was made of
wood, which transmits, and therefore wastes the heat
very slowly. In others, the flame not only plays round
the whole outside, as in common boilers, but also runs
along several flues which are conducted through the
midst ot the water. By such contrivances the fire is
applied to the water in a most extensive surface, and for
a long time so as to impart to it the greatest part of
its heat. So skilfully was it applied in the Albion mills,
that although it wras perhaps the largest engine in the
kingdom, its unconsumed smoke was inferior to that of
a very small brew-house. In this second engine of Mr
Watt, the top of the cylinder is shut up by a strong
metal plate g h, in the middle of which is a collar or box
ot leathers k /, formed in the usual manner of a jack-
head pump, through which the piston rod PD, nicely
turned and polished, can move up and down, without
allowing any air to pass by its sides. From the dome
of the boiler proceeds a large pipe BCIOQ, which,
after reaching the cylinder with its horizontal part BC,
descends parallel to its side, sending off turn branches,
viz. IM to the top of the cylinder, and ON to its
bottom. At I is a puppet valve opening from be¬
low upwards. At Xj, immediately below this branch,
there is a similar valve, also opening from below upwards.
The pipe descends to Q, near the bottom of a large
cistern c d ef filled with cold water constantly renew¬
ed. The pipe is then continued horizontally along the
bottom of this cistern (but not in contact), and ter¬
minates at R in a large pump ST. The piston S has
clack valves opening upwards, and its rod S s, passing
through a collar of leathers at T, is suspended by a
chain to a small arch head on the outer arm of the beam.
There is a valve R in the bottom of this pump, as usual,
which opens when pressed in the direction Qll, and
shuts against a contrary pressure. This pump delivers
its contents into another pump XY, by means of the
small pipe t X, which proceeds from its top. This se¬
cond pump has a valve at X, and a clack in its pis¬
ton Z as usual, and the piston rod Z % is suspended
from another arch head on the outer arm of the beam.
Bhe two valves I and L are opened and shut by means
of spanners and handles, which are put in motion by a
plug frame, in the same manner as in Newcomen’s en¬
gine.
Lastly, there may he observed a crooked pipe a b o,
which enters the upright pipe laterally a little above Q.
This has a small jet hole at o; and the otherend a, which
is considerably under the surface of the water of the
condensing cistern, is covered with a puppet valve v,
whose long stalk vu rises above the water, and may he
raised or lowered by hand or by the plug beam. The
valves R and X, and the clacks in the pistons S and Z,
ENGINE.
are opened or shut by the pressure to which they are
immediately exposed.
This figure is not an exact copy of any of Mr Watt’s
engines, but has its parts so disposed that all may come
distinctly into view, and exactly perform their various
functions. It is drawn in its quiescent position, the
outer end of the beam preponderating by the counter
weight, and the piston P at the top of the cylinder, and
the pistons S and Z in their lowest situations.
In this situation let us suppose that a vacuum is (by
any means) produced in ail the space below the piston,
the valve I being shut. It is evident that the valve R
will also be shut, as also the valve v. Now let the valve
I be opened. The steam from the boiler, as elastic as
common air, will rush into the space above the piston,
and will exert on it a pressure as great as that of the
atmosphere. It will therefore press it down, raise the
outer end of the beam, and cause it to perform the same
work as an ordinary engine.
When the piston P has reached the bottom of the
cylinder, the plug frame shuts the valve I, and opens
L. By so doing the communication is open between
the top and bottom of the cylinder, and nothing hin¬
ders the steam which is above the piston from going along
the passage MLON. The piston is now equally aflect-
ed on both sides by the steam, even though a part of it
is continually condensed by a cylinder, and in the pipe
10Q. Nothing therefore hinders the piston from be¬
ing dragged up by the counter weight, which acts with
its whole force, undiminished by any remaining unba¬
lanced elasticity of steam. Here therefore this form of
the engine has an advantage (and by no means a small
one) over the common engines, in which a great part of
the counter weight isexpended in overcoming unbalanced
atmospheric pressure.
Whenever the piston P arrives at the top of the cy¬
linder, the valve L is shut by the plug frame, and the
valves I and v are opened. All the space below the pis¬
ton is at this time occupied by the steam which came
from the upper part of the cylinder. This being a lit¬
tle wasted by condensation, is not quite a balance for
the pressure of the atmosphere. Therefore, during the
ascent of the piston, the valve R was shut, and it remains
so. When therefore, the valve-t; is opened, the cold
water of the cistern must spout up through the hole o,
and condense the steam. To this must he added the
coldness of the whole pipe OQS. As fast as it is con¬
densed, its place is supplied by steam from the lower part
of the cylinder. We have already remarked, that this
successive condensation is accomplished with astonishing
rapidity. In the mean time steam from the boiler
presses on the upper surface of the piston. It must there-
lore descend as before, and the engine must perform a
second working stroke.
But in the mean time the injection water lies in the
bottom of the pipe OQR, heated to a considerable de¬
gree by the condensation of the steam ; also a quantity
of air has been disengaged from it and from the water
in the boiler. How is this to be discharged ?—This is
the office of the pumps ST and XY. The capacity of
ST is very great in proportion to the space in which the
air and water are lodged. When, therefore, the piston
S has got to the top of its course, there must be a va¬
cuum in the barrel of this pump, and the water and air
must open the valve R and come into it. When the
piston
669
Steair-
Engine.
670
STEAM-
Stenm-
Engiue.
6t
Causes of
of tlie
counter
weight,
piston S comes down again in the next returning stroke,
this water and air gets through the valve of the piston ;
and in the next working stroke they are discharged by
the piston into the pump XY, and raised by its piston.
The air escapes at Y, and as much of the water as is
necessary is delivered into the boiler by a small pipe Yg
to supply its waste. It is a matter of indifference whe¬
ther the pistons S and Z rise with the outer or inner
end of the beam, but it is rather belter that they rise
with the inner end. They are otherwise drawn here,
in order to detach them from the rest and show them
more distinctly.
Such is Mr Watt’s second engine. Let us examine
its principles, that we may see the causes of its avowed
and great superiority over the common engines.
We have already seen one ground of superiority, the
its supeno- fujj 0periltion of the counter weight. We are autho-
nty over rjse(j by carefu] examination to say, that in the com-
commou 1 . , t- 1
engines mon engines at least one-halt ot the counter weight is
are, the full expended in counteracting an unbalanced pressure of the
operation aJr on t|)e piston during its ascent. In many engines,
which are not the worst, this extends to ^-th of the whole
pressure. This is evident from the examination of the
engine at Montrelaix by Bossut. This makes a very
great counter weight necessary, which exhausts a pro¬
portional part of the moving force.
But the great advantage of Mr Watt’s form is the
almost total annihilation of the waste of steam by con¬
densation in the cylinder. The cylinder is always boil¬
ing hot, and therefore perfectly dry. This must be evi¬
dent to any person who understands the subject. By the
time that Mr Watt had completed his improvements, his
experiments on the production of steam had given him a
pretty accurate knowledge of its density *, and he found
himself authorised to say, that the quantity of steam
employed did not exceed twice as much as would fill
the cylinder, so that not above one-half was unavoid¬
ably wasted. But before he could bring the engine to
this degree of perfection, he had many difficulties to
overcome : He inclosed the cylinder in an outer wooden
case at a small distance from it. This diminished the
expence of heat by communication to surrounding bo¬
dies. Sometimes he allowed the steam from the boiler
to occupy this interval. This undoubtedly prevented
all dissipation from the inner cylinder; but in its turn
it dissipated much heat by the outer case, and a very
sensible condensation was observed between them. This
has occasioned him to omit this circumstance in some
ot his best engines. We believe it was omitted in the
Albion mills.
The greatest difficulty was to make the great piston
tight. i he old and effectual method, by water lvin(
as inadmlssihlf* tMTo G t laI 1
*3
and great
saving of
steam.
on it, was inadmissible. He was therefore obliged to
have his cylinders most nicely bored, perfectly cylindri¬
cal, and finely polished ; and he made numberless trials
of different soft substances for packing his piston, which
should be tight without enormous friction, and which
should long remain so, in a situation perfectly dry, and
hot almost to burning.
After all that Mr Watt has done in this respect,
he thinks that the greatest part of the waste of steam
which he still perceives in his engines arises from the
unavoidable escape by the sides of the piston during its
descent
But the fact is, that an engine of this construction,
ENGINE.
of the same dimensions with a common engine, making Steam,
the same number of strokes of the same extent, does Engine,'
not consume above one-fourth part of the fuel that is'1 "-v
consumed by the best engines of the common form. It
is also a very fortunate circumstance, that the perform¬
ance of the engine is not immediately destroyed, nor in¬
deed sensibly diminished, by a small want of tightness
in the piston. In the common engine, if air get in, in
this way, it immediately puts a stop to the work ; but
although even a considerable quantity of steam get past
the piston during its descent, the rapidity of condensa¬
tion is such, that hardly any diminution of pressure can
be observed. ^
Mr Watt’s penetration soon discovered another most Another
valuable property of this engine. When an engine ofvaluable
the common form is erected, the engineer must make anP1-0?6^
accurate estimate of the work to be performed, and 11
must proportion his engine accordingly. He must be
careful that it beable to execute its task ; but its
power must not exceed its load in any extravagant de¬
gree. This would produce a motion which is too ra¬
pid, and which, being alternately in opposite directions,
would occasion jolts which no building or machinery
could withstand. Many engines have been shattered
by the pumps drawing air, or a pump rod breaking; by
which accidents the steam-piston descends with such ra¬
pidity that every thing gives way. But in most ope¬
rations of mining, the task of the engine increases, and
it must be so constructed at first as to be able to bear
this addition. It is very difficult to manage an engine
that is much superior to its task ; and the easiest way is,
to have it almost full loaded, and to work it only during
a few hours each day, and allow the pit water to accu¬
mulate during its repose. This increases the first cost,
and wastes fuel during the inaction of the engine. g.
But this new engine can at all times be exactly fitted jS) that it
(at least during the working stroke) to the load of work ca* always
that then happens to be on it. We have only to ad-J.'^^8^
minister steam of a proper elasticity. At the first f*rec't]ie i0iUi
tion the engine may be equal to twice its task, if thewhich 1ia[>-
steam admitted above the cylinder be equal to that olpenstobe
common boiling water ; but when once the ebullition011 ^
is fairly commenced, and the whole air expelled from
all parts of the apparatus, it is evident, that by damping
the fire, steam of half this elasticity may be continually
supplied, and the water will continue boiling although
its temperature does not exceed 1815° of Fahrenheit’s
thermometer. This appears by inspecting our table of
vaporous elasticity, and affords another argument for
rendering that table more accurate by new experiments.
We hope that Mr Watt will not withhold from the pub¬
lic the knowledge which he has acquired on this subject.
It may very possibly result from an accurate investi¬
gation, that it would be advisable to work our steam-
engines with weak steams, and that the diminution of
work may be more than compensated by the diminution
of fuel. It is more probable indeed, and it is Mr
Wa tt’s opinion, that the contrary is the case, and that
it is much more economical to employ great beats. At
any rate, the decision of this question is of great im¬
portance for improving the engine ; and we see, in the
mean time, that the engine can at all times be fitted so
as to perform its task with a moderate and manageable
motion, and that as the task increases we can ncrease
the power of the engine.
■■
But
SteaiTi-
Engiue,
67
nectied
some
nee.
6S
t the
',edy ai¬
ded
h some
t .cullies;
69
wh Mr
11t’s fer-
t genius
npletely
ivoved.
STEAM-
But t!ie method now proposed has a great inconve¬
nience. While the steam is*weaker than the atmosphere,
there is an exteinal force tending to squeeze in the sides
and bottom of the boiler. This could not be resisted
when the difference is considerable, and common air
would rush in through every crevice of the boiler and
soon choke the engine : it must therefore be given up.
But the same effect will be produced by diminishing
the passage for the steam into the cylinder. For this
purpose, the puppet valve by which the steam enters the
cylinder was made in the form of a long taper spigot,
and it was lodged in a cone of the same shape ; conse¬
quently the passage could be enlarged or contracted at
pleasure by the distance to which the inner cone was
drawn up.
In this way several engines were constructed, and the
general purpose of suiting the power of the engine to its
task was completely answered : but (as the mathemati¬
cal reader will readily perceive) it was extremely diffi¬
cult to make this adjustment precise and constant. In
a great machine like this going by jerks, it was hardly
possible that every succesive motion of the valve should
be precisely the same. This occasioned very sensible
irregularities in the motion of the engine, which in¬
creased and became hazardous when the joints worked
loose by long use.
Mr Watt’s genius, always fertile in resources, found
out a complete remedy for all these inconveniences.
Making the valve of the ordinary form of a puppet
clack, he adjusted the button of its stalk or tail so that
it should always open full to the same height. He then
regulated the pins of the plug-frame, in such a manner
that the valve should shut the moment that the piston
had descended a certain proportion (suppose one-fourth,
one-third, one-half, &c.) of the cylinder. So far the
cylinder was occupied by steam as elastic as common
air. In pressing the piston farther down, it behoved
the steam to expand, and its elasticity to diminish. It
is plain that this could be done in any degree we please,
and that the adjustment can be varied in a minute, ac¬
cording to the exigency of the case, by moving the plug
pins.
In the mean time, it must be observed, that the pres¬
sure on the piston is continually changing, and conse¬
quently the accelerating force. The motion therefore
will no longer be uniformly accelerated: it will ap¬
proach much faster to uniformity 5 nay, it may be re¬
tarded, because although the pressure on the piston at
the beginning of the stroke may exceed the resistance
of the load, yet when the piston is near the bottom the
resistance may exceed the pressure. Whatever may he
the law by which the pressure on the piston varies, an
ingenious mechanic may contrive the connecting ma¬
chinery in such a way that the chains or rods at the
outer end of the beam shall continually exert the same
pressure, or shall vary their pressure according to any
law he finds most convenient. It is in this manner that
the watchmaker, by the form of the fuzee, produces an
equal pressure on the wheel-work by means of a very
unequal action of the main-spring. In like manner, by
making the outer arch heads portions of a proper spiral
instead of a circle, we can regulate the force of the
beam at pleasure.
Thus we see how much more manageable an engine
is in this form than Newcomen’s was, and also morp
67I
Stean*
Engine.
ENGINE.
easily investigated in respect of its power in its various
positions. rI he knowledge of this last circumstance was
of mighty consequence, and without it no notion could '
be formed of what it could perform. This suggested to
Mr Watt the use of the barometer communicating with
the cylinder ; and by the knowledge acquired by these
means has the machine been so much improved by its in¬
genious inventor.
We must not omit in this place one deduction made
by Mr Watt from his observations, which may he call¬
ed a discovery of great importance in the theory of the
engine.
Let ABCD (fig. 10.) represent a section of the cy-a discovery
linder of a steam-engine, and EF the surface of its pi-of Mr Watt
ston. Let us suppose that the steam was admitted of great
While EF was in contact with AB, and that as soon asimPortance
it had pressed it down to the situation EF the steamof
cock is shut. The steam will continue to press it down,the°engine.
and as the steam expands its pressure diminishes. We Fig. ic.
may express its pressure ("exerted all the while the pi¬
ston moves from the situation AB to the situation EF)
by the line EF. If we suppose the elasticity of the
steam proportional to its density, as is nearly the case
with air, we may express, the pressure on the piston in
any other position, such as KL or DC, by K/and Dc,
the ordinates of a rectangular hyperbola F / c, of which
AE, AB are the assymptotes, and A the centre. The
accumulated pressure during the motion of the piston
from EF to DC will be expressed by the area EF c DE,
and the pressure during the whole motion by the area
ABFrDA.
Now it is well known that the area EF c DE is
equal to ABIE multiplied by the hyperbolic logarithm
„ AD AD , , , ,
o* -r-yv, =:L. and the whole area ABF c DA is
(i+L-
diameter of the piston be 24 inches,
and the pressure of the atmosphere on a square inch be
14 pounds j the pressure on the piston is 6333 pounds.
Let the whole stroke be 6 feet, and let the steam be
stopped when the piston has descended 18 inches, or 1.3
feet. The hyperbolic logarithm of — is 1.3862943.
Therefore the accumulated pressure ABF c DA is =z
6333 X 2.3862943, =15114 pounds.
As few professional engineers are possessed of a table
of hyperbolic logarithms, while tables of common lo¬
garithms are or should be in the hands of every person
who is much engaged in mechanical calculations, let
the following method be practised. Take the common
logarithm of multiply it by 2.3026 j thepro-
AD
AE’
=ABLEx
Thus let tin
AI)\
'ae)'
AE*
duct is the hyperbolic logarithm of
The accumulated pressure while the piston moves
from AB to EF is 6333 X i> or simply 6333 pounds.
Therefore the steam while it expands into the whole
cylinder adds a pressure of 8781 pounds.
Suppose that the steam had got free admission during
the whole descent of the piston, the accumulated pres¬
sure would have been 6333 X 4) or 25332 pounds.
Here Mr Watt observed a remarkable result. The
steam expended in this case would have been four times
greater
672 ‘ STEAM-
Steam- greater than when it was stopped at one-fourth, and yet
Engine, the accumulated pressure is not twice as great, being
' nearly five-thirds. One-fourth of the steam performs
nearly three-fifths of the work, and an equal quantity
performs more than twice as much work when thus ad¬
mitted during one-fourth of the motion.
This is a curious and an important information, and
the advantage of this method of working a steam-engine
increases in proportion as the steam is sooner stopped j
but the increase is not great after the steam is rarefied
four times. The curve approaches near to the axis,
and small additions are made to the area. The expence
of such great cylinders is considerable, and may some¬
times compensate this advantage.
• Let the steam be stopped at Its performance is mult.
i - - 1-7
4 - - 2.1
i 2.4
f - - 2.6
4 - - 2.8
T " " 3*
i 3-2
See. &c.
Plate
Dill.
71.
Descrip¬
tion of
Mr Watt’s
steam-en¬
gine in its
most im¬
proved
state.
It is very pleasing to observe so many unlooked-for
advantages resulting from an improvement made with
the sole view of lessening the waste of steam by conden¬
sation. While this purpose is gained, we learn how to
husband the steam which is not thus wasted. The en¬
gine becomes more manageable, and is more easily adapt¬
ed to every variation in its task, and all its powers are
more easily computed.
The active mind of its ingenious inventor did not stop
here : It had always been matter of regret that one-half
of the motion was unaccompanied by any work. It was
a very obvious thing to Mr Watt, that as the steam ad¬
mitted above the piston pressed it down, so steam admit¬
ted below the piston pressed it up with the same force,
provided that a vacuum were made on its upper side.
This was easily done, by connecting the lower end of
the cylinder with the boiler and the upper end with the
condenser.
Fig. 11. is a representation of this construction exact¬
ly copied from Mr Watt’s figure accompanying his spe¬
cification. Here BB is a section of the cylinder, sur¬
rounded at a small distance by the case 1111. The sec¬
tion of the piston A, and the collar of leathers whichf
embraces the piston rod, gives a distinct notion of its
construction, of the manner in which it is connected
with the piston-rod, and how the packing of the piston
and collar contributes to make all tight.
From the top of the cylinder proceeds the horizontal
pipe. x\bove the letter D is observed the seat of the
steam valve, communicating with the box above it. In
the middle of this may be observed a dark shaded circle.
This is the mouth of the upper branch of the steam pipe
coming from the boiler. Beyond D, below thf- letter
N, is the seat of the upper condensing valve. The bot¬
tom of the cylinder is made spherical, fitting the piston,
so that they may^corne into entire contact. Another
horizontal pipe proceeds from this bottom. Above the
letter E is the seat of the lower steam valve, opening
into the valve box. This box is at the extremity of
another steam pipe marked C, which branches off from
the upper horizontal part, and descends obliquely, com-
4
ENGINE.
ing forward to the eye. The lower part is represented
as cut open, to shew its interior conformation. Beyond
this steam valve, and below the letter F, may be ob¬
served the seat of the lower condensing valve. A pipe
descends from hence, and at a small distance below
unites with another pipe GG, which comes down from
the upper condensing valve N. These two eduction-
pipes thus united go downwards, and open at L into a
rectangular box, of which the end is seen at L. This
box goes backward from the eye, and at its farther ex¬
tremity communicates with the air-pump K, whose pis¬
ton is here represented in section with its butterfly valves.
The piston delivers the water and air laterally into an¬
other rectangular box M, darkly shaded, which box
communicates with the pump I. The piston-rods of
this and of the air-pump are suspended by chains from
a small arch head on the inner arm of the great beam.
The lower part of the eduction-pipe, the horizontal box
Li, the air-pump K, with the communicating box M be¬
tween it and the pump I, are all immersed in the cold
water of the condensing cistern. The box L is made
flat, broad, and shallow, in order to increase its surface
and accelerate the condensation. But that this may be
performed with the greatest expedition, a small pipe II,
open below (but occasionally stopped by a plug valve),
is inserted laterally into the eduction-pipe G, and then
divides into two branches; one of which reaches within
a foot or two of the upper valve N, and the other ap¬
proaches as near to the valve F.
At it is intended by this construction to give the pi¬
ston a strong impulse in both directions, it will not be
proper to suspend its rod by a chain from the great
beam ; for it must not only pull down that end of the
beam, but also push it upwards. It may indeed be
suspended by double chains like the pistons of the en¬
gines for extinguishing fires ; and Mr Watt has accor¬
dingly done so in some of his engines. But in his
drawing from which this figure is copied, he has com¬
municated the force of the piston to the beam by means
of a toothed rack 00, which engages or works in tlie
toothed sector QQ on the end of the beam. The rea¬
der will understand, without any farther explanation,
how the impulse given to the piston in either direction
is thus transmitted to the beam without diminution.
'I he fly XX, with its pinion Y, which also works in
the toothed arch QQ, may be supposed to be removed
for the present, and will be considered afterwards.
We shall take the present opportunity of describing
Mr Watt’s method of communicating the force of tlia
steam-engine to any machine of the rotatory kind.
^ V represents the rim and arms of a very large and
heavy metalline fly. On its axis is the concentric
toothed wheel U. There is attached to the end of the
great beam a strong and stiff rod TT, to the lower end
ot which a toothed wheel W is firmly fixed by two
holts, so that it cannot turn round. This wheel is ot
th e same size and in the same vertical plane with the
wheel U; and an iron link or strap (which cannot be
seen here, because it is on the other side of the two
wheels) connects the centres of the two wheels, so that
the one cannot quit the other. The engine being in
the position represented in the figure, suppose the fly to
he turned once round by any external force in the di¬
rection ot the darts. It is plain, that since the toothed
wheels cannot quit each other, being kept together by
the
Steam
Dugin-,
Steam
Engine .
Plate dl
■ /
WATT’S STEAM ENTiTNE.
PL A TE MIL
Fip.11.
b'hlll.
Fiff.lZ.
JCaa :l/ i // ■ // l./r.ir.y Klt/t r
A'. Mltrlull Sculpt
H ok .Mu. o \\ i<: it’s
Steam kngine.
pla te in\
STEAM-ENGINE.
sieam- ^lie link, the inner half (that is, the half next the cylin-
Eiigine. der) of the wheel U will work on the inner half of the
'—' wheel VV, so that at the end of the revolution of the
fly the wheel W must have got to the top of the wheel
U, and the outer end of the beam must be raised to its
highest position. The next revolution of the fly will
bring the wheel W and the beam connected with it to
their first positions ; and thus every two revolutions
of the fly will make a complete period of the beam’s re¬
ciprocating movements. Now, instead of supposing the
fly to drive the beam, let the beam drive the fly. The
motions must be perfectly the same, and the ascent or des¬
cent of the pistorl will produce one revolution of the fly.
pig, u. A side view of this apparatus is given in fig. I2i
marked by the same letters of reference. This shows
the situation of parts which were fore-shortened in fig.
II. particularly the descending branch C of the steam-
pipe, and the situation and communications of the two
pumps K and i. 8, 8 is the horizontal part of the steam-
pipe. 9 is a part of it whose box is represented by the
dark circle of fig. II. D is the box of the steam-
clack ; and the little circle at its corner represents the
end of the axis which turns it, as will be described af¬
terwards. N is the place of the upper eduction-valve.
A part only of the upper eduction-pipe G is represent¬
ed, the rest being cut off, because it would have covered
the descending steam-pipe CC. When continued down,
it conies between the eye and the box E of the lower
steam-valve, and the box F of the lower eduction-valve.
Let us now trace the operation of this machine
through all its steps. Recurring to fig. n. let us sup¬
pose that the lower part of the cylinder BB is exhaust¬
ed of all elastic fluids ; that the upper steam-valve D and
the lower eduction-valve F are open, and that the lower
steam-valve E and upper eduction-valve N are shut. It
is evident that the piston must be pressed toward the bot¬
tom of the cylinder, and must pull down the end of the
Working beam by means ol the toothed rack 00 and
sector QQ, causing the other end of the beam to urge
forward the machinery with which it is connected.
When the piston arrives at the bottom of the cylinder,
the valves D and F are shut by the plug frame, and E
and N are opened. By this last passage the steam gets
into the eduction-pipe, where it meets with the injection
water, and is rapidly condensed. I he steam from the
boiler enters at the same time by E, and pressing on
the lovver side of the piston, forces it upwards, and by
means of the toothed rack 00 and toothed sector QQ
forces up that end of the working beam, and causes the
other end to urge forward the machinery with which it
is connected: and in this manner the operation of the
engine may be continued for ever.
The injection water is continually running into the
eduction-pipe, because condensation is continually go¬
ing on, and therefore there is a continual atmospheric
pressure to produce a jet. The air which is disengaged
from the water or enters by leaks, is evacuated only
during the rise of the piston of the air-pump Iv. hen
this is very copious, it renders a very large air-pump
necessary y and ki some situations Mr Watt has been
obliged to employ two air-pumps, one worked by each
arm of the beam. This in every case expends a very
considerable portion of the power, for the air-pump is
always working against the whole pressure of the atmo¬
sphere.
Vol. XIX. Part II. t
673
It is evident that this form cf the engii.e, by main- Steam-
taining an almost constant and uninterrupted impulsion, Engine,
is much fitter for driving any machinery of continued v
motion thitn any of the former engines, which were in¬
active during half of their motion. It does not, how¬
ever seem to have this superiority when employed to
draw water: But it is equally fitted for this task. Let
the engine be loaded with twice as much as would be
proper for it if a single-stroke engine, and let a fly be
connected with it. Then it is plain that the power of
the engine during the rise of the steam-piston will be ac¬
cumulated in the fly j and this, in conjunction with the
power of the engine during the descent of the steam-pi*
ston, will be equal to the whole load of water.
In speaking of the steam and eduction-valves, we said
that they were all puppet-valves. Mr Watt employed
cocks, and also sliding-valves, such as the regulator or
steam valves in the old engines. But he found them
always lose their tightness after a short time. This is
not surprising, when we consider that they are always
perfectly dry, and almost burning hot. He was there¬
fore obliged to change them all for puppet-clacks,
which, when truly ground and nicely fitted in their
motions at first, are not found to go out of order by any
length of time. Other engineers now universally use
them in the old form of the steam-engine, without the
same reasons, and merely by servile and ignorant imita¬
tion.
The way in which Mr Watt opens and shuts these
valves is as follows. Fig. 13. represents a clack with Fj". if.
its seat and box. Suppose it one of the eduction-valves.
HH is part of the pipe which introduces the steam, and
GG is the upper part of the pipe which communicates
with the condenser. At EE may be observed a piece
more faintly shaded than the surrounding parts. This
is the seat of the valve, and is a brass or bell-metal ring
turned conical on the outside, so as to fit exactly into a
conical part of the pipe GG. These two pieces are
fitted by grinding $ and the cone being of a long ta¬
per, the ring sticks firmly in it, especially after having
been there for some time and united by rust. The clack
itself is a strong brass plate D, turned conical on the
edge, so as to fit the conical or sloping inner edge of the
seat. These are very nicely ground on each other with
emery. This conical joining is much more obtuse than
the outer side of the ring; so that although the joint is
air-tight, the two pieces do not stick strongly together.
The clack has a round tail DG, which is freely move-
able up and down in the hole of a cross piece FF. On
the upper side of the valve is a strong piece of metal DC
firmly joined to it, one side of which is formed into a
toothed rack. A is the section of an iron axle which
turns in holes in the opposite sides of the valve-box,
where it is nicely fitted by grinding, so as to be air¬
tight. Collets of thick leather, well soaked in melted
tallow and rosin, are screwed on the outside of these holes
to prevent all ingress of air. One end of this axis pro¬
jects a good way without the box, and carries a spanner
or handle, which is moved by the plug-frame. To this
axis is fixed a strong piece of metal B, the edge of
which is formed into an arch of a circle having the axis
A in its centre, and is cut into teeth, which work in the
teeth of the rack DC. K is a cover which is fixed by
screws to the top of the box HJJH, and may be taken
off in order to get at the valve when it needs repairs.
4 Q From
6 74
STEAM-ENGINE.
T-
Aeview
Fi om this description it is easy to see that by turn¬
ing the handle Avhicli is on tlie axis A, the sector E
must lift up the valve by means of its toothed rack DC,
till the upper end of the rack touch the knob or button
ix. Turning the handle in the opposite direction brings
the valve down again to its seat.
V.iis valve is extremely tight. But in order to open
it for the passage of the steam, we must exert a force
equal to the pressure of the atmosphere. This in a large
engine is a very great weight. A valve of six inches
diameter sustains a pressure not less that 400 pounds.
But this force is quite momentary, and hardly impedes
the motion of the engine j for the instant the valve is
detached from its seat, although it has not moved the
100th part of an inch, the pressure is over. Even this
little inconvenience has been removed by a delicate
thought of Mr Watt. He has put the spanner in such
a position when it begins to raise the valve, that its me¬
chanical energy is almost infinitely great. Let QR
(fig. 14.) he part of the plug-frame descending, and P
one of its pins just going to lay hold of the spanner NO
moveable round the axis N. On the same axis is ano¬
ther arm NM connected by a joint with the leader
M L, which is connected also by a joint with the span¬
ner LA that is on the axis A of the sector within the
valve box. Therefore when the pin P pushes down
the spanner NO, the arm MN moves sidewise and pulls
down the spanner A L by means of the connecting rod.
Things are so disposed, that when the cock is shut, LM
and MN are in one straight line. The intelligent me¬
chanic will perceive that, in this position, the force of
the lever ONM is insuperable. It has this further ad¬
vantage, that if any thing should tend to force open the
valve, it would be ineffectual $ for no force exerted at
A, and transmitted by the rod LM, can possibly push
the joint M out of its position. Of such importance is
it to practical mechanics, that its professors should be
persons of penetration as well as knowledge. Yet this
circumstance is unheeded bv hundreds who have servilely
copied from Mr Watt, as may be seen in every engine
that is puffed on the public as a discovery and an im¬
provement. When these puppet-valves have been in¬
troduced into the common engine, we have not seen one
instance where this has been attended to) certainty be¬
cause its utility has not been observed : and there is one
situation where it is of more consequence than in Mr
Watt’s engine, viz. in the injection cock. Here the
valve is drawn back into a box, where the water is so
awkwardly disposed round it that it can hardly get out
of its way, and where the pressure even exceeds that of
the atmosphere. Indeed this particular substitution of
the button valve for the cock is most injudicious.
We postponed any account of the office of the fly
XX (fig. 11.), as it is not of use in an engine regulated
by the fly VV. The fly XX is only for regulating the
reciprocating motion ol the beam when the steam is not
admitted during the whole descent of the piston^ This
it evidently must render more uniform, accumulating a
momentum equal to the whole pressure of the full sup¬
ply of steam, and then sharing it with the beam during
of the rest of the descent of the piston.
Mr TViitt's When a person properly skilled iu mechanics and
three great chemistry reviews these different forms ot Mr Watt’s
improve- steam-engine, he will easily perceive them susceptible
of many intermediate forms, in which any one or more of
j^ents.
the distinguishing improvements may he employed. The cr!tm
first great improvement was the condensation in a sepa- Li^ne.
rate vessel. This increased the original powers of the
engine, giving to the atmospheric pressure and to the
counter-weight their full energy ; at the same time the
waste of steam is greatly diminished. The next im¬
provement, by employing the pressure of the steam in¬
stead of that of the atmosphere, aimed only at a still
farther diminution of the waste 5 but was fertile in ad¬
vantages, rendering the machine more manageable, and
particularly enabled us at all times, and without trou¬
ble, to suit the power of the engine to its load of work,
however variable and increasing •, and brought into view
a very interesting proposition in the mechanical theory
of the engine, viz. that the whole performance of a
given quantity of steam may be augmented by admitting
it into the cylinder only during a part of the piston’s
motion. Mr Matt has varied the application of this
proposition in a thousand ways j and there is nothing
about the machine which gives more employment to the
sagacity and judgment of the engineer. The third
improvement of the double impulse may be considered
as the finishing touch given to the engine, and renders
it as uniform in its action as any water-wheel. In the
engine in its most perfect form there does not seem to
be above one-fourth of the steam wasted by warming
the apparatus ; so that it is not possible to make it one-
fourth part more powerful than it is at present. The Thenly
only thing thatseems suseeptibleof considerable improve-impue-
ment is the great beam. The enormous strains exerted meliJ
on its arms require a proportional strength. 'This re*tok|1lgi|l
quires a vast mass of matter, not less indeed in an en-(nli|rreg
gine with a cylinder of 54 inches than three tons and a bear
half, moving with the velocity of three feet in a second,
which must be communicated in about half a second.
This mass must be brought into motion from a state of
rest, must again be brought to rest, again into motion,
and again to rest, to complete the period of a stroke.
This consumes much power ; and Mr Watt has not been
able to load an engine with more than 10 or 11 pounds
on the inch and preserve a sufficient quantity of motion,
so as to make 12 or 15 six-feet strokes in a second.
Many attempts have been made to lessen this mass by
using a light framed wheel, or a light frame of carpen¬
try, in place of a solid beam. These have generally
been constructed by persons ignorant of the true scien¬
tific principles of carpentry, and have fared according¬
ly. Mr Watt has made similar attempts j but found,
that although at first they were abundantly strong, yet
after a short time’s employment the straps and bolts with
which the wooden parts were connected cut their way
into the wood, and, the framing grew loose in the joints,
and, without giving any warning, went to pieces in an
instant. A solid massy simple beam of sufficient strength,
bends, and sensibly complains (as the carpenters express
it), before it breaks. In all great engines, therefore,
such only are employed, and in smaller engines he some¬
times uses cast-iron wheels or pulleys j nay, he frequent¬
ly uses no beam or equivalent whatever, but employ* the
steam-piston rod to drive the machinery to which the
engine is applied.
We presume that our thinking readers will not be
displeased with this rational history of the progress of
this engine in the hands of its ingenious and worthy in¬
ventor. We owe it to the communications of a friend,
•wdf
STEAM-
reeling
jiaei.
7«
Wiat the
these en-
{ites is.
Steam- tvell acquainted with him, and able to judge of his
Engine, merits. The public see him always associated with the
'~"v no less celebrated machanic and philosopher Mr Boulton
vis Watt near Birmingham (see Soho). They have
tiweiated shared the royal patent front the beginning j and the
with Mr alliance is equally honourable to both.
Baiitoa. ,j'jie advantages derived from the patent right show
whence ^ie suPeri°rity of the engine and the liberal minds
their pro- °f the proprietors. They erect the engines at the ex-
jti are de- pence of the employers, or give working drafts of all
lired in e- the parts, with instructions, by which any resident en-
rectinsr en-gjneel. raay execute the work. The employers select
the best engine of the ordinary kind in the kingdom,
compare the quantities of fuel expended by each, and
pay to Messrs Watt and Boulton one-third of the an¬
nual savings for a certain term of years. By this the
patentees are excited to do their utmost to make the
engine perfect; and the employer pays in proportion to
the advantage he derives from it.
It may not be here improper to state the actual per¬
formance of some of these engines, as they have been
ascertained by experiment.
An engine having a cylinder of 31 inches in diame-
ictiial r *Cr’ ant^ maklnS strokes per minute, performs
fenancTofth® work forty horses working night and day (for
wine of which three relays or 120 horses must be kept), and
burns 11,000 pounds of Staffordshire coal per day. A
cj Under of 19 inches, making 25 strokes of 4 feet each
per minute, performs the work of 12 horses working
constantly, and burns 3700 pounds of coals per day.
A cylinder of 24 inches, making 22 strokes of 5 feet,
burns 5500 pounds of coals, and is equivalent to the
constant work of 20 horses. And the patentees think
themselves authorized by experience to say in general,
that these engines will raise more than 20,000 cubic
feet of water 24 feet high for every hundred weight of
good pit-coal consumed by them.
In consequence of the great superiority of Mr Watt’s
engines, both with respect to economy and manageable¬
ness, they have become of most extensive use j and in
every demand of manufacture on a great scale they of¬
fer us an indefatigable servant, whose strength has no
Propped t0 bounds. Tta greatest mechanical project that ever en-
irainthe gaged the attention of man wTas on the point of being
executed by this machine. The States of Holland were
treating with Messrs Wratt and Boulton for draining the
Haerlem Meer, and even reducing the Zuyder Zee :
and we doubt not hut that it will be accomplished when¬
ever that unhappy nation has sufficiently felt the diffe¬
rence between liberty and foreign tyranny. Indeed such
unlimited powers are afforded by this engine, that the
engineer now thinks that no task can be proposed to him
which he cannot execute with profit to his employer.
No wonder then that all classes of engineers have
turned much of their attention to this engine ; and see¬
ing that it has done so much, that they try to make it
'■noe^u* more* Numberless attempts have been made to
improve Mr Watt’s engine ; -and it would occupy a vo¬
lume to give an account of them, whilst that account
would do no more than indulge curiosity. Our engi¬
neers by profession are in general miserably deficient in
that accurate knowledge of mechanics and of chemistry
which is necessary for understanding this machine ; and
vve have not heard of one in this kingdom who can be
put on a par with the present patentees in this respeet.
Most of the attempts of engineers have been made with
77
H»erleni
Meer liy
•lie iteam-
^jine.
7*
The &t-
le®pti to
improve
ttaerdl of
itile ad-
UQtagt;
ENGINE.
675
the humbler view of availing themselves of Mr Watt’s
discoveries, so as to construct a steam-engine superior
to Newcomen’s, and yet of a form sufficiently different
from Watt’s to keep it without the reach of his patent.
This they have in general accomplished by performing
the condensation in a place which, with a little stretch
of fancy, not unfrequent in a court of law, may be caiied
part of the cylinder.
The success of most of these attempts has interfered and the
so little with the interest of the patentees, that tl'ev s;,lccc'ss
have not hindered the erection of many engines which .
the law would have deemed encroachments. We think *
it our duty to give our opinion on this subject without
reserve. These are most expensive undertakings, and
few employers are able to judge accurately of the me¬
rits of a project presented to them by an ingenious ar¬
tist. They may see the practicability of the scheme, by
having a general notion of the expansion and condensa¬
tion of steam, and they may be misled by the ingenuity
apparent in the construction. The engineer himself is
frequently the dupe of his own ingenuity; and it is not
always dishonesty, but frequently ignorance, which
makes him prefer his own invention or (as he thinks it)
improvement. It is a most delicate engine, and requires
much knowledge to see what does and what does not
improve its performance. We have gone into the pre¬
ceding minute investigation of Mr Watt’s progress with
the express purpose of making our readers fully masters
of its principles, and have more than once pointed out
the real improvements, that they may be firmly fixed
and always ready in the mind. By having recourse to
them, the reader may pronounce with confidence on thtS
merits of any new construction, and will not he decei¬
ved by the puffs of an ignorant or dishonest engineer. ^
We must except from this general criticism a con-Exceptioa
struction by Mr Jonathan Hornblower near Bristol, on in f-.rjur
account of its singularity, and the ingenuity and realof *'11'
skill which appears in some particulars of its construe- I*orclj!“w"
tion. The following short description will sufficiently*^
explain its principle, and enable our readers to appre¬
ciate its merit.
A atid B (fig. 15.) represent two cylinders, of which pli,{e
A is the largest. A piston moves in each, having their D,V*
rods C and D moving through collars at E and F. Oeicripdow
These cylinders may be supplied with steam from theofbis
boiler by means of the square pipe G, which has a fiar.ch steam-e*-
to connect it with the rest of the steam-pipe. This£iRr-
square part is represented as branching oft’ to both cy¬
linders. c and d are two cocks, which have handles
and tumblers as usual, worked by the plug-beam W.
On the fore-side (that is, the side next the eye) of the
cylinders is represented another communicating pipe,
whose section is also square or rectangular, having also
two cocks b. The pipe Y, immediately under the
cock b, establishes a communication between the upper
and lower parts of the small cylinder B, by opening
the cock b. There is a similar pipe on the other side
of the cylinder A, immediately under the cock d.
When the cocks c and a are open, and the cocks b and
d are shut, the steam from the boiler has free admission
into the upper part of the cylinder B, and the steam
from the lower part of B has a free admission into the
upper part of A j but the upper part of each cylinder
has no communication with its lower part.
From the bottom of the great cylinder proceeds thtf
eductiorvpipe K, having a valve at its opening into the
4 Q 2 cylinder*
6j6 STEAM-
> steam- cylinder, wliicli bends downwards, and is connected
Engine, with the conical condenser L (c). The condenser is
1 ~vfixed on a hollow box M, on which stand the pumps N
and O, for extracting the air and water j which last
runs along the trough T into a cistern U, from which
it is raised by the pump V for recruiting the boiler, be¬
ing already nearly boiling hot. Immediately under the
condenser there is a spigot-valve at S, over which is a
small jet-pipe, reaching to the bend ot the eduction-
pipe. The whole of the condensing apparatus is con¬
tained in a cistern R, of cold water. A small pipe P
comes from the side of the condenser, and terminates on
the bottom of the trough T, and is there covered with
a valve Q, which is kept tight by the water that is al¬
ways running over it. Tastly, the pump-rods X cause
the" outer end of the beam to preponderate, so that the
quiescent position ot the beam is that represented in the
figure, the pistons being at the top of the cylinders.
Suppose all the cocks open, and steam coming in
copiously from the boiler, and no condensation going on
in L ; the steam must drive out all the air, and at last
follow it through the valve Q. Now shut the valves b
and d, and open the valve S of the condenser. The
condensation will immediately commence. There is
now no pressure on the under side of the piston of A,
and it immediately descends. The communication be¬
tween the lower part of B and the upper part of A
being open, the steam will go from B into the space
left by the piston of A. It must therefore expand,
and its elasticity must diminish, and will no longer ba¬
lance the pressure of the steam above the piston of B.
This piston therefore, if not withheld by the beam,
would descend till it is in equilibrio, having steam of
equal density above and below it. But it cannot de¬
scend so far •, for the cylinder A is wider than B, and
the arm of the beam at which its piston hangs is longer
than the arm which supports the piston of B : therefore
when the piston of B has descended as far as the beam
will permit it, the steam between the two pistons occu¬
pies a larger space than it did when both pistons wrere
at the tops of their cylinders. Its density, therefore,
and its elasticity, diminish as its bulk increases. It is
therefore not a balance ; for the steam on the upper side
of B, and the piston B, pulls at the beam with all the
difference of these pressures. The slightest view of the
subject must show the reader, that as the pistons de¬
scend, the steam that is between them will grow conti¬
nually rarer and less elastic, and that both pistons will
pull the beam downwards.
Suppose now that each has reached the bottom of its
cylinder. Shut the cock a and the eduction-cock at
the bottom of A, and open the cocks b and d. The
communication being now established between the upper
and lower part of each cylinder, nothing hinders the
counter weight from raising the pistons to the top. Let
them arrive there. The cylinder B is at this time fill¬
ed with steam of the ordinary density, and the cylin¬
der A with an equal absolute quantity of steam, but ex¬
panded into a larger space.
Shut the cocks b and r/, and open the cock o, and
the eduction-cock at the bottom of A 5 the conden-
ENGINE.
sation will again operate, and the pistons descend. And Steaaj
thus the operation may be repeated as long as steam is , ljn^! (
supplied \ and one full of the cylinder B of ordinary ,
steam is expended during each working stroke.
Let us now examine the power of this engine. It is
evident, that when both pistons are at the top of their
respective cylinders, the active pressure (that is, the dif¬
ference of the pressure on its two sides) on the piston
of B is nothing, while that on the piston of A is equal
to the full pressure of the atmosphere on its area. This,
multiplied by the length of the arm by which it is sup¬
ported, gives its mechanical energy. As the pistons
descend, the pressure on the piston of B increases, while
that on the piston of A diminishes. When both are at
the bottom, the pressure on the piston of B is at its
maximum, and that on the piston of A at its mini¬
mum.
Mr Hornblower saw that this must be a beneficial
employment of steam, and preferable to the practice of
condensing it while its full elasticity remained j but he
has not considered it with the attention necessary for as¬
certaining the advantage with precision.
Let a and b represent the areas of the pistons of A
and B, and let « and /S be the length of the arms by
which they are supported. It is evident, that when
both pistons have arrived at the bottoms ol their cylin¬
ders, the capacities of the cylinders are as a u. and 6/3.
Let this be the ratio of m to i. Letg-// i k (fig. 16.)
and / m n o be two cylinders of equal length, communi¬
cating with each other, and fitted with a piston-rod p y,
on which are fixed two pistons a a and b b, whose areas
are as m and I. Let the distance between the pistons
be precisely equal to the height of each cylinder, which
height we shall call h. Let x be the space g b or b a,
through which the pistons have descended. Let the
upper cylinder communicate with the boiler, and the
lower cylinder w'ith the condenser or vacuum V.
Any person in the least conversant in mechanics and
pneumatics will clearly see that the strain or pressure on
the piston-rod p q \s precisely the same with the united
energies of the two piston rods of Mr Hornblower’s en¬
gine, by which they tend to turn the working beam
round its axis.
The base of the upper cylinder being I, and its
height //, its capacity or bulk is I h or /i; and this ex¬
presses the natural bulk of the steam which formerly fil¬
led it, and is now expanded into the space b hlaamib.
The part b h i b is plainly —h—.v, and the part laam is
— m x. The whole space, therefore, is m x-\-h—^
—.r, or h-\-m—i*. Therefore the density of
the steam betwe<hs the pistons is  —.
h-\-ni—ix
Letp be the downward pressure of the steam from
the boiler on the upper piston b b. This piston is also
pressed up with a force =p    — by the steam
h -\-m—i x
between the pistons. It is therefore, on the whole,
pressed downward with a force —p ( I  — !•
' h-j-m—i x'
The
(c) This, however, was stopped by Watt’s patent j and the condensation must be performed as in Newcomen’s
engine, or at least in the cylinder A.
STEAM-
The lower piston a a, having a vacuum below it, is pres¬
sed downwards with a force ~p  —:—. There-
h-\- m—i x
fore the whole pressure on the piston rod downwards
(mh k \ (
i+ , , —= , . —= )» — -P l 1 +
h -f- m—i x h-\-m—x x> '
p h m—i
m—i h \ .
=P +
l 1 X'
--P +
p h
h+m—i xJ * ' h-\-m—\x
m—i '
This then is the momentary pressure on the piston
rod corresponding to its descent x from its highest posi¬
tion. When the pistons are in their highest position,
this pressure is equal to mp. When they are in their
• • • • —1 TT 1 P •
lowest position, it is —p . Here therefore is an
accession of power. In the beginning, the pressure is
greater than on a single piston in the proportion of mto
l ; and at the end of the stroke, where the pressure is
weakest, it is still much greater than the pressure on a
single piston. Thus, if m be 4, the pressure at the be-
ginning of the stroke is 4p, and at the end it is -p, al¬
most double, and in all intermediate positions it is great¬
er. It is worth while to obtain the sum total of all the
accumulated pressures, that we may compare it with the
constant pressure on a single piston.
We may do this by considering the momentary pres-
p h
sure  ,
+ x
as equal to the ordinate GF, H by
m—x
or M c, of a curve F & e (fig. 10.), which has for
its axis the line GM. equal to h the height of our cy¬
linder. Call this ordinate y. We have y~p -f-
^ h -, and y—p~—— . Now it is plain that
h
m—1
p h
+x
is the ordinate of an equilateral hyperbola,
of which p h is the power or rectangle of the ordinate
and absciss, and of which the absciss reckoned from the
centre is \-x. Therefore make GE~ p, and
m—1
GM
draw DEA parallel to MG, and make EA= 
m—1
h
The curve F & c is an equilateral hyperbola
//<- —— A
having A for its centre and AD for its assymptote.
Draw the other assymptote AB, and its ordinate FB.
Since the power of the hyperbola is ~phy =GEDM
(for GE=y, and GMrr/i) •, and since all the inscri¬
bed rectangles, such as AEFB, are equal to p hy it fol¬
lows that AEFB is equal to GEDM, and that the
area ABF c DA is equal to the area GF c MG, which
expresses the accumulated pressure in Hornblower’s en¬
gine.
We can now compute the accumulated pressure very
easily. It is evidently —p A X -f-L.-
The intelligent reader cannot but observe that this is
precisely the same with the accumulated pressure of a
quantity of steam admitted in the beginning, and stop -
ENGINE. 677
ped in Mr Watt’s method, when the piston has descen- Steam-
ded through the mth part of the cylinder. In con- Engine,
sidering Mr Hornblower’s engine, the thing was pre-' v——J
sented in so difl’erent a form that we did not perceive,™ 2 ,
the analogy at nrst, and we were surprised at the result. niuiate(i
We could not help even regretting it, because it had tlie pressure
appearance of a new principle and an improvement : tby same
and we doubt not but that it appeared so to the in-^l^j^14
genious author j for we have had such proofs of his en_
liberality of mind as permit us not to suppose that hegine.
saw it from the beginning, and availed himself of the
difficulty of tracing the analogy. And as the thing
may mislead others in the same way, we have done a
service to the public by showing that this engine, so
costly and so difficult in its construction, is no way su¬
perior in power to Mr Watt’s simple method of stop¬
ping the steam. It is even inferior, because there must
be a condensation in the communicating passages. We
may add, that if the condensation is performed in the
cylinder A, which it must be unless with the permis¬
sion of Watt and Boulton, the engine cannot be much
superior to a common engine j for much of the steam
from below B will be condensed between the pistons by
the coldness of the cylinder A ; and this diminishes the
downward pressure on A more than it increases the
downward pressure on B. We learn however that, by
confining the condensation to a small part of the cylinder
A, Mr Hornblower has erected engines clear of Mr
Watt’s patent, which are considerably superior to Newf-
comen’s : so has Mr.Symington. S3
We said that there was much ingenuity and real skill Still, liow-
observable in many particulars of this engine. Theevei'’
disposition and connection of the cylinders, and the covers in-'
whole condensing apparatus, are contrived with peculiar genuity
neatness. The cocks are very ingenious; they are and ikill.
composed of trvo flat circular plates ground very true
to each other, and one of them turns round on a pin
through their centres^ each is pierced with three sec¬
toral apertures, exactly corresponding with each other,
and occupying a little less than one-half of their sur¬
faces. By turning the moveable plate so that the aper¬
tures coincide, a large passage is opened for the steam;
and by turning it so that the solid of the one covers
the aperture of the other, the cock is shut. Such regu¬
lators are now very common in the cast iron stoves for
warming rooms.
Mr Hornblower’s contrivance for making the collars ‘
for the piston rods air-tight is also uncommonly inge¬
nious. This collar is in fact two, at a small distance
from each other. A small pipe, branching off from the
main steam-pipe, communicates with the space between
the collars. This steam, being a little stronger than
the pressure of the atmosphere, effectually hinders the
air from penetrating by the upper collar; and though a
little steam should get through the lower collar into the
cylinder A, it can do no harm. We see many cases
in which this pretty contrivance may be of signal service. ^
But it is in the framing of the great working beam The great-
thatMr Hornblower’s scientific knowledge is most con-est “n_
spicuous ; and we have no hesitation in affirming that it |)s,°j1gn|1ieat
is stronger than a beam of the common form, and con-m;ng 0f
taining twenty times its quantity of timber. There is the work-,
hajdly a part of it exposed to a transverse strain, if weinS beam,
except the strain of the pump V on the Strutt by which
it is worked. Every piece is either pushed or pulled in
the direction of its length. We only fear that the
2 bolts'
STEAM-ENGINE.
*s
The reci¬
procating
motion of
the steam-
engine is a
defect still
Ho be icme-
died
S6
^Mr Watt’s
attempts to
.produce a
circular
Snotion by
steam un¬
successful.
bdlts which connect the upper beam with the two iron
bars under its ends will work loose in their holes, and
tear out the wood which lies between them. We would
propose to substitute an iron bar for the whole of this
upper beam. This working beam highly deserves the
attention of all carpenters and engineers. We have that
opinion of Mr Hornblower’s knowledge and talents^
that we are confident that he will see the fairness of our
examination of his engine, and we trust to his candour
for an excuse for our criticism.
The reciprocating motion of the steam-engine has
always been considered as a great defectj for though it
be now obviated by connecting it with a fly, yet, un¬
less it is an engine of double stroke, this fly must be an
enormous mass of matter moving with great velocity.
Any accident happening to it would produce dreadful
effects : A part of the rim detaching itself would have
the force of a bomb, and no building could withstand it.
Many attempts have been made to produce a circular
motion at once by the steam. It lias been made to
blow on the Vanes of a wheel of various forms. But
the rarity of steam is such, that even if none is condensed
by the cold of the vanes, the impulse is exceedingly
feeble, and the expence of steam, so as to produce any
serviceable impulse, is enormous. Mr Watt, among
bis first speculations on the steam engine, made some
attempts of this kind. One in particular was uncom¬
monly ingenious. It consisted of a drum turning air¬
tight within another, with cavities so disposed that there
was a constant and great pressure urging it in one direc¬
tion. But no packing of the common kind could pre¬
serve it air-tight with sufficient mobility. He succeeded
by immersing it in mercury, or in an amalgam which
remained fluid in the heat of boiling water j but the
continual trituration soon calcined the fluid and rendered
it useless. He then tried Parent’s or Dr Barker’s mill,
inclosing the arms in a metal drum, which was immer¬
sed in cold water. The steam rushed rapidly along the
Ster.m-
4S.itchen.
Steaia
Engine,
*7
pipe which was the axis, and it was hoped that a great
reaction would have been exerted at the ends of the
arms; but it was almost nothing. The reason seems
to be, that the greatest part of the steam was condensed
in the cold arms. It was then tried in a drum kept
boiling hot j but the impulse was now very small in
comparison with the exper.ee of steam. This must be
the case.
Mr Watt has described in his specification to the pa¬
tent office some contrivances for producing a circular
motion by the immediate action of the steam. Some
of these produce alternate motions, and are perfectly
analogous to his double-stroke engine. Others produce
a continued motion. But he has not given such a de¬
scription of his valves for this purpose as can enable an
engineer to construct one ©f them. From any guess
that we can form, we think the machine very imperfect;
and we do not find that Mr Watt has ever erected a
continuous circular engine. He has doubtless found all Still the
his attempts inferior to the reciprocating engine with acaseisnot
fly. A very crt^le scheme of this kind may be seen in
the Transactions of the Royal Society of Dublin 1787.^111 priii-
But although our attempts hate hitherto failed, we hope cipies maj
that the case is not yet desperate: we see different prin-be «raploy-
ciples which have not yet been employed. e^* gs
We shall conclude our account of this noble engine Mr -Watt’i
with observing, that Mr Watt’s form suggests the con-engine sug
struction of an excellent air-pump. A large vessel maySe*ts t!ie
be made to communicate with a boiler at one side, and c.01|ist™^'
with the pump-receiver on the other, and also with a
Condenser. Suppose this vessel of ten times the capa-air-pump,
city of the receiver; fill it with steam from the boiler,
and drive out the air from it; then open its communi¬
cation with the receiver and the condenser. This will
rarefy the air of the receiver ten times. Repeating the
operation will rarefy it 100 times ; the third operation
will rarefy it 1000 times; the fourth 10,000 time?,
&c. All this may be done in half a minute.
Stjzam-Kitchen. Ever since Dr Bapin contrived his
digester (about the year 1690), schemes have been pro¬
posed for dressing victuals by the steam of boiling water.
A philosophical club used to dine at Saltero’s coffee¬
house, Chelsea, about 40 years age, and had their vic¬
tuals dressed by hanging them in the boiler of the steam-
engine which raises Water for the supply of Picadilly
and its neighbourhood. They were completely dressed,
and both expeditiously and with high flavour.
A patent was obtained for an apparatus for this pur¬
pose by a tin-man in London ; we think of the name of
Tate. They were afterwards made on a much move
effective plan by Mr Gregory, an ingenious trades¬
man in Edinburgh, and are coming into very general
use.
It is well known to the philosopher that the steam of
boiling water contains a prodigious quantity of heat,
which it retains in a latent state ready to be faithfully
accounted for, and communicated to any colder body.
Every cook knows the great scalding power of steam,
and is disposed to think that it is much hotter than
boiling water. This, however, is a mistake ; for it will
false the thermometer no higher than the water from
which it comes. But wTe can assure the cook, that if,
he make the steam from the spout of a tea-kettle pass
through a great body of cold water, it will he conden¬
sed or changed into water ; and when one pound of wa¬
ter has in this manner been boiled off, it will have
heated the mass of cold water as much as if we had
thrown into it seven or eight hundred pounds of boiling
hot water.
If, therefore, a boiler he properly fitted up in a fur¬
nace, and if the steam of the water boiling in it be con¬
veyed by a pipe into a pan containing victuals to be
dressed, every thing can he cooked that requires no
higher degree of heat than that of boiling water: And
this will be done without any risk of scorching, or any
kind ol overheating, which frequently spoils our dishes,
and proceeds from the burning heat of air coming to
those parts of the pot or pan which is not filled with li¬
quor, and is covered only with a film, which quickly
burns and taints the whole dish. Nor will the cook bt
scorched by the great heat of the open fire that is ne¬
cessary for dressing at once anumbei of dishes, nor bar©
Ws
Slea*-
Kitche»*
s T E [ 679 ] S T E
Hteam l11* person and clothes soiled by the smoke and soot un-
Kuciien. avoidable in the cooking on an open fire. Indeed the
'* v "hole process is so neat, so manageable, so open to in¬
spection, and so cleanly, that it need neither fatigue nor
offend the delicacy of the nicest lady.
We had great doubts, when we first heard of this as
a general mode of cookery, as to its economy ; we had
none as to its efficacy. We thought that the steam,
and consequently the fuel expended, must be vastly great¬
er than by the immediate use of an open fire ; but we
have seen a large tavern dinner expeditiously dressed in
this manner, seemingly with much less fuel than in the
common method. The following simple narration of
iacts will show the superiority. In a paper manufactory
in this neighbourhood, the vats containing the pulp into
which the frames are dipped are about six feet diameter,
and contain above 200 gallons. This is brought to a
proper heat by means of a small cockle or furnace in the
middle ot the liquor. This is heated by putting in
about one hundred weight of coals about eight o’clock
in the evening, and continuing this till four next morn¬
ing, renewing the fuel as it burns away. This method
was lately changed for a steam heater. A furnace, ha¬
ving a boiler ot five or six feet diameter and three feet
deep, is heated about one o’clock in the morning with
two hundred weight of coals, and the water kept in
brisk ebullition. Pipes go off from this boiler to six
vats, some of which are at 90 feet distance. It is con¬
veyed into a flat box or vessel in the midst of the pulp,
where it condenses, imparting its heat to the sides of the
box, and thus heats the surrounding pulp. These six
vats are as completely heated in three hours, expe.nding
about three hundred weight of coals, as they were for¬
merly in eight hours, expending near eighteen hundred
weight of coals. Mr Gregory, the inventor of this
steam-heater, has obtained (in company with Mr Scott,
plumber, Edinburgh) a patent for the invention j and
we are persuaded that it will come into very general use
for many similar purposes. The dyers, hatmakers, and
many other manufacturers, have occasion for large vats
kept in a continual heat 3 and there seems no way so
effectual.
Indeed when we reflect seriously on the subject, we
see that this method has immense advantages considered
merely as a mode of applying heat. The steam may be
applied to the vessel containing the victuals in every
part of its surface : it may even be made to enter the
vessel, and apply itself immediately to the piece of meat
that is to he dressed, and this without any risk of scorch¬
ing or overdoing.-—And it will give out about of
the heat which it contains, and will do this only if it he
wanted j so that no heat whatever is wasted except what
is required tor heating the apparatus. Experience shows
that this is a mere trifle in comparison of what was sup¬
posed necessary. But with an open fire we onlv apply
the flame and hot air to the bottom and part of the sides
ot our boiling vessels : and this application is hurried
m the extreme j for to make a great heat, we must have
a great fire, which requires a prodigious and most ra¬
pid current of air. This air touches our pans but for a
moment, imparts to them but a small portion of its
heat 3 and we are persuaded that three-fourths of the
heat is carried np the chimney, and escapes in pure
waste, while another great portion beams out into the
kitchen to the great annoyance of the scorched cook.
We think, therefore, that a page or two of this work stearo-
will not be thrown away in the description of a contri- Kitchen.
vance by which a saving may be made to the enter- ‘ v—
tainer, and the providing the pleasures of his table
prove a less fatiguing task to this valuable corps of prac¬
tical chemists.
Let A (fig. 1.) represent a kitchen-boiler, either pro- Plat*-
perly fitted up in a furnace, with its proper fire-place, DV-
ash-pit, and flue, or set on a tripod on the open fire, or r"
built up in tiie general fire-place. The steam-pipe BC
rises from the cover of this boiler, and then is led away
with a gentle ascent in any convenient direction. C re>
presents the section of this conducting steam-pipe..
Branches are taken off from the side at proper distances.
One of these is represented at CDE, furnished with a
cock D, and having a taper nozzle E, fitted by grind¬
ing into a conical piece F, which communicates with an
upright pipe GH, which is soldered to the side of the
stewing vessel PQRS, communicating with it by the
short pipe I. The vessel is fitted with a cover OT, ha¬
ving a staple handle V. The piece of meat M is laid
on a tin-plate grate KL, pierced with holes like a cul¬
lender, and standing on three short feet n n n.
The steam from the boiler comes in by the pipe I,
and is condensed by the meat and by the sides of the
vessel, communicating to them all its heat. What is
not so condensed escapes between the vessel and its co¬
ver. The condensed water lies on the bottom of the
vessel, mixed with a very small quantity of gravy and
fatty matter from the victuals. Frequently, instead of
a cover, another stew-vessel with a cullender bottom is
set on this one, the bottom of the one fitting the mouth
of the other : and it is observed, that when this is done,
the dish in the under vessel is more expeditiously and
better dressed, and the upper dish is more slowly, but as
completely, stewed.
_ 'Ibis description of one stewing vessel may serve to
give a notion of the whole 3 only we must observe, that
when broths, soups, and dishes with made sauces or con¬
taining liquids, are to be dressed, they must be put into
a smaller vessel, which is set into the vessel PQRS, and
is supported on three short feet, so that there may’be a
space all around it of about an inch or three quarters
of an inch. It is observed, that dishes of this kind are
not so expeditiously cooked as on En open fire, but as
completely in the end, only requiring t© be turned up
now and then to mix the ingredients ; because as the
liquids in the inner vessel can never come into ebullition,
unless the steam from the boiler be made of a dangerous
heat, and every thing be close confined, there cannot
be any of that tumbling motion that We observe in a
boiling pot.
I he pei foi marnce of this apparatus is far beyond any
expectation we had formed of it. In one which we ex¬
amined, six pans were stewing together by means of a
boiler 10J indies in diameter, standing on a brisk open
fire. It boiled very briskly, and the steam puffed fre¬
quently through the chinks between the stew-pans and
their covers. In one of them was a piece of meat con¬
siderably above 30 pounds weight. This required a-
bove tour hours stewing, and was then very thoroughly
and equally cooked ; the outside being no more done
than the heart, and it was near two pounds heavier than
when put in, and greatly swelled. In the mean time,
several dishes had been dressed in the other pans. As
far*-
S T E
r 680 j
S T E
ns.
far as we could judge, this cooking did not consume
one-third part of the fuel which an open lire would
have required for the same effect.
When we consider this apparatus with a little more
knowledge of the mode ol operation of fire than falls
to the share of the cooks (we speak with deference),
and consider the very injudicious manner in which the
steam is applied, we think that it may be improved so
as to surpass any thing that the cook can have a notion
of.
When the steam enters the stew-pan, it is condensed
on the meat and on the vessel j but we do not want it
to be condensed on the vessel. And the surface of tne
vessel is much greater than that of the meat, and conti¬
nues much colder ’, for the meat grows hot, and conti¬
nues so, while the vessel, made of metal, which is a
very, perfect conductor of heat, is continually robbed of
its heat by the air of the kitchen, and carried off by
it. If the meat touch the side of the pan in any part,
no steam can be applied to that part of the meat, while
it is continually imparting heat to the air by the inter¬
medium of the vessel. Nay, the meat can hardly be
dressed unless there he a current of steam through it j
and we think this confirmed by what is observed above,
that when another stew-pan is set over the first, and thus
gives occasion to a current of steam through its cullen¬
der bottom to be condensed by its sides and contents,
the lower dish is more expeditiously dressed. We ima¬
gine, therefore, that not less than half of the steam is
wasted on the sides of the different stew-pans. Our first
attention is therefore called to this circumstance, and we
wish to apply the steam more economically and effec¬
tually.
We would therefore construct the steam-kitchen in
the following manner:
We would make a wooden chest (which we shall call
the Stew-chest) ABCD (fig. 2.). This should be
made of deal, in very narrow slips, not exceeding an
inch, that it may not shrink. This should be lined with
very thin copper, lead, or even strong tinfoil. This
will prevent it from becoming a conductor of heat by
soaking with steam. For further security it might be
set in another chest, with a space of an inch or two all
round, and this space filled with a composition of pow¬
dered charcoal and clay. This should be made by first
making a mixture of fine potter’s clay and water about
as thick as poor cream : then as much powdered char¬
coal must be beat up with this as can be made to stick
together. When this is rammed in and dry, it may be
hot enough on one side to melt glass, and will not dis¬
colour white paper on the other.
This chest must, have a cover LMNO, also of wood,
having holes in it to receive the stew-pans P, Q, II.
Between each pan is a wooden partition, covered on
both sides with milled lead or tinfoil. The whole top
must be covered with very spongy leather or felt, and
made very flat. F.ach stew-pan must have a bearing or
shoulder all round it, by which it is supported, resting
on the felt, and lying so true and close that no steam
can escape. Some of the pans should be simple, like
the pan F, for dressing broths and other liquid dishes.
Others should be like E and G, having in the bottom a
pretty wide hole II, K, which has a pipe in its upper
side, rising about an inch or an inch and half into the
stew-pan. The meat is laid on a cullender plate, as in
the common way ; only there must be no holes in the Steh
cullender immediately above the pipe.—These stew- Kite-*
pans must be fitted with covers, or they may have others
fitted to their mouths, for warming sauces or other dish¬
es, or stewing greens, and many other subordinate pur¬
poses for which they may be fitted.
The main-pipe from the boiler must have branches,
(each furnished with a cock, which admit the steam
into these divisions. At its first entry some will be con¬
densed on the bottom and sides ; but we imagine that
these will in two minutes be heated so as to condense no
more, or almost nothing. The steam will also quickly
condense on the stew-pan, and in half a minute make
it boiling hot, so that it will condense no more 5 all the
rest will now apply itself to the meat and to the cover.
It may perhaps be advisable to allow the cover to con¬
dense steam, and even to waste it. This may be pro¬
moted by laying on it flannel soaked in water. Our
view in this is to create a demand for steam, and thus
produce a current through the stew-pan, which will be
applied in its passage to the victuals. But we are not
certain of the necessity of this. Steam is not like com¬
mon air of the same temperature, which would glide
along the surfaces of bodies, and impart to them a small
portion of its heat, and escape with the rest. To pro¬
duce this effect there must be a current ; for air hot
enough to melt lead, rvill not boil water, if it be kept
stagnant round the vessel. But steam imparts the w/10/e
of its latent heat to anybody colder than boiling water,
and goes no farther till this body be made boiling hot.
It is a most faithful carrier of heat, and will deliver its
whole charge to any body that can take it. Therefore,
although there were no partitions in the slew-chest, and
the steam were admitted at the end next the boiler, if
the pan at the farther end be colder than the rest, it will
all go thither; and will, in short, communicate to every
thing impartially according to the demand. If any per¬
son Iras not the confidence in the steam which we ex¬
press, he may still be certain that there must be a pro¬
digious saving of heat by confining the whole in the
stew-chest; and he may make the pans with entire bot¬
toms, and admit the steam into them in the common
way, by pipes which come through the sides of the chest
and then go into the pan. There will be none lost by
condensation on the sides of the chest; and the panswill
soon be heated up to the boiling temperature ; and
hardly any of their heat will be wasted, because the air
in the chest will he stagnant. The chief reason for re¬
commending our method is the much greater ease with
which the stew-pans can be shifted and cleaned. There
will be little difference in the performance.
Nay, even the common steam-kitchen may be prodi¬
giously improved by merely wrapping each pan in three
or four folds of coarse dry flannel, or making flannel
bags of three or four folds fitted to their shape, which
can he put on or removed in a minute. It will also
greatly conduce to the good performance to wrap the
main steam pipe in the same manner in flannel.
We said that this main-pipe is conducted from the
boiler with a gentle ascent. The intention of this is,
that the water produced by the unavoidable condensa¬
tion of the steam may run back into the boiler. But
the rapid motion of the steam generally sweeps it up
hill, and it runs into the branch-pipes and descends into
the stew-pans. Perhaps it would be as well to give the
main-
Win am s sculp*
S T E [6
Steam- main-pipe a declivity tlie other way, and allow all the
Kitchen, water to collect in a hot well at the farther end, by
-J '*"" ' means of a descending pipe, having a loaded valve at
the end. This may be so contrived as to be close by
the fire, where it would be so warm that it would not
check the boiling if again poured into the boiler. But
the utmost attention must be paid to cleanliness in the
whole of this passage, because this water is boiled again,
and its steam passes through the heart of every dish.
This circumstance forbids us to return into the boiler
what is condensed in the stew-pans. This would mix
the tastes and flavours of every dish, and be very disa¬
greeable. All this must remain in the bottom of each
stew-pan j for which reason we put in the pipe rising-
up in the middle of the bottom. It might indeed be al¬
lowed to fall down into the slew-chest, and to be col¬
lected in a common receptacle, while the fat would float
at top, and the clear gravy be obtained below, perhaps
fit for many sauces.
The completest method for getting rid of this con¬
densed steam would be to have a small pipe running
along the under side of the main conductor, and com¬
municating with it at diflerent places, in a manner simi¬
lar to the air discharger on the mains of water-pipes.
In the paper manufactory mentioned above, each steam-
box has a pipe in its bottom, with a float-cock, by
which the water is discharged •, and the main pipe being
of great diameter, and laid with a proper acclivity, the
water runs back into the boiler.
But these precautions are of little moment in a steam-
kitchen even for a great table ; and for the general use
of private families, would hurt the apparatus, by mak¬
ing it complex and of nice management. For a small
family, the whole apparatus may be set on a table four
feet long and two broad, which may be placed on cast¬
ers, so as to be wheeled out of the -way when not in
use. If the main conductor be made of wood, or pro¬
perly cased in flannel, it will condense so little steam
that the cooking table may stand in the remotest corner
of the kitchen without sensibly impairing its perform¬
ance ; and if the boiler be properly set up in a small
furnace, and the flue made so that the flame may be ap¬
plied to a great part of its surface, we are persuaded
that three-fourths of the fuel used in common cookery
will be saved. Its only inconvenience seems to be the
indispensable necessity of the most anxious cleanliness
in the whole apparatus. The most trifling neglect in
this will destroy a whole dinner.
We had almost forgotten to observe, that the boiler
must be furnished with a funnel for supplying it with
water. This shopld pass through the top, and its pipe
reach near to the bottom. It will be proper to have a
cock on this funnel. There should also be another pipe
in the top of the boiler, having a valve on the top. If
this be loaded with a pound on every square inch, and
the fire so regulated that steam may be observed to puff
.sometimes from this valve, we may be certain that it is
passing through our dishes with sufficient rapidity ; and
if we shut the cock on the funnel, and load the valve a
little more, we shall cause the steam to blow at the co¬
vers of the stew-pans. If one of these be made very
tight, and have a hole also furnished with a loaded valve,
this pan becomes a digester, and will dissolve bones,
and do many things which are impracticable in the or¬
dinary cookery.
Vol. XIX. Part II. i
Bi ] S T £
Steam applied to Heating llooms. Steam has been Steam,
successfully applied as a substitute for open fires in heat- <—-v-—-’
ing manufactories, and promises to be highly beneficial,
not only in point of economy in saving fuel, but also in
lessening the danger of accidental fire. The following
mode of heating a cotton mill by steam was proposed
and practised in 1799 by MrNiel Snodgrass of Paisley.
We shall give an account of it in his own words *. * Phil.
“ Fig. 1. presents a view of an inner gable, which is xxvu.
at one extremity ol the preparation and spinning rooms
ol the mill. On the other side of this gable there is a Day^
space of 17 feet, enclosed by an outer gable, and con- fig. 1.
taining the water-wheel, the staircase, and small rooms
for the accommodation of the work. In this space the
furnace and boiler are placed on the ground. The boiler
cannot be shown here, as it lies behind the gable exhi¬
bited ; nor is it of any consequence, as there is nothing
peculiar in it. It may be of any convenient form. The
feeding apparatus, &c. are in every respect the same as
in the boiler of a common steam-engine. A circular
copper boiler, two feet diameter by two feet deep, con-
taining 30 gallons of water, with a large copper head as
a reservoir for the steam, was found to answer in the
present instance. The steam is conveyed from the boiler
through the gable, by the copper pipe B, into the tin
pipe, C, C. From C it passes into the centres of the per¬
pendicular pipes E, E, E, by the small bent copper tubes
1), D, D. The pipes E, E, E, are connected under the
garret floor by the tubes F, F, for the more easy circu¬
lation of the steam. Hie middle pipe, E, is carried
through the garret floor, and communicates with a lying
pipe, 36 feet in length (the end of which is seen at G),
for heating the garret. At the further extremity of the
pipe G, there is a valve falling inwards to prevent a va¬
cuum being formed on the cooling of the apparatus ; the
consequence of which would be the crushing of the pipes
by the pressure of the atmosphere. Similar valves K, K,
are placed near the top of the perpendicular pipes,
E, E j and from the middle one E, the small pipe passes
through the roof, and is furnished with a valve at I,
opening outwards, to suffer the air to escape while the
pipes are filling with steam, or the steam itself to escape
when the charge is too high.
“ I he water condensed in the perpendicular pipes
E, E, E, trickles down their sides into the three fun¬
nels L, L, L, the necks of which may either pass
through or round the pipe C, into the copper tube
M, M, which also receives the water condensed in C, C
By means of the short tubes N, N. The pipe C, C, is
itself so much inclined as to cause the water to run
along it to the tubes N, N, and the pipe G in the garret
has an inclination of 18 inches in its length, to bring
the water condensed in it back to the middle pipe E.
The tube M, M, carries back the water through the
gable to the boiler, which stands five feet lower than
this tube. It is material to return the ‘water to the
boiler, as, being nearly at a boiling heat, a considerable
expence of fuel is thereby saved.
“ The large pipes are ten inches in diameter, and are
made of the second kind of tinned iron plates. The di¬
mensions of the smaller tubes maybe seen by tbeir com¬
parative size in the engraving, and perhaps they might
be varied without inconvenience.
“ The apparatus erected as here described, has been
found sufficiently strong, and has required no material
* 4 repairs
S T E [68
repairs since the first alterations were made. The lead¬
ing object in the instance under consideration being to
save fuel, in order to derive as much heat as possible
from a given quantity of fuel, the flue from the fur¬
nace, which heats the boiler, is conveyed into common
stone pipes placed in the gable. These are erected so as
to prevent any danger of fire, in the manner shown in
the engraving, fig. 2. The steam with this auxiliary
communicates a heat of about 70° to the mill, the
rooms of which are 50 feet long, 32^ feet wide, and 8§-
feet high, except the lower story and garret 5 the former
of which is 11, and the latter seven feet high. The
rooms warmed in this manner are much more wholesome
and agreeable than those heated by the best constructed
stoves, being perfectly free from vapour or contaminated
air.
“ The application of the principle to buildings already
constructed, it is presumed, will be sufficiently obvious
from the foregoing details. In new manufactories, where
the mode of heating may be made a part of the original
plan, a more convenient apparatus may be introduced.
This will be best explained by a description of fig. 2.
which gives a section of a cotton-mill constructed so as
to apply the steam apparatus to a new building.
“ The furnace for the boiler is shown at a (fig. 2.)
The flue of the furnace conveys the smoke into the cast
iron stove pipes, 1, 2, 3, 4. T-hese pipes are placed in a
space in the gable, entirely inclosed with brick, except
at the small apertures, 5, 6, 7, 8. A current of air is
admitted below at 9, and thrown into the rooms by those
openings, after being heated by contact with the pipes.
This part of the plan is adopted with a view to prevent,
as much as possible, any of the heat, produced by the
fuel used, from being thrown away. It may be omitted
where any danger of fire is apprehended from it, and
the smoke may be carried off in any way that is consi¬
dered absolutely secure. So far, however, as appears
from experience, there seems to be little or no dan¬
ger of fire from a stove of this construction. The greatest
inconvenience of a common stove is, that the cockle or
metal furnace is liable to crack from the intensity of the
heat. By the continuity of the metal from the fire¬
place, an intense heat is also conducted along the pipes,
which exposes them to the same accident. Here the
smoke being previously conveyed through a brick flue,
can never communicate to the pipes a degree of heat
sufficient to crack them. In like manner the pipes, hav¬
ing no communication with the rooms but by the small
apertures, cannot come in contact with any combustible
substance 5 and from being surrounded with air, which
is constantly changing, can impart only a very moderate
degree of heat to the walls. The iron supporters of the
pipes may be imbedded in some substance which is a bad
conductor of heat, as furnace ashes and lime, &c. The
emission of heated air into the rooms may be regulated
by valves. As the pipes are not exposed to cracking,
there is no risk of their throwing smoke or vapour into
the rooms.
“ The boiler h, b, is six feet long, three and a half
broad, and three feet deep. As there is nothing pecu¬
liar in the feeding apparatus, it is omitted. The boiler
may be placed in any convenient situation. Where a
steam engine is used for other purposes, the steam may
be taken from its boiler. The pipe c, c, conveys the
steajji from the boiler to the first perpendicular pipe
3
j ] S T E
d, d, d, d. There is an expanding joint at e, stuffed, to
make it steam-tight. The steam ascending in the first
pipe d, d, d, enters the horizontal pipe (which
is slightly inclined) expelling the air, which partly es¬
capes by the valve g, and is partly forced into the other
pipes. The valve g being considerably loaded, forces
the accumulating steam down into the rest of the pipes
d, d, d. The air in these pipes recedes before the steam,
and is forced through the tubes /i, h, /i, into the pipe
m, m, m, whence it escapes at the valve and the sy¬
phon k. The water, condensed in the whole of the
pipes, passes also through the tubes h, 7i, h, h, into the
pipe m, m, m, which has such a declivity as to discharge
the water at the syphon k, into the hot well n, whence
it is pumped back into the boiler.
“ The whole of the pipes are of cast iron, except
m,m, m, which is of copper. The perpendicular pipes
serve as pillars for supporting the beams of the house, by
means of the projecting pieces 0, 0, 0, which may be
raised or lowered at pleasure by the wedges p, p, p. The
pipes are sunk in the beams about aninch, and are made
fast to them by the iron straps q, q. Those in the lower
story rest on the stones, s, s, s, s, and are made tight at
the junction with stuffing. The pipe in each story sup¬
ports the one in the story above, by a stuffed joint as
shown at r. The pipes in the lower story are seven
inches in diameter j those in the higher six inches ; those
in the other two are of intermediate diameters. The
thickness of the metal is three-eighths of an inch. The
lower pipes are made larger than the upper, in order to
expose a greater heated surface in the lower rooms, be¬
cause the steam being throwm from above into all the
pipes, except the first, would otherwise become incapable
of imparting an equal heat as it descends. There is no
necessity for valves opening inwards in this apparatus,
the pipes being strong enough to resist the pressure of the
atmosphere.
“ The cotton mill is 60 feet long, 33 wide, and four
stories high, the upper being a garret story. In the en¬
graving, five parts out of nine in the length of the
building are only shown. The apparatus will heat the
rooms to 85° in the coldest season. It is evident that,
by increasing the size or the number of the pipes, and
the supply of steam, any degree of heat up to 212° may
be easily produced. It may even be carried beyond that
point by an apparatus strong enough to compress the
steam : this, however, can seldom be wanted. At first
it was objected to this construction, that the expansion
of the pipes, when heated, might damage the building:
but experience has proved, that the expansion occasion¬
ed by the heat of steam is quite insensible.”
Steam has also been advantageously employed in dry¬
ing muslin goods, when the state of the weather inter¬
rupts this process out of doors. This application of steam,
we understand, was the invention of an ingenious me¬
chanic in Paisley, who never derived the smallest benefit
from the discovery. It was adopted immediately by some
bleachers in the neighbourhood, and has now come into
very general use. ’ The steam is introduced into cylin¬
ders of tin plate, and the goods to be dried are wrapped
round the cylinders which communicate to them a heat
equal at least to the temperature of boiling water, and
in this way the process of drying is expeditiously accom¬
plished.
STEATITES, or Soap-earth, a species of mineral
belonging
s T E [ 683 ] . S T E
Steatites belonging to the magnesian genus. See Mineralogy
|] Index.
Steel-yard. STEATOMA, a kind of encysted tumor, consisting
^ T of a matter like suet or lard, soft, without pain, and
without discolouring the skin.
STEEL, iron united with carbone, from which it
possesses properties distinct from those of iron, and which
render it of supex-ior value. From its higher degree of
hardness, it admits a finer polish and assumes a brighter
colour. When tempered, it possesses a higher degree of
elasticity, and is also more sonorous. It is more weak¬
ly attracted by the loadstone, it receives more slowly
the magnetic power, but it preserves it longer. When
exposed to a moist air, it does not contract rust so easi¬
ly as iron. See Iron, Chemistry Index.
Steel-Bow Tenants. See Tenure.
. STEEL-Yard, is one of the most ancient presents
which science has made to society j and though long in
desuetude in this country, is in most nations of the
world the only instrument for ascertaining the weight
of bodies. What is translated balance in the Penta¬
teuch, is in fact steelyard, being the word used by the
Arabs to this day for their instrument, which is a steel¬
yard. It is in common use in all the Asiatic nations.
It was the statera of the Greeks and Romans, and seems
to have been more confided in by them than the ba¬
lance ; for which reason it was used by the goldsmiths,
while the balance was the instrument of the people.—
Hon mirificis statera sed populari trutina examinare.
Cic. de Orat. 238.
The steelyard is a lever of unequal arms, and, in its
most perfect form, is constructed much like a common
Plate balance. It hangs in sheers E (fig. 1.) resting on the
nail C, and the scale L for holding the goods hangs by
11 a nail D on the short arm BC. The counterweight
P hangs by a ring of tempered steel, made sharp in the
inside, that it may bear by an edge on the long arm
CA of the steelyard. The under edge of the centre
nail C, and the upper edge of the nail D, are in the
sti-aight line formed by the upper edge of the long arm.
Thus the three points of suspension are in one straight
line. The needle or index of the steelyard is perpen¬
dicular to the line of the arms, and plays between the
sheers. The short arm may be made so. massive, that,
together with the scale, it will balance the long arm un¬
loaded. When no goods are in the scale, and the coun¬
ter weight with its hook are removed, the steelyard ac¬
quires a horizontal position, in consequence of its centre
of gravity being below the axis of suspension. The rules
for its accurate construction are the same as for a com¬
mon balance.
The instrument indicates different weights in the fol¬
lowing manner : The distance CD of the two nails is
considered as an unit, and the long arm is divided into
a number of parts equal to it; and these are subdivided
as low as is thought proper j or in general, the long
arm is made a scale of equal parts, commencing at the
edge of the nail C; and the short arm contains some de¬
termined number of those equal parts. Suppose, then,
that a weight A of 10 pounds is put into the scale L.
The counterpoise P must be of such a weight, that,
when hanging at the division 10, it shall balance this
weight A. Now let any unknown weight W be put
into the scale. Slide the hook of the counterpoise
along the long arm till it balances this weight. Sup¬
pose it then hanging at the division 38. We conclude Steel-yard,
that there is 38 pounds in the scale. This we do on —y——j
the authority of the fundamental property of the lever,
that forces acting on it, and balancing each other, are
in the inverse proportion of the distances from the ful¬
crum to their lines of direction. Whatever weight the
counterpoise is, it is to A as CD to 10, and it is to the
weight W as CD to 38 ; therefore A is to the weight
W as 10 to 38, and W is 38 pounds : and thus the
weight in the scale will always be indicated by the di¬
vision at which it is balanced by the counterpoise.
Our well-informed readers know that this fundamen¬
tal property of the lever was discovered by the renowned
Archimedes, or at least first demonstrated by him j and
that his demonstration, besides the defect of being ap¬
plicable only to commensurable lengths of the arms, has
been thought by metaphysicians of the first note to pro¬
ceed on a postulate which seems equally to need a de¬
monstration. It has accordingly employed the utmost
refinement of the first mathematicians of Europe to fur¬
nish a demonstration free from objection. Mr D’Alem¬
bert has given two, remarkable for their ingenuity and
subtlety j Foncenex has done the Same ; and Professor
Hamilton of Trinity college, Dublin, has given one
which is thought the least exceptionable. But critics
have even objected to this, as depending on a postulate
which should have been demonstrated.
The following demonstration by Mr Vince, we think
unexceptionable, and of such simplicity that it is aston- Phil.Trans,
ishing that it has not occurred to any person who thinks 1794.
on the subject.
Let AE (fig. 2.) be a mathematical lever, or inflex-Fig. 2.
ible straight line, resting on the prop A, and supported
at D by a force acting upwards. Let two equal weights
b and d be hung on at B and D, equidistant from A and
E. Pressures are now exerted at A and E j and because
every circumstance of weight and distance is the same,
the pressure at E, arising from the action of the weight
b on the point B, must be the same with the pi-essure at
A, arising from the action of the weight d on the point
Dj and the pressure at E, occasioned by the weight d,
must be the same with the pressure at A, occasioned by
the weight b. This must be the case wherever the
weights are hung, provided that the distances AB and
DE are equal. Moreover, the sum of the pressures at
A and E is unquestionably equal to the sum of the
weights, because the weights are supported solely at A
and E. Let the two weights be hung on at C the mid¬
dle point; the pressure at E is still the same. Therefore,
in general, the pressure excited at the point E, by two
equal weights hanging at any points B and D, is the
same as if they were hung on at the middle point between
them; but the pressure excited at E is a just measure of
the effort or energy of the weights b and d to urge the
lever round the point A. It is, at least, a measure of
the opposite force which must be applied at E to sustain
or balance this pressure. A very fastidious metaphysi¬
cian may still say, that the demonstration is limited to
a point E, whose distance from A is twice AC, or
— AB-f-AD. But it extends to any other point, on
the authority of a postulate which cannot be refused,
viz. that in whatever proportion the pressure at E is
augmented or diminished, the pressure at this other point
must augment or diminish in the same proportion. This
being proved, the general theorem may be demonstra-
4 R 2 ted
*
S T E • [ 684 ]
S T E
Steel yard, teil in all proportions of distance, in the manner of Ar-
1'-—-v'——chimedes, at once the most simple, perspicuous, and
elegant of all.
We cannot help observing, that all this difficulty
(and it is a real one to the philosopher who aims at
rendering mechanics a demoristrative science) has arisen
from an improper search after simplicity. Had Archi¬
medes taken a lever as it really exists in nature, and
considered it as material, consisting of atoms united by
cohesion 5 and had he traced the intermediate pressures
by whose means the two external weights are put in op¬
position to each other, or rather to the support given to
the fulcrum j all difficulty would have vanished. (See
what is said on this subject m the article Strength of
Timber, &c.).
The quantity of goods which may be weighed by
this instrument depends on the weight of the counter¬
poise, and on the distance CD from the fulcrum at
which the goods are suspended. A double counter¬
poise hanging at the same division will balance or indi¬
cate a double quantity of goods hanging at D ; and
any counterpoise will balance and indicate a double
quantity of goods, if the distance CD be reduced to
one half. And it sometimes occurs that steelyards are
so constructed that they have two or more points of
suspension D, to which the scale may occasionally be
attached. It is evident, that in this case the value
or indication of the division of the long arm will be
different, according to the point from which the scale
is suspended. The same division which would indicate
20 pounds when CD is three inches, will indicate 30
pounds when it is two inches. As it would expose to
chance of mistakes, and be otherwise troublesome to
make this reduction, it is usual to make as many divi¬
ded scales on the long arm as there are points of sus¬
pension D on the short arm : and each scale having its
own numbers, all trouble and all chance of mistake is
avoided.
But the range of this instrument is not altogether at
the pleasure of the maker. Besides the inability of a
slender beam to carry a great load, the divisions of the
scale answering to pounds or half-pounds become very
minute when the distance CD is very short; and the
balance becomes less delicate, that is, less sensibly affect¬
ed by small differences of weight. This is because in
such cases the thickness which it is necessary to give
the edges of the nails does then bear a sensible propor¬
tion to the distance CD between them ; so that when
the balance inclines to one side, that arm is sensibly
shortened, and therefore the energy of the prepondera¬
ting weight is lessened.
We have hitherto supposed the steelyard to be in
equilibrio when not loaded. But this is not necessary,
nor is it usual in those which are commonly made.
The long arm commonly preponderates considerably.
This makes no difference, except in the beginning of
the scale. The preponderancy of the long arm is equi¬
valent to some goods already in the scale, suppose four
pounds. Therefore when there are really 10 pounds
in the scale, the counterpoise will balance it when hang¬
ing at the division 6. This division is therefore rec¬
koned 10, and the rest of the divisions are numbered ac¬
cordingly.
A scientific examination of the steelyard will con¬
vince us that it is inferior to the balance of equal arms
in point of sensibility: fiut it is extremely compfendi- sted-H
ous and convenient; and when accurately made and at- y-:
teritively used, it is abundantly exact for most commer¬
cial purposes. We have seen one at Leipzig which has
been in use since the year 1718, which is very sensible
to a difference of one pound, when loaded with nearly
three tons on the short arm ; arid we saw a waggon
loaded with more than two tons weighed by it in about
six minutes.
The steelyard in common use in the different coun¬
tries of Europe is of a construction still simpler than
what we have described. It consists of a batten of hard
wood, having a heavy lump A (fig. 3.) at one end, and Fig. 3,
a swivel-hook B at the other. The goods to be weighed
are suspended on the hook, and the whole is carried in a
loop of whip cord C, in which it is slid backward and
forward, till the goods are balanced by the weight of
the other end. The weight of the goods is estimated by
the place of the loop on a scale of divisions in harmonic
progression. They are marked (we presume) by trial
with known weights.
The chief use that is now made of the steelyard in
these kingdoms is for the weighing of loaded waggons
and carts. For this it is extremely convenient, and
more than sufficiently exact for the purpose in view.
We shall describe one or two of the most remarkable ;
and we shall begin with that at Leipzig already men¬
tioned.
This steelyard is represented in fig. 4. as run out, pjg •
and just about to be hooked for lifting up the load. The
steelyard itself is OPQ, and is about 12 feet long. The
short arm PQ has two points of suspension c and b;
and the stirrup which carries the chains for holding the
load is made with a double hook, instead of a double
eye, that it may be easily removed from the one pin to^
the other. For this purpose the two hooks are con¬
nected above an hasp or staple, which goes over the
arm of the steelyard like an arch. This is represented
in the little figure above the steelyard. The suspension
is shifted when the steelyard is run in under cover, by
hooking to this staple the running block of a small
tackle which hangs in the door through which the
steelyard is run out and in. This operation is easy,
but necessary, because the stirrup, chains, and the stage
on which the load is placed, weigh some hundreds.
The outer pin b is 14 inches, and the inner one c is
seven inches, distant from the great nail which rests in
the sheers. The other arm is about io£ feet long,
formed with an obtuse edge above. On the inclined
plane on each side of the ridge is drawn the scale of
weights adapted to the inner pin c. The scales corre¬
sponding to the outer pin b are drawn on the upright
sides. The counterpoise slides along this arm, hanging
from a saddle-piece made of brass, that it may not con¬
tract rust. The motion is made easy by means of rollers.
This is necessary, because the counterpoise is greatly
above a hundred weight. This saddle-piece has like
two laps on each side, on which are engraved vernier
scales, which divide their respective scales on the arm
to quarters of a pound. Above the saddle is an arch,
from the summit of which hangs a little plummet,
which shows the equilibrium of the steelyard to the
weigher, because the sheers are four feet out of the house,
and he cannot see their coincidence with the needle of
the steelyard. Lastly, near the end of the long arm,
are
>
St kim/yaiu).
Fig. 4.
Pla t r. n vt.
I
E ■ Mitc/ie//yciife
s T E [ 685 ] S T E
Si^l-yiri two pins d and e, for suspending occasionally two
eke weights for contihuing the scale; These al-e kept
hanging on adjoining hooks, ready to be lifted on by a
little tackle, which is also hooked immediately above
the pins d and e.
The scales of weights are laid down on the arm as
follows. Let the eke-weights appropriated to the pins
d and e be called D and E, and call the counterpoise
C. Although the stirrup with its chains and stage Weigh
some hundreds, yet the length and size of the arm OP
gives it a preponderancy of 300 pounds. Here, then,
the scale of Weights must commence. The counterpoise
weighs about 125 pounds. Therefore,
1. When the load hangs by the pin 6, 14 inches from
the centre, the distance from one hundred to another on
the scale is about 11 inches, and the first scale (on the
side of the arm) reaches from 300 to 1200. In order
to repeat or continue this, the eke-weight E is hung on
the pin e, and the counterpoise C is brought back to the
mark 300 j and the two together balance 1100 pounds
hanging at b. Therefore a second scale is begun on the
side of the arm, and continued as far out as the first, and
therefore its extremity marks 2000 5 that is, the coun¬
terpoise C at 2000 and the eke-Weight E at e balance
2000 hanging at b.
2. To continue the scale beyond 2000, the load must
be hung on the inner pin c. The eke-weight E is
taken off, and the eke-weight D is hung on its pin d.
The general counterpoise being now brought close to
the sheers, it, together with the weight D at d, balance
2000 pounds hanging at c. A scale is therefore begun
On one of the inclined planes a-top, and continued out
to 4000, which falls very near to the pin d, each hun¬
dred pounds occupying about five inches on the arm.
To complete the scale, hang on the eke-weigbt E on its
pin e, and bring back the Counterpoise to the sheers, and
the three together balance 3800 hanging at c. There¬
fore when the counterpoise is now slid out to 4000, it
must complete the balance with 5800 hanging at c.
It required a little consideration to find out what
proportion of the three weights C, D, and E, would
make the repetitions of the scale extend as far as pos¬
sible, having very little of it expressed twice, or upon
two scales, as is the case here. We see that the space
corresponding to a single pound is a very sensible quan¬
tity on both scales, being one-ninth of an inch on the
first two scales, and one-twentieth on the last two.
This very ponderous machine, with its massy weights,
cannot be easily managed without some assistance from
mechanics. It is extremely proper to have it suscep¬
tible of motion out and in, that it may be protected
from the weather, which would soon destroy it by rust.
The contrivance here is very effectual, and abundantly
simple.
When the steel-yard is not in use, it is supported at
one end by the iron rod F, into which the upper end
of the sheers is hooked. The upper end of this rod has
a strong hook E, and a little below at a it is pierced
with a hole, in which is a very strong bolt or pin of
tempered steel, having a roller on each end close to the
rod on each side. These rollers rest on two joists, one
of which is represented by MN, which traverse the
building, with just room enough between them to al¬
low the rod F to hang freely down. The other end O
of the steel-yard rests in the bight of a large flat hook
at the end of a chain W, which hangs down between Steel-yard,
the joists, artd is supported on them by a frame with -v—
rollers M. This is connected with the rollers at G,
which carry the sheers by means of two iron-rods, of
which one only can be seen. These connect the two
sets of rollers in such a manner that they must always
move together, and keep their distance invariable. This
motion is produced by means of an endless rope HI
ZLKVH passing over the pulleys land K, which turn
between the joists, and hanging down in a bight be¬
tween them. It is evident that by pulling on the part
LZ we pull the frame of rollers in the direction GH,
and thus bring the whole into the house in the position
marked by the dotted figure. It is also plain, that by
pulling oU the part LK we force the roller frame and
the whole apparatus out again.
It remains to show how the load is raised from the
ground and weighed. When the steelyard is run out
for use, the upper hook E just enters into the ring I),
which hangs from the end of the great oaken lever
13 CA about 22 feet long, turning on gudgeons at C
about 5 feet from this end. From the other end A
descends a long iron-rod SR, which has one side formed
into a toothed rack that is acted on by a frame of
wheel-work turned by an endless screw and winch Q.
Therefore when the hook E is well engaged in tire
ring D, a man turns the winch, and thus brings down
the end A of the great lever, and raises the load two
or three inches from the ground. Every thing is now
at liberty, and the Weigher now manages his weights
on the arm of the steelyard till he has made an equi¬
librium.
We need not describe the operation of letting down
the load, disengaging the steelyard from the great
lever, and bringing it again under cover. The whole
of this service is performed by two men, and may be
done in succession by one, and is over in five or six
minutes.
The most compendious and economical machine of
this kind that we have seen is one, first used (we have
heard) for weighing tlie riders of race-horses, and af¬
terwards applied to the more reputable service of weigh¬
ing loaded carriages.
Fig. 5. is a plan of the machine. KXMN is the FjV -
plan of a rectangular box, which has a platform lid or & ^
cover, of size sufficient for placing the wheels of a cart
or waggon. The box is about a foot deep, and is sunk
into the ground till the platform cover is even with the
surface. In the middle of the box is an iron lever sup¬
ported on the fulcrum pin ik, formed like the nail of a
balance, which rests with its edge on arches of hardened
steel firmly fastened to the bottom of the box. This
lever goes through one side of the box, and is furnish¬
ed at its extremity with a hard steel pin lm, also
formed to an edge below. In the very middle of the
box it is crossed by a third nail of hardened steel g hy
also formed to an edge, but on the upper side. These
three edges are in one horizontal plane, as in a well
made balance.
In the four corners A, A', E', E, of the box are
firmly fixed four blocks of tempered steel, having their
upper surfaces formed into spherical cavities, well polish¬
ed and hard tempered. ABCDE represents the upper
edge of an iron bar of considerable strength, which rests
on the cavities of the steel blocks in A and E, by means
of
STE [ 686 ] STE
Steel-yard, of two hard steel studs projecting from its under edge,
v-—-V— •> and formed into obtuse-angled points or cones. These
points are in a straight line parallel to the side KN of
the box. The middle part C of this crooked bar is
faced with hard tempered steel below, and is there
formed into an edge parallel to AE and KN, by which
it rests on the upper edge of the steel pin g/i which is
in the lever. In a line parallel to AE, and on the up¬
per side of the crooked bar ACE, are fixed two studs or
points of hardened steel B and D projecting upwards
above half an inch. The platform-cover has four short
feet like a stool, terminated by hard steel studs, which
are shaped into spherical cavities and well polished.
With these it rests on the four steel points B, B', D', D.
The bar ACE is kneed in such a manner vertically,
that the points A, B, D, E and the edge C are all in
a horizontal plane. These particulars will be better
understood by looking at the elevation in fig. 6. W hat
has been said of the bar ACE, must be understood as
also said of the bar A' C' E'.
Draw through the centre of the box the line abc
perpendicular to the line AE, BD. It is evident that
the bar ACE is equivalent to a lever abc, having the
fulcrum or axis AE resting with its extremity C on the
pin 7ig and loaded at b. It is also evident that a C is
to a & as the load on this lever to the pressure which it
exerts on the pin gb, and that the same proportion sub¬
sists between the whole load on the platform and the
pressure which it exerts on the pin gb. It will also ap¬
pear, on an attentive consideration, that this proportion
is nowise deranged in whatever manner the load is
placed on the platform. If very unequably, the two
ends of the pin gb may be unequally pressed, and the
lever wrenched and strained a little j but the total pres¬
sure is not changed.
If there be now placed a balance or steelyard at
the side LK, in such a manner that one end of it may
be directly above the pin / tti in the end of the lever
EOF, they may be connected by a wire or slender rod,
and a weight on the other arm of the balance or steel¬
yard may be put in equilibrio with any load that can
be laid on the platform. A small counterpoise being
first hung on to balance the apparatus when unloaded,
any additional weight will measure the load really laid
on the platform. If n A be to a c as I to 8, and EO
to EF, also as I to 8, and if a common balance be
used above, 64 pounds on the platform will be balanced
by one pound in the scale, and every pound will be ba¬
lanced by -jth of an ounce. This would be a very con¬
venient partition for most purposes, as it would enable
us to use a common balance and common weights to
complete the machine : Or it may be made with a ba¬
lance of unequal arms, or with a steelyard.
Some have thought to improve this instrument by
using edges like those of the nails of a balance, instead
of points. But unless made with uncommon accuracy,
they will render the balance very dull. The small de¬
viation of the two edges A and E, or of B and D,
from perfect parallelism to KN, is equivalent to a broad
surface equal to the whole deviation. We imagine
that, with no extraordinary care, the machine may be
made to weigh within ■g'/bo' °f truth, which is^ ex¬
act enough for any purpose in commerce.
It is necessary that the points be attached to the
bars. Some have put the points at A and E in the
blocks of steel fastened to the bottom, because the ca-Steel-jb,
vity there lodged water or dirt, which soon destroyed Steeu!
the instrument with rust. But this occasions a change '
of proportion in the first lever by any shifting of the
crooked bars; and this will frequently happen when the
wheels of a loaded cart are pushed on the platform.
The cavity in the steel stud should have a little rim
round it, and it should be kept full of oil. In a nice
machine a quarter of an inch of quicksilver would ef¬
fectually prevent all these inconveniences.
The simplest and most economical form of this ma¬
chine is to have no balance or second steelyard; but
to make the first steelyard EOF a lever of the first
kind, viz. having the fulcrum between O and F, and
allow it to project far beyond the box. The long or
outward arm of this lever is then divided into a scale of
weights, commencing at the side of the box. A coun¬
terpoise must be chosen, such as will, when at the be¬
ginning of the scale, balance the smallest load that will
probably be examined. It will be convenient to carry
on this scale bv means of eke-weights hung on at the
extremity of the lever, and to use but one moveable
weight. By this method the divisions of the scale
will always have one value. The best arrangement is
as follows : Place the mark O at the beginning of the
scale, and let it extend only to 100, if for pounds ; or to
112, if for cwts.; or to 10, if for stones; and let the
eke-weight be numbered 1, 2, 3, &c. Let the
lowest weight be marked on the beam. This is al¬
ways to be added to the weight shown by the opera¬
tion. Let the eke-weights stand at the end of the
beam, and let the general counterpoise always hang at
O. When the cart is put on the platform, the end of
the beam tilts up. Hang on the heaviest eke-weight
that is not sufficient to press it down. Now complete
the balance by sliding out the counterpoise. Suppose
the constant load to be 3121b. and that the counterpoise
stands at 86, and that the eke-weight is 9; we have
the load =9864-312,= 1298^3.
STEELE, Sir Richard, was born about the year
1676 in Dublin ; in which kingdom one branch of the
family was possessed of a considerable estate in the county
of W exford. His father, a counsellor at law in Dub¬
lin, was private secretary to James duke of Ormond ;
but he was of English extraction : and his son, while
very young, being carried to London, he put him to
school at the Charter-house, whence he was removed to
Merton College in Oxford. Our author lelt the uni¬
versity, which he did without taking any degree, in the
full resolution to enter into the army. This.step was
highly displeasing to his friends ; but the ardour of his
passion for a military life rendered him deaf to any other
proposal. Not being able to procure a better station,
he entered as a private gentleman in the horse guards,
notwithstanding he thereby lost the succession to his Irish
estate. However, as he had a flow of good nature, a ge¬
nerous openness and frankness of spirit, and a sparkling
vivacity of wit, these qualities rendered him the delight
of the soldiery, and procured him an ensign’s commission
in the guards. In the mean time, as he had made
choice of a profession which set him Iree from all the or¬
dinary restraints in youth, he spared not to indulge his
inclinations in the wildest excesses. T et his gaieties and
revels did not pass without some cool hours of reflection ;
it was in these that he drew up his little treatise entitled
s T E [ 687 ] S T E
Steele- Christian Hero, with a design, if we may believe of the paper called the Englishman, and one of his poli-
.~-y —■ * himself, to be a check upon his passions. For this pur- tical pieces intitled the Crists. Presently after his ex¬
pose it had lain some time by him, when he printed pulsion, he published proposals for writing the history
it in 1701, with a dedication to Lord Cults, w ho had of the duke of Marlborough 5 at the same time he also
not only appointed him his private secretary, but procu- wrote the Spinster 5 and, in opposition to the Examiner,
red for him a company in Lord Lucas’s regiment of fu- he setup a paper called the itazr/c-r, and continued pub-
lishing several other things in the same spirit till the
I he same year he brought out his comedy called The death of the queen. Immediately after which, as a re-
Funeral, or Grief a la Mode. This play procured him ward for these services, he was taken into favour by
the regard of King William, who resolved to give him her successor to the throne, King George I. He was
some essential marks of his favour; and though, upon appointed surveyor of the royal stables at Hampton-
that prince’s death, his hopes were disappointed, yet, Court, governor of the royal company of comedians,
m the beginning ot Queen Anne’s reign, he was ap- put into the commission of the peace for the county
pointed to the profitable place of gazetteer. He owed of Middlesex, and in 1715 received the honour of
this post to the friendship of Lord Halifax and the earl knighthood. In the first parliament of that king, he
of Sunderland, to whom he had been recommended by was chosen member for Boroughbridge in Yorkshire •
bis schoolfellow Mr Addison. That gentleman also lent and, after the suppression of the rebellion in the north’
llanci iQ promoting the comedy called wras appointed one of the commissioners of the forfeited
The Tender Husband, which was acted in 1704 with estates in Scotland. In 1718, he buried his second
great success. But his next play, The Lying Lover, wife, who had brought him a handsome fortune and a
had a very different late. Lpon this rebuff from the good estate in Wales ; but neither this, nor the ample
stage, he turned the same humorous current into ano- additions lately made to his income, were sufficient to
ther channel ; and early in the year 1709, he began to answer his demands. The thoughtless vivacity of his
publish the Tatler: which admirable paper was under- spirit often reduced him to little shifts of wit for its
taken in concert with Dr Swift. His reputation was support; and the project of the fish-pool this year
perfectly established by this work; and, during the owed its birth chiefly to the projector’s necessities,
course of it, he was made a commissioner of the stamp- This vessel was intended to carry fish alive, and with-
duties in 1710. Upon the change of the ministry the out wasting, to any part of the kingdom : but not-
same year, he joined the duke of Marlborough, who withstanding all his towering hopes, the scheme proved
had several years entertained a friendship for him; and very ruinous to him ; for after he had been at an im-
upon his Grace’s dismission from all employments in mense expence in contriving and building his vessel
17115 Mr Steele addressed a letter of thanks to him besides the charge of the patent, which he had pro-
for the services which he had done to his country, cured, it turned out upon trial to be a mere project.
However, as our author still continued to hold his His plan was to bring salmon alive from the coast of
place in the stamp-office under the new administration, Ireland ; but these fish, though supplied by this contrL
he wisely declined the discussion of political subjects ; vance with a continual stream of water while at sea,
and, adhering more closely to Mr Addison, he dropt yet uneasy at their confinement, shattered themselves to
the latler, and afterwards, by the assistance chiefly pieces against the sides of the pool; so that when they
of that steady friend, he carried on the same plan, were brought to market they were worth very little,
much improved, under the title ot The Spectator. The The following year he opposed the remarkable peer-
success of this paper was equal to that of the for- age bill in the" house of commons; and, during the
mer ; which encouraged him, before the close of it, to course of this opposition to the court his licence for
proceed upon the same design in the character of the acting plays was revoked, and his patent rendered in-
Guardian. This was opened in the beginning of the effectual, at the instance of the lord chamberlain. He
yeifr 1713, and was laid down in October the same did his utmost to prevent so great a loss; and finding
year. But in the course of it his thoughts took a every direct avenue of approach to his royal master
stronger turn to politics: he engaged with great warmth effectually barred against him by his powerful adver-
against the ministry ; and being determined to prose- sary, he had recourse to the method of applying to the
cute his views that way by procuring a seat in the public, in hopes that his complaints would reach The ears
house of commons, he immediately removed all obsta- of his sovereign,' though in an indirect course, by that
cles thereto. For that purpose he took care to pre- canal. In this spirit he formed the plan of a periodical
vent a forcible dismission from his post in the stamp of- paper, to be published twice a week, under the title of
fice, by a timely resignation of it to the earl of Oxford ; the Theatre ; the first number of which came out on the
and at the same time gave up a pension, which had been 2d of January J 719-20. In the mean time the mis-
till this time paid him by the queen as a servant to the fortune of being out of favour at court, like other mis-
late Prince George ot Denmark. This done, he wrote fortunes, drew after it a train of more. Durino- the
the famous Guardian upon the demolition of Dunkirk, course of this paper, in which he had assumed the feign-
which was published August 7. 1713; and the parlia- ed name of JoAra Fh/gr/r, he was outrageously attach¬
ment being dissolved next day, the Guardian was soon ed by Mr Dennis, the noted critic, in a very abusive
followed by several other warm political tracts against pamphlet, entitled The character and Conduct of Sir
the administration. Upon the meeting of the new par- John Edgar. To this insult our author made a proper
liament, Mr Steele having been returned a member for reply in the Theatre.
the borough of Stockbridge in Hampshire, took his While he was struggling with all his might to save
seat accordingly in the house of commons ; but was ex- himself from ruin, he found time to turn his pen against
pelled thence in a few days after, for writing the close the mischievous South Sea scheme, which had nearly
brought
Steele.
S T E
.Steele brought the nation to ruin in 1720 j ami the next year
A. he was restored to his office and authority in the play-
Steering. j10USe jn Drury-Lane. Of this it was not long before
he made an additional advantage, by bringing his cele¬
brated comedy called the Conscious Lovers upon that
stage, where it was acted with prodigious success ; so
that the receipt there must have been very considerable,
besides the profits accruing by the sale of the copy,
and a purse of 500!. given to him by the king, to whom
he dedicated it. Yet notwithstanding these ample sup¬
plies, about the year following being reduced to the
utmost extremity, he sold his share in the play-house $
and soon after commenced a law-suit with the managers,
which in 1726 was decided against him. Having now
again, for the last time, brought his fortune by the most
heedless profusion, into a desperate condition, he was
rendered altogether incapable of retrieving the loss, by
being seized with a paralytic disorder, which greatly im¬
paired his understanding. In these unhappy circum¬
stances, he retired to his seat at Languanor near Caer-
marthen in Wales, where he died on the 2ist of Sep¬
tember 1729, and was privately interred, according to
his own desire, in the church of Caermarthen. Among
Jus papers were found the manuscripts of two plays, one
called The Gentlemen, founded upon the Eunuch of Te¬
rence, and the other intitled The School of Action, both
nearly finished.
Sir Richard was a man of undissembled and extensive
benevolence, a friend to the friendless, and, as far as his
circumstances would permit, the father of every orphan.
His works are chaste and manly. He was a stranger to
the most distant appearance of envy or malevolence j
never jealous of any man’s growing reputation ; and so
far from arrogating any praise to himself from his con¬
junction with Mr Addison, that he was the first who de¬
sired him to distinguish his papers. Kis great fault was
want of economy} and it has been said of him, he W'as
certainly the most agreeable and the most innocent rake
that ever trod the rounds of dissipation.
STEEPLE, an appendage erected generally on the
western end of churches, to hold the bells. Steeples are
denominated from their form, either spires or towers:
the first are such as ascend continually diminishing ei¬
ther conically or pyramidally } the latter are mere pa¬
rallelepipeds, and are covered a-top platform-like.
STEERAGE, on board a ship, that part of the
ship next below the quarter-deck, before the bulk-head
of the great cabin, where the steersman stands, in most
ships of war. See Steeiung.
STEERING, in Navigation, the art of directing
the ship’s way by the movements of the helm } or of
applying its efforts to regulate her course when she ad¬
vances.
The perfection of steering consists in a vigilant at¬
tention to the motion ef the ship’s head, so as to check
every deviation from the line of her course in the first
instant of its motion j and in applying as little of the
power of the helm as possible. By this she will run
more uniformly in a straight path, as declining less to
to right and left} whereas, if a greater effort of the
helm is employed, it will produce a greater declination
from the course, and not only increase the difficulty
of steering, but also make a crooked and irregular
track through the water. See Helm.—The helmsman
should diligently watch the movements of the head by
1
688 ] S T E
the land, clouds, moon, o* stars-, because although Steen
the course is in general regulated by the compass, yet SteeW
the vibrations of the needle are not so quickly per- ‘"■“'V-’
ceived as the sallies of the ship’s head to the right or
left, which, if not immediately restrained, will acquire
additional velocity in every instant of their motion, and
demand a more powerful impulse of the helm to re¬
duce them ; the application of which will operate to
turn her head as far on the contrary side of her course.
—The phrases used in steering a ship vary according
to the relation of the wind to her course. Thus, if
the wind is fair or large, the phrases used by the pilot
or officer who superintends the steerage are, port, star¬
board, and steady. The first is intended to direct the
ship’s course farther to the right; the second is to
guide her farther to the left; and the last is designed
to keep her exactly in the line whereon she advances,
according to the course prescribed. The excess of the
first and second movements is called hard-a-port, and
hard-a starboard; the former of which gives her the
greatest possible inclination to the right, and the latter
an equal tendency to the left.—If, on the contrary, the
wind is foul or scant, the phrases are luff, thus, and no
nearer; the first of which is the order to keep her close
to the wind } the second, to retain her in her present
situation ; and the third to keep her sails full.
In a ship of war, the exercise of steering the ship is
usually divided amongst a number of the most expert
sailors, who attend the helm in their turns; and are ac¬
cordingly called timoneers, from the French term timo-
nier, which signifies “ helmsman.” The steerage is
constantly superintended by the quarter-masters, who
also attend the helm by rotation. In merchant ships
every seaman takes his turn in this service, being di¬
rected therein by the mate of the watch, or some other
officer. As the safety of a ship, and all contained there¬
in, depends in a great measure on the steerage or effects
of the helm, the apparatus by which it is managed should
often be diligently examined by the proper officers. In¬
deed, a negligence in this important duty appears al¬
most unpardonable, when the fatal effects which may
result from it are duly considered.
STEEVENS, George, the most successful of all the
editors and commentators of Shakespeare, was born in
the year 1735* We know nothing respecting his pa¬
rents, but they appear to have been in affluent circum¬
stances. Our author received the rudiments of his edu¬
cation at Kingston-upon-Thames, and had Gibbon the
historian for a companion at that school. From hence
he went to Eton, and in a few years was admitted a
fellow commoner of King’s college, Cambridge } but no
mention is made of his peculiar course of studies. It ap¬
pears, however, that he had little relish for the mathe¬
matics, which lead at Cambridge to academical ho¬
nours. On the first establishment of the Essex militia,
he accepted of a commission ; but he spent the conclud¬
ing years of his life in almost total seclusion from the
world, seldom mingling with society, but in the shops of
booksellers, in the Shakespeare gallery, or in the morn¬
ing conversations of Sir Joseph Banks.
Although not an original writer, we cannot in ju¬
stice refuse him a place among the first literary charac¬
ters of the age, when we consider the works he illustrated,
and the learning, sagacity, taste, and general knowledge
which he brought to the task. With a versatility of ta¬
lents,
S T E
Steevens
fr _
Stellana.
lentt, he was eminent both by his pen and his pencil,
but his chief excellence lay in his critical knowledge of
an author’s text j and the best specimen of his great
abilities is his edition of Shakespeare, in which he has
left every competitor far behind him. He had studied
the age of Shakespeare, and employed his persevering
industry in becomingacquainted with the writings, man¬
ners, and laws of that period, as well as the provincial
peculiarities, whether of language or customs, which
prevailed in different parts of the kingdom, but more
particularly in those where Shakespeare passed the ear¬
ly years of his life. He was continually increasing this
store of knowledge, by the acquisition of the obsolete
publications of a former age, which he spared no ex¬
pellee to obtain. His critical sagacity and observation
were constantly employed in calling forth the hidden
meanings of the dramatic bard, and of course enlarging
the display of his beauties. This advantage is apparent
from his last edition of Shakespeare, which contains so
large a portion of new, interesting, and accumulated in¬
struction. In preparing it for the press, he gave an in¬
stance of activity and perseverance without example. To
this work he exclusively devoted a period of 18 months,
during which he left his house every morning at one
o’clock, going to his friend Mr Isaac Read’s chambers
in Barnard’s-inn, without any consideration of the wea¬
ther or the season, and there he found a sheet of the
Shakespeare letterpress ready for correction. Thus,
while the printers slept the editor was awake, by which
means he completed, in less than 20 months, his splen¬
did edition of Shakespeare in 15 vols octavo; a labour
almost incredible, and by which the energy and perse¬
vering powers of his mind were fully proved.
He probably rested satisfied with being acommentator
from the particular habits of his life, and his devotion to
the name of Shakespeare. But at the same time he was
a classical scholar of the first order, and well acquaint¬
ed with the belles lettres of Europe. He studied ancient
and modern history ; and particularly that of his own
country. Kis genius was strong and original ; his wit
abundant ; his imagination of every colour ; and his sen¬
timents enlivened with the most brilliant expressions.
His eloquence was logical and animated ; his descrip¬
tions were so true to nature, his figures so curiously se¬
lected, and so happily grouped, that he might be regard¬
ed as a speaking Hogarth. He scattered bis wit and
his humour too freely around him, and they were not
lost for want of gathering.
Mr Steevens had a very handsome fortune, which he
managed with discretion. His generosity was equal to
his fortune ; and though not profuse of his money to
sturdy beggars, few persons distributed with more libe¬
rality to truly deserving objects. He possessed all the
graces of outward accomplishment, at a period when ci¬
vility and politeness were characteristics of a gentleman.
He bequeathed his valuable Shakespeare, illustrated
with about 1500 prints, to Lord Spencer ; his Hogarth
perfect, with the exception of one or two pieces, to
Mr Windham ; and his corrected copy of Shakespeare,
with 200 guineas, to his friend Mr Read. He died in
the month of January i 800, about 65 years of age.
S FEGANOGRAPHY, the art ol secret writing,
or of writing in cyphers, known only to the persons cor¬
responding. See Cipher.
STELLA MIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
Vol. XIX. Part II. ° f
[ 689 ]
S T E
S tell aria
class decandria, and in Ihe natural system arranged un¬
der the 22d order, Caryophyllece. See Botany Index. ||
STELLATE, in Botany, a term applied to leaves Stemson.
which grow not less than six at a joint, and are arran- ' v 
ged like the rays of a star.
SIELLERA, German Groundsel, a genus of
plants belonging to the class octandria ; and in the na¬
tural system arranged under the 31st order, Vepreculc-.
See Botany Index.
SI ELL LON ATE, in the civil law, a kind of crime-
committed by a fraudulent bargain, where one of the
parties sells a thing for what it is not ; as if I sell an
estate for my own which belongs to another, or convey
a thing as free and clear which is already engaged to
another, or put oil’copper for gold, &c.
SI EM, in Botany, that part cr a plant arising out of
the root, and which sustains the leaves, flowers, fruit.-?,
&c. By washing and rubbing the stems of trees, their
annual increase is promoted ; for the method of doing
which, see the article Tree.
Sted/ 0} a Ship, a circular piece of timber into which
the two sides of a ship are united at the fore-end :
the lower end of which is scarfed to the keel, and the
bowsprit rests upon its upper end. Tbe stem is form-
ed of one or two pieces, according to the size of the
vessel; and as it terminates the ship forward, the ends
of the wales and planks of the sides and bottom are let
into a groove or channel, in the midst of its surface,
from the top to the bottom; which operation is called
rahiting. The outside of the stem is usually marked
with a scale, or division of feet, according to its per¬
pendicular height from the keel. The intention of
this is to ascertain the draught of water at the fore¬
part, when the ship is in preparation for a sea-voyage,
&c. I he stem at its lower end is of equal breadth and
thickness with the keel, hut it grows proportionally
broader and thicker towards its upper extremity. See
Ship- Building.
STEMMATA, in the history of insects, are three
smooth hemispheric dots, placed generally on the top
of the head, as in most of the hymenoptera and other-
classes. The name was first introduced by Linnreus.
STEMODIA, a genus of plants belonging to tbe
class didynamia; and in the natural system ranginp- un¬
der the 40th order, Personates. See Botany Index.
STEM PHYLA, a Avoid used by the ancients to
express the husks of grapes, or the remains of thq
pressings of rvine. I he same word is also used by some
to express the remaining mass of the olives, aftei the
oil is pressed out.
SI EMPHA LITES, a name given by the ancients
to a sort of Avine pressed bard from the husks.
STEMPLES, in mining, cross bars of wood in tbe
shafts Avhich are sunk to mines.
In many places the way is to sink a perpendicular
hole, or shaft, the sides of Avhich arc strengthened from
top to bottom Avith wood-AVork, to prevent the earth
from falling in ; the transverse pieces of Avood are called
stemples, and by means of these the miners in some places
descend, without using any rope.
STEMSON, in a ship, an arching piece of timber
fixed Avithin the apron, to reinforce the scarf thereof,
in the same manner as the apron supports the scarf of
the stern. In large ships it is usually formed of two
2>icccs.
4 S STENOGRAPHY.
[ 69o ]
* Vide
Jluxtorf,
liing. La¬
ertius,
Plutarch,
be.
STENOGRAPHY (a).
CHAP. I.
HP HE art of stenography, or short writing, was known
and practised by most of the ancient civilized na¬
tions. The Egyptians, who were distinguished for
learning at an early period, at first expressed their words
by a delineation of figures called hieroglyphics. A more
concise mode of writing seems to have been afterwards
introduced, in which only a part of the symbol or pic¬
ture was drawn. This answered the purpose of short¬
hand in some degree. After them the Hebrews, the
Greeks, and the Romans*, adopted different methods of
abbreviating their words and sentences, suited to their
respective languages. 'I he initials, the finals, or radi¬
cals, often served for whole words •, and various combi¬
nations of these sometimes formed a sentence. Arbitrary
marks were likewise employed to determine the mean¬
ing, and to assist legibility $ and it seems probable that
every writer, and every author of antiquity, had some
peculiar method of abbreviation, calculated to facilitate
the expression of his own sentiments, and intelligible
only to himself.
It is also probable, that some might by these means
take down the heads of a discourse or oration J but few,
very few, it is presumed, could have followed a speaker
through all the meanders of rhetoric, and noted with
precision every syllable, as it dropt from his mouth, in
a manner legible even to themselves.
To arrive at such consummate perfection in the art
was reserved for more modern times, and is still an ac¬
quisition by no means general.
In every language of Europe, till about the close of
the i 6th century, the Roman plan of abbreviating (viz.
substituting the initials or radicals, with the help of ar-
bitraries, for words) appears to have been employed.
Till then no regular alphabet had been invented ex¬
pressly for stenography, when an English gentleman of
the name of Willis invented and published one (b). His
plan was soon altered and improved, or at least pretend¬
ed to be so. One alteration succeeded another j and at
intervals, for a series of years past, some men of inge¬
nuity and application have composed and published sys¬
tems of stenography, and doubtless have themselves
reaped all the advantages that attend it. But among
the various methods that have been proposed, and the
different plans that have been adopted by individuals,
none has yet appeared fortunate enough to gain general
approbation ; or proved sufficiently simple, clear, and
concise, to be universally studied and practised.
Some systems are replete with unmeaning symbols,
perplexing arbitraries, and ill-judged contractions j
which render them so difficult to he attained by a com¬
mon capacity, or ordinary application, that it is not to
be wondered at if they have sunk into neglect, and aro
now no longer known (c). Other systems, by being
too prolix, by containing a multiplicity of characters,
and those characters not simple or easily remembered,
become ineffectual to the purpose of expedition, and are
only superior in obscurity to a common hand. Some,
again, not only reject all arbitraries and contractions,
but even prepositions and terminations j which last, if
not too lavishly employed and badly devised, highly
contribute to promote both expedition and legibility j
and though they reduce their characters to fewer than
can possibly express the various modifications of sound,
yet they make nearly one half of them complex. In the
disposition of the vowels there is the greatest perplexity
in most systems. A dot is sometimes substituted for all
the vowels indiscriminately, and the judgment is left
to determine which letter out of six any dot is intended
to express 5 or a minute space is allotted them ; so that
unless they be arranged with mathematical precision
they cannot be distinguished from one another: but
such a minute attention is inconsistent with the nature
of short-hand, which should teach us to write down in
a short time, as well as in small hounds, what we wish
to preserve of what we hear. Nor is the plan of lifting
the pen and putting the next consonant in the vowel’s
place, in the middle of words, less liable to objections j
or that of representing all the vowels by distinct cha¬
racters, being obviously ill calculated for facility and
dispatch,
(a) The value of stenography is not unknown to the learned ; and the care and success with which it has been
lately cultivated in these kingdoms will, in all probability, soon render it an object of general attention. No
one, however, appears to us to have simplified and improved the art so much as Dr Mavor, author of Universal
Stenography, who has liberally permitted us to present our readers with a complete view of his scheme. To
those who wish to become proficients in SHORT-WRITING, we earnestly recommend his entire publication (print¬
ed for Cadell and Davis, Strand, London), which in many schools of the first reputation now forms a deserved
class-book.
(b) Mr Locke says, a regular method of short-writing seems to be known and practised only in Britain. This
is not now the case; and indeed there is no reason to doubt whether characters may not he invented to express
the various sounds, or letters, employed in any language, either ancient or modern.
(c) A list of writers on stenography. Mr Addy, Alridge, Angel!, Annet, Blandemore, Blosset, Botley,
Bridges, Byrom, Coles, Cross, Dix, Everardt, Ewen, Facey, Farthing, Gibbs, Graeme, Gurney, Heath, Holds-
worth, Hopkins, Jeake, Labourer, Lane, Lyle, Macauley, Mason, Mavor, Metcalfe, Nicholas, Palmer, Rich,
Ridpath, Shelton, Steele, Tanner, Taylor, Thicknesse, Tiff’en, Webster, Weston, Williamson, Willis, B. D-
and Willis, &c. 4
S T E N O G
dispatch, and consequently inadmissible into any useful
system.
It is to be confessed, that the person who first propo¬
sed the omission of vowels in the middle of words (d),
which it is obvious are not wanted, and invented let¬
ters, which could be connected as in a running hand
without lifting the pen in the middle of the word, made
a real improvement on the works of his predecessors.
But, in fine, most systems, either in their plan or exe-
cotion, labour under some capital defect, attended with
circumstances highly discouraging to the learner, and
which in a great measure defeat the end of their inven¬
tion, by being too complicated to be learned with ease
and remembered with accuracy, or to be practised with
the expedition which is requisite ; and so difficult to be
deciphered, that a man can scarcely read what he has
just written.
To obviate these defects ; to provide against prolixity
ami conciseness, which might occasion obscurity •, to ex¬
hibit a system founded on the simplest principles, which
might be easily learned and read, and yet be capable of
the utmost expedition—were the motives that gave rise
to the present attempt.
This method will ho found different from any yet
published, and superior to all in the disposition of the
vowels and the facility of arranging them ; the confu¬
sion in placing which seems to detract from the merit of
the best performances on the subject j and it may be
affirmed, without ostentation, that characters simpler in
their form, and more perfect in their union, have not
been applied to ihe art of stenography.
As well as it could he determined, the simplest cha¬
racters are appropriated to the letters most usually em¬
ployed : indeed, as far as possible, those which are com¬
plex have been rejected j but as it was an object always
kept in view that the writing should be on a line, a few
are admitted into the alphabet for that reason.
The characters For the double and triple consonants
are the easiest that could be invented, consistent with
perspicuity (e) ; for care has been taken to provide
against all obscurity which might arise by adopting
letters too similar in their formation ; and with re¬
spect to the prepositions and terminations, those which
occur most frequently are expressed by the simplest cha¬
racters, which will be found perfectly easy in their ap¬
plication.
The arbitraries are few in number (r), and the arbi¬
trary abbreviations, as they are entirely from the letters
of the alphabet, and chosen from some thousands of
words in common use, will well repay the learner for
an hour’s trouble in committing them to memory.
The last chapter lays down a scheme of abbreviation,
R A P H Y. 69 £
comprised in a few rules, perfectly easy to be understood
and practised by proficients in this art, which we hope
will answer the expectation of the author, and will he
found free from the perplexity complained of in many
systems where abbreviation is admitted. The principal
rules are new, are so easy, so extensive in their use, and
so consistent with expedition and legibility, if applied
with judgment, that they alone might suffice.. The
learner is, however, advised by no means to adopt any
of them, till experience has convinced him that they
may be used without error or injury to legibility. Ail
abbreviating rules are suited to those only who have
made some progress in the stenographic art ; for al¬
though they certainly promote expedition in a wonder¬
ful manner, and afford the greatest ease to a proficient,
yet a learner, as expedition is not his first, though his
ultimate view, should admit of nothing that in the least
renders the reading difficult.
CHAP. II.
The English alphabet consists of twenty-six letters 5 xhe gcac-
six of which are vowels, a, e, /, 0, «, and y; and the ral prin«i-
other twenty consonants, b, c, d,f g, h, k, l, tn, j/,p, of st«-
r, s, t, v, x, and z. uography.
This alphabet, as is observed by the best grammari¬
ans that have written on the language, is both defective
and redundant in expressing the various modifications of
sound *. * Jj0wth.g
Custom or prejudice has assigned some letters a place, cr^n.
when others would with much more propriety ex- Priettirp’t
press the same sound: and to this may he added, that^Vom.
several letters, sometimes in one word, seem to he ai\-^,Jaant
mitted for no other reason than to perplex a young be-
ginner or a foreigner, as an obstruction to true pronun¬
ciation, and to add to the apparent length of the word,
when they are entirely quiescent and useless. That this
is the genius of the orthography of our language must
be perceived by the most superficial observer 5 but no
modern tongue is absolutely free from the same ex¬
ceptions. In particular, the French has a great num¬
ber of dormant letters, which, it is obvious, render the
pronunciation more difficult and perplexing to learn¬
ers (c).
But as it is neither our business nor our intention to
propose a mode of spelling different from that in com¬
mon use, when applied to printing or long hand writing
(since several innovators in orthography have fallen into
contempt, and their plans have been only preserved a#
beacons to warn others of the folly of endeavouring to
subvert established principles f ) j we shall only observe, ^
that in stenography, where the most expeditious and ^jA^T
concise Ho nary.
(d) Mr Byrom rejected vowels entirely in the middle of words, as others before him had only done partially.
Without critically examining the executive part of his performance, which is very defective, it must he owned,
that it is above the reach of human ingenuity to exceed his general plan $ which for ever must be the basis of
every future rational system.
(e) Those for th and ch may be either made upright or sloping to the right.
(f) These are not by any means prescribed j they may be employed or not according to the fancy of the
learner.
(g) The Latin and Greek claim a just superiority over the modern tongues in this respect. In them no con¬
fusion or doubt can arise from the manner of spelling} and the reader can scarcely be wrong (unless in quantity)
in sounding all the letters he sees.
4 S 2
6q2
S T ENOGHAPHY.
concise method is the best, if consistent with perspi¬
cuity, the following simple rules are studiously to be
^ regarded and practised.
Rules for Rule f. All quiescent consonants in words are to
the eonso- be dropped ; and the orthography to be directed only
Kants. [jy tj)e pronunciation ; which being known to all, will
render this art attainable by those who cannot spell
with precision in long hand.
Rule II. When the absence of consonants, not en¬
tirely dormant, can be easily known, they may often
be omitted without the least obscurity.
Rule 'III. Two or sometimes more consonants may,
to promote greater expedition, be exchanged lor a single
one of nearly similar sound j and no ambiguity as to
the meaning ensue (h).
Rule IV. When two consonants of the same kind
or same sound come together, without any vowel be¬
tween them, only one is to expressed ; but it a vowel
or vowels intervene, both are to he written : only ob¬
serve, if they are perpendicular, horizontal, or oblique
lines, they must only he drawn a size longer than usual j
and characters with loops must have the size of their
* See
1'late
j>vir.
3
First rule
exempli¬
fied.
Second rule
exempli¬
fied.
Third rule
exempli¬
fied.
6
Fourth rule
exempli¬
fied.
Rules for
the vowels.
heads doubled *.
Might is to be written mit, fight fit, machine mashin,
enough, emf laugh laf prophet profet, physics fisiks,
through thro\ foreign foren, sovereign soveren, psalm
sum, receipt reset, write rite, wright rit, island Hand,
knavery navery, temptation temtation, knife nife, stick
stik, thigh thi, honour onour, indictment indilcment,
acquaint aquaint, chaos kaos, &c.
Strength strenth, length tenth, friendship frenship,
connect conek, commandment comanment, conjunct
conjunt, humble humle, lumber turner, slumber stumer,
number nitmer, exemplary exenilary, &c.
Rocks mr, acts uks or ax, facts fuks or fax, districts
distriks or dislrix, affects afeks or ajex, afflic,ts ajltksov
ajlix, conquer konkr, &c.
Letter leter, little title, command comand, error eror,
terror teror, &.c. But in remember, moment, sister,
and sucb like words, where two consonants of the same
name have an intervening vowel, both of them must be
written.
These four rules, with their examples, being care¬
fully considered by the learner, will leave him in no
doubt concerning the disposition and management of
the consonants in this scheme of short-writing \ we shall
therefore proceed to lay down rules for the application
of the vowels with ease and expedition.
Rule I. Vowels, being only simple articulate sounds,
though they are the connectives of consonants, and em¬
ployed in every word and eVery syllable, are not neces¬
sary to be inserted in the middle of words; because the
consonants, if fully pronounced, with the assistance of
connection, will always discover the meaning of a word,
and make the writing perfectly legible.
Rule II. If a vowel is not strongly accented in the
incipient syllable of a word, or if it is mute in the final,
it is likewise to be omitted; because the sound of the
incipient vowel is often implied in that of the first con¬
sonant, which will consequently supply its place.
Rule III. But if the vowel constitutes the first or
last syllable of a word, or is strongly accented at its
beginning or end, that vowel is continually to be writ¬
ten.
Rule IV. If a word begins or ends with two or more
vowels though separated, or when there is a coalition of
vowels, as in diphthongs and triphthongs ; only one of
them is to be expressed, which must be that which
agrees best with the pronunciation.
Rule V. In monosyllables, if they begin or end with
a vowel, it is always to be insei'ted, unless the vowel be
e mute at the end of a word.
Such are the general principles of this art ; in vindi¬
cation and support of which it will be needless to offer
any arguments, when it is considered that brevity and
expedition are the chief objects, if consistent with legi¬
bility ; and the subsequent specimens in the orthogra¬
phy recommended will, we hope, be sufficient to show
that there is no real deficiency in the last mentioned
particular. 8
He who md us mst be etrnl, grt, nd mnptnt. It is Specimen
or dty, as rsnl bugs, to srv, Iv, nd oby lira.—A n.n tht0^''*-^-*
wd avd him, slid be srkmspk in al hs axns, nd ndvr wtliin s^en0_"
al lis mt to pis evry bdy.—l wd nt frm any knxns wtbgraphy.
a mn who lid no rgrd fr limslf; nthr wd I blv a ran who
hd ons tld me a li.—Onr is of al thugs the mst dfklt to
prsrv ntrnshd ; nd whn ons mpclsd, Ik the chstty of a
wmn, nvr shns wth its wntd Istr.—Wth gd mnrs,
kmplsms nd an esy pit adrs, mny mk a fgr in the wrl,
whs mnl ablts wd skrsly hv rsd thm aby the rnk of a
ftmn.—Idlns is the prnt of a thsnd msfrtns, wch ar nvr
fit by the ndstrs: it is a pn nd a pnshmnt of itslf, and
brngs wnt nd bgry in its trn.—Vrtu is the frst thng tht
slid be rgrdd ; it is a rwrd of itslf; mks a mn rspktbl
hr, nd wl mk hm etrnly bpy hrftr—Prd is a mst prnsa
psn, vveh yt ws plntd by bvn in ur ntr, to rs ur emlsn
to imtt grt nd vvrtby krktrs or axns, to xt in us a si fr
wht is rt nd gst, and a Idbl ndgnsn gnst oprsrs nd wrkre
of ny knd of nkyty ; in shrt, to mk us st a prpr vlu upn
urslvs, ml dsps a wrthls flo, hu evr xltd. Tbs fr prd is
a vrtu, nd my gstly be kid a grtns of si. Bt prd, Ik
otbr psns, gnrly fxs upn rng obgks, or is apld in mg
prprsns. Hu kmn is it to se a rtch whm evry vs hs
rndrd msrbl, nd evry fly kntmbl, vlng hmslf on hs hi
brth, nd bstng tbs ilstrs nssttrs, of whm he nhrts ntbng
bt the mn or ttl ! nstrs who if thy nu hm, wd dsn thr
dsndnt wth kntmt. But al prd of.ths srt is fly, nd evr
to be avdd.
CHAP. III.
As the whole of this art depends upon a regular me¬
thod and a simple alphabet, we have not only endea¬
voured to establish the former on satisfactory principles,
but have been careful to appropriate, according to the
comparative frequency of their occurrence, such charac¬
ters
(h) By this rule likewise q and v in the middle of words, but never in the beginning, may be exchanged for
k and/, when they admit of an easier connecting with the following character, or will make the writing appear
neater*
S T E 1ST O
ters for the letters as, after repeated trials and altera¬
tions, were conceived to be the best adapted for dis-
Stenogra- 'ihe stenographic alphabet consists of 18 distinct cha-
phio alplia- racters (viz. two for the vowels and the rest for the con-
kefplate sonants)> taken from lines and semicircular curvesj the
DVJr, formation and application of which we shall now ex¬
plain, beginning with the vowels.
For the three first vowels, a, e, and i, a comma is
appropriated in different positions ; and for the other
three, », w, and y, a point. The comma and point,
when applied to a, and o, is to he placed, as in the
Plate DVII. at the top of the next character; when
lor e and if, opposite to the middle ; and when for i and
y, at the bottom,
This arrangement of the vowels is the most simple
and distinct that can easily he imagined. Places at the
top, the middle, and the bottom of characters, which
make three different positions, are as easily distinguish¬
ed from one another as any three separate characters
could he ; and a comma is made with the same facility
10 as a point.
Lines. Simple lines may be drawn four different ways; per¬
pendicular, horizontal, and with an angle of about 45
degrees to the right and left. An ascending oblique
line to the right, which will be perfectly distinct from
the rest when joined to any other character, may like¬
wise be admitted, ffhese characters being the simplest
in nature, are assigned to those five consonants which
most frequently occur, viz. /, r, t, c hard or k, and c
it soft or s.
Every circle may be divided with a perpendicular and
horizontal line, so as to form likewise four distinct cha¬
racters. These being the next to lines in the simplicity
of their formation, we have appropriated them for b, ilt
n, and m.
The characters expressing nine of the consonants are
all perfectly distinct from one another; eight only re¬
main which are needful, viz. /jg, ory, h,p, q, v, w\ and
.r; to find characters for which we must have recourse
to mixed curves and lines. The characters which vve
have adopted are the simplest in nature after those al¬
ready applied, admit of the easiest joining, and tend to
preserve lineality and beauty in the writing.
It must be observed that we have no character for c
when it has a hard sound, as in castle ; or soft, as in city ;
lor it naturally takes the sound of k or s, which in all
cases will he sufficient to supply its place.
R likewise is represented by the same character as l;
only with this difference, r is written with an ascending
stroke (1), and l with a descending; which is always to
be known from the manner of its unirn with the follow¬
ing character; but in a few monosyllables where r is the
only consonant in the word, and consequently stands
693
ircles.
12
flrres and
tes.
G R A P H Y.
alone, it is to he made as is shown in the alphabet for
distinction’s sake.
Z, as it is a letter seldom employed in the English
language, and only a coarser and harder expression of
s, must he supplied by ,y whenever it occurs; as for
Zedekiah write Sedekiah, &c.
CHAP. IV.
The prepositions and terminations in this scheme are Rules tor
so simple, that the greatest benefit may be reaped from PiePositir>ns
them, and very little trouble lequired to attain them;:Ult3. lermi’
as the incipient letter or the incipient consonant of a]|nntlon*‘
the prepositions and of several of the terminations is
used to express the whole. But although in Plate
DVII. sufficient specimens are given of the manner of
their application, that the learner of less ingenuity or
more slow perception may have every assistance, we have
subjoined the following directions.
Rule I. The preposition is always to be written-
without joining, yet so near as plainly to show' what
word it belongs to; and the best way is to observe the
same order as ii the whole was to be connected.
Rule II. A preposition, though the same letters-
that constitute it may be met with in the middle or end
of a word, is never to be used, because it would expose
to obscurity.
Rule III. Observe that the preposition omni is ex¬
pressed by the vowel 0 in its proper position ; and for
anti, anta, ante, by the vowel a, which the radical part
of the word will easily distinguish from being only sim¬
ple vowels.
The first rule for the prepositions is (allowing such
exceptions as may be seen in the Plate) to be observed
for the terminations; and also the second, mutatismutan¬
dis; except that whenever sis, sits, sys, ernus, tious, and
ces occur, they are to be expressed as directed in the
fourth rule for the consonants, whether in the begin-
fiing, middle, or end of words (k).
Rule IV. The terminative character for tion, sion,
cion, cian, tian, is to be expressed by a small circle
joined to the nearest letter, and turned to the right,
and the plurals tions, cions, dans, tians, tience, by a
dot on the same side.
Rule V. The terminative character for ing, is to be
expressed likewise by a small circle, but drawn to the
left hand ; and its plural ings by a dot (l).
Rule VI. The plural sign s is to be added to the
terminative characters when necessary.
Rule \ II. The separated terminations are never to
he used but in polysyllables or words of more syllables,
than one.
These rules duly observed will point out a method as
concise and elegant as can be desired, for expressing the
most
(1) Ihe character for h, when lineality requires it, may lie made from the bottom and inverted (see Plate
An,J °/ten ^ may *,e omitted entirely, or a vowel may be substituted in its stead, without any injury
to legibility, it being rather a breathing than letter. 1
(k) But in a few words where three horizontal characters meet, it will be better to express the sis, &c. by the
semielliptical character in Plate DVII. opposite tious.
. (f) horizontal characters, by the left hand is meant the top, and by the right the space below the letter (sc«
ing joined, i late D^ II.). In all other characters the right and left positions will naturally be known.
1
6o+
14
Rules foe
abbrevia¬
tion.
S T E N O
most frequent ami longest prepositions and terminations
in tlie English language. If it should be thought ne¬
cessary to increase their number by the addition ot
others, it will be an easy matter for any one ot the least
discernment to do so, by proceeding on the principles
before laid down.
CHAP. V.
Though a more concise method of writing, or more
numerous abbreviations, may not be indispensably ne¬
cessary, if the foregoing directions be practised tor a
considerable time, yet contractions will be found ex¬
tremely useful and convenient to those who have attain¬
ed a proper knowledge of the subject, and lead to a
greater degree ot expedition, at the same time that they
diminish the labour of writing. It has been observed in
the introduction, that abbreviations are only to be em¬
ployed by proficients in this art 5 because expedition is
not the first, though the ultimate, object in view y and
that an easy legibility is of the utmost consequence to
the learner j which, however, cannot be preserved, if
he adopts too soon those very rules which in time will
afford him the greatest ease when applied with judge¬
ment.
The following short and practical rules will be found,
we hope, fully adequate to every purpose for which they
were intended, and are far superior in the iacility of
their application to any which we have seen.
Rule I. The usual abbreviations in long hand are al¬
ways to he followed $ as Mr for Master, M. D. lor Doc¬
tor of Physic, and Abp. for Archbishop, &c.
Rule II. Substantives, adjectives, verbs, and parti¬
ciples, whence the sense will direct to the meaning, are
to be expressed by their initial consonant with the di¬
stinguishing marks exhibited in Plate DVD. viz. a sub¬
stantive must have the dot exactly over its initial con¬
sonant 5 an adjective must have a dot under it ; a verb
is to be expressed by a comma over its initial consonant;
and a participle by a comma under (r.i). These being
the four principal parts ol speech will be sufficient ; and
an adept will never be at a loss to know when he can
with safety apply this rule to them.
Rule III. To render the writing more legible, the
last letter of the word may be joined to the first, and
the proper mark applied.
Rule IV. The constituent or radical part of words,
especially if they are long, will often serve for the whole
or sometimes the first syllable : as, we ought to mode¬
rate our ex. by our circum.; a man’s man. commonly
shape his for.
Rule V. All long words without exception may
have their prepositions or terminations expressed by the
incipient consonant of such preposition or termination.
Rule VI. When there is a great dependence be¬
tween the parts of a sentence, the initial letter will often
suffice ; as L. is the capital of Great B. ; the eldest S.
of the king of Great B. is styled prince of JF. Every
one, it is presumed, will allow this to be perfectly le-
G R A P H Y.
gible in long-hand, then why may it not in stenogra¬
phy ?
Rule VII. The terminations ness and less may be
omitted ; as faithfulness is only to be written ;
forwardness, forward; heedless, heed; stubbornness,
stubborn, &c.
Rule VIII. The second and third persons of verbs,
ending in eih and est, may be expressed by s ; as, he
loves, thou teaches; instead ot he loveth, thou teaehest:
or even without s ; as, he love, &c.
Rule IX. Words may often be entirely omitted,
and yet no ambiguity ensue; as, In beginning God crea¬
ted heaven and earth, for In the beginning God created
the heaven and the earth.
Rule X. When there is an immediate repetition of
a sentence or word, a hue is to be drawn under the sen¬
tence or word to be repeated; as, Amen, Amen, is to be
written Amen ; but if any words intervene before a
word or sentence is to be repeated, the line must be
drawn us before, and a A or mark ot omission placed
where the repetition should begin ; as, Is it just the in-
vocents should be condemned A reviled ?
The Contents of the Stenographic Plates.
Fabricius's Beply to Pyrrhus.
As to my poverty, you have indeed, Sir, been rightly
informed. My whole estate consists in a house of but
mean appearance, and a little spot of ground, from
which by my own labour I draw my support. Rut it
by any means you have been persuaded to think, that
this poverty makes me less considered in my country,
or in any degree unhappy, you are extremely deceived.
I have no reason to complain of fortune, she supplies me
with all that nature requires; and if I am without su¬
perfluities, I am also free from the desire of them.
With these I confess I should be more able to succour
the necessitous, the only advantage for which the weal¬
thy are to be envied ; but as small as my possessions are,
I can still contribute something to the support of tlie
state and the assistance of my friends. With regard to
honours, my country places me, poor as I am, upon a
level with the richest: for Rome knows no qualifica¬
tions for great employments but virtue and ability. Sho
appoints me to officiate in the most august ceremonies
of religion ; she entrusts me with the command of her
armies ; she coi.Tides to my care tiie most important ne-
gociations. My poverty does not lessen the weight and
influence of my counsels in the senate ; the Roman
people honour me for that very poverty which you con¬
sider as a disgrace ; they know the many opportunities
1 have had in war to enrich myself without incurring
censure; they are convinced of my disinterested zeal
for their prosperity; and if I have any thing to com¬
plain of in the return they make, it is only the excess
of their applause. What value then can 1 set upon
your gold and silver! What king can add any thing to
my fortune ! Always attentive to discharge the duties
incumbent
f !
P!air
DYIU.
(m) The dot or comma being placed thus will never occasion them to he mistaken for vowels, because tney
should always he on one side or other ; whereas the mark for parts of speech may constantly be placed exactly
.over or under.
STENOGRAPHY
incumbent on me, T Lave a mind free from self-reproach,
and L have an honest fame. Dodslcy's Preceptor.
Letter to a Friend against waste of Time.
Converse often with yourself, and neither lavish your
time, nor suffer others to rob you of it. Many of our
hours are stolen from us, and others pass insensibly away j
but of both these losses the most shameful is that which
happens through our own neglect. If we take the
trouble to observe we shall find that one considerable
part of our life is spent in doing evil, and the other in
doing nothing, or in doing what we should not do. We
don’t seem to know the value of time, nor how precious
a day is •, nor do we consider that every moment brings
us nearer our end. llefiect upon this 1 entreat you,
and keep a strict account of time. Procrastination is the
most dangerous thing in life. Nothing is properly ours
but the instant we breathe in, and all the rest is no¬
thing ; it is the only good we possess 5 but then it is
fleeting, and the first comer robs us of it. Men are so
weak, that they think they oblige by giving of trifles,
and yet reckon that time as nothing for which the most
grateful person in the world can never make amends.
Let us therefore consider time as the most valuable of
all things •, and every moment spent, without some im¬
provement in virtue or some advancement in goodness,
as the greatest sublunary loss.
St PanPs Speech before Agrippa and Festns.
I think myself happy, King Agrippa, that I shall an¬
swer for myself this day before thee, touching all things
whereof I am accused of the Jews: especially because
I know thee to be expert in all customs and questions
which are among the Jews, wherefore T beseech thee to
hear me patiently. My manner of life from mv youth,
which was at first among mine own nation at Jerusalem,
know all the Jews, which knew me from the begin¬
ning (if they would testify), that, after the straitest sect
of our religion, I lived a Pharisee. And now I stand
and am judged for the hope of the promise made by
God unto our fathers } unto which promise our twelve
tribes instantly serving God day and night hope to
come *, for which hope’s sake, King Agrippa, I am ac¬
cused of the Jews. Why should it be thought a thing
incredible with you, that God should raise the dead,
when God himself has given assurance of it unto all
men, in that he hath raised Christ from the dead ? As
for my own part, most noble Festus, I own I once ve¬
rily thought that even I myself ought to do many things
contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which
thing I also did in Jerusalem. I punished the saints
oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blas¬
pheme 5 and being exceedingly mad against them, I
persecuted them even unto strange cities. In pursuit
of which, as I went to Damascus, with authority and
commission from the chief priests : At mid-day, O king,
I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the bright¬
ness of the sun, shining about me, and them which jour¬
neyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the
earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in
the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou
me ? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
And I said, Who art thou, Lord ? And he said, I am
Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand up¬
on thy feet: for I have appeared unto thee for this pur¬
pose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of
these things which thou hast seen, and of those things
in which I will appear unto thee. Whereupon, O king
Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision :
but shewed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jeru¬
salem, and throughout all the coasts of Judea, and then
to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to
God. For these causes the Jews caught me in the
temple, and went about to kill me. Having therefore
obtained help of God, I continued unto this day, wit¬
nessing both to small and great, saying none other things
than those which the prophets and Moses did say^should
come : That Christ should suffer, and that he should he
the first that should rise from tiie dead, and should show
light unto the people, and to the Gentiles. This is the
real truth : Believe me, 1 am no pestilent fellow, nor
mover of sedition ; hut always endeavour all that lies
in me to preserve a conscience void of offence towards
God and towards man : nor can the Jews prove the
thmgs whereof they now accuse me. Neither am I,
Festus, besides myself j hut speak thus freely before the
king, because he knows these things to be fact ; yea, I
am fully persuaded the king knows them all to be'fact ;
for they were not done in a corner. King Agrippa,
belie vest thou the prophets? 1 know that thou believest.
And would to God that not only thou, but also all that
hear me this day, were altogether such as I am except
these bonds. Holmes's Rhetoric.
Fope to Atterhvrij..
Once more I write to yon as I promised, and this
once 1 fear will be the last; the curtain will soon be
drawn between my friend and me, and nothing left but
to wish you a long good night 5 may you enjoy a state
of repose in this life not unlike that sleep of the soul
which some have believed is to succeed it, where we lie
utterly forgetful of that world from which we are gone,
and ripening for that to which we are to go. If you
retain any memory of the past, let it only image to
you what has pleased you best j sometimes present a
dream of an absent friend, or bring you back an agree¬
able conversation. But, upon the whole, I hope you
will think less of the time past than the future ; as tiie
former has been less kind to you than the latter infal¬
libly will be. Do not envy the world your studies:
They will tend to the benefit of men, against whom
you can have no complaint 5 I mean, of all posterity:
and, perhaps, at your time of life, nothing else is worth
your care. What is every year of a wise man’s life
but a censure or critic on the past ? Those whose date is
the shortest, live long enough to laugh at one half of it :
'{'he boy despises the infant, the man the boy, the phi¬
losopher both, and the Christian all. You may now be¬
gin to think your manhood was too much a puerility 5
and you will never suffer your age to be but a second
infancy. The toys and baubles of your childhood
are hardly now more below you than those toys of
our riper and our declining years j the drums and rat¬
tles of ambition, and the dirt and bubbles of avarice.
At this time, when you are cut off from a little society,
and made a citizen of the world at large, von should
bend your talents not to serve a party, or a few, but all
mankind. Your genius should mount above that mist,
in which its participation and neighbourhood with earth
hath long involved it 1 To shine abroad, and to heaven,
696
STENOGRAPHY.
ought to be the business and the glory of your present
situation. Remember it was at such a time that the
greatest lights of antiquity dazzled and blazed the most j
in their retreat, in their exile, or in their death. But
why do I talk of dazzling or blazing ? it was then that
they did good, that they gave light, and that they be¬
came guides to mankind. Those aims alone are wor¬
thy of spirits truly great, and such I therefore hope
will be yours. Resentment indeed may remain, per¬
haps cannot be quite extinguished, in the noblest minds;
but revenge will never harbour there : Higher principles
than those of the first, and better principles than those
of the latter, will infallibly influence men whose
thoughts and whose hearts are enlarged, and cause them
to prefer the whole to any part of mankind, especially
to so small a part as one’s single self. Believe me, my
Lord, I look upon you as a spirit entered into another
Hie, as one just upon the edge of immortality, where
the passions and affections must be much more exalted,
and where you ought to despise all little views and all
mean retrospects. Nothing is worth your looking back:
and therefore look forward, and make (as you can) the
world look after you ; but take care it be not with
pity, but with esteem and admiration. I am, with the
greatest sincerity and passion for your fame as well as
happiness, your, &c.
The above most charming and most affectionate let¬
ter was written about a month before Atterbury bi¬
shop of Rochester was sent into banishment, and is uni¬
versally admired.
S T E
stentoro- STENTOROPHONIC TUBE, a speaking trumpet;
phonic thus called from Stentor, a person mentioned by Homer.
11 See Trumpet.
Stephens.. SXEP, in a ship, a block of wood fixed on the decks
or bottom of a ship, and having a hole in its upper side,
fitted to receive the heel of a mast or capstern. The
■steps of the main and foremasts of every ship rest upon
the kelson, to which they are firmly secured by knees,
bolts, or spike-nails. The step of the mizen-mast usually
rests upon the lower deck.
STEPHANIUM, a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class ; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 47th order, Stdlatcc. See Botany In-
ilex •
STEPHANOPHORUS, in antiquity, the chief
■priest of Pallas, who presided over the re^t. It was
usual for every god to have a chief priest ; that of Pal¬
las was the Stephanophorus just mentioned, and that of
Hercules was called Hadouchus.—Stephanophorus was
also a priest who assisted the women in the celebration
of the festival Thesmophoria.
STEPHANUS Byzantinus, an able grammarian,
who lived in the fifth or sixth century. He wrote a
Dictionary, in which he made a great number of obser¬
vations, borrowed from mythology and history, which
showed the origin of cities and colonies, of which we
have nothing remaining but a mean abridgement by Her-
molaus the grammarian ; but from that work the learn¬
ed have received great light; and Sigonius, Casaubon,
Scaliger, Salmasius, &c. have employed themselves in
illustrating it.
STEPHEN, king of England. See ENGLAND,
:N° 108, &c.
Stephen, or St Stephen's Day, a festival of the Chri¬
stian church, observed on the 26th of December, in me¬
mory of the first martyr St Stephen.
S TEPHENS, a familvof printers deservedly celebra¬
ted. They flourished at the time ofthe revival of learning,
and contributed a great deal towards dispelling the cloud
of ignorance which had so long overshadowed Europe.
Some of the classics before the 16th century were in a
jrreiit measure lost, and all of them were exceedingly
5
S T E
corrupted. By their abilities and indefatigable industry Stephei
these defects were supplied, and the learned were furnish- '~Dr-
ed with beautiful and correct editions of the Greek and
Roman authors. Thus the world was not only supplied
with an inexhaustible fund of amusement and instruction
in these ancient writings ; but it is to the ardour which
they inspired, and to the model of elegance which they
displayed, that the present advanced state of literature is
in a great measure owing.
Henry Stephens, the first of these illustrious men,
was born in France, soon after the discovery of print¬
ing, perhaps about the year 1465. He settled as a
printer at Paris, and was probably patronized by Louis
XII. A great proportion of the books which he pub¬
lished were Latin : They are printed in the Roman
letter, and are not inelegant, though some of them
abound rather too much in contractions. He died about
the year 1520, and left behind him three sons, Francis,
Robert, and Charles. His widow married Simeon de
Colines {Colinceus in Latin), who thus got possession of
Henry’s printing-office, and continued the profession till
his death.
Of Francis, the eldest son, little more is known thaa
that he carried on business along with his father-in-law
Colinseus, and that he died at Paris 1550.
Robert Stephens, the second son, was born in 1503.
In his youth he made great proficiency in the Roman,
Greek, and Hebrew languages, and at the age of 19
had acquired so much knowledge, that his father-in-law
entrusted him with the management of his press. An
edition of the New Testament was published under his
inspection, which gave great offence to the Paris divines,
who accused him of heresy, and threatened to prevent
the sale of the book. Soon after he began business him¬
self, and married Perrete the daughter of Jodocus Ba-
dius, a printer and an author. She was a woman of
learning, and understood Latin, which indeed was the
necessary consequence of her situation. Her husband
alwaysentertaiuedanumberof learned men as correctors
of the press: Being foreigners, and of different nations,
they made use of no other language hut Latin; wluci
Perrete being accustomed to hear, was able in a short time
0 not
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s T E [ 697
Stephens not only to umlerstaml, but even to speak with tolerable
In 1531 he published his Latin “ Thesaurus j” a
work of great importance, which he laboured at for two
years. The mark which he put upon all his books was
a tree branched, with a man looking upon it, and these
words, noli ahum superc, to which he sometimes added
sed time. In 1539, Francis I. made him his printer,
and ordered a new set of elegant types to be founded
for him. His frequent editions of the New Testament
gave great offence to the doctors of the Sorbonne, who
accused him of heresy for his annotations, and insisted
-upon the suppression of some of his books. Although
Henry the French king in some measure protected him,
the persecution of these divines rendered him so unhap¬
py, not to mention the expence and loss of time which
an almost constant attendance at court unavoidably oc¬
casioned, that in 1552 he abandoned hiscountry and went
to Geneva. Here he embraced the Protestant religion,
and thus justified in some measure the suspicions of his
theological enemies. It has been affirmed by several
writers that he carried along with him the royal types,
and the moulds also in which they were cast ; but it is
certain that he never afterwards made use of those types.
Besides, is it possible that the authorof so daring a theft
could have been not only protected in Geneva, but even
Courted and honoured by the most eminent men of the
age ? Is it credible that such a crime could have been
concealed for60 years; or that Henrv, the son and heir
of the perpetrator, would have enjoyed the favour of the
French king, if Robert Stephens had acted such a shame¬
ful part ? If he was burnt in effigy at Paris, it was not
for theft, but for having changed his religion. After
Iiis arrival at Geneva, he published an account of the
dispute between him and the Paris divines, which does
as much honour to his abilities as his Thesaurus does to
his learning. He died in 1559, after a life of the
most extraordinary industry. The books of which he
was the editor were not fewer thau 360. Many of
them were ancient classics in different languages. Se¬
veral were accompanied with annotations which he col¬
lected, and all of them were corrected by collating ma¬
nuscripts. Pie was so anxious to obtain perfect accu¬
racy, that he used to expose his proofs in public, and re¬
ward those who discovered a mistake. His books con¬
sequently were very correct. It is said that his New
Testament, called OMirificam (because the preface be¬
gins with these words), has not a single fault.
It was Robert Stephens who first divided the New
Testament into verses during a journey between Paris
and Lyons. The advantages of this improvement are
fully counterbalanced by its defects. It has destroyed
the unity of the books, and induced many commentators
to consider every verse as a distinct and independent
aphorism. To this in some measure is to be ascribed the
many absurd interpretations and creeds that have been
forced out of that book.
By his last will his estate was left exclusively to such
of his children as should settle at Geneva. He left be¬
hind him three sons, Henry, Robert, and Francis.
Charles Stephens, the third son of Henry, was,
like the rest of his family, familiarly acquainted with
•the learned languages. This recommended him to La¬
zarus de Baif, who made him tutor to his son, and in
J340 carried him along with him to Germany. He
Vol. XIX. Part II. A
] S T E
studied medicine, andpractised it with success in France.
He did not, however, forsake the profession of his fami¬
ly, but exercised it in Paris, where he became the edi¬
tor ol many books remarkable for neatness and elegance,
lie wrote above thirty treatises on different subjects,
particularly on botany, anatomy, and history. He died
in 1564.
Robert Stephens, the son of Robert the first of that
name, did not accompany his father to Geneva, but con¬
tinued to profess the Catholic religion, and to reside at
Paris. His letter was remarkably beautiful. He was
made king’s printer, and died about 1589.
His brother Francis was also a printer. He embra¬
ced the Protestant religion, and resided at Geneva.
Henry Stephens, the remaining son of Robert,
was born at Paris in 1528. He became the most learn¬
ed and most celebrated ol all his family. From his very
birth almost he gave proofs of uncommon abilities, and
displayed an ardent passion for knowdedge. The Medea
of Euripides, which he saw acted while at school, first
kindled his love for poetry, and inspired him with the
desire of acquiring the language in which that tragedy
is written. He intreated his father not to condemn him
to study Latin, which he already understood from con-
vei sation, but to initiate him at once into the knowledge
of Greek. His father willingly granted his request;
and Henry applied with such vigour, that in a short time
he could repeat the Medea by heart. He afterwards
studied Greek under Peter Danesius, who was tutor to
the Dauphin, and finally heard the lectures of Tusanus
and Turnebus. He became eager at an early age to
understand astrology, and accordingly attended a pro¬
fessor of that mysterious art; but he was not long in dis¬
covering its absurdity. At 19 he began his travels,
which he undertook in order to examine foreign libra¬
ries, and to become acquainted with learned men. He
spent two years in Italy, and returned into France com¬
pletely master of Italian, and bringing along with him
copies of several scarce authors, particularly a part of
Anacreon, which before was thought lost.
He found his father publishing an edition of the New
Testament, to which he prefixed some Greek verses.—-
Soon after, he visited England and the Netherlands,
where he met with John Clement, an Englishman, to
whom he was indebted for the remaining odes of Ana¬
creon. During this journey he learned the Spanish lan¬
guage, which was very much spoken at that time in the
Low Countries.
Whether Henry accompanied his father toGeneva or
not is uncertain ; at least he must have returned imme-
diatelyAo France, for we find him soon after established
at Paris, and publishing the odes of Anacreon. In
1554 he went to Rome, and thence to Naples. This
journey was undertaken at the request, and in the ser¬
vice, of the French government. He was discovered,
and would have been arrested as a spy, had he not by
his address and skill in the language of the country been
able to pass himself for a native of Italy. On his re¬
turn to France he assumed the title of printer to Ulric
Fugger, a very rich and learned German nobleman, who
. allowed him a considerable pension.
In 1560 he married a relation, as is generally suppo-
- sed, of Henry Scrimgeour, a Scotch nobleman, with
whom he was intimately acquainted. She was a wo¬
man, as he himself informs us, endowed with the noblest
4 T spirit
Stephens.
]
s T E [ 698 ] S T E
Stephens, spirit and the most amiable dispositions. Her death,
'■-'•' v'-1" ' which happened in 1586, brought on a disease that had
twice attacked him before. It was a disgust at all those
pursuits which had formerly charmed him, an aversion
to reading and the sight of hooks. It was probably
occasioned by too constant and severe an application to
literary pursuits. In 1572 he published his Thesaurus
Linguce Gt'cecce, one of the greatest works, perhaps, that
ever was executed by one man, if we consider the wretch¬
ed materials which more ancient dictionaries could fur¬
nish, if we consider the size and perfection of the work,
and the immense labour and learning which must have
been employed in the compilation. This work had been
carried on at a greater expence than he could well bear.
He expected to be reimbursed by the sale of the book,
See Sea- but he was unfortunately disappointed. John Scapula,
pula. one of his own servants, extracted from it whatever he
thought would be most serviceable to students, and pub¬
lished it beforehand in 410. By this act of treachery
Henry was reduced to poverty.
About this time he was much beloved by Henry III.
of France, who treated him so kindly, and made him
such flattering promises, that he resided frequently at
court. But these promises were never fulfilled, owing
to the civil wars which soon after distracted France,
and the unfortunate death of King Henry himself. Du¬
ring the remainder of his life his situation was very un¬
settled. We find him sometimes at Paris, sometimes in
Geneva, in Germany, and even in Hungary. He died
at Lyons in 1598, at the age of 70. He was fond of
poetry from his very infancy. It was a custom of his
to compose verses on horseback, and even to write them,
though he generally rode a very mettlesome steed. His
Thesaurus was his great work, but he was also the au¬
thor of several other treatises. His poems are numerous:
His Apology for Herodotus is a witty satire on the
Roman Catholics. His Concordance to the New Tes¬
tament must have been a laborious work, and has de¬
servedly endeared him to every Christian who wishes to
acquire a rational and critical knowledge of the Scrip¬
tures. The number of books which he published,
though fewer than his father, was great, and superior in
elegance to any thing which the world had then seen.
A great proportion of them were Greek 5 he was the
editor, however, of many Roman and even of some east¬
ern writings. His Greek classics are remarkably cor¬
rect 5 the principal of them are Homer, Anacreon, AEs-
chylus, Maximus Tyrius, Diodorus Siculus, Pindar, Xe¬
nophon, Thucydides, Herodotus, Sophocles, Diogenes
Laertius, Plutarch, Plato, Apollonius Rhodius, JEs-
chines, Lysias, Callimachus, Theocritus, Herodian, Di¬
onysius Halicarnassensis, Dion Cassius, Isocrates, Appi-
an, Xiphilin, &c. His temper in the latter part of his
life is represented as haughty and severe, owing probably
to his disappointments. He left behind him a son and
two daughters, one of whom was married to the learned
Isaac Casaubon.
Paul Stephens, the son of Henry, continued his
father’s profession at Geneva. He was a man of learn¬
ing, and wrote translations of several books, and publish¬
ed a considerable number of the ancient classics ; but his
editions possess little of his father’s elegance. He died
in 1627, the age 60, after selling his types to one
Chouet a printer.—His son Antony, the last printer
of the family, abandoned the Protestant religion, and re-
A
turned to France, the country of his ancestors. He re- Stephen
ceived letters of naturalization in 1612, and was made || I j
printer to the king j hut managing his affairs ill, he was Stereomei
reduced to poverty, and obliged to retire into an hospi-, Ur-
tal, where he died in 1674, miserable and blind, at the ' \ i
age of 80.
STERCORARIANS, or Stercoranist^e, formed
from stercus, “ dung,” a name which those of the Ro¬
mish church anciently gave to such as held that the host
was liable to digestion, and all its consequences, like
other food.
STERCULIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class moncecia ; and in the natural system ranging under
the 38th order, Tricocceee. See Botany Index.
STEREOGRAPHIC projection, is the projection
of the circles of the sphere on the plane of some one great
circle, the eye being placed in the pole of that circle.
See Projection of the Sphere.
STEREOMEfER , an instrument invented in France
for measuring the volume of a body, however irregular,
without plunging it in any liquid. If the volume of air
contained in a vessel be measured, when the vessel con¬
tains air only, and also when it contains a body whose
volume is required to be known, the volume of air as¬
certained by the first measurement, deducting the volume
ascertained by the second, will be the volume of the bo¬
dy itself. Again, if the volume of any mass of air be
inversely as the pressure to which it is subjected, the
temperature being supposed constant, it will he easy to
deduce, from the mathematical relations of quantity, the
whole bulk if the difference between the two bulks un¬
der two known pressures be obtained by experiment.
Suppose that the first pressure is double the second,
or the second volume of air double the first, and the dif¬
ference equal to 50 cubic inches j the first volume of air
will likejvise be 30 cubic inches. The design of the ste¬
reometer is to ascertain this difference at two known
pressures.
The instrument is a kind of funnel AB (fig. 1.) com- piate
posed of a capsule A, in which the body is placed, and DIX.
the tube B as uniform in the bore as can be procured. I’
The upper edge of the capsule is ground with emery,
that it may be hermetically closed with a glass cover M
slightly greased. A double scale is pasted on the tube,
having two sets of graduations $ one to denote the
length, and the other the capacities, as determined by
experiment.
When this instrument is used, it must be plunged in¬
to a vessel of mercury, with the tube very upright, till
the mercury rise within and without to a point C of the
scale. See fig. 2. . rig_ 2>
The capsule is then closed with the cover, which be-
ing greased will prevent its communication between
the external air and that contained within the capsule
and tube.
In this situation of the instrument, the internal air is
compressed by the weight of the atmosphere, expressed
by the length of the mercury in the tube of the common
barometer.
The instrument is then elevated, still keeping the tube
in the vertical position. It is thus represented, fig. 2.
second position. The mercury descends in the tube, but
not to the level of the external surface, and a column of
mercui’y DE remains suspended in the tube, the height
of which is known by the scale. The interior air is less
compressed
s T E
Stereome
ter
Stereotomy.
S* 3.
compressed than before, the increase of its volume beinc
equal to the whole capacity of the tube from C to D°
indicated by the second scale. ’
It is therefore known that the pressures are in propor-
ton to the barometrical column, and to the same co¬
lumn DE. _ The bulks of the air in tl.ese two states
are inversely in the same proportion 5 and the difference
between these bulks is the absolute quantity left void in
the tube by the fall of the mercury ; from which data
the following rule is deduced. Multiply the number
expressing the less pressure by that which denotes the
augmentation of capacity, and divide the product by the
number which denotes the difference of the pressures.
I he quotient is the bulk of the air when subject to the
greater pressure.
Suppose the height of the mercury in the barometer
to be 78 centimetres, and the instrument being empty
to be plunged into the mercury to the point C. It is
then covered and raised till the small column of mer¬
cury DE is suspended, say at the height of six centi¬
metres. Ihe internal air at first compressed by a force
represented by 78 centimetres, is now only compressed
by a force =72 centimetres, or 78—6—72.
Suppose that the capacity of the part CD of the tube
which the mercury has quitted is two cubic centimetres.
72
X2— 24 cubical centimetres, the volume of
C 699 ]
S T E
Then
the air included in the instrument when the mercury
rose as high as C in the tube.
The body of which the volume is to be ascertained
 j vwiu.iiv. n tu uc asutrilaiiieu
roust then be placed in the capsule, and the operation
repeated. Let the column of mercury suspended be
=r8 centimetres, when the capacity of the part CD of
the tube is = 2 centimetres cubic. Then the greatest
pressure being denoted by 78 centimetres, the least will
be 70 centimetres, the difference of pressure being 8,
and difference of the volumes two cubic centimetres.
Hence ^ X 2 gives the bulk of the included air under
the greatest pressure 17.5 cubic centimetres.  
24—17 5—6-5 the volume of the body introduced.
Then
/ ■ j —vuiuiuc ui me uuu^ uuruuuceu.
If the absolute weight of the body be multiplied by its
bulk in centimetres, and divided by the absolute weight
of one cubic centimetre of distilled water, the quotient
will be —• the specific gravity of the body in the com¬
mon form of the tables, where distilled water is taken as
unity, or the term of comparison.
Mr Nicholson supposes that the author of the inven¬
tion had not finished his meditations on the subject. If
he had, it is probable that he would have determined
his pressures, as well as the measures ofbulks, by weight,
lor if the whole instrument were set to its positions by
suspending it from one arm of a balance at H (fig. 3.)
the quantity of counterpoise, when in equilibrio, might
be applied to determine tbe pressures to a degree of ac¬
curacy much greater than can be obtained by linear
measurement.
STEREOMETRY, formed of vegss?,
solid, and ^srgsv, measure, that part of geometry which
teaches how to measure solid bodies, i. e. to find the so¬
lidity or solid contents of bodies j as globes, cylinders,
cubes, vessels, ships, &c.
STEREOTOMY, formed from s-sgwj,
and
ropri,
stereotype pHraTiNG, a metw or pri,
which was introduced into this country by William Ged
of Edinburgh before the middle of the i8ih centurv,
and which has been revived of late, and greatly im¬
proved by the French. It has also been brought into
practice m Britain by Earl Stanhope, who has produced
some beautiful specimens of it. Rome persons seem dis¬
posed to dispute the invention of Ged, seeing that the
Pn.nT,ng by W0°den bI°cks was practised
by the Chinese and Japanese many hundred years a00.
See Ged, l/fe oj, and Printing. &
STERILITY, barreness, in opposition to fertility.
It has been asserted by many authors, that all monsters
pro uced by a mixture of different species of animals
such as mules, are barren j but this does not hold uni!
\ersally, even with the mule, which is the instance most
generally adduced.
. Sterillty in women sometimes happens from a miscar¬
riage, or violent labour injuring some of the genital
parts j but one of the most frequent causes is the sup¬
pression of the menstrual flux.—There are other causes
arising from various diseases incident to those parts, by
which the uterus may be unfit to receive or retain the
ma e seed j—from the tubae fallopiame being too short,
01 having lost their elective power 5 in either of which
cases no conception can take place j—from universal de¬
bility and relaxation 5 or a local debility of the genital
system ; by which means, the parts having lost their
tone or contractile power, the semen is thrown off im¬
mediately/^ coiWy—from imperforation of the va
gina, the uterus, or the tubce, or from diseased ova &c
Hence medical treatment can only avail in cases arising
horn topical or universal debility ; in correcting irregu¬
larities of the menstrual flux, or in removing tumors
cicatrices, or constrictions of the passage, by the art of
surgery. J
SIERIS, a genus of plants belonging to the class
pentandna. See Botany Index.
STERLING, an epithet by which genuine English
money is distinguished. It is unnecessary to mention
the various conjectures of antiquaries about the origin
and meaning of this appellation. The most probable Heniy's
opinion seems to be this, that some artists from GeY-History of
many, who were called ^sterlings, from the situation off™* frt*
their country, had been employed in fabricating our ,TOl*m'
money, which consisted chiefly of silver pennies; and
that from them the penny was called an esterling, and
our money esterling or sterling money.
STERN, the posterior face of a ship; or that part
which is represented to the view of a spectator, placed
on the continuation of the keel behind. The stern is
terminated above by the taffarel, and below by the coun¬
ters ; it is limited on the sides by the quarter-pieces, and
the intermediate space comprehends the galleries and
windows of the different cabins. See Quarter of a
Ship, Ship, and Ship-building.
Stern-FosI, a rope used to confine the stern of a ship
or boat to any wharf or jetty head, &c.
Stern-Most, in sea language, usually denotes that
part of a fleet of ships which is in the rear, or farthest
a-stern, as opposed to head-most.
4 ^ 2 S’TEJiy-
S T E [ 700 ] S T E
Stern Post SrERN-Post, a long straight piece of timber erected
l| on the extremity of the keel, to sustain the rudder and
Sterne, terminate the ship behind.
' v ' This piece ought to be well secured and supported ;
because the ends of all the lower planks of the ship’s
bottom are fixed in a channel, cut on its surface ; and
the whole weight of the rudder is sustained by it.
SrERW-Sheets, that part of a boat which is contained
between the stern and the aftmost or hindmost seat of
the rowers. It is generally furnished with benches to
accommodate the passengers. See Boat.
STERNA, the Tern; a genus of birds arranged
under the order of palmipedes. See Ornithology In¬
dex. • > . •
STERNE, Laurence, an English rvriter of a very
peculiar cast, was born at Clomwell, in the south of Ire¬
land, on the 24th November 1713. His father Roger
Sterne avas the grandson of Sterne archbishop of York,
who has been supposed, we know not upon what grounds,
to have been the author of the excellent book entitled
“ The Whole Duty of Man.” Laurence inherited no¬
thing of his ancestor’s manner of writing, but rather re¬
sembled Rabelais, whose wit he carried with him even
into the pulpit. .
In 1722 he was sent to school, at Halifax in rork-
sbire, where he continued till 1732, when he was re¬
moved to Jesus College in Cambridge. How long he
resided in college, or what progress he made in litera¬
ture or science, is not known : his works display rather
native genius than profound erudition. Upon quitting
the university he went to York, and being in orders was
presented to the living of Sutton by the interest of his
uncle Dr Sterne, a prebendary of that church. 1 n 1741
be married, and was-soon afteiwards made a prebendaiy
of York, by the interest also of his uncle, who was then
upon very good terms with him ; but “ quickly quar¬
relled with him (he says), and became his bitterest ene¬
my, because he would not be a party man, and write
paragraphs in the newspapers.” By his wife’s means he
got the living of Stillington, but remained near 20
years at Sutton, doing duty at both places. He was
then in very good health, which, however, soon after
forsook him ; and books, painting, fiddling, and shoot¬
ing, were, as he tells us, his amusements.
In 1760, he went to London to publish his two
first volumes of “ Tristram Shandy and was that
year presented to the curacy of Coxwold. In 1762 he
went to France, and two years after to Italy, for the
recovery of his health ; but his health never was reco¬
vered. He languished under a consumption of the
lungs, without the slightest depression of spirits, till
1768, when death put a period to bis terrestrial exist¬
ence.
The works of Sterne are very generally read. They
consist of, 1. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shan¬
dy ; 2. Sermons ; 3. A Sentimental Journey; 4. Let¬
ters, published since his death. In every serious page,
and in many of much levity, the author writes in praise
of benevolence, and declares that no one who knew him
could suppose him one of those wretches who heap mis¬
fortune upon misfortune: Butrve have heard anecdotes
of him extremely well authenticated, which proved that
it was easier for him to praise this virtue than to
practise it. His wit is universally allowed ; but many
readers have persuaded themselves that they found wit
in his blank pages, while it is probable that be intended Sterne
nothing but to amuse himself with the idea of the sage ||
conjectures to which these pages would give occasion. Steward
Even his originality is not such as is generally supposed 'r~m~
by those fond admirers of the Shandean manner, who
have presumed to compare him with Swift, Arbuthnot,
and Butler. He has borrowed both matter and manner
from various authors, and in particular from an old
work, “ The Anatomy of Melancholy by Buiton,” as
every reader may be convinced by the learned, elegant,
and candid comments on bis works published by Dr Fer-
riar, in the fourth volume of the Memoirs of the Lite¬
rary and Philosophical Society of Manchester.
STERNOCOSTALES, commonly called the mus-
culi triangulares sterni, in Anatomy, are five pairs of
fleshy planes, disposed more or less obliquely on each
side the sternum, on the inside of the cartilages of the
second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth true ribs.
STERNO-hyoid^eus, in Anatomy. See Table of
the Muscles, under the article Anatomy.
STERNOMANTIS, in antiquity, a designation gi¬
ven to the Delphian priestess, more usually called Py-
thia.—Sternomantis is also used for any one that had
a prophesying demon within him.
STERNOMASTOIDiEUS, a muscle. See Table
of the Muscles, under Anatomy.
STERNOTHYROIDEUS, a muscle. See Table
of the Muscles, under Anatomy.
STERNUM. See Anatomy Index.
STERNUTATIVE, or Sternutatory, a medi¬
cine proper to produce sneezing. See Sneezing.
STETIN, or Stettin, a sea-port town of Germany,
belonging to Prussia, and capital of Hither Pomerania,
with the title of a duchy, and a castle. It had long a
famous school, which the wars of Germany never di¬
sturbed. The ancient dukes of Pomerania resided
here ; and it was taken by the elector of Brandenburg
in 1676, but given to Sweden by the treaty of Nime-
guen. In 1713 it submitted to the allies; and then
the said elector was put in possession again of this im¬
portant place, which is a bulwark to the marche of
Brandenburg ; and the fortifications have been greatly
improved. It is now a flourishing place, and carries on
a considerable trade. It is seated on the river Oder, 72
miles north of Francfort, and 70 north by east of Ber¬
lin. E. Long. 14. 38. N. Lat. 53. 35. The duchy is
125 miles in length, and borders upon Mecklenburg,
and partly upon Brandenburg. The breadth is from 17
to 25 miles, and it is divided by the river Oder into
two parts.
STEW, a small kind of fish-pond, the peculiar use
of which is to maintain fish, and keep them in readiness
for the daily use of the family, &c. (
Stews (from the French estuves, i. e. thermce, bal¬
neum), those places which were permitted in England
to women of professed incontinency ; so called, because
dissolute persons are wont to prepare themselves for ve-
nereous acts by bathing ; and hot baths were by Homer
reckoned among the effeminate sort ot pleasures. rIhese
stews were suppressed by King Henry VIII. about the
year 1546.
STEWARD (senescallus, compounded of the Saxon
steda, i. e. “ room” or “ stead.” and weard, “a ward”or
“ keeper”), an officer appointed in another’s stead or
place, and always taken for a principal officer within bis
jurisdiction.
Stevrard.
S T
Of these
E
dj kd.
d' ment.
T1 iv.
f 701
jurisdiction. Of these there are various kinds. The
-r greatest officer under the crown is the lord high-stew¬
ard of England, an office that was anciently the inheri¬
tance of the earls of Leicester, till forfeited by Simon
de Montfort to King Henry III. But the power of this
officer is so very great, that it has not been judged safe
to trust it any longer in the hands of a subject, except¬
ing only pro hew vice, occasionally : as to officiate at a
coronation, at the arraignment of a nobleman for high-
treason, or the like. During his office, the steward
bears a white staff in his hand *, and the trial, &c. end¬
ed, he breaks the staff, and with it his commission ex¬
pires. There is likewise a lord-steward of the king’s
household, who is the chief officer of the king’s court,
has the care of the king’s house, and authority over all
the officers and servants of the household, except such
as belong to the chapel, chamber, and stable.
Steward, an officer in a ship of war, appointed by
the purser to distribute the different species of provisions
to the officers and crew •, for which purpose he is fur¬
nished with a mate and proper assistants.
Court of the Lord High Steward of Great Britain,
is a court instituted for the trial of peers indicted for
treason or felony, or for misprison of either. The office
of this great magistrate is very ancient, and was former¬
ly hereditary, or at least held for life, or dum bene se
gesserit: but now it is usually, and hath been for many
centuries past, granted pro hue vice only; and it hath
been the constant practice (and therefore seems now to
have become necessary) to grant it to a lord of parlia¬
ment, else he is incapable to try such delinquent peer.
When such an indictment is therefore found by a grand
jury of freeholders in the King’s bench, or at the assizes
before the justices of oyer and terminer, it is to be re¬
moved by a writ of certiorari into the court of the lord
high-steward, which has the only power to determine it.
A peer may plead a pardon before the court of King’s
bench, and the judges have power to allow it, in order
to prevent the trouble of appointing an high-steward
merely for the purpose of receiving such plea: but he
may not plead in that inferior court any other plea, as
guilty or not guilty of the indictment, but only in this
court; because, in consequence of such plea, it is pos¬
sible that judgment of death might be awarded against
him. The king, therefore, in case a peer be indicted
of treason, felony, or misprison, creates a lord high-
steward pro hac vice by commission under the great
seal ; which recites the indictment so found, and gives
his Grace power to receive and try it secundum legem et
consuetudinem Anglice. I hen when the indictment is
regularly removed by writ of certiorari, commanding the
inferior court to certify it up to him, the lord high-
steward directs a precept to a serjeant at arms, to sum¬
mon the lords to attend and try the indicted peer. This
precept was formerly issued to summon only 18 or 20
selected from the body of the peers 5 then the number
came to be indefinite y and the custom was for the lord
high-steward to summon as many as he thought proper
(but of late years not less than 23) 5 and that those
lords only should sit upon the trial; which threw a
monstrous weight of power into the hands of the crown,
and this its great officer, of selecting only such peers as
the then predominant party should most approve, of.
And accordingly, when the earl of Clarendon fell into
disgrace with Charles IX. there was a design formed to
]
S T E
prorogue the parliament, in order to try him by a se- Steward,
lect number of peers 5 it being doubted whether the ' y—^
whole house could be induced to fall in with the views
of the court. But now, by statute 7 W. III. c. 3. up¬
on all trials of peers for treason or misprison, all the
peers who have a right to sit and vote in parliament
shall be summoned at least 20 days before such trial, to
appear and vote therein ; and every lord appearing shall
vote in the trial of such peer, first taking the oaths of
allegiance and supremacy, and subscribing the declara¬
tion against popery.
During the session of parliament, the trial of an in¬
dicted peer is not properly in the court of the lord high-
steward, but before the court last mentioned of our lord
the king in parliament. It is true, a lord high-steward
is always appointed in that case to regulate and add
weight to the proceedings : but he is rather in the na¬
ture of a speaker pro tempore, or chairman of the court,
than the judge of it 3 for the collective body of the peers
are therein the judges both of law and fact,, and the
high-steward has a vote with the rest in right of his
peerage. But in the court of the lord high-steward,
which is held in the recess of parliament, he is the sole
judge of matters of law, as the lords triors are in matters
of fact 3 and as they may not interfere with him in re¬
gulating the proceedings of the court, so he has no right
to intermix with them in giving any vote upon the trial.
Therefore, upon the conviction and attainder of a peer
for murder in full parliament, it hath been holden by
the judges, that in case the day appointed in the judg¬
ment for execution should lapse before execution done,
a new time of execution may be appointed by either the
high court of parliament during Ls sitting, though no
high steward be existing, or, in the recess of parliament,
by the court of King’s-bench, the record being remov¬
ed into that court.
It has been a point of some controversy, whether the
bishops have now a right to sit in the court of the lord -
high-steward to try indictments of treason and mispri¬
sion. Some incline to imagine them included under
the general words of the statute of King William “ all
peers who have a right to sit and vote in parliament 3”
but the expression had been much clearer, if it had been
“ all lords,” and not “ all peers 5” for though bishops,
on account of the baronies annexed to their bishoprics,
are clearly lords of parliament, yet their blood not be¬
ing ennobled, they are not universally allowed to be
peers with the temporal nobility : and perhaps this*
word might be inserted purposely with a view to ex¬
clude them. However, there is no instance of their sit¬
ting on trials for capital offences, even upon impeach¬
ments or indictments in full parliament, much less in the
court wre aie now treating of 3 for indeed they usually
withdraw' voluntarily, but enter a protest, declaring their
right to stay. It is observable, that in the nth chap¬
ter of the constitutions of Clarendon, made in parliament
nth Henry II. they are expressly excused, rather than
excluded, from sitting and voting in trials, which con¬
cern life or limb : episcopi, sicut cceteri barones, debent
interessejudiciis cum baronibus, cjuosque perveniutur ad
dimimUionem membrorum vel ad mortem. And Becket’s
quarrel with the king hereupon was not on account of
the exception (which was agreeable to the canon law),
but of the general rule, that compelled the bishops to
attend at all. And the determination of the house of
lords.
S T £
C 702 1
S T E
Steward, lords in the earl of Danby’s case, which hath ever since
Stewart, been adhered to, is consonant to these constitutions;
» “ that the lords spiritual have a right to stay and sit in
court in capital cases, till the court proceeds to the vote
of guilty or not guilty.” It must be noted, that this
resolution extends only to trials in full parliament j for
to the court of the lord high-steward (in which no vote
can be given, but merely that of guilty or not guilty),
no bishop, as such, ever was or could be summoned: and
though the statute of King William regulates the pro¬
ceedings in that court, as well as in the court of parlia¬
ment, yet it never intended to new-model or alter its
constitution } and consequently does not give the lords
spiritual any right, in cases of blood, which they had
not before. And what makes their exclusion more rea¬
sonable is, that they have no right to be tried themselves
in the court of the lord-high-steward, and therefore
surely ought not to be judges there. For the privilege
of being thus tried depends upon nobility of blood ra¬
ther than a seat in the house, as appears from the trials
of the popish lords, of lords under age, and (since the
union) of the Scotch nobility, though not in the num¬
ber of the sixteen ; and from the trials of females, such
as the queen consort or dowager, and of all peeresses by
birth ; and peeresses by marriage also, unless they have,
when dowagers, disparaged themselves by taking a
commoner to their second husband.
Steward of the Ckiltern Hundreds. See Chil tern
Hundreds.
STEWART, Dr Matthew, an eminent mathe¬
matician, was in 1717 born at Rothsay in the isle of
Bute, of which parish his father was minister. Being
intended for the church, he went through the usual
course of a grammar-school education, and was in 1734
received as a student into the university of Glasgow.
There he had the happiness of having for his preceptors
in moral science and in mathematics the celebrated pro¬
fessors Hutcheson and Simson j by the latter of whom
he was instructed in what may not improperly be called
the arcana of the ancient geometry.
Account of Mr Stewart’s views making it necessary for him to
Dr Sfmffr* remove to Edinburgh, he was introduced by Dr Simson
in the E- to Mr Maclaurin, that his mathematical studies might
dmburgh «• .. ..
toI,
by Mr
Playfair.
Philosohi su^er no interruption ; and he attended the lectures of
cat Trans- ^,at great master with such advantage as might be ex-
actions, pected from eminent abilities, directed by the judge¬
ment of him who made the philosophy and geometry of
Newton intelligible to ordinary capacities. Mr Stew¬
art, however, had acquired, from his intimacy with Dr
Simson, such a predilection for the ancient geometry, as
the modern analysis, however powerfully recommended,
could not lessen j and he kept up a regular correspond¬
ence with his old master, giving him an account of his
progress and his discoveries in geometry, and receiving
in return many curious communications respecting the
Loci flani and the porisms of Euclid. See Porism
and Simson.
While the second invention of porisms, to which more
genius was perhaps required than to the first discovery
of them, employed Dr Simson, Mr Stewart pursued
the same subject in a different and new direction. In
doing so, he was led to the discovery of those curious
and interesting propositions which were published under
the title of General Theorems in 1746. They were gi¬
ven without the demonstrations j but did not fail to place
their discoverer at once among the geometers of the Stewart
first rank. They are for the most part porisms, thouoh v—J
Mr Stewart, careful not to anticipate the discoveries of
his friend, gave them no other name than that of theo¬
rems.
Our author had before this period entered into the
church j and obtained, through the patronage of the
duke of Argyle and the earl of Bute, the living of
Roseneath, a retired country parish in the west of Scot¬
land : but in 1747 he was elected to the mathematical
chair in the university of Edinburgh, which had become
vacant the year before by the death of Mr Maclaurin.
The duties of this office gave a turn somewhat different
to his pursuits, and led him to think of the most simple
and elegant means of explaining those difficult proposi¬
tions which were hitherto only accessible to men deeply
versed in the modern analysis. In doing this, he was
pursuing the object which of all others he most ardently
wished to attain, viz. the application of geometry to
such problems as the algebraic calculus alone had been
thought able to resolve. His solution of Kepler’s pro¬
blem was the first specimen of this kind which he gave
to the world j and it was impossible to have produced
one more to the credit of the method he followed, or of
the abilities with which he applied it. On this problem
the utmost resources of the integral calculus had been
employed. But though many excellent solutions had
been given, there was none of them at once direct in
its method and simple in its principles. Mr Stewart
was so happy as to attain both these objects j and his
solution appeared in the second volume of the Essays of
the Philosophical Society of Edinburgh for the year
1756. In the first volume of the same collection there
are some other propositions of Mr Stewart’s, which are
an extension of a curious theorem in the fourth book of
Pappus. They have a relation to the subject of porisms,
and one of them forms the 91st of Dr Simson’s Restora¬
tion. They are besides very beautiful propositions, and
are demonstrated with all the elegance and simplicity of
the ancient analysis.
The prosecution of the plan which lie had formed of
introducing into the higher parts of mixed mathematics
the strict and simple form of ancient demonstration, pro¬
duced the ’I racts Physical and Mathematical, which
were published in 1761, and the Essay on the Sun’s Di¬
stance, which was published in 1763. In this last work
it is acknowledged that he employed geometry on a task
which geometry cannot perform ; but while it is grant¬
ed that this determination of the sun’s distance is by no
means free from error, it may safely be asserted that it
contains a great deal which will always interest geome¬
ters, and will always be admired by them. Few errors
in science are redeemed by the display of so much inge¬
nuity, and what is more singular, ol so much sound rea¬
soning. The investigation is everywhere elegant, and
will probably be long regarded as a specimen of the most
arduous inquiry which has been attempted by mere geo¬
metry.
The Sun’s Distance was the last work which Dr
Stewart published j and though he lived to see several
animadversions on it made public, he declined entering
into any controversy. His disposition was far from po¬
lemical ; and he knew the value of that quiet which a
literary man should rarely suffer his antagonists to in¬
terrupt. He used to say, thaUhe decision of the point
in
s T E
[
111 question was now before I he public ; that if his im-es '
tioation was right it would never be overturned, ami
t lat it it was wrong ,t ought not to be defended. A
ew months before he published the essay just mentioned,
he gave to the world another work, intitled Proposl
ttones Geometries More Vcterum Demonstratce This
title, it is said, was given to it by Dr Simson, who re-
joined in the publication of a work so well calculated
to promote the study ol the ancient geometry. It con
sists of a series of geometrical theorems, for the most
part new; investigated first by an analysis, and after-
wards synthetically demonstrated by the inversion of the
same analysis.
Dr Stewart’s constant use of the geometrical analysis
had put him in possession of many valuable propositions
which did not enter into the plan of any of the works
that have been enumerated. Of these not a few have
found a place in the writings of Dr Simson, where
they will for ever remain to mark the friendship of
these two mathematicians, and to evince the esteem
which Dr Simson entertained for the abilities of his
pupil.
Soon after the publication of the Sun’s Distance, Dr
Stewart’s health began to decline, and the duties of his
office became burdensome to him. In the year 1772
he retired to the country, where he afterwards spent
tie greater part of his life, and never resumed his la¬
bours in the university. But though mathematics had
now ceased to be his business, they continued to be his
amusement till a very few years before his death,
which happened on the 23d of January 178 c, at the
age of 68.
The habits of study, in a man of original genius,
are objects of curiosity, and deserve to be remembered.
Concerning those of Dr Stewart, his writings have
made it unnecessary to remark, that from his youth he
had been accustomed to the most intense and continued
application. In consequence of this application, added
to the natural vigour of his mind, he retained the me¬
mory of his discoveries in a manner that will hardly be
believed. He rarely wrote down any of his investiga¬
tions till it became necessary to do so for the purpose of
publication. When he discovered any proposition, he
would put down the enunciation with great accuracy,
and on the same piece of paper would construct very
neatly the figure to which it referred. To these he
trusted for recalling to his mind at any future period
the demonstration or the analysis, however complicated
it might be. Experience had taught him, that he
might place this confidence in himself without any dan¬
ger of disappointment; and for this singular power he
was probably more indebted to the activity of his in¬
vention than the mere tenaciousness of his memory.
Though he was extremely studious, he read few books,
and verified the observation of M. D’Alembert, that of
all men of letters, mathematicians read least of the
writings of one another. His own investigations oc¬
cupied him sufficiently; and indeed the world would
have had reason to regret the misapplication of his ta¬
lents, had he employed in the mere acquisition of know¬
ledge that time which he could dedicate to works of
invention.
Stewart, in Scots Law. See Law Index.
STEWARTIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class monadelphhi, and in the natural system ranging
3
See Botany steward*
zing.
D3 ] S T I
Uie 37tb Columnifer*-
t,l'| T1BA|I)IL?1; arm°ng tlie Romans> a low kind of Stigiad-
able couch or bed of a circular form, which succeeded """
to the triclinia, and was of different sizes according to
the number of guests for which it was designed. Tables
of this kind were called hexaclma, octaclina, or ennea-
chna, according as they held six, eight, or nine guests,
and so of any other number. ° 9
81IBIUM, a name for Antimony
S™H0S’ a namf given by the old writers to a
pectoral confection the principal ingredient of which
was the herb marrubium or horehound.
SI1CKLEBACK, a genus of fishes. See Gas-
terosteus, Ichthyology Index.
bet«OOT’nTI r K,S’ rin, FrintinS> slips of wood that lie
tween the foot of the page and the chess, to which
hey are wedged fast by the quoins, to keep the form
hrm, in conjunction with the side-sticks, which are pla¬
ced at the side of the page, and fixed in the same man¬
ner by means of quoins.
STIFFLE, or Great Muscle, in the manege, is
the part of the hind-leg of a horse which advances to¬
wards Ins belly. This is a most dangerous part to re¬
ceive a blow upon. 1
STIGMA, a brand or impression with a hot iron;
a mark of infamy. See Stigmatizing.
Sttgma in Botany, the summit or top of the style,
accounted by the sexualists the female organ of general
tion in plants, which receives the fecundating dust of
the t ops of the stamina, and transmits its vapour or efflu¬
via through the style into the heart of the seed-bud, for
the purpose of impregnating the seeds.
1I?JV1AT^’ 7 Nat^!'al History, the apertures in
different parts of the bodies of insects communicating
with the tracheae or air-vessel, and serving for the of¬
fice of respiration.
iL SwvMiATf.’ 10 certain marks impressed on.
the left shoulders of the soldiers when listed.
Stigmata, were also a kind of notes or abbrevia¬
tions, consisting only of points disposed various ways ; as
in triangles, squares, crosses, &c.
Stigmata, is also a term used among the Francis¬
cans, to express the marks or prints of our Saviour’s
wounds, said to have been miraculously impressed by
Seiaphic father St Fran^s-
STIGMA IIZING, among the ancients, was in-
flicted upon slaves as a punishment, but more frequently
as a mark to know them by : in which case, it was done
by applying a red-hot iron marked with certain letters
to their foreheads, till a fair impression was made; and
then pouring ink into their furrows, that the inscription
might be the more conspicuous.
Soldiers were branded in the hand with the name or
character of their general.
After the same manner, it was customary to stigma¬
tize the worshippers and votaries of some of the gods.
Ibe marks used on these occasions were various; some¬
times they contained the name of the god, sometimes
his particular ensign, as the thunderbolt of Jupiter the
trident of Neptune, the ivy of Bacchus, &c. or they
marked themselves with some mystical number, whereby
the god’s name was described. To these three ways of
stigmatizing St John is supposed to refer (Rev. diap.
xiii. ver. 16, 17.). Ihqodoret is of opinion, that the
Jews*
i
SS T TI [[7
Siiffmftti- Jews were forbidden to brand themselves with stigmata,
ring because the idolaters, by that ceremony, used to conse-
U crate themselves to their false gods.
Stilling- Among some nations, stigmatizing was considered as
. , a distinguishing mark of honour and nobility. In Thrace,
* Lib. r. as Herodotus tells us *, it was practised by none but
persons of credit, nor omitted by any but persons of the
'meanest rank. The ancient Britons are also said to have
imprinted on the bodies of their infants the figures ot
animals, and other marks, with hot irons.
STIL DE GRAIN, in the colour trade, the name of a
composition used for painting in oil or water, and is
made of a decoction of the lycium or Avignon berry,
in alum-water, which is mixed with whiting into a
paste, and formed into twisted sticks. It ought to be
chosen of a fine gold yellow, very fine, tender, and fri¬
able, and free from dirt.
STILAGO, a genus of plants belonging to the class
gynandria. See B01'ANY Index.
' * STILBE, a genus of plants belonging to the class
polygamia, and order of dicecia. See Botany Index.
STILBATE, a species of mineral, or variety of zeo¬
lite. See Zeolite, Mineralogy Index.
STILE. See Style.
STILL, the name of an apparatus used in chemistry
i. for various purposes, and in the distillation of ardent
spirits.
SriLL-BottomSy in the distillery, a name given by the
traders to what remains in the still after working the
r wash into low wines. These bottoms are procured in
the greatest quantity from the malt-wash, and are of so
much value to the distiller in the fattening of hogs, &c.
that he often finds them one of the most valuable articles
of the business.
STILLINGFLEET, Edward, bishop of Wor¬
cester, was the son of Samuel Stillingfleet, gentleman,
and was born at Cranborn in Dorsetshire in 1635' Ue
was educated at St John’s College, Cambridge ; and
having received holy orders, was^in 1657* presented to
the rectory of Sutton in Nottingharnshire. By publishing
his Origines Sacrce, one ot the ablest defences of reveal¬
ed religion that has-ever been written, he soon acquired
such reputation, that he was appointed preacher ol the
Rolls Chapel ; and in January 1665 was presented to
% the rectory of St Andrew’s, Holborn. He was after¬
wards-chosen lecturer at the Temple, and appointed
chaplain in ordinary to King Charles II. In 1668 he
took the degree of doctor of divinity-; and was soon
after engaged in a dispute with those of the Romish re¬
ligion, by publishing his discom se concerning the ido¬
latry and fanaticism of the church of Rome, which he
^ifterwardsdefendedagainstseveralantagonists. In 1680
he preached at Guildhall chapel a sermon on Phil,
iii. 26. which he published under the title of T/ie Mis¬
chief of Separation ; and this being immediately attack¬
ed by several ivriters, he in 1683 published his Unrea¬
sonableness of Separation. In 1685 appeared his Ori¬
gines Britannicce, or the Antiquities of the British
Church, in folio. During the reign of King James II.
he wrote several tracts against popery, and was prolocu¬
tor of the convocation, as he had likewise been under
Charles II. After the revolution he was advanced to
the bishopric of Worcester, and was engaged in a dis¬
pute with the Socinians, and also with Mr Locke ; in
which last contest he is generally thought to have been
2
04 ] S T I
unsuccessful. He died at Westminster in 1699, an‘l Slilllnj.l
was interred in the cathedral of Worcester, where a ;
monument was erected to his memory by his son. Dr -y——
Stillingfleet wrote other works besides those here men¬
tioned, which, with the above, have been reprinted in
6 vols. folio.
Stillingfleet, Benjamin, an ingenious naturalist,
was grandson of the preceding. His father Edward
was fellow of St John’s College in Cambridge, F. R. S.
M. D. and Gresham professor of physic : but marrying
in 1692, he lost his lucrative offices and his father’s fa¬
vour; a misfortune that affected both himself and his
posterity. However, going into orders, he obtained,
by his father’s means, the living of Newington-Butts,
which he immediately exchanged for those of W ood-
•Norton and Swanton in Norfolk. He died in 1708.
Benjamin, his only son, Was educated at Norwich
school, which he left in 1720, with the character of an
-excellent scholar. He then went to J rinity-College in
Cambridge, at the request ot Dr Bentley, the master,
who had been private tutor to his father, domestic chap¬
lain to his grandfather, and much indebted to the fami¬
ly. Here he was a candidate for a fellowship, but was
rejected by the master’s influence. This was a severe
and unexpected disappointment, and but little alleviat¬
ed afterwards by the Doctor’s apology, that it was a
pity that a gentleman of Mr Stillingfleet’s parts should
be buried within the walls of a college.
Perhaps, how'ever, this ingratitude of Di Bentley
was not of any real disservice to Mr Stillingfleet. By
being thrown into the world, he formed many honour¬
able and valuable connections. He dedicated some
translations of Linnaeus to the late Lord Lyttleton,
■ partly, he says, from motives of private respect and ho¬
nour. Lord Barrington gave him, in a very polite
manner, the place of the master of the barracks at Ken¬
sington ; a favour to which Mr Stillingfleet, in the de¬
dication of his Calendar of Flora to that nobleman, al¬
ludes with equal politeness, as well as with the warmest
gratitude. His Calendar of Flora was formed at Strat¬
ton in Norfolk in the year 1755, at the hospitable seat
of his very worthy and ingenious friend Mr Mai sham,
who had made several observations of that kind, and
had communicated to the public his curious observations
on the growth of trees. But it was to Mr Wyndham of
Felbrig in Norfolk that he appears to have had the
greatest obligation : he travelled abroad with him,
spent much of his time at his house, and was appointed
one of his executors (Mr Garrick was another), with a
considerable addition to an annuity which that gentle¬
man had settled upon him in his lifetime.
Mr Stillingfleet’s genius seems, if we may judge from
his works, to have led him principally to the study of
natural history ; which he prosecuted as an ingenious
philosopher, an useful citizen, and a good man. In this
walk of learning he mentions, as his friends, Dr Wat¬
son, Mr (afterwards Dr) Solander, Mr Hudson, Mr
Price of Fox ley, and some others ; to whom may be ad¬
ded the ingenious Mr Pennant. Nor can we omit the
flattering mention which Mr Gray makes of him in one
of his letters, dated from London in 1761 : “1 have
lately made an acquaintance with this philosopher, w 10
lives in a garret here in the winter, that he may supper
some near relations who depend upon him. He is a
ways employed, consequently (according to my ^
S T I
Jtil'insf-
fleet
II
Sti'po.
maxim) always happy, always cheerful, and seems to
me a very worthy honest man. His present scheme is
to send some persons, properly qualified, to reside a year
^ or two. in Attica, to make themselves acquainted with
the climate, productions, and natural history of the
country, that we may understand Aristotle, Theophras¬
tus, &c. who have been heathen Greek to us for so
many ages ; and this he has got proposed to Lord Bute,
no unlikely person to put it in execution, as he is him¬
self a botanist.”
Mi Stil.ling.fieet published a volume of miscellaneous
tracts, which is in much esteem, and does great honour
to his head and heart. They are chiefly translations of
some essays in the Amcanitates Academical, published by
Linnaeus, interspersed with some observations and ad¬
ditions of his own. In this volume he shows also a
taste for classical learning, and entertains us with some
elegant poetical effusions of his own. But his Essay on
Conversation, published in the first volume of Dodsley’s
Collection of Poems, entitles him to a distinguished rank
among our English poets. This poem is addressed to
J Wyndham, with all that warmth of friendship which
distinguishes Mr Stillingfleet. As it is chiefly didactic,
it does not admit of so many ornaments as some compo¬
sitions of other kinds. However, it contains much good
sense, shows a considerable knowledge of mankind, and
has several passages that in point of harmony and easy
versification would not disgrace the writings of our
most admired poets. Here more than once Mr Stilling-
fleet shows himself still sore for Hr Bentlev’s cruel
treatment of him ; and towards the beautiful and moral
dose of it where it is supposed he gives us a sketch of
himself) seems to hint at a mortification of a more de¬
licate nature, which he is said to have suffered from the
other sex.
To these disappointments it was perhaps owing (hat
Mr Stillingfleet neither married nor went into orders.
His London residence was at a saddler’s in Piccadilly j
where he died in 1771, aged above 70, leaving several
valuable papers behind him. He was buried in St
James’s church, without the slightest monument to his
memory.
STILLING [A, a genus of plants belonging to the
class monoecia, and to the order of monaddjphia. See
Botany Index.
ST1LYARD. See SrEEL-Yard.
STILPO, a celebrated philosopher of Megara, flou¬
rished under the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes, In his
youth he had been addicted to licentious pleasures, from
which he religiously refrained from the moment that he
ranked himself among philosophers. When Ptolemy
•Soter, at the taking of Megara, offered him a large sum
of money, and requested that he would accompany him
into Egypt, he accepted hut a small part of the offer,
and retired to the island of ,/Egina, whence, on Ptole¬
my’s departure, he returned to Megara. That city be¬
ing again taken by Demetrius the son of Antigonus,
and the philosopher required to give an account of any
effects which he had lost during the hurry of the plun¬
der, he replied that he had lost nothing j for no one
could take from him his learning and eloquence. So
great was the fame of Stilpo, that the most eminent
philosophers of Athens took pleasure in attending upon
his discourses. His peculiar doctrines were, that spe-
Vo.L. XIX. Part II.
f 7°5 ]
S T I
S tilpo
.11 .
Stimuli,
cies or universals have no real existence, and that one
thing cannot be predicated of another. With respect
to the former of these opinions, he seems to have taught
the same doctrine with the sect afterwards known by  v 
the appellation of Nominalists. To prove that on'e
thing cannot be predicated of another, he said, that
goodness7LT\&?nan,tor instance, are different things, which
cannot be confounded by asserting the one to be the
other : he argued farther, that goodness is an universal,
and universals have no real existence j consequently
since nothing cannot be predicated of any thing, good¬
ness cannot be predicated of man. Thus, whilst this
subtle logician was, through his whole argument, pre- n,st,jr}J °f
dmating one thing of another, he denied that any onerh.il(.>t0Ph^
tlung could be the accident or predicate of another.
If Stilpo was serious in this reasoning ; if he meant any¬
thing more than to expose the sophistry of the schools,
he must be confessed to have been an eminent master of
tne art of wrangling ; and it was not wholly without
reason that Glycera, a celebrated courtezan, when she
was reproved by him as a corrupter of youth, replied,
that the charge might be justly retorted upon himself’
who spent his time in filling their heads with sophistical
quibbles and useless subtleties. In ethics he seems to
have been a Stoic, and in religion he had a public and
a private doctrine, the former for the multitude, and
the latter for his friends. He admitted the existence
of a supreme divinity, but had no reverence for the Gre¬
cian superstitions. ,
S1IL0BATUM, in Architecture, denotes the body
of the pedestal of any column. J
S I IL l ON, a town of England, in Huntingdonshire,
75 miles from London, south-west of Yaxley, on the Ro¬
man highway from Castor to Huntingdon, called Er¬
mine-street, some parts of which, in this neighbourhood,
appear still paved with stone. This place is famous for
cheese called English Parmesan, which is generally kept
till it is old before it is brought to table, and even the
process of decay is accelerated by various means, to ren¬
der it agreeable to a vitiated taste. For making Stilton
cheese, the following receipt is given in the first volume
of the Repository of Arts and Manufactures ;
I ake the night s cream, and put it to the morning’s
new milk, with the rennet ; when the curd is come, it
is not to he broken, as is done with other cheeses, hut
take it out with a soil-dish altogether, and place it in a
sieve to drain gradually j and as it drains, keep gradu¬
ally pressing it till it becomes firm and dry ; then place
it in a wooden hoop; afterwards to be kept dry on
boards turned frequently, with cloth binders round it,
which are to be tightened as occasion requires, and
changed every day until the cheese become firm enough
to support itself; after the cloth is taken off, the cheese
is. rubbed every day all over, for two or three months,
with a brush ; and if the. weather be damp or moist
twice a-day ; and even before the cloth is taken off, the
top and bottom are well rubbed every day.”
STIMULANTS, in Medicine, substances which in¬
crease the action of certain parts of the body. In par¬
ticular, they quicken the motion of the blood, increase
the action of the muscular fibres, and affect the nervous
system.
STIMULI, in Botany, a species of armature or of¬
fensive weapon, with which some plants, as nettle, cassa-
* 4 U ’da,
S T I [70
Siimuli da, acalypha, and tragia, are ftirnislied. Their use, says
|| Linnjeus, is by their venomous punctures to keep oft
Sliding. nalied animals that would approach to hurt them.
STING, an apparatus in the bodies ofcertain insects,
in the form of a little spear, serving them as a weapon
of offence.
Stixo-Roj/. See Raia, Ichthyology Index.
Falconer's STINK-pot, an earthen jar or shell, charged with
Marine powder, grenadoes, and other materials of an offensive
Dictionary. am| s.jffocating smell. It is frequently used by priva¬
teers, in the western ocean, in the attack of an enemy
whom he designs to board j for which purpose it is fur¬
nished with a light fuse at the opening or touch hole.
See Boarding.
STINT, a species of bird. See Tringa, Ornitho¬
logy Index.
STIPA, Feather Grass, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the class triandria, and order of digynia j and in
the natural system ranging under the 4th order, Grami-
na. See Botany Index.
STIPEND, among the Romans, signifies the same
with tribute j and hence stipcndarii were the same with
tributarii.
Stipend, in Rents Law. See Law, § clix. 12.
STIPULA, in Botany, one of the fulcra or props of
plants, defined by Linnaeus to be a scale, or small leaf,
stationed on each side the base of the footstalks of the
flower and leaves, at their first appearance, for the pur¬
pose of support. Elmgren restricts it to tire footstalks
of the leaves only.
STIPULATION, in the civil law, the act of sti¬
pulating, that is, of treating and concluding terms and
conditions to he inserted in a contract. Stipulations were
anciently performed at Rome, with abundance of cere¬
monies ; the first whereof was, that one party should in¬
terrogate, and the other answer, to give his consent, and
oblige himself. By the ancient Roman law, nobody could
stipulate but for himself; butas the tabelliones were pub¬
lic servants, they were allowed to stipulate for their mas¬
ters ; and the notaries succeeding the tabelliones have
inherited the same privilege.
STIR I A, a province of Germany, in the circle of
Austria, with the title of a duchy. It is bounded on
the north by the archduchy of Austria, on the east by
Hungary, on the south by Carniola, and on the west
by Carintbia and the archbishopric of Saltsburg ; it is
340 miles in length and 60 in breadth; it covers an
area of 8400 square English miles, and contained, in
1817, 799,000 inhabitants. Though it is a mountain¬
ous country, yet there is a great deal of land fit lor til¬
lage, and the soil is so good, that the inhabitants never
are in want of corn. It contains mines of very good
iron; whence the arms made there are in great esteem.
The women differ greatly from the Austrians, and are
very plain and ingenious. They have all swellings on
their throats, called bronchoceles. The men are also very
simple, and are rather disposed to indulge in indolence.
The chief town is Gratz.
STIRLING, a town of Scotland, situated on the
river Forth, 35 miles north-west of Edinburgh, in W.
Long. 3. 59. N. Lat. 56. 6. It is also called Sterling
and Striveling; from the former of which Boethius false¬
ly derives the name Sterling money; because, says he,
Osbeit, a Saxon prince, after the overthrow of the Scots,
established a mint there. The name of Striveling is said
6 ] S T I
to have been derived from the frequency of strifes or Stirling,
conflicts in the neighbourhood. The town contained, —y-
in 1811, 5820 inhabitants, but including St Ninians
the population was 13,456. It has a manufacture of
tartans and shalloons, and employs about 30 looms in
that of carpets. In it is the tolbooth, where is kept the
standard-for the wet measures of Scotland. Stirling is
in miniature a resemblance of Edinburgh ; being built
on a rock of the same form, with a fortress on the sum¬
mit. The origin of the castle is unknown. The rock
of Stirling was strongly fortified by the Piets, amongst
whom architecture and several other useful arts had
made a considerable progress. As it lay in the ex¬
tremities of their kingdom, the possession of it was the
occasion of frequent contests betwixt them and their
neighbours the Scots and Northumbrians; each of whose
dominions did, for some time, terminate near it.
When the Scots, under Kenneth II. overthrew the
Pictish empire near the middle of the ninth century,
they endeavoured to obliterate every memorial of that
people. They not only gave new names to provinces
and towns, but, with all the rage of barbarians, demo¬
lished many magnificent and useful edifices which had
been reared up by them, and this fortress among the rest.
It was, however, soon rebuilt, though upon an occasion
not very honourable to the Scots.
Upon the death of Kenneth II. in 855, his brother
D|orwld V. mounted the throne of Scotland. In the
beginning of his reign the kingdom was invaded by
Osbrecht and Ella, two Northumbrian princes, who,
uniting their forces with the Cumbrian Britons, and a
number of Piets, who upon their expulsion from their
native country had taken refuge in England, advanced
to Jedburgh, where Donald encountered them; and, af¬
ter a fierce and bloody battle, obtained a complete vic¬
tory : but, having taken up his station in Berwick, in
supine security, the Northumbrians, informed of the care¬
less posture in which the Scottish army lay, surprised
them by a hasty march, dispersed them, and made a pri¬
soner of the king. Pursuing the advantage they had
gained, they marched northward, and subdued all be¬
fore them to the frith of Forth and the town of Stir¬
ling. But the forlorn situation of the Scots, without a
king and without an army, obliging them to sue for
peace, they obtained it, upon condition that they should
pay a sum of money for the ransom of the king, and
yield up all their dominions upon the south side of the
Forth to the conquerors.
The Northumbrians taking possession of the territo¬
ries ceded to them by this treaty, rebuilt the castle of
Stirling, and planted it with a strong garrison, in order
to preverve their new conquests, upon the frontiers of
which it was situated. Our authorities also inform us,
that they erected a stone bridge over the Forth, upon the
summit of which a cross was raised, with the following
inscription in monkish rhyme.
Anglos a Scotis separat crux ista remotis ;
Armis hie slant Bruti, Scoti stunt hie, eruce tutt.
"Which is thus translated by Bellendcn :
I am free marche, as passengcris may ken,
To Scottis, to Britonis, and to Inglismen.
None of the ancient English historians mentions this
conquest. The whole story, as well as the inscription,
wears
S T I
Stirling, wears much of a monkish garb j yet its authenticity is
•—-v ' not a little confirmed by the arms of the town of Stir-
ling, upon which is a bridge, with a cross, and the last
line ol the above Latin distich is the motto round it.
W'e must not, however, imagine, that in those times
that fortress bore any resemblance to the present struc¬
ture, winch is adapted to the use of fire-arms. Its
size and form probably resembled those castles which,
under the feudal constitution, the English and Scottish
barons used to erect upon their estates for dwelling-
houses ; and which, in those barbarous ages, they found
[ 707 ]
S T I
corner of the castle, and are nowr the residence of the
fort-major. Hie room where the murder was commit¬
ted still goes by the name of Douglas's room,
Jame III. contracting a fondness for the castle on ac¬
count of its pleasant situation, made it the chief place
ot his residence, and added several embellishments to it.
He built within it a magnificent hall, which in those
days wras deemed a noble structure, and is still entire.
It now goes by the name of the parliament-house, hav¬
ing been designed for the accommodation of that supreme
court. It was covered with an oaken roof of exqui-
, c c 1 • i 0 7 J uuvciru wuu an oaicen
necessary to fortify for their defence, not only against site workmanship, which, though very little decayed,
.oreign invaders, but often against the attacks of their was a few years ago removed to make way for
own neighbours Tf ,0 o.,,.!. „ c  f . 0 - - ■’
„ It is directly such a Gothic figure as
this which represents the Castrum Strivelense upon the
arms of Stirling.
This fortress, after it had continued in the possession
of the Northumbrian Saxons about 20 years, was, to¬
gether with the whole country upon the south side of
the. Forth, restored to the Scots, upon condition of their
assisting the Saxons against their turbulent invaders the
Danes. Upon the arms of Stirling are two branches
of a tree, to represent the Nemus Strivelense ; but the
situation and boundaries of that forest, which was pro¬
bably a wing of the Caledonian, cannot be ascertained.
Upon the south of Stirling, vestiges of a forest are still
discernible for several miles. Banks of natural timber
still remain in the castle park, at Murray’s wood, and
near Nether Bannockburn ; and stumps of trees, with
much brushwood, are to be seen in all the adjacent
fields.
When Kenneth III. received intelligence of the
Danes having invaded In’s dominions, he appointed the
castle of Stirling to be the place of rendezvous for his
army ; and be marched from thence to the battle of
Loncarty, where he obtained a victory over those ro¬
vers, in the end of the 10th century.
In the 12th century, this castle is spoken of as a place
of great importance, and one of the strongest fortresses
in the kingdom. In 1174? a calamity not unusual
amongst the Scottish monarchs, befel William, who at
that time occupied the throne. He was taken prisoner
in an unsuccessful expedition which he made into Eng¬
land ; and, after having been detained 12 months in
captivity, was released, upon stipulating to pay a large
sum of money for his ransom j and, until payment there¬
of, delivering into the hands of the English the four
principal fortresses in the kingdom, which in those days
were Stirling, Edinburgh, Roxburgh, and Berwick.
This was the first great ascendant that England obtain¬
ed over Scotland ; and indeed the most important trans¬
action which had passed between these kingdoms from
the Norman conquest.
Though the Scottish monarchs, in their frequent per¬
ambulations through the kingdom, often visited Stirling,
and held their courts for some time in the castle; yet it
did not become a royal residence till the family of Stuart
mounted -the throne, and it was from different princes
of this family that it received its present form. It was
the place of tlie nativity of Janies II.; and, when raised
to the throne, he frequently kept his court in it. It is
well known to have been the place where that prince
perpetrated an atrocious deed, the murder of William
earl of Douglas, whom he stabbed with his own hand.
The royal apartments were at that time in the north-west
years ago
of more modern structure. James also erected a college
of secular priests in the castle, which he called the cha¬
pel royal, and which proved one cause of his own ruin.
As the expences necessary for maintaining the numerous
officers of such an institution were considerable, he an¬
nexed to it the revenues of the rich priory of Colding-
ham in the Merse, which at that time happened to be¬
come vacant. I his priory had for a long time been
holden by persons connected with the family of Hume ;
and that family, considering it as belonging to them,
strongly opposed the annexation. The dispute seems to
have lasted several years; for one parliament had pas¬
sed a vote, annexing the priory to the chapel royal,
and a subsequent one enacted a statute prohibiting eve¬
ry attempt that was contrary or prejudicial to that an¬
nexation.
James V. was crowned in the castle of Stirling; and
the palace, which is the chief ornament of it, was the
work of that prince. Ibis is a stately and commodious
structure, all of hewn stone, with much statuary work
upon it. It is built in form of a square, with a small
court in the middle, in which the king’s lions are said
to have been kept; and hence it still goes by tbe name
of the lions den. The palace contains many large and
elegant apartments; the ground story is now converted
into barrack-rooms for the soldiers of the garrison ; the
upper affords a house for the governor, with lodgings for
some of the subaltern officers.
Opposite to the palace, upon the north, stands an ele¬
gant chapel, which was built by James VI. for the bap¬
tism of his son, Prince Henry, in 1594. In this cha¬
pel is preserved the hulk of a large boat, which that
whimsical monarch caused to be built and placed upon
carriages, in order to convey into the castle the provi¬
sions for that solemnity.
A strong battery, with a tier of guns pointing to the
bridge over the Forth, was erected during the regency
of Mary of Lorraine, mother to Queen Alary. It is
called the French battery, probably because constructed
by engineers of that nation. The last addition was made
to the fortifications in the reign of Queen Anne. For¬
merly they reached no farther than the old gate, upon
which the flag-staff now stands : but in that reign they
were considerably enlarged upon the side towards the
town ; and barracks which are bomb proof, with seve¬
ral other conveniences for a siege were erected.
Upon the south side of the castle lies a park inclosed
with a stone wall, called the king's park, and near to
the foot of the rock on which the castle stands, lay the
royal gardens ; vestiges of the walks and parterres, with
a few stumps of fruit trees, are still visible; but by long
neglect, and the natural wetness of the soil, the place is
4 U 2 now
Stirliiu
Stirling,
Stirling¬
shire.
s T I [ 703 ] S T I
now little better than a marsh. In the gardens is a
mount of earth in form of a table, with benches of earth
around it, where, according to tradition, the court some¬
times held fetes-champetres. In the castle-hill is an
hollow, comprehending about an acre of ground, and
having all the appearance of an artificial work, which
was used for jousts, tournaments, and other feats of chi¬
valry.
Northward of the castle lies the Govan, or perhaps
more properly the Gowling hill (a) 5 in the middle of
which is a small mount called Hurly Haalaj, upon which
Duke Murdoch and his two sons were executed for trea¬
sonable practices in the reign of James I.
The prospect from the castle is most delightful, as
well as extensive, being greatly beautified, especially
upon the east, by the windings of the Forth ; which are
so numerous, that though the distance by land from Stir¬
ling to Alloa is, in a straight line, not quite six miles, it
is said to he 24 by water. As this river generally runs
upon plain ground, it rolls its stream in so slow and silent
a manner, that what Silius Italicus saith of the Ticinus
is applicable to it, if, instead of lucenti in that poet, w'e
should read lutoso; for the clay-banks, together with the
tide, which flows above Stirling, render the Forth per¬
petually muddy :
Vix credits labi, ripis tam mitis opacis
Somniferam ducit lutoso gurgite Itjmpham.
The lordship and castle of Stirling were a part of the
usual dowry of the queens of Scotland, at least after the
family of Stuart came to the throne, in which they were
invested at their marriage.
Robert Lord Erskine was appointed governor of the
castle by King David II. and the office continued in
that family till 1715.
This fortress hath been the scene of many transac¬
tions. Being by its situation considered as a key to
the northern parts of the kingdom, the possession of it
hath been always esteemed of great importance to those
who sought to be masters of Scotland. It was undoubt¬
edly a place of strength when the art of war by ord¬
nance was in its infancy ; but though it resisted the ut¬
most efforts of the rebels in 1746, it could not now hold
out three days if besieged by an army of a few thousand
men conducted by an engineer of knowledge and in¬
tegrity.
STIRLINGSHIRE, a county of Scotland, of which
Stirling is the capital. It extends 20 miles in length
and 12 in breadth ; being bounded on the west by part
of Lennox and Clydesdale ; on the east, by Clackman¬
nanshire, the river Forth, and part of Lothian ; on the
south-east by Lothian ; and on the north by Monteith.
The face of the country is open and agreeable, diversi¬
fied by hill and dale, well watered with streams and
rivers, the principal of which is the Forth, rising in
the neighbourhood of a high mountain called Ben-Lo-
mond, and, running eastward, forms the frith of Edin¬
burgh. The southern part is hilly, affording plenty of
game, and pasturage for sheep, horses, and black cattle.
The eastern part is fertile, producing plentiful harvests
of corn, and great abundance of coal. Lead-ore is found
in different parts of the county j and the rivers abound
with pike, trout, and salmon.
The population of this county at two different periods,
and according to the different parishes, will be seen in
the following table:
Stirling.
shirt,
Stirrup,
Parishes.
Airth
Alva
Baldernock
Balfron
5 Bothkennar
Buchanan
Campsie
Denny
Dry men
10 Falkirk
Fintry
Gargunnock
Killearn
Kilsyth
15 Kippen
Larbert and D
Muiravonside
Polmont
St Ninians
20 Slamannan
Stirling
Strathblane
Population in
1755-
2316
436
621
755
529
1699
*399
1392
2789
3932
891
956
959
I395
1799
unipace 1864
J539
J094,
6491
1209
395i
797
Population in
179c—1795.
2350
6l 2
620
1381
6co
1111
25,7
1400
1607
8020
543
830
973
2450
1777
4000
1065
1400
7°79
1010
4698
620
38,813 46,663*
* Statist.
Mist, of ^
In 1811 the population was 58,174. See Stirling-
shirk, Supplement.
STIRRUP, in the manege, a rest or support for the
horseman’s foot, for enabling him to mount, and for
keeping him firm in his seat.
Stirrups were unknown to the ancients. The want
of them in getting upon horseback was supplied by agi¬
lity or art. Some horses were taught to stoop to take
their riders up j but the riders often leapt up by the help
of their spears, or were assisted by their slaves, or made
use of ladders for the purpose. Gracchus filled the high¬
ways with stones, which were intended to answer the
same end. The same was also required of the surveyors
of the roads in Greece as part of their duty.
Menage observes, that St Jerome is the first author
who mentions them. But the passage alluded to is not to
be found in his epistles ; and if it were there, it would
prove nothing, because St Jerome lived at a time when
stirrups are supposed to have been invented, and after
the use of saddles. Montfaucon denies the authenticity
of this passage ; and, in order to account for the igno-pertnftr'f
ranee of the ancients with regard to an instrument so History^
useful and so easy of invention, he observes, that while
cloths and housings only were laid upon the horses backs,^ ^ 1
on which the riders were to sit, stirrups could not havCp
been used, because they could not have been fasten¬
ed with the same security as upon a saddle. But it is
more
(a) So called from the wailings and lamentations (in Scotch, gcwltvgs) that were made for Duke Murdoch.
4
TO [ 7°9 ] S T O
Stirrap more probable, that in this instance, as in many others,
|] the progress of human genius and invention is uncer-
:ookholm tain and slow, depending frequently upon accidental
“"V 1 causes.
Stirrup of a Ship, a piece of timber put upon a
ship’s keel, when some of her keel happens to be beaten
oft', and they cannot come conveniently to put or lit in
a new piece 5 then they patch in a piece of timber, and
bind it on with an iron, which goes under the ship’s
keel, and comes up on each side of the ship, where it
is nailed strongly with spikes j and this they call a stir-
rup.
STQBiEUS, John, a laborious Greek writer, who
lived at the end of the fourth century, composed many
works, of which there are only his Collections remain¬
ing, and even these are not as he composed them; many
things being inserted by later authors. This work con¬
tains many important sentiments collected from the an¬
cient writers, poets, and philosophers.
STOCK, in gardening, &c. the stem or trunk of a
tree. What stock is most proper for each kind of fruit,
ought as well to be considered and known, as what soil
is most suitable to trees; for on these two things the fu¬
ture vigour of trees, and the goodness of fruits, equally
depend. The best way for those who intend to plant,
is to raise their own stocks, by which they will be better
assured of what they do ; but if they should buy their
trees of nurserymen, they should diligently inquire upon
what stocks they were propagated. See Grafting.
. Stock, in trade. See Capital Stock.
SrocK-Broker. See Broker and Stocks.
Stock-Dovc. See Columba, Ornithology Index.
Stock-Jobbing, the art or mystery of trafficking in
the public stocks or funds. See Fund and Stock-Jos-
BING.
Stock Gillyflower. See Cheiranthus, Botany
Index.
STOCKHOLM, the capital of Sweden, is situated
in the province of Upland, in E. Long. 19. 30. and N.
Lat. 59. 20. Its foundation is by the best Swedish wri¬
ters generally attributed to Birger Jarl, regent of the
kingdom about the middle of the 13th century during
the minority of his son Waldemar, who had been raised
to the throne by the states of the kingdom ; but it was
not before the 18th century that the royal residence was
transferred from Upsala to this city.
This capital, which is very long and irregular, occu¬
pies, beside two peninsulas, seven small rocky islands,
scattered in the Maeler, in the streams which issue from
that lake, and in a bay of the gulf of Bothnia. A va¬
riety of contrasted and enchanting views are formed by
numberless rocks of granite rising boldly from the sur¬
face of the water, partly bare and craggy, partly dotted
with houses, or feathered with wood. 1 he harbour is
an inlet of the Baltic: the water is clear as crystal, and
of such depth that ships of the largest burthen can ap¬
proach the quay, which is of considerable breadth, and
cit’i TV*-lined with spacious buildings and warehouses. At the
ariwol. ii. extremity of the harbour several streets rise one above
another in the form of an amphitheatre; and the palace,
a magnificent building, crowns the summit. Towards
the sea, about two or three miles from the town, the
harbour is contracted into a: narrow strait, and, winding
among high rocks, disappears from the sight ; and the
prospect is terminated by distant hills,, overspread with
forests. It is far beyond the power of words, or of the
pencil, to delineate these singular views. The central
island, from which the city derives its name, and the
Ritterholm, are the handsomest parts of the town. Ex¬
cepting in the suburbs, where the houses are of wood
painted red, the generality of the buildings are of stone,
or brick stuccoed white. The royal palace, which stands
in the centre of Stockholm, and upon the highest spot
of ground, was begun by Charles XL 1 it is a large
quadrangular stone edifice, and the style of architecture
is both elegant and magnificent.
It is the habitation not only of the royal family, but
also of the greater part of the officers belonging to the
household. It likewise comprehends the national or su¬
preme court of justice, the colleges of war, chancery,
treasury, and commerce ; a chapel, armoury, library,
and office for the public records ; but the greater num¬
ber of inferior officers and servants belonging to the
court, are, with the foot-guards, quartered on the burgh¬
ers. The castle, and all the stately edifices in the king¬
dom, are covered with copper. The palace of the no¬
bility, in which this order sits during the session of the
diet, is an elegant building, adorned on the outside with
marble statues and columns, and on the inside with paint¬
ing and sculpture. This and three other palaces stand
on the banks of the lake, and are built on the same mo¬
del, so as to compose an uniform piece of architecture.
The bank, built at the expence of the city, is a noble
edifice, and joins with many sumptuous houses belong¬
ing to-the nobility in exhibiting a splendid appearance.
The houses of the burghers are generally built of brick
in the city; but in the suburbs they are commonly made
up of timber, and therefore very subject to conflagrations.
These houses are often framed in Finland, according to
the plan and dimensions prescribed : whence they are
transported in pieces to Stockholm by water, and there
set up by the carpenters. These wooden habitations, if
kept in proper repair, will last 30 or 40 years, and are
deemed warmer, neater, and more healthy, than those
of brick or stone. To prevent the danger of conflagra¬
tions, the city is divided into 12 wards.. In each of
these there is a master and four assistants, who forthwith
repair to the place where the fire breaks out ; and all
porters and labourers are obliged to range themselves
under the master of the ward to which they belong. A
fire-watch patroles the streets by night, to give warning
or assistance as it may be wanted ; and a centinel is
maintained in the steeple of every church, to toll the
bell on the first aj pearance of any such accident. The
police of Stockholm is entirely subjected to the regula¬
tions of the grand governor, assisted by a deputy and bai¬
liff of the caslle. This city is the emporium of Sweden,
to which all the commodities of the kingdom are brought
for exportation, and where almost all the imports from
abroad are deposited. The port or haven formed by the
lake Maeler is large enough to contain iqoo sail of ship¬
ping; and furnished with a key or wharf about an Eng¬
lish mile in length, to which the vessels may lie with
their broadsides. The greatest inconveniences attending
this situation are, the distance from the sea, which is not
within less than 10 miles of the town ; the want of tides
and the winding of the river, which is remarkably crook¬
ed. It opens into the Baltic ; and the entrance, which
is dangerous and rocky, the Swedes have secured with
two small forts: within, it is perfectly safe and commo-
dious*.
S T O [7
Siockholm, tUous. The northern suburbs are remarkable for the
Stutkiug. king’s gardens, and for the great number of artisans
v who liave chosen their habitations in this quarter. In
the southern suburbs there is a magnificent exchange
where the merchants daily assemble. The population in
1812, according to Dr Thomson, was 72,652.
SiOCKING, that part of the clothing of the leg
and foot which immediately covers and screens them
from the rigour of the cold. Anciently, the only stock¬
ings in use were made of cloth, or of milled stuffs sewed
together ; but since the invention of knitting and wea¬
ving stockings of silk, wool, cotton, thread, &c. the use
of cloth stockings is quite discontinued. Dr Howel,
in his History of the World (vol. ii. p. 222.) relates,
that Queen Elizabeth, in 1501, was presented with a
pair of black knit silk stockings by her silk-woman, and
thenceforth she never wore cloth ones any more. The
same author adds, that King Henry VIH. ordinarily
wore cloth hose, except there came from Spain, by great
chance, a pair of silk stockings. His son, King Ed¬
ward \ I. was presented with a pair of long Spanish silk
stockings by Sir Thomas Gresham, and the present was
then much taken notice of. Hence it should seem, that
the invention of silk knit stockings originally came from
Spain. Others relate, that one William Rider, an ap¬
prentice on London bridge, seeing at the house of an
Italian merchant a pair of knit worsted stockings from
Mantua, took the hint, and made a pair exactly like
them, which he presented to William earl of Pembroke,
and that they were the first of that kind worn in Eng¬
land, anno 1564.
T-he modern stockings, whether woven or knit, are
formed of an infinite number of little knots, called
stitches, loops, or meshes, intermingled in one another.
Knit stockings are wrought with needles made of po¬
lished iron or brass wire, which interweave the threads
and form the meshes the stocking consists of. At what
time the art of knitting was invented it is perhaps im¬
possible to determine, though it has been usually attri¬
buted to the Scots, as it is said that the first works of this
kind came from Scotland. It is added, that it was on
this account that the company of stocking-knitters esta¬
blished at Paris 1527) took for their pati’on St Fiacre,
who is said to have been the son of a king of Scotland.
But it is most probable that the method of knitting
stockings by wires or needles was first brought from
Spain.
Woven stockings are generally very fine ; they are
manufactured on a frame or machine made of polished
iron, the structure ol which it is needless to describe,
as it may be seen in almost every considerable town in
Great Britain. The invention of this machine is, by
Air Anderson, attributed to William Lee, M. A. of
St John’s College, Cambridge, at a period so early as
1589. Others have given the credit of this invention
to a student of Oxford at a much later period, who, it
» See 4n is said by Aaron Hill *, was drivemto it by dire necessi-
Accourtof^' tpllis young man? falling jn laVe with an innkeep-
and Pro- er’s daughter, married her though she had not a penny,
gress of and he by his marriage lost a fellowship. They soon
the Beech fell into extreme poverty; and their marriage produ-
Oil Inven- c;ng tjlc consequences naturally to be expected from it.
tion, 01c. • 1 • i i r 1 J
Sto. 17 i am°rous pair became miserable, not so much on ac¬
count of their sufferings, as from the melancholy dread
'df what would become of their yet unborn infant.
I
10 ] STO
J heir only means of support was the knitting of stock- Stockist
ings, at which the woman was very expert : “ But sit- Stocks
ting constantly together from morning to night, and the ' <—
scholar often fixing his eyes, with stedfast observa¬
tion, on the motion of his wife’s fingers in the dexterous
management ol her needles, he took it into his imagina¬
tion, that it was not impossible to contrive a little loom
which might do the work with much more expedition.
This thought he communicated to bis wife, and joinino
bis head to her hands, the endeavour succeeded to their
wish. Thus the ingenious stocking-loom, which is so
common now, w'as first invented ; by which he did not
only make himself and his family happy, but has left his
nation indebted to him for a benefit which enables us to
export silk stockings in great quantities, and to a vast
advantage, to those very countries from whence before
we used to bring them at considerable loss in the ba¬
lance of our traffic.”
STOCKS, or Public Funds in England, Bv the
word stock was originally meant a particular sum of
money contributed to the establishing a fund to enable
a company to carry on a certain trade, by means of
which the person became a partner in that trade, and
received a share of the profit made thereby, in propor¬
tion to the money employed. But this term has been
extended farther, though improperly, to signify any
sum of money which has been lent to the government,
on condition of receiving a certain interest till the mo¬
ney is repaid, and which makes a part of Rie national
debt. As the security both of the government and of
the public companies is esteemed preferable to that of
any private person, as the stocks are negotiable and
may be sold at any time, and as the interest is always
punctually paid when due ; so they are thereby enabled
to borrow money on a lower interest than what could
be obtained from lending it to private persons, where
there must be always some danger of losing both prin¬
cipal and interest.
But as every capital stock or fund of a company is
raised for a particular purpose, and limited by parlia¬
ment to a certain sum, it necessarily follows, that when
that fund is completed, no stock can be bought of the
company ; though shares already purchased may be
transferred from one person to another. This being the
case, there is frequently a great disproportion between
the original value of the shares and what is given for
them when transferred : for if there are more buyers
than sellers, a person who is indiflerent about selling
will not part with his share without a considerable pro¬
fit to himself; and on the contrary, if many are dis¬
posed to sell, and few inclined to buy, the value of
such shares will naturally fall in proportion to the
impatience of those who want to turn their stock intu
specie.
A stock may likewise be affected by the court of
chancery : for it that court should order the money,
which is under their direction, to be laid out in any par¬
ticular stock, that stock, by having more purchasers,
will be raised to a higher price than any other of the
like value.
By what has been said, the reader will perceive how
much the credit and interest of the nation depends on
the support of the public funds. While the annuities
and interest for money advanced is there regularly paid,
and the principal insured by both prince and people (a
security
Stocks
II
oinachic.
S T O ' [ 7
secmity not to bs naj in other nations^, forej^ners will
lend us their property, and all Europe he interested in
_ our welfare j the paper of the companies will he con-
" verted into money and merchandise, and Great Britain
can never w ant cash to carry her schemes into execution.
Se,e the article Fund.
Stocks, a frame erected on the shore of a river or
harbour, whereon to build shipping. It generally con¬
sists of a number of wooden blocks, ranged parallel to
each other at convenient distances, and with a gradual
declivity towards the water.
Stocks, a wooden machine to put the legs of offen¬
ders in, for securing disorderly persons, and by way of
punishment in divers cases, ordained bv statute, &c.
STOCK."ION upon Tees, a handsome town in the
county of Durham, about 16 miles south of the city of
Durham. It is now a port of considerable trade; though
at the restoration, it was a despicable village, the best
house in which could hardly boast of any thing better
than clay-walls and a thatched roof. The population of
this place in 1801 W'as 4009, and in 1811, 4229.
STOEBE, Bastard Ethiopian, a genus of plants
belonging to the class syngenesis; and in the natural
system ranging under the 49th order, Compositce. See
Botany Index.
STOKESIA, a genus of plants belonging to the syn¬
genesis class, and order of polygamia aequalis. The
corollets in the ray are disposed in the shape of a funnel,
and are long and irregular. The down is four-bristled,
and the receptacle is naked. One species only is known,
which is a herbaceous plant, and a native of South Ca¬
rolina.
STOICS, the name given to a sect of Grecian phi¬
losophers, from 'Lroct, “ the porch in Athens,” which
the founder of the sect chose for his school. For the
peculiar tenets of this sect, see Metaphysics, Chap. iv.
Part 3. Moral Philosophy, N° 8. and Zeno.
STOLBERG, a small town of Germany, in the
circle of Upper Saxony, and territory of Thuringia, of
which it is the capita! place. It is situated between two
mountains, 50 miles north-west of Leipsic. E. Long.
11. 8. N. Lat. 51. 42.
STOLE, a sacerdotal ornament worn bv the Romish
parish priests above their surplice, as a mark of superio¬
rity in their respective churches ; and by other priests
over the alb, at celebrating of mass, in which case it
goes across the stomach ; and by deacons, over the
left shoulder, scarf-wise : when the priest reads the
gospel for any one, he lays the bottom of his stole on
his head. The stole is a broad swath, or slip of stuff,
hanging from the neck to the feet, with three crosses
thereon.
Groom of the Stole, the eldest gentleman of his
Majesty’s bedchamber, w’hose office it is to present and
put on his Majesty’s first garment, or shirt, every morn¬
ing, and to order the things in the chamber.
STOMACH, in Anatomy. See Anatomy, N°9i.
STOMACHIC medicines are such as strengthen
the stomach and promote digestion, &c.
Stomachic corroboratives are such as strengthen the
tone of the stomach and intestines; among which are
carminatives, as the roots of galangals, red gentian, ze-
doary, pimpinella, calamus aromaticus, and arum. Of
barks and rinds, those of canella alba, sassafras, citrons,
Slone.
II ] S T o
Sevilla and China oranges, &c. Of spices, pepper, Stomachic
ginger, cloves, cinnamon, cardamoms, and mace. 11
SIOMOX’t b, a genus of insects belonging to the
order ot diptera. See Entomology, p. 214.
STONE, Edmund, a distinguished self-taught ma¬
thematician, was horn in Scotland ; but neither the place
nor the time of his birth is w’ell known ; nor have vTe
any memoirs or his life, except a letter from the Cheva¬
lier Ramsay, author of the Travels of Cyrus, in a
letter to father Caste), a Jesuit at Paris, and published
in the Memoirs de Trevoux, p. 109. as follows : “ True
genius overcomes all the disadvantages of birth, fortune,
and education ; of which Mr Stone is a rare example.
Born a son of a gardener of the duke of Argyle, he ar¬
rived at eight years of age before he learnt to read.  
By chance a servant having taught young Stone the
letters ot the alphabet, there needed nothing more to
discover and expand his genius. He applied himself
to study, and he arrived at the knowdedge of the most
sublime geometry and analysis,without a master, without
a conductor, without any other guide but pure genius.
ii -At I8 years of age he had made these considera¬
ble advances without being known, and without know¬
ing himself the prodigies of his acquisitions. The duke
of Argyle, who joined to Ills military talents a general
knowledge of every science that adorns the mind of a
man of his rank, w'alking one day in his garden, saw
lying on the grass a Latin copy of Sir Isaac Newton’s
celebrated Princtpia. He called some one to him to
take and carry it back to his library. Our young gar¬
dener told him that the book belonged to him. ‘ To
you ?’ replied the duke. ‘ Do you understand geo¬
metry, Latin, Newton ?’ I know a little of them, re¬
plied the young man with an air of simplicity arising
from a profound ignorance of his own knowledge and
talents. The duke was surprised ; and having a taste
for the sciences, he entered into a conversation with the
young mathematician : he asked him several questions,
and was astonished at the force, the accuracy, and the
candour of his answers. ‘ But how (said the duke)
came you by the knowledge of all these things ?’ Stone
replied, ‘ A servant taught me, ten years since, to read:
Does one need to know any thing more than the 24 let¬
ters in order to learn every thing else that one w-ishes?’
The duke’s curiosity redoubled—he sat down upon a
bank, and requested a detail of all his proceedings in
becoming so learned.
“ I first learned to read, said Stone : the masons were
then at work upon your house : I went near them one
day, and I saw that the architect used a rule, compasses,
and that he made calculations. I inquired what might
he the meaning and use of these things ; and I was in¬
formed that there ivas a science called Arithmetic : I
purchased a book of arithmetic, and I learned it.—I was
told there was another science called Geometry : I
bought the hooks, and I learnt geometry. By reading
I found that there were good hooks in these tu'o sciences
in Latin : l bought a dictionary, and I learned Latin.
I understood also that there were good books of the same
kind in French: X bought a dictionary, and I learned
French, And this, my lord, is what I have done : it
seems to me that we may learn every thing when we
know the 24 letters of the alphabet.”
“ This account charmed the Duke. He drew’ this
wonderful
S T O [7
•wonderful genius out of liis obscurity •, and he provided
him with an employment which left him plenty of time
to apply himself to the sciences. He discovered in him
also the same genius for music, for painting, for archi-
tectuie, for all the sciences which depend on calcula¬
tions and proportions.
“ I have seen Mr Stone. He is a man of great
simplicity. He is at present sensible of his own know¬
ledge ; but he is not puffed up with it. He is posses¬
sed with a pure and disinterested love for the mathe¬
matics, though he is not solicitous to pass for a ma¬
thematician ; vanity having no part in the great labour
he sustains to excel in that science. He despises for¬
tune also 5 and he has solicited me twenty times to re¬
quest the duke to give him less employment, which may
not be worth the half of that he now has, in order to
be more retired, and less taken off from his favourite
studies. He discovers sometimes, by methods of his
own, truths which others have discovered before him.
He is charmed to find on these occasions that he is not
a first inventor, and that others have made a greater
progress than he thought. Far from being a plagiary,
he attributes ingenious solutions, which he gives to cer¬
tain problems, to the hints he has found in others, al¬
though the connection is but very distant,” &c.
Mr Stone was author and translator of several useful
works ‘y viz. 1. A New Mathematical Dictionary, in
x vol. 8vo, first printed in 1726. 2. Fluxions, in 1
vol. 8vo, 1730. The Direct Method is a translation
from the French, of Hospital’s Analyse des Infiniments
Petits ; and the Inverse Method was supplied by Stone
himself. 3. The Elements of Euclid, in 2 vols. 8vo,
1731. A neat and useful edition of those Elements,
with an account of the life and writings of Euclid, and
a defence of his Elements against modern objectors.
Beside other smaller works. Stone was a fellow of
the Royal Society, and had inserted in the Philosophi¬
cal Transactions (vol. xli. p. 218.), an “ Account of
two species of lines of the 3d order, not mentioned by
Sir Isaac Newton or Mr Stirling.”
Stone, Jerome, the son of a reputable seaman, was
born in the parish of Scoonie, in the county of Fife,
North Britain. His father died abroad when he was
but three years of age, and his mother, with her young
family, was left in very narrow circumstances. Jerome,
like the rest of the children, having got the ordinary
school education, reading English, writing, and arith¬
metic, betook himself to the business of a travelling
chapman. But the dealing in buckles, garters, and
such small articles, not suiting his superior genius, he
soon converted his little stock into books, and for some
years went through the country, and attended the fairs
as an itinerant bookseller. There is great reason to
believe that he engaged in this new species of traffic,
more with a view to the improvement of his mind than
for any pecuniary emolument. Formed by nature for
literature, he possessed a peculiar talent for acquiring
languages with amazing facility. Whether from a de¬
sire to understand the Scriptures in their original lan¬
guages, or from being informed that these languages
are the parents of many others, he began his philologi¬
cal pursuits with the study of the Hebrew and Greek
tongues j and, by a wonderful effort of genius and ap¬
plication, made bimself so far master of these, without
iiny kind of assistance, as to be able to interpret the
2 ] S T O
Hebrew bible and Greek Testament into English ad
aperturam libri. At this time he did not know one word
of Latin. Sensible that he could make no great pro¬
gress in learning, without the knowledge of at least the
grammar of that language, lie made application to the
parish schoolmaster for his assistance. Some time after¬
wards, he was encouraged to prosecute his studies at the
university of St Andrew’s. An unexampled proficiency
in every branch of literature recommended him to the
esteem of the professors } and an uncommon fund of
wit and pleasantry rendered him at the same time, the
favourite of all his fellow students, some of whom speak
of him to this day with an enthusiastic degree of admi¬
ration and respect. About this period some very hu¬
morous poetical pieces of his composition were published
in the Scots Magazine. Before he had finished his third
session, or term, at St Andrew’s, on an application to
the college by the master of the school of Dunkeld for
an usher, Mr Stone was recommended as the, best qua¬
lified for that office ; and about two or three years af¬
ter, the master being removed to Perth, Mr Stone, by
the favour of his Grace the Duke of Atholl, who had
conceived a high opinion of his abilities, was appointed
his successor.
When he first went to Dunkeld, he entertained but
an unfavourable opinion of the Gaelic language, which
he considered as nothing better than a barbarous inar¬
ticulate gibberish 5 but being bent on investigating the
origin and descent of the ancient Scots, he suffered not
his prejudices to make him neglect the study of their
primitive tongue. Having, with his usual assiduity and
success, mastered the grammatical difficulties which ho
encountered, he set himself to discover something of the
true genius and character of the language. He collect¬
ed a number of ancient poems, the production of Irish
or Scottish bards, which, he said, were daring, inno¬
cent, passionate, and bold. Some of these poems were
translated into English verse, which several persons
now alive have seen in manuscript, before Mr Mac-
pherson published any of his translations from Ossiau.
He died while he was writing and preparing for the
press a treatise, intitled, “ An Inquiry into the Origi¬
nal of the Nation and Language of the ancient Scots,
with Conjectures about the Primitive State of the Cel¬
tic and other European Nations j” an idea which could
not have been conceived by an ordinary genius. In this
treatise he proves that the Scots drew their original, as
well as their language, from the ancient Gauls. Had
Mr Stone lived to finish this work, which discovers great
ingenuity, immense reading, and indefatigable industry,
it would have thrown light upon the dark and early pe¬
riods of the Scottish history, as he opens a new and plain
path for leading us through the unexplored labyrinths
of antiquity. But a fever put an end to his life, his la¬
bours, and his usefulness, in the year 1757’ being then
only in the 30th year of his age. He left, in manu¬
script, a much esteemed and well-known allegory, inti¬
tled, “ The Immortality of Authors,” which has been
published and often reprinted since his death, and will
be a lasting monument of a lively fancy, sound judge¬
ment, and correct taste. It w'as no small ornament of
this extraordinary character, that he paid a pious regard
to bis aged mother, who survived him two years, and
received an annual pension from the Duchess of Atholl
as a testimony of i-espect to the memory of her son.
STONEHIVE,
S T ° [ ,
Jnve, STC)NEHIVE, or Stonehavek, a small town in
^ the county of Kincardine, in Scotland, 15 miles south
iioui Aberdeen. It was built in the time of Charles II.
and stands at the foot of some high cliffs, in a small
bay. With a rocky bottom, opening a little in one part,
so that small vessels may find admittance, hut only at
high water. A pier runs out from the harbour on the
north side to secure them after their entrance. The
town contains about Soo inhabitants. The manufac¬
tures are sail-cloths and osnaburghe, knit worsted and
thread stockings.
STONES, in Natural History, have been defined
bodies which are insipid, not ductile, nor inflammable,
nor soluble in water. For a view of the classification
of stones, and of their distribution, see Mineralogy
and Geology.
Here we shall make a few observations on some spe¬
culative discussions relative to their natural history.
As philosophers have perplexed themselves much
about the origin and formation of the earth (a subject
certainly far beyond the ken of the human intellect, at
least if we believe that it was made by the almighty
power of God, so they have also proposed theories to
explain the origin of stones. When philosophers limit
their inquiries within the boundaries of science, where
they are led by the sober and safe conduct of observa¬
tion and experiment, their conclusions may be solid and
may be useful j but when, throwing experiment and ob¬
servation aside, they rear a theory upon an airy nothing,
or upon a single detached fact, their theories will vanish
before the touch of true philosophy as a romantic palace
before the rod of the enchanter. Sometimes from whim,
or caprice, or vanity, they attempt to confound every
thing: they wish to prove that the soul is mere matter,
that plants are animals, and that fossils are plants, and
thus would banish two substances, spirit and dead mat¬
ter, entirely from the world j as if the Author of Na¬
ture were actuated by sordid views of parsimony in the
works of creation, though we evidently see that a gener¬
ous profusion is one of the characteristic marks of these
works. We leave the task of confounding the different
classes of being to those philosophers whose minds are too
contracted to comprehend a great variety of being at
one view, or who prefer novelty to every thing else.
We content ourselves with the old opinion, that the soul
is a spiritual substance ; that plants are plants, and that
stones are stones.
We have been led into these remarks by finding that
some philosophers say that stones are vegetables j that
they grow and increase in size like a plant. This theory,
we believe, was first offered to the world by M. Tourne-
fort, in the year 1702, after returning from his travels
in the east. It was founded on a curious fact. In sur¬
veying the labyrinth of Crete, he observed that the
names which visitors had engraved upon the rock were
not formed of hollow but of prominent letters like basso
13 ] s t o
relievos. He supposes that these letters were at first
hollowed out by knives j that the hollows have since
been filled up by the growth of the stone; and hence
he concludes that stones vegetate. We wish we were
fully assured of the fact that the letters were at first hol¬
lowed, before we attempt to account for their promi¬
nency. But even allowing the supposition to be true
that they were at first hollow, we reply it is only a
single fact, and that it is altogether unphilosophical to
deduce a general system from a single fact.
In the second place, this protuberancy of the charac¬
ters is very improperly called vegetation, for it is not
produced by a process in any respect like the vegetation
ot a plant. Vegetation supposes vessels containing fluids
and growth by expansion ; but who ever heard of vessels
in a stone, of fluids moving in them, or of the different
parts expanding and swelling like the branch or trunk
of a tree ? Evon the fact which Tournefort mentions
proves nothing. He does not pretend to say, that the
rock itself is increasing, but only that a few small hol¬
lows are filled with new stony matter, which rises a lit¬
tle above the surrounding surface of the rock. This
matter evidently has been once liquid, and at length has
congealed in the channel into which it had run. eBut is
not this easily explained by a common process, the for¬
mation of stalactites ? When water charged with cal¬
careous matter is exposed to the action of air, the wrater
evaporates, and leaves the calcareous earth behind, which
hardens and becomes like a stone.
Having thus examined the principal fact upon which
M. Tournefort founds his theory, it is unnecessary to
follow him minutely through the rest of his subject.—
He compares the accretion of matter in the labyrinth
to the consolidation ot a bone when broken, by a callus
formed ot the extravasated nutritious juice. This ob¬
servation is thought to be confirmed, by finding that
the projecting matter of the letters is whitish and the
rock itself grayish. But it is easy to find comparisons.
I he ditficulty, as Pope says, is to apply them. The re¬
semblance between the filling up of the hollow of a
stone, and the consolidation of a broken bone by a cal¬
lus, we confess ourselves not philosophers enough to see.
Were we writing poetiy in bad taste, perhaps it might
appear. The circumstance, that the prominent matter
of the letters is whitish, while the rock is grayish, we
flatter ourselves strengthens our supposition that it con¬
sists of a deposition of calcareous matter. Upon the
whole, we conclude, we hope logically, that no such
theory as this, that stones are vegetables, can be drawn
Irom the supposed fact respecting the labyrinth. We
have to regret, that the account which we have seen of
the subject is so imperfect, that we have not sufficient
materials for a proper investigation. Tournefort has
not even told us of what kind of stone or earth the ac¬
cretion consists j \et this single information would pro¬
bably have decided the question (a).
STONES
(a) To give a more distinct notion of Tournefort’s theory, we shall subjoin his conclusions : From these ob¬
servations (he says) it follows, that there are stones which grow in the quarries, and of consequence that a^e
fed ; that the same juice which nourishes them serves to rejoin their parts when broken •, just as in the bones of
animals, and the branches of trees, when kept up by bandages ; and, in a word, that they vegetate. There is,
then (he says), no room to doubt but that they are organized $ or that they draw their nutritious juice from
Vol. XIX. Fart 1L f 4 X the
STONES and EARTHS, Analysis of.
Preliminary A T the close of our article Mineralogy, we refer-
Processes. J- red to this place for an account of the method of
“ ' examining the chemical constitution of earths and stones.
In the article Ores, we have given a pretty full detail
of the method of analysing that class of minerals. In
this place we propose briefly to point out the most im¬
proved processes for the analysis of the other three clas-
ses of mineral bodies, viz. earths and stones, salts, and
combustibles; to which we shall add some account of the
method of examining soils.
But before proceeding to the immediate object of this
treatise, it may be useful to make some observations on
some preliminary processes connected with the subject
under consideration.
In the first place, it is necessary that the mineral to be
examined be reduced to a fine powder. To effect this
with very hard stones, they are made red hot, and in
this state thrown into cold water. By the sudden change
of temperature in the different parts ofthe stone, it cracks,
and falls to pieces. If the pieces be not sufficiently small,
the same process is to be repeated. The fragments ax-e
then to be reduced to smaller pieces in a polished steel
mortar, and the cavity of this mortar ought to be cylin¬
drical. A pestle of the same metal should be made to fit
it exactly, that no part of the stone may escape during
the operation ot pounding. The stone being in this way
reduced to powder, a determinate quantity is taken, 100
or 200 grains, for example, and this is to be reduced to
as fine a powder as possible ; or, as it is called, to an
impalpable powder. This operation is most successfully
perfoimed in an agate mortar, with a pestle of the same
mineral; a mortar of about four inches in diameter, and
rather more than one inch deep, is found to answer the
purpose very well. It is found most convenient to ope¬
rate on small quantities only at a time ; not more than
live or six grains. When the powder feels soft, adheres,
and appears under the pestle in the form of a cake, it is
then as fine as possible. It is now to be accurately weigh¬
ed, and it is usually found to have acquired some addi¬
tional weight, arising from part of the mortar being worn
off during the pounding. This additional weight must
be attended to, and after the analysis is completed, a
part of the substance of the mortar must be subtracted.
In the case of an agate or flint mortar being used, the
portion rubbed off, which increases the weight, may be
regarded as pure siliceous earth.
The chemical vessels necessary for the analysis of mi¬
nerals are crucibles for exposing the substances to heat, Preliminary
glasses and shallow dishes for solutions and evaporations. Processes.
The crucibles should be of platina or pure silver, and 0f' ”’ v
such a capacity as to hold from seven to eight cubic
inches of w^ater. The vessels in which the solutions,
evaporations, and other processes are performed, should
be of glass or porcelain ; the glass vessels, as being more
brittle, and therefore more apt to break, are found to be
less economical than those of porcelain. Some chemists
employ porcelain vessels which are in the form of sec¬
tions of spheres, and are glazed both in the inside and
outside, excepting part of the bottom, which comes into
immediate contact with the fire. Wedgewood’s glazed
vessels for evaporations, are found to answer very well;
the glaze is thin, and the vessels are not very apt to
crack ; but it is supposed by some chemists, that it is oc¬
casionally acted on by strong acids. It is scarcely ne¬
cessary to add, that an accurate balance is a necessary
instrument in the hands of the analyst.
I. Of the Analysis of Earths and Stones.
The ingredients which have been discovered by means
of analysis, in the composition of simple stones are si¬
lica, alumina, lime, magnesia, zirconia, and glucina,
with some of the metallic oxides, as those of iron, cop¬
per, manganese, chromium, and nickel ; but it never
happens that the whole of these substances are found in
combination ; and indeed it is a rare circumstance to
meet with more than four or five in the same stone.
With a view of discovering the different substances
which enter into the composition of stones, the follow¬
ing method is recommended.
Take 200 grains of the stofte to be examined, or, if it
be inconvenient to procure this quantity, loo grains
will be sufficient. Let it be reduced to a fine powder,
mixed with three times its weight of pure potash, and a
small portion of water, and then subjected to heat in a
crucible of silver. The heat must be applied slowly at
first, and the matter is to be constantly stirred, that no
part of it may be thrown out of the crucible by the
swelling of the potash. rI he water being evaporated,
the mixture is to be kept at a red heat for half an hour;
and being removed from the furnace, some notion may
be formed of the nature of the ingredients, by examin¬
ing the contents ; for, if the mixture be in a liquid state,
the stone is chiefly composed of siliceous earth; if it be
ol the consistence of paste, and have an opaque appear¬
ance,
the earth. This juice must be first filtrated and prepared in their surface, which may be here esteemed as a
kind of bark; and hence it must be conveyed to all the other parts. It is highly probable the juice which fill¬
ed the cavities of the letters was brought thither from the bottom of the roots ; nor is there any more difficulty
{ T 111 conceiving this than in comprehending how the sap should pass from the roots of our largest oaks to the
very extremities ot their highest branches. Some stones, then (he concludes), must be allowed to vegetate and
glow like plants: but this is not all ; he adds, that probably they are generated in the same manner; at least,
that there are abundance of stones whose generation is inconceivable, without supposing that they come from a
kind of seeds, wherein the orgafucal parts of the stones are wrapped up as those of the largest plants are in their
seeds.
STONES, &c.
icliniiuary ance, die other earths predominate ; but if it remain in
Processes. a pwdery form, the aluminous earth is in greatest pro-
' portion. The oxides of different metals are indicated by
the colour of the mass ; when it is of a dark or brown¬
ish red} the metallic oxide is that of iron ^ a grass green
colour denotes manganese j and yellowish green the
oxide of chromium.
But there are some stones on which potash has a very
feeble action, and in this case borax has been substituted
for the alkali. This is the method which was followed
by Mr Chenevix in analysing aluminous stones. A hun¬
dred grains of sapphire in powder were mixed with 250
grains of calcined borax, and subjected to a strong heat
in a crucible of platina for two hours. When the mass
was cold, it exhibited the appearance of a greenish blue
glass, which adhered strongly to the crucible 5 but the
whole being boiled for some hours in muriatic acid, it
was completely dissolved ; the earthy matter was then
precipitated by means of sub-carbonate of ammonia, and
the precipitate, after being well washed, was again dis¬
solved in muriatic acid j and in this way the borax was
separated. The remaining part of the analysis was nearly
similar to that directed for other stones, excepting only
that the alumina was separated from the potash by means
of muriate of ammonia.
But to return to the examination and farther treat¬
ment of the mass in the silver crucible, which after be¬
ing removed from the furnace, and wiped on the out¬
side, is to be placed in a porcelain capsule ; it is then
filled with water, and this water is renewed occasional¬
ly, till the whole matter is separated from the crucible.
By this means a part of the compound of the alkali
with the siliceous and aluminous earths, is dissolved,
and with a sufficient quantity of water the whole may
he dissolved. Muriatic acid is now to be added till
the whole of the mass is brought to a state of solution.
This, however, will not be the case, if the stone be
composed chiefly of silica. On the first addition of the
acid, a flakey precipitate is produced, because the acid
unites with the alkali, which held the mass in solution.
An effervescence afterwards takes place, which arises
from the decomposition of a portion of carbonate of pot¬
ash, formed during the fusion 5 and the flakey precipi¬
tate is again dissolved, as well as the matter which re¬
mained in the form of powder at the bottom of the vessel.
If the powder be silica and alumina, there is no effer¬
vescence ; but if it contain lime, an effervescence is pro¬
duced. The solution in the muriatic acid being formed,
ifit shall appear colourless, it may beinferred that it con¬
tains no metallic oxide, or at least a very small portion.
An orange red colour shews that it contains iron, a purp¬
lish red indicates manganese, and a golden yellow, chro¬
mium.
The solution is now to be introduced into an evapo¬
rating dish of porcelain, and being covered with paper,
is to be placed on a sand bath, and evaporated to dry¬
ness. Towards the end of the evaporation, as the li¬
quid assumes the form of a jelly, it must be constantly
stirred with a rod of silver or porcelain, to permit the
acid and water to pass off, and to allow the whole mass
to be equally dried ; for it is in this way that the silica
and alumina are separated from each other. The mat¬
ter being reduced to a dry powder, add to it a large
quantity of pure water, expose it to a modei’ate heat,
and pour it on a filter. This solution may be denomi-
ANALYSIS OF. ?15
nated A. Wash repeatedly the powder which remains preiimi
upon the silver, till the water with which it is washed Processes.
no longer precipitates silver from its solutions. The ' v——*
powder remaining is siliceous earth, which is first to he
dried between folds of blotting paper, and then made red
hot in a crucible ot platina or silver j and when it is cold
itis tobe accurately weighed. If it bepuresiliceous earth,
it is in the form of a white powder, is of a white co¬
lour, does not adhere to the fingers, and is insoluble in
acids. If it be at all coloured, it shews that it contains
some metallic oxide, and is a proof that the evaporation
has been carried on with too great a heat. To separate
the oxide, boil the silica with an acid, and then wash
and dry it as before. This acid solution is tobe added
to the solution A, and the whole is to be evaporated to
about the quantity of an English pint j then add to it a
solution of carbonate of potash, till the precipitation
ceases; and it may be necessary to boil it a few mo¬
ments, to allow the whole of the precipitate to fall to
the bottom. The whole of the precipitate being coffect-
ed at the bottom, the supernatant liquid is decanted off,
and the water being put in its place, the precipitate and
water are thrown on a filter; and when the water lias
run off, the filter with the precipitate upon it is placed
on the folds of blotting paper. After the precipitate has
acquired some degree of consistence, collect it carefully
with an ivory knife, mix it with a solution of pure pot¬
ash, and boil it in a capsule of porcelain. The potash
dissolves the alumina or glucina, and the other sub¬
stances remain in the form of a powder. This powder
may be called B.
Add to the solution of potash as much acid as will
saturate the potash, and also redissolve any precipitate
which at first appeared j and then add carbonate of am¬
monia till the taste of it be perceptible in the liquid.
The whole of the alumina is now precipitated in the
form of white flakes, while the glucina remains dissol¬
ved, if a sufficient quantity of carbonate of ammonia
had been employed. Filter the liquid j and the alumina
remaining on the filter being washed and dried, and af¬
ter being made red hot, and allowed to cool, is weigh¬
ed. To prove its being alumina, dissolve it in sulphu¬
ric acid, and a sufficient quantity of sulphate or acetate
of potash being added, the whole of it will be converted
into alum crystals, it the earth employed be aluminous
earth.
To separate the glucina, the liquid which passed
through the filter is to be boiled for some time, and if
the solution contain any of this earth it will be precipi¬
tated in the form of a light powder, which-may be dried
in the usual manner, and weighed. It is a fine, soft,
light, tasteless powder, when in a state of purity; and
the application of heat does not make it concrete, as
happens to alumina.
We now return to the residuum B, in which may be
expected lime, magnesia, and some of the metallic ox¬
ides. But if it be suspected that this residuum contains
any yttria, it is to be treated with carbonate of ammo¬
nia, which dissolves the yttria, and leaves the other bo¬
dies untouched. The yttria being separated, the resi¬
duum B is to be dissolved in weak sulphuric acid, and
the’ solution evaporated to dryness. Add a small quan¬
tity of water, which will dissolve the sulphate of mag¬
nesia, as well as the metallic sulphates j but the sulphate
of lime remains undissolved, or if any part of it should
4X2 dissolve,
7io STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
Freliminary dissolve, it may be thrown down by adding a small por-
^Processes., tion of weak alcohol. After being made red Irot in a
' v ’ crucible, it is to be weighed, and the lime will amount
to iVir weight. I'he solution containing the re¬
maining sulphates being diluted with a large portion of
water, a small excess of acid is to be added, and then a
saturated carbonate of potash. The magnesia and oxide,
of manganese remain dissolved, and the oxides of chro¬
mium, iron, and nickel, are precipitated. This preci¬
pitate may be denominated C.
Add to the solution a solution of hydrosulphuret of
potash, and the manganese in the state of a hvdrosul-
phuret will be precipitated. Calcine the precipitate in
contact with air, and weigh it. The addition of pure
potash to the solution will precipitate the magnesia,
which being washed, and subjected to a red heat, is al¬
so to be weighed.
The residuum C is to be repeatedly boiled with nitric
acid, and then mixed with pure potash 5 and, being
heated, the liquid is to be decanted off. The precipi¬
tate thus obtained, consisting of the oxides of iron
and nickel, is to be washed with pure water, and this
water is to be added to the solution of the nitric acid
and potash. The chromium, if any be present, is con¬
tained in that solution, and is in the form of an acid.
Add to the solution muriatic acid in excess, and let the
evaporation be continued till the liquor become of a
green colour j then add a pure alkali, by which the
chromium is precipitated in the state of oxide, which
is to be dried in the usual way, and weighed.
'ihe precipitate containing the oxides of iron and nic¬
kel is to be dissolved in muriatic acid ; ammonia is to
be added in excess, when the oxide of iron precipitates,
and being collected, washed, and dried, is to be weigh¬
ed. By evaporating the solution, the oxide of nickel
will be also precipitated, or the whole may be precipi¬
tated by the addition of hydrosulphuret of ammonia.
This being treated in the same manner as the other sub¬
stances, is also to be weighed.
1 be weight of the whole substances thus obtained
being added together, and being compared with the
weight of the matter originally operated upon, if the
two be equal, or if the difference do not exceed three or
four parts in 100, it may be inferred that the analysis
is nearly correct; but a considerable loss of weight indi¬
cates some error, and requires the analysis to be careful¬
ly repeated. If the same loss of weight appear, it may
be concluded that the stone contained some substance
which is soluble in water, or has been driven off by the
beat. To astertain the last point, a portion of the stone
is to be broken into small pieces, and exposed to a strong
beat, in a porcelain retort. II it contain water, or any
volatile substance, it will come over into the receiver,
and by this means the nature and weight ot the ingre¬
dients separated may be ascertained If nothing come
over into the receiver, or if what is obtained be not
equal to the deficient weight, it may be inferred that the
stone contains some matter which is soluble in water.
A fixed alkali has been not unfrequently found in
simple stones $ and to ascertain whether the mineral sub¬
jected to analysis contains any alkaline matter, dilferent
methods have been pursued. These methods we shall
now describe. The stone being reduced to an impalpa¬
ble powder, is cautiously heated repeatedly with sulpbu-
jic acid? and the mass is to be digested in water j and
this solution being properly ecncentraled, is set aside preHmitrar
for some days. The appearance of crystals of alum is ProeesseJ
a certain indication that the mineral contained potash •, u—y—■-*
and the quantity of potash may be estimated at r^s of
the weight of those crystals j but if no crystals he ob¬
tained, the solution is to be evaporated to dryness, and
the residuum exposed to a moderate red beat. Digest
it afterwards in water, and add carbonate of ammonia,
and filter j evaporate again to dryness, expose the resi¬
due to a heat ot 700°, and redissolve it. The solution
being properly concentrated, will give crystals of sul¬
phate of soda or of potash, as the one or the other al¬
kali is present. Potash may be discovered by adding
to the solution of the salt, a solution of nitro-muriate of
platina somewhat concentrated. A yellow precipitate,
which is muriate of platina and pptash, is thus ob¬
tained.
Klaproth’s method for discovering fixed alkalies in
minerals is the following. He takes four parts of ni¬
trate of barytes to one of the mineral to be examined,
and fuses them together in a porcelain crucible. A
spongy mass of a light-blue colour was thus obtained,
and with the addition of diluted muriatic acid, was com¬
pletely dissolved. The solution, which was of a yellow
colour, was then mixed with a sufficient quantity of sul¬
phuric acid, by which the barytes is precipitated, and
the muriatic acid expelled. The liquid is next evapo¬
rated to dryness, and the mass being digested in water,
is filtered, and the sulphate of barytes and silica remain
on the filter. The clear solution is saturated with car¬
bonate of ammonia, and filtered a second time $ and all
the earthy and metallic bodies being separated, the sul¬
phates of fixed alkali and ammonia only remain in the
solution, which being evaporated to dryness, the dry sa¬
line mass is introduced into a porcelain crucible, and
subjected to such a degree of heat as is sufficient to drive
off the sulphate of ammonia. The residuum is then dis¬
solved in water, and crystallized $ and thus a pure, fix¬
ed alkaline sulphate is obtained, which is again dissol¬
ved in water, and decomposed, by adding acetate of
barytes. The solution is then filtered, and the liquid is
evaporated to dryness. The saline mass obtained is the
acetate of a fixed alkali, which being exposed to heat in
a crucible, became of a reddish colour. The carbona¬
ceous residuum is then to be dissolved in water, filtered,
and crystallized, and the salt thus procured is a carbo¬
nate of a fixed alkali, the nature of which may be easi¬
ly recognised by the means stated above.
Mr Davy’s method of detecting a fixed alkali in mi¬
nerals, is different*. One hundred grains of the stone #^5.
in very fine powder are to be fused for half an hour at a Jour.
strong red heat, in a crucible of pfatina or silver, with*!**. 8tf.
200 grains of boracic acid. An ounce and a half of ni¬
tric acid diluted with seven or eight times its quantity
of water, is then digested upon the fused mass, till the
decomposition of the whole is completed. Evaporate
the fluid to about two ounces, or one ounce and a half;
by this means the siliceous earth is separated, which be¬
ing collected on a filter, is to be washed with distilled
water, till the boracic acid and the whole of the saline
mutter are separated. The fluid is then mixed with wa¬
ter that has passed through the filter, and evaporated to
the quantity ot half a pint, after which it is saturated
with carbonate of ammonia, and boiled with an excess
cl this salt, till the whole of the substances capable of
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
Zircon being pi'ccipitated, have been thrown down. The so-
Gemi«. lution being filtered, the earths and metallic oxides re-
—v—' main on the filter. Add nitric^cid to the liquid till it
acquire a strong sour taste, and evaporate till the bora-
cic acid appear free.
The fluid is then to be filtered, and evaporated to
dryness, and the dry mass being exposed to a heat of
about 450° Fahrenheit, the nitrate of ammonia is de¬
composed, and the nitrate of potash or soda remains be¬
hind.
To detect fluoric acid, which has been sometimes met
with as a component part of stones, Klaproth heats the
mineral with sulphuric acid in a glass retort, the corro¬
sion of which, and the deposition of silica in the water
of the receiver, are certain tests of fluoric acid.
After the general observations which have now been
offered, we proceed to give examples of the analysis of
minerals belonging to the different genera of earths and
stones; and we shall follow the same order in which
those genera are described in the article Minera¬
logy.
1. Zircon Genus.
The mineral affording the earth which characterises
i p-, ’ this genus, was analysed by Klaproth in the following
manner *. We select that species which is called hya¬
cinth.
A. 100 grains of hyacinth being levigated in the
flint mortar, received an increase of weight of half a
grain.
B. This pulverized hyacinth, digested with two
ounces of nitro-muriatic acid, vielded, upon saturating
the solution with potash, a light-brown precipitate, of
three grains and a half, when dried. Ammonia, add¬
ed to it, dissolved nothing; and it remained colourless.
After the precipitate had been again separated from the
volatile alkali, muriatic acid was added, which dissolved
its ferruginous contents, leaving a white earth behind,
which, when ignited, weighed i^- grain. The portion
of iron, precipitated by caustic ammonia from the mu¬
riatic solution, weighed half a grain, when ignited, and
became black, and resplendent. It was fused with a
neutral phosphate, upon charcoal, to find whether it
contained manganese ; no trace was perceptible.
C. The above grain of earth B was now added
again to the hyacinth, after treatment with acids. The
stone was then subjected to red heat, with six times its
quantity of caustic alkali, in the manner explained in
the essay on the jargon of Ceylon ; the ignited mass was
again liquefied with water ; and the earth remaining
after this process weighed 123 grains, when collected,
edulcorated, and dried.
D. The alkaline lixivium was then saturated with
muriatic acid, and evaporated. At first it continued
clear ; but towards the end siliceous earth separated,
the quantity of which, after ignition, amounted to six
grains.
E. To the 123 grains, previously well washed with
water, a sufficient quantity of muriatic acid was added;
which, with the assistance of heat, dissolved nearly the
whole, a trifling residue excepted. This muriatic solu¬
tion, evaporated in a moderate heat to a sixth or eighth
part, lost its fluidity, and formed a limpid gelatinous
coagulurn It was then covered with water, and ex¬
posed, with repeated agitation, to a digesting heat.
By this management, the siliceous earth separated in
slimy, intumesced grains, and weighed, after ignition,
23y grains.
F. Ihe solution, thus freed from its silica, was now
saturated with a boiling ley of mild alkali; and the pre¬
cipitate was washed and dried in the air. This last
weighed 114 grains, proving, upon every trial, to be
jargonic earth. A fourth part of it, heated to redness,
weighed 16^- grains ; which make the whole amount to
66 grains.
G. The above six grains D, with the 23^- grains E,
in the whole 29^ grains of siliceous eardi, were ignited
with a quadruple weight of vegetable alkali. When
this mass had been again softened with water, it left a
residue, which was extracted by muriatic acid. From
this muriatic solution, also, when saturated with potash,
jargonic earth fell down, weighing tour grains after ig¬
nition. Hence, subtracting these, the quantity of silice¬
ous earth is reduced to 254 grains.
One hundred parts of hyacinth, therefore, have
given
Jargon i a - F
G
Silica, - G
Subtract A
Oxide of iron, B
100
66
4
25^
}
70
25
0.50
95-5°
Loss, 450
2. Of the Siliceous Genus..
A great proportion of the stones belonging to this
genus are transparent, and have a vitreous appearance.
They are so hard as to scratch glass, and, excepting the
fluoric acid, they are not acted upon by acids. By fu¬
sion with alkalies they form glass; they also enter into
fusion with boracic acid, and the acid of phosphorus.
Stones composed chiefly of pure silica, are transparent
and colourless. When a mineral.is presented for exa¬
mination, even if it possess most of the properties which
characterize stones belonging to this genus, some pre¬
liminary processes may be pursued to ascertain farther
its nature and component parts.
A. It is sometimes difficult to reduce siliceous stones
to a fine powder. To facilitate this operation, a portion,
of the stone may be heated to redness, and in this state
suddenly plunged into cold water. If by the first heat¬
ing it is not sufficiently brittle, the operation may be re¬
peated until the mineral can be reduced to a fine powder,
as already directed.
B. One part of the stone in fine powder is now to be
mixed with four or five parts of potash, dissolved in the
same quantity of water. The mixture is introduced in¬
to a silver crucible, and evaporated to dryness, stirring
it constantly with a silver rod, according to the direc¬
tions given above. The mass being evaporated to dry¬
ness, the heat is to he gradually increased, till the cru¬
cible appears of a dull red heat, or till the mass enter
into quiet fusion. In this state it is kept for an hour.
C. Remove the crucible from the fire before it is
completely cold ; soften the mass with water, by adding
fresh
717
Siliceous
Genus.
718
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
Siliceous fresh portions from time to time, till the whole is cle-
Genus. tached from the crucible, and then add 12 times its bulk
v of water to effect a solution. If the stone consisted
chiefly of siliceous earth, the gx-eater part of the mass
will be dissolved.
D. Add muriatic acid till no farther precipitate is ef¬
fected, and without separating the precipitate, evaporate
the whole to dryness.
E. Pour six times its bulk of muriatic acid, previously
diluted with four parts of water, on the dry mass ; boil
the mixture for half an hour 5 let the insoluble part sub¬
side, and then collect it on a filter, and after being
dried, subject it in a crucible to a red heat. This pow¬
der is the siliceous earth contained in the mineral.
But stones included under this genus contain very
different proportions, not only of siliceous earth, but also
of the other earths • and some of them even contain a
far greater proportion of other earths than that which
characterizes the genus under which they are arranged.
and a half, when edulcorated and ignited. Diluted sul¬
phuric acid completely dissolved it to a limpid liquor,
and when properly treated, the solution yielded only
alum.
F. To obtain the earth, which possibly might have
remained latent in the several washings, the whole were
evaporated to dryness. After having re-dissolved the
saline mass in water, the remaining portion of earth tvas
collected, it amounted only to half a grain, and was si¬
liceous earth.
There were therefore obtained,
Silica,
Alumina,
(A)
(F)
(E)
54
54i
54-50
24.50
Loss,
79
21
Siiiecoas
Genus.
Analysis of Leucite.
The analysis of this mineral is particularly interesting,
not only as Klaproth first detected in it potash, which
tvas supposed to belong exclusively to the vegetable
kingdom, and hence called vegetable alkali, but also as
it places the skill and address of that eminent chemist
in its examination in a very conspicuous light. The
Essays, process was conducted in the following manner *.
34S. Ignited alone upon charcoal, the leucite is complete¬
ly infusible. It undergoes no manner of alteration, and
its splinters lose nothing of their lustre.
A small fragment, put into fused borax, is for a long
time moved about in it before it dissolves, which it does
by degrees ; and the glass globule obtained is clear and
light-brown.
By fusion with a neutral phosphate, the solution is
still slower, and a colourless rifty glass pearl is pro¬
duced.
O ue hundred grains of coarsely pounded leucite, ex¬
posed for an hour to a strong red heat, in a small por-
cekin pot, lost of weight only one-eighth of a grain,
and even the violent heat of the porcelain furnace pro¬
duced in the leucite only an inconsiderable change.
A. One hundred grains of leucite, reduced to an im¬
palpable powder, being several times digested in muri¬
atic acid, dissolved a considerable part. A siliceous re¬
sidue of 54 grains remained after ignition.
B. The siliceous earth ignited with twice its weight
of caustic alkali, softened again with water, covered
with muriatic acid, added to excess of saturation, and,
after sufficient digestion with this last, being collected
on the filter, and heated to redness, was found to have
lost little of its weight.
C. Prussiate of potash added to the muriatic solution
produced a precipitate which indicated one-eighth of a
grain of oxide of iron.
D. The solution by caustic ammonia being decom¬
posed, and the precipitate being separated, the remain¬
ing liquor was tried with carbonate of soda, but no far¬
ther change was effected.
E. The precipitate produced by means of pure am¬
monia D was first dried. It was next purified by di¬
gesting it with distilled vinegar, and afterwards neutra¬
lizing this acid by ammonia. It weighed 24 grains
2
IOO
The remarkable loss of more than one-fifth of. the
whole weight of the mineral under examination, excited
suspicion that some error had crept into the analysis,
and led to a repetition of the experiments, by varying
the processes as follows.
A. One hundred grains of leucite in fine powder
were ignited for half an hour, with double their weight
of caustic potash. To the mass softened with water mu¬
riatic acid was added, just to the point of saturation,
and the mixture being filtered, the remaining undissolved
residuum was washed and dried.
B. The mineral thus prepared for decomposition, was
then treated with muriatic acid, and kept for some time
at a boiling heat. By this process a quantity of silica
separated, winch after being heated to redness weighed
54 grains and a half.
C. Oxalate of potash being added to the muriatic so¬
lution, concentrated by evaporation, produced no turbi¬
dity. The alumina was separated by the same means as
in the former experiments, and its weight amounted to
nearly the same. By other trials it did not appear to
have any mixture of other earths, and no other earth
could be obtained by evaporating the waters with which
the powders had been washed.
Thus, after varying the experiments the same results
were obtained, and the same loss still appeared. In the
farther prosecution of this investigation, the following
experiments were had recourse to.
A. Two hundred grains of leucite in fine powder
were repeatedly digested with muriatic acid, and the sili¬
ceous earth collected on the filter, washed, and weighed
after being red hot, amounted to 109 grains.
B. The muriatic solution was of a yellowish colour,
and being reduced by evaporation in a sand heat to the
consistence of honey, the surface appeared covered with
a saline crust -, and when completely cooled, the mass
appeared like a thick clear oil, of a golden yellow co¬
lour, and full of crystals, some of which were of a cubi¬
cal, and some of a tabular form. The yellow fluid was
gently poured off', and the salt rinsed with small por¬
tions of alcohol. The solution diluted with alcohol was
again evaporated, and the small portion of salt thus ob¬
tained
STONES, &c.
tained was again washed with alcohol, and added to the
, Ti\e 'vhole of the salt being dried, weighed 76
grains. 1 his was dissolved in water, and some drops of
a solution of ammonia being added, threw down some
particles of alumina. Ihe solution being crystallized in
a Warm place, yielded only cubical crystals, some of
Which were elongated to four-sided columns.
C. That part of the muriatic solution which shot in¬
to crystals being diluted with water, and decomposed in
a boiling heat, by carbonate of soda, yielded a precipi¬
tate, which, after washing, drying, and ignition, a-
mounted to. 47^ grains of aluminous earth. Three
times its weight of concentrated sulphuric acid was add¬
ed, and the mixture was evaporated nearly to dryness.
The mass was again dissolved in water, and combined
with solution of acetate of potash, which being crystal¬
lized, produced only alum.
D. The siliceous earth A was mixed with double its
weight of potash, and subjected to a strong red heat for
an hour. The mass was reduced to powder, and diluted
with water. Muriatic acid was added in excess, and
digested with it. The filtered muriatic solution being
saturated with soda yielded grain of aluminous earth,
after which there remained of silica grains.
The 200 grains of leucite have thus afforded of
ANALYSIS OF.
of alkali $ and in this way the deficiency in the exami¬
nation of the leucite is accounted for.
The result of the analysis is as follows.
719
Silica,
Alumina,
Potash,
Grs.
53-75
24.62
2I-35
129.72
Analysis of Pitchstone.
Silica D,
Alumina C,
 D,
Grs.
107.50
47-75
I-55
I5^-75
Here there was still a- deficiency of 43.25 grains, to
account for which the 70 grains of salt B must be exa¬
mined. This examination was conducted in the follow¬
ing manner.
1. The taste and figure of the crystals were found to
be the same with those of muriate of potash.
2. ffhe solution produced no change in vegetable
blues, or in reddened litmus paper.
3. When heated to redness, the salt made a crackling
noise, and remained fixed in the fire.
4. Neither carbonate of soda nor caustic ammonia
produced any turbidity in the solution.
5. Two parts of strong sulphuric acid were added to
three of the salt, and the muriatic acid being driven off
by heat, the mass was again dissolved in water, which
afforded crystals of sulphate of potash.
6. The remaining portion of salt was dissolved in a
small quantity of water, and to this was added a con¬
centrated solution of crystallized acid of tartar. The
acidulous tartrate of potash (cream of tartar) was thus
immediately produced and precipitated in the form of
sand. This was washed, dried, burnt in a silver cru¬
cible, and the coal obtained repeatedly washed with wa¬
ter. The solution being evaporated to dryness, after
being examined by the proper tests, appeared to be a
carbonate of potash, which being saturated with nitric
acid, afforded nitrate of potash.
Thus it appears that the base of the 70 grains of salt
consisted entirely of pure potash, which was neutralized
by part of tbe muriatic acid employed in decomposing
the mineral ; and according to the proportion of base in
muriate of potash, the 70 grains A contain 42.7 grains
Siliceous
Genus.
The pitchstone which is the subject of the following
analysis, also conducted by Klaproth, is the transparent
yellowish or olive green variety of that mineral from
Meissen. It forms an example of soda, the other fixed
alkali, forming a component part of stones.
A. 100 grains in coarse fragments were introduced
into a covered crucible, and were subjected to a red heat
for half an hour. When taken from the fire they ap¬
peared of a white gray mixed with a yellowish colour,
and having a rough feel, with something of the appear¬
ance of glazing. They lost grains of weight.
B. In the heat of a porcelain furnace, the pitchstone
was fused both in the clay and charcoal crucible, and was
converted into a clear glass, full of small froth holes.
C. 100 grains of pitchstone in fine powder were
treated with a solution of 200 grains of caustic soda,
and being put into a silver crucible, were kept for half
an hour in a pretty strong red heat. The mass was then
softened with water ; muriatic acid was added in ex¬
cess ; the solution was evaporated in a sand heat, nearly
to dryness4 water was again poured upon it, after which
it was filtered, and 73 grains of siliceous earth were ob¬
tained.
X). Caustic soda was mixed in excess with the mu¬
riatic solution, and the whole was digested in a boiling-
heat, by which the precipitate formed at the beginning
of the process was again dissolved ; a brown residuum
still remained, which being separated, the alkaline solu¬
tion was neutralized, and precipitated with carbonate of
soda. The precipitate, which was alumina, after being
washed, dried, and heated to redness, amounted to 144
grains.. The whole of it yielded crystals of alum, with
sulphuric acid and potash.
E. The residuum which remained undissolved by the
caustic soda, D, was first dissolved in muriatic, and then
united with sulphuric acid. Sulphate of lime was ob¬
tained, which was collected, and washed with diluted
alcohol. By reducing the filtered fluid by evaporation
to a smaller quantity, and combining it with sulphuric
acid, another portion of sulphate of lime, which, added
to the first, amounted to three grains, indicating 18
grains of pure lime.
F. The fluid was now freed from the calcareous earth ;
the iron which it contained was precipitated by carbo¬
nate of ammonia, which amounted to one grain. The
remaining fluid wras evaporated to dryness, and water
being added to the saline residuum, fine minute flocks of
oxide of manganese separated, but in no greater quantity
than one-tenth of a grain.
G. IOO grains of pitebstone in powder-were mixed
with 300 grains of crystallized nitrate of barytes, and
heated to redness in a porcelain vessel, till the salt w-as
entirely
720
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
Anrillace- entirely decomposed. The cold mass was softened with
«;is Genus, water, neutralized with muriatic acid, and combined in
*—“■V"*'""’' such proportion with sulphilYic acid, that the latter, af¬
ter the evaporation of the mixture, and separation of the
muriatic acid by heat, was still in excess. The mass
was washed with hot water ; the residuum separated by
filtration j and the clear fluid was mixed with carbonate
of ammonia in excess. The precipitate thus obtained
was collected on a filter*, and the remaining fluid was
evaporated to dryness, and the portion of sulphate of
ammonia subjected to a moderate heat in a porcelain
vessel, was driven oft'. A fixed salt remained, which ap¬
peared to be sulphate of soda. This was redissolved,
and decomposed by acetate of barytes ; the filtered so¬
lution was evaporated to dryness*, the dry salt rvas heat¬
ed to redness in a crucible of platina. The saline re¬
siduum being redissolved, filtered, and again evaporated
to dryness, yielded three grains of dry carbonate of soda,
indicating grain of pure soda. This being neutra¬
lized with nitric acid, gave crystals of nitrate ot soda.
The 100 grains of the mineral thus examined consist
of
Gr*.
Silica C, 73*
Alumina D, 14.5
Lime E, I.
Oxide of iron D, J.
.. manganese D, .16
Soda G, ^*75
Water A, 8.50
99 85
3. Argillaceous Genus.
As many of the stones included under this genus are
'•eomposed of similar substances with those arranged in
the former genus, it is obvious that the examination
is to be conducted in the same way. We shall there¬
fore give one example of the analysis of a stone belong¬
ing to this genus, and the example is that of basalt by
* Essays, Klaproth *.
“* 19S' Analysis vf Basalt.
A. Small fragments of this stone were subjected to a
strong red heat for'30 minutes j the loss of weight was
two per cent, and the mass became of a lighter colour,
wd more readily yielded to the pestle.
B. Basalt exposed to the heat of a porcelain furnace
in a common clay crucible, fused into a compact black
brown glass, which in thin splinters was transparent.
It also entered into thin fusion in a crucible of semi-in¬
durated steatites ; part of it ran into the clefts produced
in the steatites, and the rest was found crystallized in
brown shining lamellae, which on the surface were stri¬
ated, and cellularly concreted. In a charcoal crucible
it was converted into a dull gray and finely porous mass,
in which were inserted numerous grains of iron.
C. To ascertain whether this stone contained soda,
xoo grains of basalt in fine powder were mixed with
400 grains of nitrate of-barytes, and were at first ex¬
posed in a large porcelain vessel to a moderate heat, and
afterwards to a heat gradually raised to ignition. Ti e
mixture swelled up, and when the heat was increased,
white fumes arose on uncovering the vessel, which led
to a supposition that the soda was beginning to volati¬
lize. The fire was then removed.
D. The porous mass, after cooling and being re¬
duced to powder, was drenched with water, and treated
with muriatic acid. The whole entered into solution,
and produced a clear yellow fluid. The solution was
evaporated, and sulphuric acid was added gradually,
till it was in excess. The sulphate of barytes was pre¬
cipitated.
E. The saline mass by filtration was reduced to dry¬
ness, and water was added, the sediment separated, and
appeared to consist of the sulphate of barytes, and the
siliceous earth of the stone. The clear fluid was satu¬
rated with ammonia, and the precipitate, which was ob¬
tained being filtered off, the neutralized liquor was eva¬
porated to dryness, and then exposed in a porcelain ves¬
sel to a moderately intense heat, till the whole sulphate
of ammonia was driven off. The fixed portion remain¬
ing dissolved in water, and crystallized, appeared to be
pure sulphate of soda. This was dissolved, decomposed
bv acetate of barytes ; the precipitate, which was sul¬
phate of barytes, was separated by the filter, and the
clear fluid being evaporated to dryness, the dry acetate
of soda was heated to redness in a crucible of platina;
and in this way 47 grains of dry carbonate of soda was
obtained, which is equal to 2.6 grains of pure soda.
F. To separate the other ingredients, 100 grains of
powdered basalt were ignited for two hours with 400
grains of carbonate of soda, in a crucible of porcelain ;
but with a degree of heat which did not produce fusion.
It united into a yellowish, somewhat hard mass, which
being reduced to powder, and softened with water, was
neutralized with muriatic acid. It was then a little su¬
persaturated with nitric acid, and evaporated to dryness.
The colour of the dry mass was saffron yellow. It was
diffused in water, slightly acidulated with muriatic acid,
and after being digested for a short time it was filtered.
The siliceous earth collected on the filter was exposed
to a red heat, and being weighed, amounted to 44^
grains.
G. The muriatic solution being sufficiently diluted
with water, was precipitated at the temperature of boil¬
ing water, by means of carbonate of soda. The preci¬
pitate being separated, was digested with a solution of
caustic soda, and a dark brown residuum was separated
by filtration. Muriatic acid was added in a small ex¬
cess to the alkaline fluid, and this was precipitated with
carbonate of ammonia. The precipitate obtained after
being washed and ignited, amounted to 16^ grains. It
yielded alum, when treated with sulphuric acid and pot¬
ash, and was therefore aluminous earth.
H. The brown residuum G was dissolved in muriatie
acid with particular attention to the precise point of sa¬
turation. Succinate of ammonia was added to the solu¬
tion, to precipitate the iron ; and the succinate of non
obtained, when perfectly washed and strongly heated in
a covered crucible, afforded 20 grains of oxide ol iron,
which were attracted by the magnet.
I. The iron being separated, the fluid was treated at
the temperature of boiling with carbonate of soda ; a
white precipitate was obtained, which was dissolved in
nitric acid j and sulphuric acid being combined with
the solution, threw down sulphate of lime. This was
separated, and the remaining liquor being evaporated
nearly
ArsilWi
ous Genus.
Argiilace- nearly to dryness, was again diluted with a mixture of
ausGem]s. water and alcohol. Another portion of sulphate of lime
v fell down, which being separated, was added to the for-
mer. The whole of the sulphate of lime was decomposed
by boiling it vyith carbonate of soda in solution, and the
STONES, &d ANALYSIS OF.
721
_
C. Prussiate of potash was added to the filtered sob-Mafrnesian
tion and produced a blue precipitate, which being col- Genus
lected, washed, dried, and ignited with a little wax, was ^ v  
bund, after cpoling, to weigh seven grains. The whole
IT TT« *1 n • 1 1 f xt > mineral under examination.
K. Upon the fluid left from the last process, caustic D Carbonate of potash being added to the solution
soda was alfused j a slimy precipitate was formed, which
rapidly dissolved in sulphuric acid, and communicated a
brown colour to the solution. It was evaporated in a
sand bath ; loose brown flakes fell down at the com¬
mencement of the process, and these being separated by
the filter, appeared to be oxide of manganese j the quan¬
tity estimated did not exceed one-eighth of a grain.
L. The remaining portion of the fluid was evaporated
to dryness, and the residuum was exposed in a small cru¬
cible to a strong red heat. It was again dissolved in
water, and yielded a small portion of alumina coloured
with iron, and contaminated with manganese. After
ignition it did not weigh more than half a grain *, but
the clear solution was entirely crystallized, and afforded
sulphate of magnesia. Carbonate of soda was added to
the magnesian salt in solution, by which the earthy base
was precipitated in the state of carbonate. It weighed
six giains, which is equal to grains of pure magne¬
sia.
The following is the result of the precedinn- analy-
•sis.
Silica F,
Alumina G,
I,
Oxide of iron II,
Time I,
Magnesia L,
Oxide of manganese K,
Soda E,
Water A,
44-5 grs-
16.25
•5
20.
9-5
2.25
.12
2.60
2.
freed from the iron, precipitated its-earthy ingredient.
I his, after washing, and gentle ignition, weighed 102
grains. These were covered with a proportionate quan¬
tity of concentrated distilled vinegar, and being digested
in a low heat, were thrown upon the filter. The earth
remaining on the paper, which, after being dried and
heated red hot, weighed 93 grains, was mixed with
three times its weight of strong sulphuric acid, and the
mixture being evaporated in a sand heat nearly to dry¬
ness, the dry mass was dissolved in water and filtered 5
26 grains of siliceous earth were thus obtained.
E. In the sulphuric solution I), there still remained
67 grains of earth, which being precipitated by an al¬
kali, appeared to consist entirely of aluminous earth.
F. Ninety-nine grains of the first, 192 grains of the
earthy precipitate D, were taken up by the acetic acid,
which being precipitated by carbonate of potash, and the
earth obtained being tried by sulphuric acid, was found
to be pure magnesia.
This analysis shows that the 480 grains of steatites,
thus examined, afforded
Silica B, 204
  B, 2l
Magnesia F, 99
Alumina E, 67
Oxide of iron C, 37c
Water A, 7J.
Loss,
474-75
5-25
97.72
4. Magnesian Genus.
Besides several of the earths detected in minerals be¬
longing to the former genera, the stones arranged under
this genus are distinguished by being combined with
magnesia. We shall only give one example of the ana¬
lysis of a magnesian stone.
or 100 parts of the mineral contain
Silica,
Magnesia,
Alumina,
Oxide of iron,
Water,
480.00
48
20.5
14*
1.
Analysis of Steatites.
This mineral, which was found in Cornwall, was
analyzed by Klaproth in the following manner.
A. One ounce of the stone in small pieces was sub¬
jected to a strong red heat, by placing the glass retort
which contained it in an open fire. A small portion of
water distilled over, which was pure and tasteless. The
mineral lost 75 grains of its weight, and became darker
in the colour, and considerably harder.
B. After being reduced to powder, it was carefully
mixed, and heated red hot, with two ounces of carbonate
of potash in a porcelain pot. The concreted mass was
levigated with water, and digested with muriatic acid in
excess. A white loose slimy earth was precipitated,
which after being washed, dried, and subjected to a red
heat, weighed 204 grains. It was pure silica.
Vol. XIX. Part II. +
5. Calcareous Genus.
99.0
The analysis of stones belonging to this genus must
be varied according to the nature of the combination in¬
to which the lime has entered. With regard to the
processes to be followed in the examination of calcareous
stones, theyare susceptibleof anaturaldivisioninto such
as are soluble in muriatic or nitric acid with efferves¬
cence, and such as are scarce soluble in those acids,
and do not effervesce. To the first belong all the stones
called limestones, or carbonates of lime j and to the se¬
cond belongs sulphate of lime, or gypsum.
Analysis of Carbonate of Lime.
Carbonate of lime, whether in the form of lime spar,
or in a less pure state, in the form of limestone, is soluble
4y
with
722 STONES, &c.
Calcareous with effervescence in nitric or muriatic acid. When
Genus, exposed to heat, it yields carbonic acid gas, and is con-
* — v —* verted into quicklime ; and when fused with an alkali,
does not form a uniform mass. But we shall give a
short view of the processes to be followed in a more
particular examination.
A. Let a determinate quantity of the stone be redu¬
ced to a fine powder. Digest it repeatedly with mu¬
riatic acid till no further action is produced upon it.
Dilute the solution, throw it upon a filter, and, after
drying, weigh the insoluble residuum.
B. Let the remaining solution he diluted with 24
times its bulk of water; add sulphuric acid diluted ; a
precipitate takes place if the stone contained any barytes,
the amount of which, after being collected and dried,
may be ascertained by weighing.
C. Add to the filtered solution, after the barytes has
been separated, a solution of carbonate of soda, as long
as any precipitate is formed. Collect this pi’ecipitate,
and let it be so much dried that it may be easily remo¬
ved from the filter.
D. Afl'use the precipitate with sulphuric acid till all
effervescence ceases.
E. Introduce the whole into a mixture of three parts
of distilled water, and one of alcohol, in the proportion
of eight parts of the mixture to the quantity of the sub¬
stance previously dissolved in nitric acid. Let the whole
be digested for some hours in the cold, filter the fluid,
and dry the insoluble residuum and weigh it.
F. The remaining solution is next to be decomposed
by a solution of carbonate of potash, and the precipitate
being collected, is to be washed, dried, and weighed.
By this examination, if the stone is to be ranked with
carbonate of lime, the weight of the insoluble part E,
after subtracting from it one-third, must exceed the
weight of the insoluble parts A and B.
Analysis of Sulphate of Lime.
As this is insoluble in nitric or muriatic acids, its
analysis must be conducted in a different manner.
A. Let one part of the mineral, reduced to fine pow¬
der, be boiled with four times its weight of carbonate of
potash, in a sufficient quantity of water for two or three
hours 5 as the fluid evaporates, water is to be added.
B. Introduce the insoluble mass obtained by the last
process into a flask containing diluted nitric acid, and
the whole being dissolved, let it be evaporated to dry¬
ness, and weighed.
C. Add to the dried mass more than its own weight
of strong sulphuric acid; apply heat, and let it be gra¬
dually increased till fumes cease to rise, and let it be
again weighed.
D. Let the insoluble part be digested in twice its
weight of cold water; filter the fluid, collect the inso¬
luble residuum, and dry it in a dull red heat. To as¬
certain the quantity of lime, subtract from the weight
of the insoluble mass left (in C) 59 parts j what remains
is equal to the quantity of lime.
E. The quantity of lime also may be ascertained, by
subjecting for some hours to a red heat, the insoluble
mass B ; for by this process it will be converted into
quicklime.
Analysis of Fluate of Lime.
In the examination of this mineral, a quantity of it
ma,y be reduced to powder, and moistened with sulplm-
3
ANALYSIS OF.
ric acid, in a leaden or pewter vessel. The mixture be-cai<arewt
ing heated, fumes arise, to which a plate of glass being Genus,
exposed, is soon corroded. In this way the fluoric acid V"—
may be detected, and the quantity of base may be ascer¬
tained by decomposing the mineral by means of sulphuric
acid, and aftervvards analysing the sulphate of lime, as
already directed.
Analysis of PhospJiate of Lime.
The analysis of this mineral may be conducted in the
following manner.
A. Let a determinate portion be digested in five
times its quantity of muriatic acid, and let the operation
be repeated till the acid has no farther action upon the
residuum j decant the fluid, and then let it be diluted
with water and filtered.
B. Add to the muriatic solution, liquid ammonia $
collect the precipitate which is formed, and after being
washed and dried, expose it to heat.
C. Add nitric acid to the precipitate till the whole is
dissolved. Precipitate again by means of sulphuric acidj
let the whole then be filtered, and let the insoluble re¬
siduum be washed with as little water as possible.
D. Evaporate the filtered fluid to the consistence of
syrup ; the fluid thus obtained is phosphoric acid, if th®
stone examined have been phosphate of lime. The test
of phosphoric acid is, that it precipitates lime water,
and also forms precipitates with the solutions of sulphate
of iron, and nitrate of mercury ? but it does not preci¬
pitate the muriate or nitrate of barytes.
6. Barytic Genus.
Analysis of Carbonate of Barytes.
A. Take a determinate quantity of the mineral, and
dissolve it in diluted nitric acid *, take a portion of the
solution, and add to it a solution of sulphate of soda. If
a precipitate take place, by adding a small quantity of
the salt to the solution of the earth, diluted with 24
times its bulk of water, it may be inferred that the base
of the mineral is barytes.
B. Let the nitric solution be evaporated to dryness,
and exposed in a silver crucible to a white heat ; the
earth obtained is barytes, which is soluble in 20 times
its weight of water ; and after evaporation, crystallizes
into long four-sided prisms.
Analysis of Sulphate of Barytes.
This mineral was analyzed by Klaproth in the fol¬
lowing manner.
A. 200 grains were mixed with 500 grains of carbo¬
nate of potash, and were exposed for two hours to a red
heat; the mass was reduced to powder, boiled with
water, and the undissolved earth was collected on the
filter.
B. To separate the siliceous earth, the fluid was neu¬
tralized by muriatic acid, and evaporated to dryness.
The saline mass was redissolved in water, and the silica
remaining after being ignited, weighed 18 grains.
C. The barytic earth, freed from the sulphuric acid
B, was covered with water; muriatic acid was added;
the whole was dissolved by digestion, except two grains
of silica. The filtered solution was crystallized, and
afforded muriate of barytes.
D. The crystals were redissolved in water, and sul¬
phuric acid was added to the solution, while any preci¬
pitate appeared, and the regenerated sulphate of barytes
being
Barytic
Genus.
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
being washed and dried, weighed 185 grains, but after
ignition, only 180 grains.
One hundred parts of this mineral are therefore com¬
posed of
Sulphate of barytes r>,
Silica B,
— C,
90
9
1
^Essays, i
ITS-
IOO
fid.
1 'id.
«I.
7. Strontian Genus.
Analysis of Carbonate of Strontites.
This mineral was analyzed by Klaproth, in the fol¬
lowing manner.
A. 100 parts were dissolved in muriatic acid, diluted
with half its quantity of water. Thirty parts of carbo¬
nic acid were driven off during the solution, which be¬
ing evaporated, afforded crystals in the shape of needlesj
and these crystals being dissolved in alcohol, communi¬
cated to it the property of burning with a carmine red
flame. This is the test of strontitic earth.
B. To ascertain whether the mineral examined con¬
tained any barytes, three drops of a solution of one grain
of sulphate of potash in six ounces of water were added
to the muriatic solution } no appearance of precipitate
was observed till next day, and therefore it contained no
barytes, as in that case an immediate precipitate would
have taken place.
C. Carbonate of potash was then added to the muria¬
tic solution } a decomposition took place ; and the car¬
bonate of strontites was precipitated. This being sub¬
jected to a strong heat, the carbonic acid was driven off,
and the whole of the remaining earth being dissolved in
water, crystallized. After being dried, it weighed 69.5.
One hundred parts of this mineral therefore contain
Pure earth, 69.5
Carbonic acid, 30.
Water, .5
100.0 f
II. Salts.
The analysis of minerals arranged under this class, is
in general less difficult, in consequence of their easy so¬
lubility, than those already examined. We shall there¬
fore give only one example.
Analysis of Native Saltpetre.
This native salt was examined by Klaproth J, accord¬
ing to the following method.
A. 1030 grains of the native salt, with limestone
and gypsum to which it adhered, were covered with boil¬
ing water. The colourless solution was gently evaporat¬
ed; during the crystallization, tender needle-sliaped cry¬
stals of selenite appeared, and the whole of the solution
crystallized to a perfect prismatic nitre. The selenite
weighed 40 grains, and the salt amounted to 446
grains.
B. To ascertain whether any common salt could be
detected in the mineral, the crystals were redissolved in
water, and acetate of barytes was dropt into the solution.
A precipitate was obtained, amounting to 26 grains of
sulphate of barytes, shewing that grains of selenite
were still combined with the neutral salt. A solution
of nitrate of silver was added to the nitric solution, which
produced a precipitate of 4^ grains of muriate of silver,
so that the quantity of common salt can only be estima¬
ted at two grains. The pure rtitre is thus reduced to
4254 grains. Klaproth suspects that the neutral muriate
mixed with the native nitre, is rather a muriate of pot¬
ash, than the muriate of soda.
C. The stony matters remaining amounted to 500
giains ; muriatic acid was poured upon them, and pro¬
duced great effervescence with pieces of limestone. One
hundred and eighty-six grains of white gypsum remain-
ed ’ and the sulphuric acid being separated from it, by
boiling with carbonate of potash, the carbonate of lime
remaining behind dissolved without residuum in nitric
acid.
II. T he limestone taken up by the muriatic acid,
weighed 304 grains. Being farther examined, it ap¬
peared to be calcareous earth, slightly contaminated
with iron.
One hundred parts, therefore, of this salt contain
Pure prismatic nitre B,
Muriate of a neutral salt B,
Sulphate of lime ABC,
Carbonate of lime D,
Loss,
42-55
.20
25-45
3°-4
1.4
100.00
III. Combustibles.
Analysis of Coal.
The constituent parts of coal are carbone and bitumen
with some earthy matters, and sometimes a small quan¬
tity of metallic matter. The proportion of earthy mat¬
ters contained in coal may be ascertained by weighing a
determinate quantity, and burning it. The nature of
the earths contained in the residuum may be discovered
by the processes already given.
To ascertain the proportion of charcoal and bitumen
contained in coal, we shall describe the method followed
by Mr Kirwan.
It has been found that a certain proportion of carbone
or pure charcoal, detonated with nitre in the state of ig¬
nition, decomposes a given proportion of that salt ; and
it appears from the experiments of Lavoisier, that 13.21
parts of charcoal decompose 100 parts of nitre, while the
detonation is performed in close vessels ; hut in an open
crucible, a smaller proportion of charcoal is required, in
consequence of part of the nitre being decomposed by
the action of the air of the atmosphere. According to
Kirwan, about 10 parts of charcoal are sufficient to de¬
compose 96 parts of nitre. Mr Kirwan also found that
vegetable pitch and maltha did not produce any detona¬
tion with nitre, but merely burnt on its surface ; and
that the same quantity of charcoal was required for the
decomposition of the nitre, as if no bituminous substance
had been employed. Since, therefore, bitumen produces
no effect in decomposing nitre, Kirwan thought that the
proportion of charcoal, in any coal, might be ascertain¬
ed by detonation with nitre. In this way the proportion
of carbonaceous and earthy matter in any coal being dis¬
covered, the proportion of bitumen which it contains
may be estimated by calculation.
In the experiments on the analysis of coal, Mr Kirwan
employed a large crucible placed in a wind fnrnace, and
exposed to an equable heat. The coal was reduced to
4 Y 2 small
Saks.
'vT
STONES, See. ANALYSIS OF.
small pieces of the siz.e of a pin head, and was projected
in portions of one or two grains at a time, into the nitre,
the moment it became red hot. This was continued till
the detonation ceased.
By this process it appeared that 50 grains of Kilken¬
ny coal were necessary to decompose 480 grains of
nitre. According to the same proportion, 96 grains of
nitre would have required for its decomposition 10
grains of coal, which is exactly equal to the quantity of
charcoal that would have been required to produce the
same effect; and thus it appeared that Kilkenny coal is
almost entirely composed of carbonaceous matter.
In the examination of cannel coal, MrKirwan burnt
240 grains, till the whole of the carbonaceous matter was
consumed j a residuum of seven grains and a half of red¬
dish brown ashes, which appeared to be chiefly alumi¬
nous earth, was left, or about 3.12 per eent. Sixty-six
grains and a half of this coal were found necessary to
decompose 480 grains of nitre. Fifty grains of charcoal
wTould have produced the same effect, and hence 66J
grains of coal contain 50 of charcoal, and 2.08 parts of
ashes, which being subtracted from 66J grains, leaves
14.42 for the quantity of bitumen contained in the coal.
Hence the constituent parts of this coal are,
Soils,
Charcoal,
Bitumen,
Ashes,
75-2
21.68
3-1
99.98
For a more particular analysis of combustible mine¬
rals, see Mr Hatchett’s experiments, detailed in the
Philosophical Transactions for 1804.
IV. Analysis of Soils.
The examination of soils is by no means the least im¬
portant, because on a knowledge of the nature and pro¬
portions or the ingredients which enter into the compo¬
sition of soils, depends the opinion to be formed of their
fertility. Soils consist of different combinations of the
earths, mixed with a certain proportion of animal and
vegetable matter. The investigation of the nature of
* See his soils has been particularly prosecuted by Mr Kirwan *
Treatise owan(] ]y[r J)avy. From the observations of the latter, the
Manures. f0i[0W;ng account of the analysis of soils is extracted.
Instruments I. The really important instruments required for the
for the ana- analysis of soils are few, and but little expensive. They
lysis of arej a balance capable of containing a quarter of a pound
of common soil, and capable of turning when loaded
with a grain j and a series of weights from a quarter of a
pound troy to a grain 5 a wire sieve, sufficiently coarse to
admit a pepper-corn through its apertures •, an Argand
lamp and stand; some glass bottles ; Hessian crucibles ;
porcelain or queen’s ware evaporating basons; a Wedge-
wood pestle and mortar; some filters made of halfasheet
of blotting paper, folded so as to contain a pint of liquid,
and greased at the edges ; a bone knife, and an appara¬
tus for collecting and measuring aeriform fluids.
The chemical substances or reagents required for se¬
parating the constituent parts of the soil, are muriatic
acid (spirit of salt), sulphuric acid, and pure volatile al¬
kali diosolved in water, solution of prussiate of potash,
soap lye, solution of carbonate of ammonia, of muriate
of ammonia, solution of neutral carbonate of potash,
arid nitrate of ammonia.
soils.
2. In cases when the general nature of the soil of a
field is to be ascertained, specimens of it should be taken
from different places, two or three inches below the sur- 3
face, and examined as to the similarity of their proper- Mode of
ties. It sometimes happens, that upon plains the whole co'lecting
of the upper stratum of the land is of the same kind,
and in this case one analysis will be sufficient; but in
valleys, and near the beds of rivers, there are very
great differences, and it now and then occurs, that one
part of a field is calcareous, and another part siliceous ;
and in this case, and in analogous cases, the portions
different from each other should be separately submitted
to experiment.
Soils, when collected, if they cannot be immediately
examined, should be preserved in phials quite filled
with them, and closed with ground glass stoppers.
The quantity of soil most convenient for a perfect
analysis is from two to four hundred grains. It should
be collected in dry weather, and exposed to the atmo¬
sphere till it becomes dry to the touch.
The specific gravity of a soil, or the relation of its
weight to that of water, maybe ascertained by introdu¬
cing into a phial, which will contain a known quantity
of water, equal volumes of water and of soil ; and this
may be easily done by pouring in water till it is half
full, and then adding the soil till the fluid rises to the
mouth ; the difference between the weight of the soil
and that of the water will give the result. Thus, if the
bottle contain 400 grains of water, and gains 200 grains
when half filled with water and half with soil, the spe¬
cific gravity of the soil will be two, that is, it will be
twice as heavy as water ; and if it gained 165 grains,
its specific gravity would be 1825, water being 1000.
It is of importance that the specific gravity of a soil
should be known, as it affords an indication of the quan¬
tity of animal and vegetable matter it contains ; these
substances being always most abundant in the lighter
soils.
The other physical properties of soils should likewise
be examined before the analysis is made, as they denote,
to a certain extent, their composition, and serve as
guides in directing the experiments. Thus siliceous
soils are generally rough to the touch, and scratch glass
when rubbed upon it; aluminous soils adhere strongly
to the tongue, and emit a strong earthy smell when
breathed on ; and calcareous soils are soft, and much
less adhesive than aluminous soils.
3. Soils, though as dry as they can be made by con*;\f0(3e of
tinued exposure to air, in all cases still contain a con-asCertain-
siderahle quantity of water, which adheres with gr eating the
obstinacy to the earths and animal and vegetable matter, quantI^0^
and can only be driven off from them by a considerable
degree of heat. The first process of analyis is, to free sojis>
the given weight of the soil from as much of this water
as possible, without, in other respects, aflheting its com¬
position ; and this may be done by heating it for ten or
twelve minutes over an Argand’s lamp, in a bason of
porcelain, to a temperature equal to 300 Fahrenheit;
and in case a thermometer is not used, the proper de¬
gree may be easily ascertained, by keeping a piece of
wood in contact with the bottom of the dish: as long as
the colour of the wood remains unaltered, the heat is not
too high ; but when the wood begins to be charred,
the process must be stopped. A small quantity of w7ater
will perhaps remain in the soil even after this operation,
but
4 .
Separation
of stones,
itc.
STONES, &c.
Soils. but it always affords useful comparative results, j and if
—v——' a higher temperature were employed, the vegetable or
animal matter would undergo decomposition^ and in
consequence the experiment be wholly unsatisfactory.
The loss of weight in the process should be carefully
noted ; and when in 400 grains of soil it reaches as
high as 50, the soil may be considered as in the great¬
est degree absorbent, and retentive of water, and will
generally be found to contain a large proportion of alu¬
minous earth. When the loss is only from 20 to 10, the
land may be considered as only slightly absorbent and
retentive, and the siliceous earth as most abundant.
4. None of the loose stones, gravel, or large vegeta¬
ble fibres should be divided from the pure soil till after
the water is drawn off; for these bodies are themselves
often highly absorbent and retentive, and in consf quence
influence the fertility of the land. The next process,
however, after that of heating, should be their separa¬
tion, which may be easily accomplished by the sieve, af¬
ter the soil has been gently bruised in a mortar. The
weights of the vegetable fibres or wood, and of the gra¬
vel and stones, should be separately noted down, and the
nature of the last ascertained : if calcareous, they will
effervesce with acids ; if siliceous, they will be suffici¬
ently hard to scratch glass ; and if of the common alumi¬
nous class of stones, they will be soft, easily scratched
5 with a knife, and incapable of effervescing with acids.
Separation 5. The greater number of soils, besides gravel and
>f the sand stones, contain larger or smaller proportions of sand of
different degress of fineness; and it is a necessary opera¬
tion, the next in the process of analysis, to detach them
fiom the parts in a state of more minute division, such
as clay, loam, marie, and vegetable and animal matter.
This may be effected in a way sufficiently accurate, by
agitation of the soil in water. In this case, the coarse
sand will generally separate in a minute, and the finer
in two or three minutes; whilst the minutely divided
animal or vegetable matter will remain in a state of me¬
chanical suspension for a much longer time ; so that, by
pouring the water from the bottom of the vessel, after
one, two, or three minutes, the sand will be principally
separated from the other substances, which, with the wa¬
ter containing them, must be poured into a filter, and,
after the water has passed through, collected, dried, and
weighed. The sand must likewise be weighed, and their
respective quantities noted down. The water of lixivia-
tion must be preserved, as it will be found to contain
the saline matter, and the soluble animal or vegetable
matters, if any exist in the soil.
6. By the process of washing and filtration, the soil
ioa ot the Jg separated into two portions, the most important of
which is generally the finely divided matter. A minute
analysis of the sand is seldom or never necessary, and
its nature may be detected in the same manner as that
of the stones or gravel. It is always either siliceous
sand, or calcareous sand, or a mixture of both. If it
consist wholly of carbonate of lime, it will be rapidly
soluble in muriatic acid, with effervescence; but if it
consist partly of this substance, and partly of siliceous
matter, the respective quantities may be ascertained by
weighing the residuum after the action of the acid,
which must be applied till the mixture has acquiied a
sour taste, and has ceased to effervesce. I his residu¬
um is the siliceous part ; it must be washed, dried, and
heated strongly in a crucible : the difference between the
ind clay,
>1 loam,
tom each
ither.
6
.samina-
ANALYS1S OF.
weight of the whole, indicates the proportion of calca¬
reous sand.
7. The finely divided matter of the soil is usually ve- 7.
1 • • • • • 11 .1 laxarmna-
ry compound in its nature 5 it sometimes contains alitnetj0I1 0fthfc
lour primitive earths of soils, as well as animal and ve-finely di-
getable matter; and to ascertain the proportions ofvided mat-
these with tolerable accuracy, is the most difficult partttr,oi s?^,»
of the subject. t . ofdetect-
The first process to be performed, in this part of the ing mild
analysis, is the exposure of the fine matter of the soiltolime and
the action of the muriatic acid. This substance should mB§nes*a‘
be poured upon the earthy matter in an evaporating
bason, in a quantity equal to twice the weight of the
earthy matter; but diluted with double its volume of
water. The mixture should be often stirred, and suf¬
fered to remain for an hour or an hour and a half before
it is examined.
If any carbonate of lime or of magnesia exist in the
soil, they will have been dissolved in this time by the
acid, which sometimes takes up likewise a little oxide
of iron ; but very seldom any alumina.
The fluid should be passed through a filter; the solid
matter collected, washed with rain water, dried at a
moderate heat, and weighed. Its loss will denote the
quantity of solid matter taken up. The washings must
be added to the solution ; which, if not sour to the taste,
must be made so by the addition of fresh acid, when a
little solution of common prussiate of potash must be
mixed with the whole. If a blue precipitate occur, it
denotes the presence of oxide of iron, and the solution of
the prussiate must be dropped in till no further effect is
produced. To ascertain its quantity, it must be collec¬
ted in the same manner as other solid precipitates, and
heated : the result is oxide of iron.
Into the fluid freed from oxide of iron, a solution ol
neutralized carbonate of potash must be poured til! all
effervescence ceases in it, and till its taste and smell in¬
dicate a considerable excess of alkaline salt.
The precipitate that falls down is carbonate of lime ;
it must be collected on the filter, and dried at a heat be¬
low that of redness.
The remaining fluid must be boiled for a quarter of
an hour, when the magnesia, if any exist, will be pre¬
cipitated from it, combined will) carbonic acid, and its
quantity is to be ascertained in the same manner as that
of the carbonate of lime.
If any minute portion of alumina should, from pe¬
culiar circumstances, be dissolved by the acid, it will be
found in the precipitate with the carbonate of lime, and
it may be separated from it by boiling for a few minutes
with soap lye, sufficient to cover the solid matter. This
substance dissolves alumina, without acting upon carbo¬
nate of lime.
Should the finely divided soil be sufficiently calcare¬
ous to effervesce very strongly with acids, a very simple
method may be adopted for ascertaining the quantity of
carbonate of lime, and one sufficiently accurate in all
common cases.
Carbonate of lime, in all its states, contains a deter¬
minate proportion of carbonic acid, t. e. about 45 PeI^
cent.; so that when the quantity of this elastic fluid, gi¬
ven out by any soil during the solution of its calcareous
matter in an acid, is known, either in weight or mea¬
sure, the quantity of carbonate of lime may be easily
discovered. . „T1
When
726
Soils.
3
Mode of
ascertain¬
ing the
quantity of
insoluble
finely di-
▼ided ani¬
mal and
rege table
matter.
9
Mode of
separating
aluminous
and silice¬
ous matter
and oxide
of iron.
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
When the process by diminution of weight is employ¬
ed, two parts of the acid and one part of the matter of
the soil must be weighed in two separate bottles, and
very slowly mixed together till the effervescence ceases $
the difference between their weight before and after the
experiment denotes the quantity of carbonic acid lost;
for every four grains and a half of which, ten grains of
carbonate of lime must be estimated.
The best method of collecting the carbonic acid, so
as to discover its volume, is by the pneumatic apparatus,
the construction and application of which are described
at the end of this article. The estimation is, for every
ounce measure of carbonic acid, two grains of carbonate
of lime.
8. After the fine matter of the soil has been acted up¬
on by muriatic acid, the next process is to ascertain the
quantity of finely divided insoluble animal and vegetable
matter that it contains.
This may be done with sufficient precision, by heating
it to strong ignition in a crucible over a common fire
till no blackness remains in the mass. It should he of¬
ten stirred with a metallic wire, so as to expose new sur¬
faces continually to the air *, the loss of weight that it
undergoes denotes the quantity of the substance that it
contains destructible by fire and air.
It is not possible to ascertain whether this substance is
wholly animal or vegetable matter, or a mixture of both.
When the smell emitted during the incineration is simi¬
lar to that of burnt feathers, it is a certain indication of
some animal matter ; and a copious blue flame at the
time of ignition almost always denotes a considerable
proportion of vegetable matter. In cases when the ex¬
periment is needed to be very quickly performed, the
destruction of the decomposable substances may be as¬
sisted by the agency of nitrate of ammonia, which, at
the time of ignition, may be thrown gradually upon the
heated mass, in the quantity of twenty grains for every
hundred of residual oil. It affords the principle neces¬
sary to the combustion of the animal and vegetable mat¬
ter, which it causes to be converted into elastic fluids j
and it is itself at the same time decomposed and lost.
9. The substances remaining after the decomposition
of the vegetable and animal matter, are generally mi¬
nute particles of earthy matter containing usually alu¬
mina and silica with combined oxide of iron.
To separate these from each other, the solid matter
should be boiled for two or three hours with sulphuric
acid, diluted with four times its weight of water j the
quantity of the acid should be regulated by the quantity
of solid residuum to be acted on, allowing for every
hundred grains two drachms or one hundred and twenty
grains of acid.
The substance remaining after the action of the acid
may be considered as siliceous; and it must be separat¬
ed and its weight ascertained, after washing and drying
in the usual manner.
The alumina and the oxide of iron, if they exist, are
both dissolved by the sulphuric acid *, they may be se¬
parated by carbonate of ammonia, added to excess ; it
throws down the alumina, and leaves the oxide of iron
in solution •, and this substance may be separated from
the liquid by boiling.
Should any magnesia and lime have escaped solution
in the muriatic acid, they will be found in the sulphu¬
ric acid $ this, however, is scarcely ever the case ; but
the process for detecting them, and ascertaining their Soils,
quantities, is the same in both instances. 1 ^ 1'
The method of analysis by sulphuric acid is sufficient- 10
ly precise for all usual experiments $ but if very great ^s0(le of.
accuracy be an object, dry carbonate of potash must be 50]^^
employed as the agent, and the residuum of the incine-mal and
ration must be heated red for half an hour, with fourvegetaWe
times its weight of this substance, in a crucible of silver,matter’.
or of well baked porcelain. The mass obtained must be ^nadtt*arline
dissolved in muriatic acid, and the solution evaporated
till it is nearly solid j distilled water must then be added,
by which the oxide of iron and all the earths, except
silica, will be dissolved in combination as muriates.
The silex, after the usual process of lixiviation, must
be heated red ; the other substances may be separated
in the same manner as from the muriatic and sulphuric
solutions.
10. If any saline matter, or soluble vegetable or ani¬
mal matter, be suspected in the soil, it will be found in
the water of lixiviation used for separating the sand.
This water must be evaporated to dryness in an ap¬
propriate dish, at a heat below its boiling point.
If the solid matter obtained is of a brown colour and
inflammable, it may be considered as partly vegetable
extract. If its smell, when exposed to heat, be strong
and foetid, it contains animal mucilaginous or gelatinous
substance j if it be white and transparent, it may be con¬
sidered as principally saline matter. Nitrate of potash
(nitre), or nitrate of lime, is indicated in this saline
matter, by its detonating with a burning coal. Sul¬
phate of magnesia may be detected by its bitter taste ;
and sulphate of potash produces no alteration in solu¬
tion of carbonate of ammonia, but precipitates solution
of muriate of barytes. n
11. Should sulphate or phosphate of lime be suspected ^
in the entire soil, the detection of them requires a par-delte,et!DS
ticular process,upon it. A given weight ot it, for in-0fijme
stance four hundred grains, must be heated red for half(gypsum)
an hour in a crucible, mixed with one-third of powder-and P110*-
ed charcoal. The mixture must be boiled for a quarter
of an hour, in a half-pint of water, and the fluid col-loiis,
lected through the filter, and exposed for some days to
the atmosphere in an open vessel. If any soluble quan¬
tity of sulphate of lime (gypsum) existed in the soil, a
white precipitate will gradually form in the fluid, and
the weight of it will indicate the proportion.
Phosphate of lime, if any exist, may be separated
from the soil after the process for gypsum. Muriatic
acid must be digested upon the soil, in quantity more
than sufficient to saturate the soluble earths j the solu¬
tion must be evaporated, and water poured upon the so¬
lid matter. This fluid will dissolve the compounds of
earths with the muriatic acid, and leave the phosphate
of lime untouched. n
12. When the examination of a soil is completed, the^e*u'tsand
products should be classed, and their quantities added to-^10 UCtS'
gether; and if they nearly equal the original quantity
of soil, the analysis may be considered as accurate. It
must however be noticed, that when phosphate or sul¬
phate of lime is discovered by the independent process
Ii. a correction must be made for the general process,
by subtracting a sum equal to their weight from the
quantity of carbonate of lime obtained by precipitation
from the muriatic acid.
In arranging the products, the form should be in the
order
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
Soils. order of the experiments by which they were obtain-
—v ’ ed.
Thus, 400 grains of a good siliceous sandy soil may
be supposed to contain
Of water of absorption, - _ jg gl.s#
Of loose stones and gravel, principally sili¬
ceous, .... 42
Of undecompounded vegetable fibres, 10
Of fine siliceous sand, - - 200
Of minutely divided matter separated by fil¬
tration, and consisting of
Carbonate of lime, - - 25
Carbonate of magnesia, - - 4
Matter destructible by heat, principally ve¬
getable, -
Silica, - -
Alumina, - - .
Oxide of iron, - - .
Soluble matter, principally sulphate of pot
, ash and vegetable extract,
Gypsum, -
Phosphate of lime,
Amount of all the products,
Loss,
10
40
32
4
J
3
2
395
5
In this instance the loss is supposed small-, but in gene¬
ral, in actual experiments, it will be found much great¬
er, in consequence of the difficulty of collecting the
whole quantities of the different precipitates j and when
it is within thirty for four hundred grains, there is no
reason to suspect any want of due precision in the pro-
13 cesses.
Chemical 13. A very fertile corn soil from Ormiston in East
fertile1011 Lothian afforded, in 100 parts, only II parts of mild
join soils calcareous earth; it contained 25 parts of siliceous sand:
a this eli- the finely divided clay amounted to 45 parts. It lost
nate. nine in decomposed animal and vegetable matter, and
four in water, and afforded indications of a small quan¬
tity of phosphate of lime.
This soil was of a very fine texture, and contained
very few stones or vegetable fibres. It is not unlikely
that its fertility was in some measure connected with the
phosphate ; for this substance is found in wheat, oats,
and barley, and may.be a part of their food.
A soil from the low lands of Somersetshire, celebra¬
ted for producing excellent crops of wheat and beans
without manure, was found to consist of one-ninth of sand,
chiefly siliceous, and eight-ninths of calcareous marl
tinged with iron, and containing about five parts in 100
of vegetable matter. No phosphate or sulphate of lime
could be detected in it; so that its fertility must have
depended principally upon its power of attracting prin¬
ciples of vegetable nourishment from water and the at¬
mosphere.
Mr Tillet, in some experiments made on the com¬
position of soils at Paris, found that a soil composed
of three-eighths of clay, two-eighths of river sand, and
three-eighths of the parings of limestone, was very pro¬
per for wheat.
14. In general, bulbous roots require a soil much
14
oniposi-
on of soils
roper for * more sandy and less absorbent than the grasses. A. very
albo»s good potato soil, from Varsel in Cornwall, afforded
>ots and seven-eighths of siliceous sand; and its absorbent power
•r trees.
was so small, that 100 parts lost only two by drying at
400 Fahrenheit. *
Plants and trees, the roots of which are fibrous and
hard, and capable of penetrating deep into the earth,
will vegetate to advantage in almost all common soils
which are moderately dry, and which do not contain
a very great excess of vegetable matter.
T-he soil taken from a field at Sheffield-place in Sus¬
sex, remarkable for producing flourishing oaks, was-
found to consist of six parts of sand, and one part of
clay and finely divided matter. And 100 parts of the
entire soil, submitted to analysis, produced
727
Soils.
Water,
Silica, - - _
Alumina,
Carbonate of lime,
Oxide of iron,
Decomposing vegetable matter,
Loss, - - _
3 parts
54
28
3
5
4
3
15. From the great difference of the causes that in-Improve-
fluence the productiveness of lands, it is obvious that, mentsmade
in the present state of science, no certain system can be ^ cbang-
devised for their improvement, independent of experi-com|»ositioii
ment: but there are few eases in which the labour of of the
analytical trials will not be amply repaid by the cer-earthyparK
tainty with which they denote the best methods of ame-af soils‘
lioration ; and this will particularly happen when the
defect of composition is found in the proportions of the
primitive earths.
In supplying animal or vegetable manure, a tempo¬
rary food only is provided for plants, which is in all
cases exhausted by means of a certain number of crops;
but when a soil is rendered of the best possible consti¬
tution and texture, with regard to its earthy parts, its
fertility may be considered as permanently established*
It becomes capable of attracting a very large portion of
vegetable nourishment from the atmosphere, and of pro¬
ducing its crops with comparatively little labour and
expence.
Description of the Apparatus for the Analysis of Soils.
A, Retort.
B, B, Funnels for the purpose of filtrating.
D, Balance.
E, Argand’s lamp.
F, G, H, K, The different parts of the apparatus re¬
quired for measuring the quantity of elastic fluid given
out during the action of an acid on calcareous soils.
F, Represents the bottle for containing the soil.
K, The bottle containing the acid furnished with a
stopcock.
G, The tube connected with a flaccid bladder.
I, The graduated measure.
H, The bottle for containing the bladder. When
this instrument is used, a given quantity of soil is intro¬
duced into F ; K is filled with muriatic acid diluted
with an equal quantity of water ; and the stopcock be¬
ing closed is connected with the upper orifice of F,
which is ground to receive it. The tube G is introdu¬
ced into the lower orifice of F, and the bladder con¬
nected with it placed in its flaccid state into H, which
is filled with water. The graduated measure is placed
under the tube of H. When the stopcock of K is turn¬
ed, 5
Plate
DIX.
728
Soils.
STONES, &c. ANALYSIS OF.
ed, the acid flows inta F, and aots upon the soil j the
elastic fluid generated passes through G into the blad¬
der, and displaces a quantity of water in H equal to it
in bulk, and this water flows through the tube into the
graduated measure ; the water in which gives by its vo¬
lume the proportion of carbonic acid disengaged from
the soil 5 for every ounce measure of which two grains Soils,
of carbonate of lime may be estimated. *—-y—.
L, Represents the stand for the lamp.
M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, Represent the bottles contain¬
ing the difterent reagents*. See Chemistry, and De-#
composition Chemical, Supplement. Mag.'
XXX. p 16.
3tone*.
* Lab. ii.
c. 69.
+ lab. iii.
e. 3.
S T O
Artificial Stone. See Stucco.
Elastic Stone. Some marbles possess the property
of elasticity, and hence come under the denomination
of elastic stones. But the most remarkable stone of this
nature is the elastic sandstone from Brazil. It is a mi¬
caceous sandstone in laminae not exceeding half an inch
in thickness. Some siliceous stones also have the same
property, or acquire it by being exposed to a certain de¬
gree of heat.
Philosopher's Stone. See Philosopher's Stone.
Precious Stones. See Gem.
Rocking Stone, or Logan, a stone of a prodigious
size, so exactly poised, that it would rock or shake with
the smallest force. Of these stones the ancients give us
some account. Pliny says, that at Harpasa, a town of
Asia, there was a rock of such a wonderful nature, that
if touched with the finger it would shake, but could
not be moved from its place with the whole force of the
body*. Ptolemy Hephestion mentionst a gygonian
stone near the ocean, which was agitated when struck
by the stalk of an asphodel, but could not be removed
by a great exertion of force. The word gygonius seems
to be Celtic j for gufingog signifies motitans, the rock¬
ing-stone.
Afkny rocking stones are to be found in different
parts of this island ; some natural, others artificial, or
placed in their position by human art. In the parish of
St Leven, Cornwall, there is promontory called Cas¬
tle Treryn. On the western side of the middle group,
near the top, lies a very large stone, so evenly poised
that any hand may move it from one side to another j
yet it is so fixed on its base, that no lever nor any me¬
chanical force can remove it from its present situation.
It is called the Logan-stone, and is at such a height from
the ground that no person can believe that it was raised
to its present position by art. But there are other rock-
ingstones, which are so shaped and so situated, that there
can be no doubt but they were erected by human
strength. Of this kind Borlase thinks the great Quoit
or Karn-lehau, in the parish of Tywidnek, to be. It
is 39 feet in circumference, and four feet thick at a me¬
dium, and stands on a single pedestal. There is also a
remarkable stone of the same kind in the island of St
Agnes in Scilly. The under rock is 10 feet six inches
high, 47 feet round the middle, and touches the ground
with no more than half its base. The upper rock rests
on one point only, and is so nicely balanced, that two
or three men with a pole can move it. It is eight feet
six inches high, and 47 in circumference. On the top
there is a bason hollowed out, three feet eleven inches in
diameter at a medium, but wider at the brim, and three
feet deep. From the globular shape of this upper stone,
it is highly probable that it was rounded by human art,
S T O
Stones.
and perhaps even placed on its pedestal by human
strength. In Sithney parish, near Helston, in Cornwall, /~"‘
stood the famous logan, or rocking stone, commonly Borlase,
called Men Amber, q. d. Men an Bar, or the top stone, '-hap. iy.
It was eleven feet by six, and four high, and so nicely P1 l81,
poised on another stone that a little child could move it,
and all travellers who came this way desired to see it.
But Shrubsall, Cromwell*; governor of Pendennis, with
much ado caused it to be undermined, to the great grief
of the country. There are some marks of the tool on
it, and, by its quadrangular shape, it was probably de¬
dicated to Mercury.
That the rocking stones are monuments erected by
the Druids cannot be doubted •, but tradition has not
informed us for what purpose they were intended. Mr
Toland thinks that the Druids made the people believe
that they alone could move them, and that by a mira¬
cle ; and that by this pretended miracle they condemned
or acquitted the accused, and brought criminals to con¬
fess what could not otherwise be extorted from them.
How far this conjecture is right we shall leave to those
who are deeply versed in the knowledge of antiquities
to determine.
Sonorous Stone, a kind of stone remarkable for emit¬
ting an agreable sound when struck, and much used in
China for making musical instruments which they call
king.
The various kinds of sonorous stones known in China
differ considerably from one another in beauty, and in
the strength and duration of their tone ; and what is
very surprising, is that this difference cannot be dis¬
covered either by the different degrees of their hardness,
weight, or fineness of grain, or by any other qualities
which might be supposed to determine it. Some stones
are found remarkably hard, which are very sonorous j
and others exceedingly soft, which have an excellent
tone ; some extremely heavy emit a very sweet sound 5
and there are others as light as pumice stone which have
also an agreeable sound.
The chemists and naturalists of Europe have never
yet attempted to discover, whether some of our stones
may not have the same properties as the sonorous stones
of the extremities of Asia. It however appears, that the
Romans were formerly acquainted with a sonorous stone
of the class of hiang-che. Pliny (says the Abbe du
Bos, in his Reflections on Poetry and Painting, when
speaking of curious stones) observes that the stone cal¬
led cophonas, or brazen sound, is black 5 and that, ac¬
cording to the etymology of its name, it sends forth a
sound much resembling that of brass when it is struck.
The passage of Pliny is as follows : Chalcophonas nigra
est; sed tlisa eeris tinnitum reddit.
Some sonorous stones were at length sent into France,
and
Stone
Stone¬
henge,
S T O [ 729 ]
, ai1(^ tlie tate Duke tie Chaulnes examined them with par- circles am
- ticular attention. The following are some of his observa- feet diame
tions : The Academy of Sciences, Mr Rome de Lisle, n^.;,rKtQ n,
and several other learned mineralogists, when asked if
they were acquainted with the black stone of which the
Chinese king was made, for answer cited the passage of
Pliny mentioned by Boetius de Boot, Linnaeus, and in
the Dictionary of Bomare, and added what Mr Ander¬
son says in his Natural History of Iceland respecting a
bluish kind of stone which is very sonorous. As the
black stone of the Chinese becomes of a bluish colour
when filed, it is probably of the same species. None of
the rest who were consulted had ever seen it. The Chi¬
nese stone has a great resemblance at first sight to black
marble, and like it is calcareous 5 but marble generally
is not sonorous. It also externally resembles touchstone,
which is a kind of basaltes, and the basaltes found near
volcanoes ; but these two stones are vitrifications.”
The duke next endeavoured to procure some infor¬
mation from the stone-cutters. They all replied, that
blue-coloured marble was very sonorous, and that they
had seen large blocks of it which emitted a very strong
sound 5 but the duke having ordered a king to be con¬
structed of this kind ef stone, it was found that it did
not possess that property. By trying the black marble
of Flanders, a piece was at length found which emitted
an agreeable sound : it was cut into a king, which is al¬
most as sonorous as those of China. All these observa¬
tions give us reason to believe that the stones of which
the king are formed are nothing else but a black kind
of marble, the constituent parts of which are the same
as those of the marble of Europe, but that some dif¬
ference in their organization renders them more or less
sonorous.
Swwe-SroNE {lapis si/illus'), or fetid stone, so called
from its excessively fetid smell, is a calcareous stone im¬
pregnated with petroleum. See Mineralogy Index.
Stone-Mari'oiv, a variety of clay so called from its
having the appearance of marrow.
Stone-Ware, a species of pottery so called from its
hardness. See DELFT-Ware and Porcelain.
Stone in the Bladder. See Medicine, N° 400, and
Surgery Index.
Stone, in merchandise, denotes a certain weight for
weighing commodities. A stone of beef at London is
the quantity of eight pounds: in Herefordshire 12
pounds: in the North 16 pounds. A stone of glass is
five pounds ; of wax eight pounds. A stone of wool
(according to the statute of 11 Hen. VII.) is to weigh
14 pounds 5 yet in some places it is more, in others
less ; as in Gloucestershire 15 pounds; in Herefordshire
12 pounds. Among horse-coursers a stone is the weight
of 14 pounds.
The reason of the name is evident. Weights at first
were generally made of stone. See Deut. xxv. 13.
where the word anx, translated weight, properly signi¬
fies a stone.
Stone-Chattel'. See Motacilla, Ornithology
Index.
STONEHENGE, a celebrated monument of anti¬
quity, stands in the middle of a flat area near the sum¬
mit of a hill six miles distant from Salisbury. It is in¬
closed by a circular double bank and ditch near 30 feet
broad, after crossing which we ascend 30 yards before
we reach the work. The whole fabric consisted of two
Vol. XIX. Part II.
StOHC-
lienge.
Gough's
edition of
Camden s
Britannia.
S T O
d two ovals. The outer circle is about 108
imeter, consisting when entire of 60 stones, 30
uprights and 30 imposts, of which remain only 24 up¬
rights, 1 7 standing and 7 down, 3^- feet asunder, and 8
imposts. Eleven uprights have their 5 imposts on them
by the grand entrance. These stones are from 13 to 20
feet high. The lesser circle is somewhat more than 8vu!’ K
feet from the inside of the outer one, and consisted of^ ie'
40 lesser stones (the highest 6 feet), of which only 19
remain, and only ii standing: the walk between these
two circles is 300 feet in circumference. The adytum
or cell is an oval formed of 10 stones (from 16 to 22
feet high), in pairs, with imposts, which Dr Stukeley
calls trrhthons, and above 30 feet high, rising in height
as they go round, and each pair separate, and not con¬
nected as the outer pair ; the highest 8 feet. Within
these are 19 more smaller single stones, of which only 6
are standing. At the upper end of the adytum is the
altar, a large slab of blue coarse marble, 20 inches thick,
16 feet long, and 4 broad ; pressed down by the weight
of the vast stones that have fallen upon it. The whole
number of stones, uprights, imposts, and altar, is exact¬
ly 140. The stones are far from being artificial, but
were most probably brought from those called the Grey
Weathers on Marlborough Downs, 15 or 16 miles off;
and if tried with a tool they appear of the same hard¬
ness, grain, and colour, generally reddish. The heads
of oxen, deer, and other beasts, have been found on dig¬
ging in and about Stonehenge; and human bones in
the circumjacent barrows. There are three entrances
from the plain to this structure, the most considerable
of which is from the north-east, and at each of them
were raised on the outside of the trench two huge stones
with two smaller within parallel to them.
It has been long a dispute among the learned, by
what nation, and for what purpose, these enormous
stones were collected and arranged. The first account
of this structure we meet with is in Geoft’roy of Mon¬
mouth, who, in the reign of King Stephen, wrote
the history of the Britons in Latin. He tells us,
that it wras erected by the counsel of Merlin the Bri¬
tish enchanter, at the command of Aurelius Ambro-
sius the last British king, in memory of 460 Bri¬
tons who were murdered by Hengist the Saxon. The
next account is that of Polydore Virgil, who says that
the Britons erected this as a sepulchral monument of
Aurelius Ambrosius. Others suppose it to have been
a sepulchral monument of Boadicea the famous British
queen. Inigo Jones is of opinion, that it was a Roman
temple ; from a stone 16 feet long, and four broad, pla¬
ced in an exact position to the eastward altar-fashion,
Mr Charlton attributed it to the Danes, who were two
years masters of Wiltshire. A tin tablet, on which were
some unknown characters, supposed to be Punic, was
digged up near it in the reign of Henry VIII. but is
lost; probably that might have given some information
respecting its founders. Its common name, Stonehenge,
is Saxon, and signifies a “ stone gallows,” to which
these stones, having transverse imposts, bear some re¬
semblance. It is also called in Welch choir gour, or
“ the giants dance.”
Mr Grose thinks that Dr Stukeley has completely
proved this structure to have been a British temple in
which the Druids officiated. He supposes it to have
been the metropolitan temple of Great Britain, and
4 Z translates
S T O [ 730 ] S T O
Stone- translates the words choir gour “ the great choir or
henge temple.” The learned Mr Bryant is of opinion that it
U was erected by a colony of Cuthites probably before
Stoppers. _ tjje tjme t^e £)ru-1(|s . because Jt was usual with them
Grose's An- to place one vast stone upon another tor a religious me-
tiquities, morial 5 and these they often placed so equably, that even
v°l. iv. a breath of wind would sometimes make them vibrate. Of
P‘ 4°‘ such stones one remains at this day in the pile of Stone¬
henge. The ancients distinguished stones erected with a
religious view, by the name ot amber; by which was sig¬
nified any thing solar and divine. The Grecians called
them kitsch petrce ambrosue. Stonehenge, ac¬
cording to Mr Bryant, is composed of these amber
stones : hence the next town is denominated Ambres-
bury ; not from a Roman Ambrosius, for no such person
ever existed, but from the ambrosice petree, in whose vi¬
cinity it stood. Some of these were rocking stones j
and there was a wonderful monument of this sort near
Penzance in Cornwall, which still retains the name of
main-amber, or the sacred stones. Such a one is men¬
tioned by Apollonius Rhodius, supposed to have been
raised in the time of the Argonaulse, in the island le-
nos, as the monument of the two w'inged sons of Boreas,
slain by Hercules } and there are others in China and
other countries.
STOOK, a term used in many parts of the kingdom
for a shock of corn containing 1 2 sheaves.
STOOL, in Medicine, an evacuation or discharge of
the faeces by the anus.
Stool, in Mining, is used when the miners leave off
digging deeper, and work in the ends forward. The
end before them is called the stool.
Stool, in Ship-building, the name of the supporters
of the poop and top lanterns.
STOOPING, in Falconry, is when a hawk, being
upon her wings at the height of her pitch, bends down
violently to take the fowl.
STOPPERS, in a ship, certain short pieces of rope,
which are usually knotted at one or both ends, accord¬
ing to the purpose for which they are designed. They
are either used to suspend any heavy body, or to retain
a cable, shroud, &c. in a fixed position. Thus, the
anchors, when first hoisted up from the ground, are
hung to the cat-head by a stopper attached to the lat¬
ter, which passing through the anchor ring, is after¬
wards fastened to the timber-head ; and the same rope
serves to fasten it on the bow at sea j or to suspend it
by the ring which is to be sunk from the ship to the
bottom. The stoppers of the cable have a large knot
and a laniard at one end, and are fastened to a ring bolt
in the deck by the other. They are attached to the
cable by the laniard, which is fastened securely round
both by several turns passed behind the knot, or about
the neck of the stopper; by which means the cable is
restrained from running out of the ship when she rides
at anchor.
The stoppers of the shroud have a knot and a laniard
at each end. They are only used when the shrouds
are cut asunder in battle, or disabled by tempestuous
weather : at which time they are lashed, in the same
manner as those of the cables, to the separated parts of
the shroud, which are thereby reunited, so as to be fit
for immediate service. This, however, is only a tem¬
porary expedient.
STOPS. See Punctuation j and Scripture, N° stop*
136. H
STORAX. See Styrax, Materia Medica In- Stow.
dex. 'r~m
STORK. See Ardea, Ornithology Index.
STOVE for heating apartments, greenhouses, hot¬
houses, fruit-walls, &c.
When treating of the mechanical properties of air,
we explained in sufficient detail the manner in which
the expansion produced in a mass of air by heat pro¬
duces that motion up our chimneys which is called the
draught of the chimney j and, in the article Smoke,
we considered the circumstances which tend to check,
to promote, or to direct this current, so as to free us
from the smoke and vitiated air which necessarily accom¬
panies the consumption of the fuel. In Pneumatics
we also attended to the manner in which our fires im¬
mediately operate in warming our apartments. At
present, when about to describe a method of warming
intrinsically diflerent, we must pay some more attention
to the distinguishing circumstance. Without pretending
to explain the physical connection of heat and light, it
may suffice to observe, that heat, as well as light, is com¬
municated to distant bodies in an instant by radiation.
A person passing hastily by the door of a glass-house
feels the glow of heat in the very moment he sees the
dazzling light of the furnace mouth, and it is interrupted
by merely screening his face with his hand. In this
way is an apartment partly warmed by an open fire j
and we avoid the oppressive heat by sitting where the
fire is not seen, or by interposing a screen. We are
apt to connect this so strongly in the imagination with
the light emitted by the fire, that we attribute the heat
to the immediate action of the light. But this opinion
is shown to be gratuitous by a curious experiment made
before the Royal Society by Hr Hooke, and afterwards,
with more care and accurate examination, by Mr Scheele.
They found, that by bringing a plate of the most transpa¬
rent glass briskly between the fire and one’s face,the heat
is immediately intercepted without any sensible diminu¬
tion of the light. Scheele, by a very pretty investigation,
discovered that the glass made the separation, and did
it both in refraction and reflection ; for he found, that
when the light of the same fire was collected into a fo¬
cus by means of a polished metal concave speculum, a
thermometer placed there was instantly affected. But
if we employ a glasss speculum foiled in the usual man¬
ner with quicksilver, of the same diameter and focal
distance, and of equally brilliant reflection, there is
hardly any sensible heat produced in the focus, and
the thermometer must remain there for a very long while
before it is sensibly affected. When we repeated this
curious experiment, we found, that after the glass
has remained a long while in this position, whether
transmitting or reflecting the light, it loses in a great
measure its powder of intercepting the heat. By varying
this observation in many of its circumstances, we think
ourselves entitled to conclude, that the glass absorbs the
heat which it intercepts, and is very quickly heated by
the absorption. While it rises in its own temperature,
it intercepts the heat powerfully ; but when it is, as it
were, saturated, attracting no more than what it imme¬
diately imparts to the air in corporeal contact with it,
the heat passes freely through along with the light., If
S T O
Stove.
the glass he held so near the fire that the surrounding
* air is very much heated, no sensible interruption oflieat
is perceived after the glass is thus saturated. We found
the cheek more quickly sensible than the thermo¬
meter of this instantaneous radiation of the heat which
accompanies the light, or is separated from it in this
experiment. It is a very instructive experiment in the
physiology of heat.
We cannot say how far this radiation of heat may
extend, nor whether the accompaniment of light is ab¬
solutely necessary. The mathematician proceeds on the
supposition that it extends as far as the radiation of
light, and that, being also rectilineal, the density of
the heat is proportional to that of the light. But
these notions are somewhat gratuitous j and there are
appearances which render them doubtful. When with
a lens of an inch in diameter we form a focus on a piece
of black unpolished marble of an inch diameter, the ma¬
thematician must allow that no more rays fall on the
marble than if the lens were away : therefore the
marble should be equally warmed in either case. But
it is by no means so, as we have repeatedly found by
exposing it during equal times, and then dropping it
into water. The water which is heated by the marble
on which the focus has been formed will be found to
have acquired from it much more heat than from the
other. The tops of lofty mountains which are never
shaded by clouds, but enjoy perpetual sunshine and se¬
renity, instead of being warmer than the valleys below,
are covered with never-melting snow, and we have some
grounds to suspect that the genial influence of the sun
requires the co-operation of the atmosphere, and to
doubt whether there is any warmth at the moon, on
which no atmosphere like ours can be observed. Per¬
haps the heat which cheers us, and fertilizes our earth,
is chemically separated from our atmosphere by its elec¬
tive attraction lor the light of the sun. Our successors
in the study of meteorology need not fear that the sub¬
ject of their research will be soon deprived of scientific
allurements. We know but little of it after all the
progress we have made during this last century, and it
still presents an ample field of discussion.
We said that the accompaniment of light is not de¬
monstrably necessary. We are certain that heat may be
imparted without any sensible light, in a manner which
we can hardly suppose any thing but radiation. If a
piece of very hot iron be placed a little without the
principal focus of a metallicconcavespeculum,anda very
sensible air-thermometer be placed in its conjugate focus,
it will instantly show an elevation of temperature, although
the iron is quite imperceptible to an eye which has even
been a long while in the dark. Na such rise of tempe¬
rature is observed if the thermometer be placed a little to
one side of the focus ofthe speculum j therefore the pheno¬
menon is precisely similar to the radiation oflight. We
are obliged therelore to acknowledge that the heat is ra¬
diated ip this expex-iment in the same way that light is in
the common optical experiments.
Altlrough this is the most usual way that we in this
country employ fuel for warming our apartments, it is
by no means the only way in which the heat diffused
from this fuel may be imparted to distant bodies. It is
not even the most effectual method j it is dill used also
by immediate communication to bodies in contact. The
air in immediate contact with the.burning fuel is heated
C 73i ]
S T O
and imparts some of its heat to the air lying beyond it,
and this is partly shared with the air which is still farther
off j and this diffusion, by communication in contactu,
goes on till the remote air contiguous to the walls, the
floor, the ceiling, the furniture, the company, all get a
share of it in proportion to their attractions and their ca¬
pacities. And as the air is thus continually supplied,
and continually gives out heat, the walls, &c. become
gradually warmer, and the room becomes comfortable
and pleasant. But we apprehend that no great propor¬
tion of the heat actually acquired by the room is com*
municated in this way. This diflusion by contact is
but slow, especially in air which is very dry ; so slow
indeed, that the air in the immediate neighbourhood of
the fuel is hurried up the chimney before it has time to
impart any of the heat received in contact. We know
that the time employed in diffusing itself in this way
through stagnant air to any moderate distance is very
considerable. We imagine therefore that the heat, com¬
municated to our rooms by an open fire is chiefly by ra¬
diation, but in a way something different from what we
mentioned before. We imagine, that as the piece of
glass in Dr Hooke’s experiment absorbs the heat, so the
whole mass of air which fills the room intercepts the ra¬
diated heat in every part of the room where the fire ia
seen, and is as it were saturated with it throughout, and
ready to impart it to every body immersed in it. We
cannot otherwise account for the equability of the heat
in the different parts of the room. Mere radiation on
the solid bodies would warm them in the inverse dupli¬
cate ratio of their distances from the fire; and diflusion
by contact, if compatible with the rapid current up the
chimney, would heat the room still more unequably.
Recollect how slowly, and with what rapid diminution
of intensity, the colour of blue vitriol is communicated
to water even to a very small distance. But because all
parts of the air of the room absorb radiated heat, what
is saturated at a higher temperature, being nearer to
the fire rises to the ceiling, spreads outwards along the
ceiling, and has its place supplied by the air, which is
thus pushed towards the fire from the places which are
not directly illuminated.
Far different is the method of warming the room by
a stove. Here the radiation, if any, is very feeble or
scanty ; and if a passage were allowed up the chimney
for the warmed air, it would be quickly carried off.
This is well known to the English who reside in the
cold climates of St Petersburg!), Archangel, &c. They
love the exhilarating flutter of an open fire, and often
have one in their parlour ; but this, so far from warming
the room during the extreme cold weather, obliges them
to heat their stoves more frequently, and even abstracts
the heat from a whole suit of apartments. But all pas¬
sage this way is shut up when we warm a room by
stoves. The air immediately contiguous to the stove
is heated by contact, and this heat is gradually, though
slowly, diffused through the whole room. The diffusion
would however be very slow indeed, were it not for the
great expansibility of air by heat. But the air sur¬
rounding the stove quickly expands and rises to the ceil¬
ing, while the neighbouring air slides in to supply the
place, nay is even pushed in by the air which goes out¬
wards aloft. Thus the whole air is soon mixed, and
the room acquires almost an equal temperature through¬
out.
.4 Z a The
Stearc.
Stove.
S T o L 732 3 S T o
Plate
OX
*£■ ’■
The warming by stoves must therefore be managed
upon very different principles from those adopted in
the employment of open fires. The general principle
is, 1st, To employ the fire! in the most effectual manner
for heating the external part of the stove, which is im¬
mediately efficient in warming the contiguous air; and,
2d, To keep in the room the air already warmed, at
least as much as is consistent with wholesomeness and
cleanliness.
The first purpose is accomplished by conducting the
flue of the furnace round its external parts, or, in short,
by making every part of tlie flue external. Of all
forms, that of a long pipe, returned backwards and for¬
wards, up and down (provided only that the place ot
its last discharge be considerably higher than its entry
from the fire-place), would be the most effectual. We
have seen a very small stove constructed in this way, the
whole being inclosed in a handsome case ol polished iron
plate, pierced and cut into elegant foliage like the cock
of a watch, so that the odd looking pipes were complete¬
ly concealed. Though only three feet long, one foot
thick, and six feet high, it warmed a very lofty room of
24 feet !;y 18, and consumed less than half the fuel of
a stove of the more u-ual make, which did not so fully
warm a smaller chamber.
It would occupy a volume to describe the immense
variety of stoves which ingenuity or architectonic taste
has constructed. We shall content ourselves with giving
a specimen of the two chief classes into which they may
be distinguished.
The air of a room may be equally warmed, either by
applying it to the surface of a small stove made very hot,
@r to the surface of a much larger stove more moderate¬
ly heated. The first kind is chiefly used in Holland,
Flanders, and the milder climates of Germany and Po¬
land. The last are universally used in the frozen cli¬
mates of Kussia and Sweden. The first are generally
made of cast-iron, and the last of brick-work covered
with glazed tiles or stucco.
Fig. 1. represents a small German stove fully suffi¬
cient for warming a room of 24 feet by 18. The base
is about three feet broad and 14 inches deep, that is,
from back to front, and six or seven feet high. The
decoration is in the fashion of that country ; but the
operative structure of it will admit of any style of orna¬
ment. A, is the fire-place, and the wood or charred
coal is laid on the bottom, which has no bars. Bars
would admit the air too freely among the fuel, and
would both consume it too fast and raise too great a heat.
That no heat may be uselessly expended, the sole of
the fire-place and the whole bottom of the stove is rai¬
sed an inch or two above the floor of the room, and the
air is therefore warmed by it in succession, and rises
upwards. For the same reason the back of the stove is
not in contact with the wall of the room, or of the
niche in which it is placed. The fire-place is shut up
by a door which fits closely to its case, and has a small
wicket at the bottom, whose aperture is regulated by
a sliding plate, so as to admit no more air than what
suffices for slowly consuming the fuel. The flame and
heated air rise to the top of the fire-pHce three 01 four
inches above the arch or mantle piece, and get out la¬
terally by two narrow passages B, B, immediately be
low the top-plate of the base. The current feuds
downward on each side, passes at C, C, under the parti¬
tion plates which divide the two side chambers, and then Store,
rises upwards through the outer division of each, and “v*-
passes through narrow slits D, D, in the top-plate, and
from thence along the two hollow piers E, E. The
two lateral currents unite at the top of the arch, and go
through the single passage F into the larger hollow be¬
hind the escutcheon G. From this place it either goes
straight upwards into the vent in the wall by a pipe on
the top of the stove, or it goes into the wall behind by
a pipe inserted in the back of the stove. The propriety
of this construction is very obvious. The current of hot
air is applied to exterior parts of the stove everywhere
except in the two side chambers of the base, where the
partition-plates form one side of the canal. Even this
might be avoided by making each of these side-cham¬
bers a detached hollow pillar. But this would greatly
increase the trouble of construction and joining toge¬
ther, and is by no means necessary. The arch II has
a graceful appearance, and affords a very warm situation
for any thing that requires it, such as a drink in a sick
person’s bed-chamber, &c. Persons of a certain class
use this place for keeping a dish warm ; nay, the lower
part of the arch is frequently occupied by an inclosed
chamber, where the heat rises high enough even for dres¬
sing victuals, as will be easily imagined when we reflect
that the sole of it is the roof of the fire-place.
The stove now descrihed is supplied with fuel and
with air by the front door opening into the room. That
there may be room for fuel, this middle part projects a
few inches before the two side-chambers. These last,
with the whole upper part of the stove, are not more
than ten inches deep. The passages, therefore, from
the fire-place are towards the back of it ; so that if wTe
have a mind to see the fire (which is always cheerful),
the door may be thrown open, and there is no danger
of the smoke coming out after the current has once
warmed the upper part of the stove. When the stove is
of such dimensions that the base is about two feet and a
half or three feet high, the fire-place may be furnished
with a small grate in the British style. If the door is
so hung that it can not only be thrown hack, but lifted
off its hinges, we have a stove grate of the completest
kind, fully adequate, in our mild climate, to warm a
handsome apartment, even with an open fire ; and when
we hang on the door, and shut up the fire-place, a stove
of the dimensions already given is almost too much for
a large drawing room.
We have frequently remarked, that one side of these
stoves grows much warmer than the other, and that it
was difficult to prevent or remedy this; and we ima¬
gine that this is an unavoidable defect in all stoves with
a double flue. It is scarcely possible to make the fire
so equable in the fire-place, that one side shall not he a
little warmer than the other, and a brisker current will
then he produced in it. This must increase the con¬
sumption of the fuel on this side, which will increase
the current, will heat this side still more, and thus go on
continually till the fuel on this side is expended; after
which the other side will obtain and increase the supe¬
riority. 'Fhe flue is-made double, that the fire-place
may occupy the middle of the front ; and it will be
difficult to gain this point of symmetry with one flue.
The inconvenience may, however, be corrected by
damping valves placed in some part of the upright fun¬
nels E, E.
In
S T O
StoTc. 1° tlie colder winters on the continent, it is thought
—v~—' necessary to increase the eftect by making the fire-place
open to the back of the stove. Its mouth or door com¬
municates with or is joined to an opening of the same
dimensions formed in the wall, and the door is on the
other side in an antichamber or lobby. In Westpha¬
lia, and other places of Germany, the apartments are
disposed round a spacious lobby, into which all their fire¬
places open, and are there supplied with fuel. By this
construction it is plain that the air of the room, already
warmed by the stove, is not carried olF, and the room
is more heated. But this method is very unfavourable
to cheerfulness and health. The same air, confined, and
repeatedly breathed and compounded with all the vola¬
tile emanations of the room, quickly loses that refresh¬
ing quality that is so desirable, and even so necessary
for health. It is never renewed except by very par¬
tial admixtures when the room doors are thrown open,
and becomes disagreeable to any person coming in from
the ojten air j and in the houses of the less opulent be¬
comes really offensive and nauseous.
Something of this is unavoidable in all rooms heated
by stoves. Even in our apartments in this island, per¬
sons of delicate nerves are hurt by what they call the
close air of a room 5 and it is long before the smell of
dinner is quite removed from a dining room, notwith¬
standing the copious current up the chimney. This
must be incomparably more sensible in a room heated
bv a stove j and this inconvenience is peculiarly sen¬
sible with respect to the stove which we are consider¬
ing at present, where we employ a small surface heat¬
ed to a great degree.
Such stoves are seldom made of any thing else than
cast-iron. This (in those parts at least which are in im¬
mediate contact with the fuel) is in a state of continual
calcination, and even throwing off scales. This indeed
is not seen, because it is the bottom or sole of the fire¬
place which is so heated : but the effect on the air of
the room is the same. The calcination of the iron is
occasioned by the combination of pure vital air with
the iron. This is abstracted from the general mass of
atmospheric air in the room, of which it usually con¬
stitutes about two fifths. By this abstraction the re¬
mainder becomes less fit for supporting animal life or
flame, and may even become highly deleterious. In
every degree the remainder becomes less refreshing,
and grows dull and oppressive. This is always accom¬
panied by a peculiar smell, which, though not disgust¬
ing, is unpleasant. It resembles the smell of burnt
feathers, or more exactly the smell we feel if we rub
violently for some time the palms of our hands together
when perfectly dry.
For similar reasons these iron stoves occasion a sickly
smell, by burning every particle of dust which fails on
the hot parts j and if they be wiped with a woollen
cloth, or any cloth not perfectly free from every kind
of greasy or oily matter, a smell is produced for a day
or days afterwards ; so that without the most scrupulous
attention we suffer by our very cleanliness.
For such rea-ons we think that the stoves of brick¬
work covered with stucco or with glazed tiles are vastly
preferable. These are much used in the genteeler houses
in Flanders and Holland, where they are made in the
most elegant forms, and decorated with beautiful sculp¬
ture or enamel j but it is plain that they cannot be so
[ 733 ]
S T O
eflectual, nor equally warm a room with the same ex¬
pence ot fuel. Earthen ware, especially when covered v
with porous stucco, is tar interior to metal in its power
ot conducting heat. It built of bricks, they must be
vastly more bulky when the fire-place and flues are of
the same dimensions. he most perfect way of con¬
structing them would certainly be to make them of pot¬
tery, 111 parts exactly fitted to each other, and joined by
a proper cement. Ibis mode of constructing would ad¬
mit of every elegance of form or richness of ornament,
and would not be so bulky as those which are built of
bricks. The great difficulty is to prevent their crack¬
ing by the heat. Different parts of the stove being of
very different heats, they expand unequally, and there
is no cement which can withstand this, especially when
we recollect that the same heat which expands tire
baked earth causes the clay or cement, with which the
parts of the stove are put together or covered, to con¬
tract. Accordingly those earthen ware stoves seldom
stand a winter or two without cracking in some place
or other, even when strengthened by iron hoops and
cramps judiciously disposed within them. Even hoop¬
ing them externally, which would be very unsightly,
will not prevent this} tor nothing can resist the expan¬
sion and contraction by heat and cold. When a crack
happens in a stove, it is not only unsightly, but highly
dangerous ; because it may be so situated, that it will
discharge into the room the air vitiated by the fire.
For these and other reasons, we can scarcely hope to
make stoves of brick work or pottery which shall bear
the necessary heat without cracking; and their use must
therefore be confined to cases where very moderate heat
is sufficient. We need not describe their construction.
It is evident that it should he more simple than that of
iron stoves ; and we imagine that in the very few cases
in which they are likely to be employed in this country,
a single fire-place, and an arch over it, divided, if we
please, by a partition or two of thin tile to lengthen the
flue, will be quite enough. If the stove is made in
whole or in part of potters ware, a base for the fire¬
place, with an urn, column, obelisk, or pyramid above
it, for increasing the surface, will also be sufficient.
The failure commonly happens at the joinings, where
the different pieces of a different heat, and perhaps of
a different baking, are apt to expand unequally, and
by working on each other one of them must give way.
Therefore, instead of making the joints close and using
any cement, the upper piece should stand in a groove
formed in the undermost, having a little powdered
chalk or clay sprinkled over it, which will effectually
prevent the, passage of any air; and room being thus
given for the unequal expansion, the joint remains en¬
tire. This mav be considered as a general direction
for all furnace work, where it is in vain to attempt to
hinder the mutual working of the parts.
We have seen stoves in small apartments at St Pe¬
tersburg, which were made intemallv of potters ware,
in a great variety of forms, and then covered with a
thick coat of stucco, finished externally with the ut¬
most elegance of ornament, and we were informed that
they were very rarely subject to crack. They did not
give much beat, on account of the very low conducting
power of the porous stucco ; but we imagine that they
would be abundantly warm for a moderate room in this
country.
When-
Stove.
S T O [ 734 ] S T O
Stove. "When fitted up in these situations, and with these
l——v; precautions, the brick or pottery stoves are incompara¬
bly more sweet and pleasant than the iron ores.
But in the intense colds of Russia and Sweden, or
even for very large rooms in this kingdom, stoves of
these small dimensions are not sufficiently powerful, and
we must follow the practice of those countries where
they are made of great size, and very moderately heat¬
ed. It is needless to describe their external form, which
may be varied at pleasure. Their internal structure is
the same in all, and is distinctly described in Pneuma¬
tics, N° 364. We shall only enlarge a little on the
peculiarities connected with the general principle of
their construction.
The stove is intended as a sort of magazine, in which
a great quantity of heat may be quickly accumulated,
to be afterwards slowly communicated to the air of the
room. The stove is therefore built extremely massive ;
and it is found that they are more powerful when coated
with clay as wet as can be made to hang together. We
imagine the reason of this to be, that very wet clay,
and more particularly stucco, must be exceedingly po¬
rous when dry, and therefore a very slow conductor of
heat. Instead of sticking on the glazed tiles with no
more clay or stucco than is sufficient to attach them,
each tile has at its back a sort of box baked in one piece
about two or three inches deep. It is represented in
Fi«-. t. fig* 2< This is filled with mortar, and then stuck on
the brick-work of the stove, which has a great number
of iron pins or hooks driven into the joints, which may
sink into this clay and keep it firmly attached when dry.
This coating, with the massive brick-work, forms a
great mass of matter to be heated by the fuel. The
lowest chamber, which is the fire-place, is somewhat
wider, and considerably thicker than the stories above,
which are merely flues. When the fire-place is finished
and about to be arched over, a flat iron bar of small
thickness is laid along the top of the side-wall on both
sides, a set of finishing bricks being moulded on purpose
with a notch to receive the iron bar. Cross bars are
laid over these, one at each end and one or two be¬
tween, having a bit turned down at the ends, which
takes hold of the longitudinal bars, and keeps them
from being thrust outwards either by the pressure of the
arch or by the swelling inconsequence of the heat. In
fig. fig. 3. A is the cross section of one of the long bars, and
BC is part of one of the cross bars, and CD is the clench
which confines the bar A. This precaution is chiefly
necessary, because the contraction of the stove upwards
obliges the walls, of the other stories to bear a little on
the arch of the fire-place. The building above is kept
together in like manner by other courses of iron bars at
every second return of the flue. The top of the stove
is finished by a pretty thick covering of brick-work.
The last passage for the air at H (see Pneumatics,
fig. 62.) has a ring lining its upper extremity, and pro¬
jecting an inch or two above it. The flat round it is
covered with sand. When we would stop this passage,
a covered shape like a bason or cover for dishes at table
is whelmed over it. The rim of this, resting on the
sand, effectually prevents all air from coming through
and getting up the vent. Access is had to this damper
by a door which can be shut tight enough to prevent
the heated air of the room from wasting itself up the
vent. W hen the room is too warm, it may be very ra-
2
pidly cooled by opening this door. The warm air rushes St8ye
up with great rapidity, and is replaced by cool air 1 j
from w'ithout.
The management of the stove is as follows. About
eight o’clock in the morning the pietchnick, or servant
who has the charge of the stoves, takes off the cover,
shuts the damper-door, and opens the fire-place door.
He then puts in a handful of wood shavings or straw,
and kindles it. This warms the stove and vent, and be¬
gins a current of air through it. He then lays a few
chips on the sole of the fire-place, immediately within
the doer,; and behind this he arranges the billets of
birchwood with their ends inwards. Then he lavs on
more wood in the front, till he thinks there is enough.
He sets fire to the chips, shuts the door and opens the
small wicket at its bottom. The air blows the flame
of the chips upon the billets behind them, and thus
kindles them. They consume slowly, while the billets
in front remain untouched by the fire. The servant,
having made his first round of the rooms, returns to
this stove, and opens the door above to admit air into
the vent. This is to supply its draught, and thus to
check the draught in the body of the stove, which is
generally too strong at this time, and would consume
the fuel too fast. By this time the billets in the front
are burning, first at the bottom, and the rest in succes¬
sion as they sink down on the embers and come opposite
to the wicket. The room does not yet feel any effect
from the fire, the heat of which has not yet reached its
external surface ; but in about half an hour this grows
warm. The upper door is shut again, that no heat may
now he wasted. The pietchnick by and by spreads the
embers and ashes over the whole bottom of the fire-place
with a rake, by which the bottom is greatly heated, and
heats the air contiguous to it externally (for it stands on
little pillars) very powerfully. He takes care to bring
up to the top of the ashes every bit of wood or coal that
is not yet consumed, that all may be completely expend¬
ed. He does this as briskly as possible, that the room
may not lose much warmed air by keeping open the
fire-place door. At his last visit, when he observes no
more glowing embers, he shuts the fire-place door and
wicket, and puts the damper on the passage above, and
shuts its door.—All this is over in about an hour and a
half after kindling the fire. All current of air is now
at an end within the stove, and it is now a great mass
of brick-work, heated to a great degree within, but
only about blood-warm externally. The heat gradually
spreads outwards, and the external surface of the stove
acquires its greatest heat about three o’clock in the
afternoon j after which it gradually cools till next morn-
ing.
This heat seldom is so great that one cannot bear to
touch the stove with his cheek, and to keep it there. In
consequence of this it can burn none of the dust which
unavoidably falls on the stove, and we are never trou¬
bled with the sickening smells that are unavoidable when
we employ the small cast-iron stoves much heated. The
great expence of heat in a room arises from the glass
windows. The pane is so thin that the external air
keeps it continually cold, and thus the windows are
continually robbing the air of the room of its heat. This
expence of heat is reduced to less than one-third by
double casements. The inner casement is about as
much colder than the room as the outer casement is
warmer
s T o ' [ 735 ] S T O
Store, warmer than the air of the fields; and we have the sin-
1 gular advantage of having no ice formed on the glasses.
But to ensure this last advantage, the seams of the inner
casement must be pasted with paper, and those of the
outer casement must be left unpasted. If we do the
contrary, we shall certainly have ice on the outer case¬
ment ; the reason of which is easily seen.
We have been thus particular in our description of
the management, because the reasons of some particulars
are not very obvious, and the practice would not readily
occur to us in this country; so that a person who, on
the faith of our recommendation, should prefer one of
these stoves to the German stove, whose management is
simple and obvious, might be greatly disappointed.
But by following this method, we are confident that the
Russian stove will be found much superior both in warmth
and agreeable air. The spreading out of the embers,
and waiting till all is reduced to ashes before the doors
are shut, is also absolutely necessary, and a neglect of it
would expose us to eminent danger of suffocation by
fixed air; and this is the only inconvenience of the Rus¬
sian stove, from which the other stove is free. The fix¬
ed air has no smell; and the first indication of its pre¬
sence is a slight giddiness and lassitude, which disposes
us to sit down and to sleep. This would be fatal; and we
must immediately open the upper passage and the fire¬
place door, so as to produce a strong current to carry
the vitiated air of the room up the chimney. Throwing
up the sashes, or at least opening all the doors, is proper
on such an occasion.
If we burn pit-coal, either raw or charred, this pre¬
caution is still more necessary ; because the cinder is not
so easily or so soon completely consumed. This fuel will
require a little difference in the management from wood
fuel, but which is easily seen by any person of reflection.
The safe way would be to rake out all half-burnt coal
before shutting up the doors.
If we use raw pit-coal, great care is necessary to
prevent the accumulation of soot in the upper part of
the stove. It is an inaccessible place for the chimney¬
sweep; and if we attempt to burn it out, we run a great
risk of splitting that part of the stove which is the most
slightly constructed. It is advisable therefore to burn
it away every day, by giving a brisk draught with an
open door for five minutes. With wood or coak there
is no danger.
It will not be improper in this place to give some in¬
structions for the construction of stoves f'orwarmingseve-
ral floors in a great manufactory, such as a cotton-mill,
or a public library or museum.
Insuch situations we think cleanliness, wholesomeness,
and sweetness of air, no less necessary than in the draw¬
ing room of a man of opulence. We therefore recom¬
mend tire brick-stove in preference to the iron one; and
though it would not be the best or most economical
practice to heat it but once a-day, and we should rather
prefer the German practice of constant feeding, we still
think it highly proper to limit the heat to a very mode¬
rate degree, and employ a large surface.
If the disposition of the rooms allows us the conve-
niency of a thick party-wall, we would place the stove
in the middle of this wall, in an arch which pierces
through the wall. Immediately above this arch we
would carry up a very wide chimney through the whole
height. This chimney must have a passage opening
into each floor on both sides, which may be very accu- Stove,
rately shut up by a door. The stove being set up underv——y—■
the arch, it must have a pipe communicating with its
flue, and rising up through this chimney. Could an
earthen pipe be properly supported, and secured from
splitting by hoops, we should prefer it for the reasons
already given. But as this is perhaps expecting too
much, we must admit the use of a cast iron pipe. This
is the real chimney or flue of the stove, and must be of
as great diameter as possible, that it may act, by an ex¬
tensive surface, all the way up.
The stove stands under the arch in the wall; but the
air that is warmed by its surface would escape on both
sides, and would be expended in that single floor. To
prevent this, the stove must be inclosed in a case: this
may be of brick-work, at the distance of two or three
inches from the stove all round. It must be well shut
in above, and at the foundation must have a row of small
holes to admit the air all around it. This air will then
be warmed over the whole space between the stove and
the case, pass up the chimney, and there receive addi¬
tional heat from the flue-pipe which is in the middle.
Great care must be taken that the fire-place door have
no communication with the space between the stove and
its case, but be inclosed in a mouth-piece which comes
through the case, and opens into the feeding-room.
'Jims all the air which goes up to the rooms will be
pure and wholesome, provided we take care that every
thing be kept clean and sweet about the air-holes below.
Observe that those air-holes which are near the furnace
door must be inclosed in a wooden trunk which takes
in its air at some distance from this door; for since the
current between the stove and case may be almost as great
as the current within the stove (nay, when apuffofwind .
beats down the chimney, it may even exceed it), there
is a risk of some vitiated air and smoke being drawn into
the case.
If the stove cannot be placed in the arch of a party-
wall, it may be set adjoining to a side or outer wall,
and furnished with a ease, a large chimney, and a flues
pipe, in the same manner. But in this case a great
deal of heat is wasted on this outer wall, and carried off
by the external air. In this situation we would recom¬
mend to line that part of the wall which is behind the
stove (at two or three inches distance), and the whole
of the chimney, with plaster or laths; These should be
nailed on battens properly fastened on the wall, leaving
a space of an inch between the laths and the wall. The
plaster should be of the most spongy kind, having in it a
quantity of clay in powder instead of the full proportion
of sand. Horse-dung, washed with water and strained
through coarse flannel, leaves a great portion of unassi¬
milated vegetable fibre, which will mix very intimately
in the plaster, and make it a substance very unfit for con¬
ducting heat. There is no danger of catching fire by this
lining. We have seen a most tremendous fire rage for
three hours, in contact with a partition of lath and
plaster (on the plaster-side however), without discolour¬
ing the thin laths on the other side. We once saw a
cottage chimney on fire, and burn till the soot was con¬
sumed. This chimney was nothing but a pipe of a foot
wide, made of laths, and plastered on the inside and
outside ; and it passed through a thatched roof. We
therefore recommend this in place of the brick-case for
inclosing the stove. It would save heat; and as it might
S T 0 [ 736 ] S T O
Stove.’’ be made in pieces on detached frames, which could be
v—joined by iron straps and hinges, any part of the stove
could be laid open for repairs at pleasure.
We have no hesitation in saying that a stove construc¬
ted in this manner would be greatly superior in power
to any we have seen, and would be free from many ot
their disgusting defects. We beg leave therefore to in¬
troduce here the description of one which was to have
been erected in one of the churches of the city of Edin¬
burgh.
ig. 4 Fig. 4. is a sketch of the plan of the church contained
in the parallelogram AFED. P marks the place of the
pulpit, and LMNO the front of the galleries. These
are carried back to the side walls AB and DC. But at
the end opposite to the pulpit they do not reach so far,
but leave a space BFEC about 12 feet wide. Below
the back of the galleries, on each side, there is a pas¬
sage ABGH, KICD, separated from the seated part
of the church by partitions which reach from the floor
to the galleries, so that the space IIGIK is completely
shut in. The church is an ancient Gothic building, of
a light and airy structure, having two rows of large win¬
dows above the arcades, and a spacious window in the
east end above the pulpit. The congregation complain
of a cold air, which they feel pouring down upon their
heads. This is more particularly felt by those sitting in
the fronts of the galleries. We imagine that this arises
chiefly from the extensive surface of the upper row of
windows, and of the cold stone-walls above, which robs
the air of its heat as it glides up along the sides of the
church. It becomes heavier by collapsing, and in this
state descends in the middle of the church.
The stove S is placed against the middle of the west
wall at the distance of a few inches, and is completely
inclosed in a case of lath and plaster. The vent, which
is to carry ofi the smoke and burnt air, is conveyed up
or along the wall, and through the roof or side-wall,
but without any communication with the case. In like
manner the fire-place door is open to the passage, with¬
out communicating with the case j and care is taken that
the holes which admit the air into the case are so dis¬
posed that they shall run no risk of drawing in any air
from the fire-place door.
From the top of this case proceed two trunks Q, R,
each of which is two feet broad and six inches deep,
coated within and without with the most spongy plaster
that can be composed. For this purpose we should re¬
commend a composition of powdered charcoal and as
much clay and quicklime as will give it a very'slight co¬
hesion. We know that a piece of this may be held in
the hand, without inconvenience, within an inch of where
it is of a giowing red heat/—These trunks open into
another trunk XVTZ, which ranges along the parti¬
tion immediately under the galleries, and may be form¬
ed externally into a corniche, a little massive indeed, but
not unsightly in a building of this style. This trunk is
coated in the same manner. It has several openings
a, a, &c. which have sliders that can be drawn aside by
means of handles accessible from the outer passage.—At
the extremities X and Z of this trunk are two perpen¬
dicular trunks which come up through the galleries, and
are continued to a considerable height. At their junc¬
tion with the horizontal trunk are two doors large
enough to admit a lamp. Each perpendicular trunk has
also a valve by which it can be completely stopped.
5
The stove is managed as follows : Early in the morn- gt0Te
ing the superintendant shuts all the sliders, and sets a y*.
lamp (burning) in each of the trunks X and Z, and
shuts the doors. He then puts on and kindles the fire
in the stove, and manages it either in the Russian or
German method. Perhaps the latter is preferable, as be¬
ing liable to fewest accidents from mistake or neglect.
The lamps set in the lower ends of the upright trunks
presently warm them, and produce a current of air up¬
wards. This must be supplied by the horizontal trunk,
which must take it from the case round the stove. Thus
a current is begun in the direction we wish. By and
by the air in the case acquires heat from the stove, and
the current becomes extremely brisk. When the ma¬
nager perceives this, he removes the lamps, shuts the
valves, and opens the holes a, a, &c. beginning with
the most remote, and proceeding slowly towards the
stove from each extremity of the horizontal branches.
The heated air now issues by these holes, glides along
the ceiling below the galleries, and escapes, bv rising
up along the fronts of the galleries, and will be sensibly
felt by those sitting there, coming on their faces with a
gentle warmth. It will then rise (in great part) straight
up, while some of it will glide backwards, to the com¬
fort of those who sit behind.
The propriety of shutting the valves of the upright
trunks is evident. If they were left open, no air would
come out by the holes a, a, &c. ; but, on the contrary,
the air would go in at these holes to supply the current,
and the stove be rendered useless. The air delivered by
these holes will keep close to the ceiling, and will not,
as we imagine, incommode those who sit below the gal¬
leries. But if it should be found to render these parts
too warm, holes may be pierced through the ceiling,
by which it will rise among the people above, and must
be very comfortable. It will require the careful atten¬
tion of some intelligent person to bring all this into a
proper train at first, by finding the proper apertures of
the different holes, so as to render the heat equable
through the whole space. But this being once ascer¬
tained the difficulty is over.
The air trunks must be very capacious, but may be
contracted towards the extremities as their lateral dis¬
charges diminish •, and the row of holes which admit
the air to the case round the stove must be fully able to
supply them.
It must be observed, that in this construction the
ascensional force is but small. It is only the height of
a short column of warm air from the ground to the gal¬
leries. At first indeed it is great, having the unlimited
height of the perpendicular trunks at X and Z 5 but
during the use of the stove it is reduced to nine or ten
feet. It is necessary, therefore, that the stove be highly
heated, perhaps considerably beyond the Russian prac¬
tice, but yet inferior to the heat of the German iron
stoves. But still we strongly recommend the brick or
pottery stoves, on accownt of the wholesome sweetness of
the air which they furnish : and we are certain that a
stove of moderate dimensions, eight feet long, for in¬
stance, by eight feet high, will be sufficient for warming
a church holding 1200 or 1500 people. If the stove
could be placed lower, which in many situations is very
practicable, its effect would be proportionally greater,
because all depends on the rapidity of the current.
When we are limited in height, we must extend the
stove
PLA TE JJX
S T O
Store, stove so much the more in length, and make the air
—-v——' trunks more capacious. These and many other circum¬
stances of local modification must he attended to by the
erector of the stove ; and without the judicious attention
of an intelligent artist, we may expect nothing but dis¬
appointment. It is hardly possible to give instructions
suited to every situation ; but a careful attention to the
general principle which determines the ascensional
force will free the artist from any great risk of failure.
We may say the same thing of stoves for conservato¬
ries, hot-houses, hot-walls, &c. and can hardly add any
thing of consequence to what we have already said on
these heads in the article Pneumatics.
We must not, however, dismiss the subject without
taking notice of the very specious projects which have
been frequently offered for drying malt by stoves. Many
of these are to be seen in the publications of the Aca¬
demies of Stockholm, Upsal, Copenhagen ; and some
have . been erected in this kingdom, but they have not
been found to answer.
We apprehend that they cannot answer. To dry
malt, and make it fit for the ales and beers for which
this island is so famous, it is by no means enough that
we give it a proper and an equable supply of heat.—
This alone would bake it and make it flinty, causing the
moisture to penetrate the mealy particles of the grain;
and, by completely dissolving the soluble parts, would
render each kernel an uniform mass, which would dry
into a flinty grain, breaking like a piece of glass.—A
grain of malt is not an inert pulp. It is a seed, in an
active state, growing, and of an organized structure.
We wish to stop it in this state, and kill it, not by
heating it, but by abstracting its moisture. We thus
leave it in its granulated or organized form, spungy, and
fit for imbibing water in the mash tub, without running
into a paste.
To accomplish these purposes, the construction of our
malt kilns seems very well adapted. The kiln is the
only flue of the furnace, and a copious current of air is
formed through among the grains, carrying off with it
the water which is evaporating by the heat. But this
evaporation, being chiefly in consequence of the vapour
being immediately dissolved by the passing air, will stop
as soon as the current of air stops. This current has to
make its way through moist grain, laid in a pretty thick
bed, and matted together. Some force, therefore, is
necessary to drive it through. This is furnished by the
draught of the kiln. Substituting a stove, immediate¬
ly applied to the malt, will not have this effect. The
only way in which we think this can be done different
from the present, is to have a horizontal flue, as has
been proposed in these projects, spread out at a small
distance below the grate on which the malt is laid, and
to cover the whole with a high dome, like a glass-house
dome. This being filled with a tall column of hot air,
and having no passage into it but through the malt,
would produce the current which we want. We are
convinced that this will make much less fuel serve; but
we are by no means certain that the sulphureous and
carbonic acid which accompanies the air in our common
kiln is not a necessary or a useful ingredient in the pro¬
cess. It is well known that different coaks, cinders, or
charcoals, impart different qualities to the malts, and
are preferred each for its own purpose.
A patent stove constructed on similar principles, but
Vol. XIX. Part II. t
1 737 1
S T O
composed of very different materials, has been lately
erected in several of the churches in Edinburgh. This
stove, which is formed entirely of cast iron, may be con¬
sidered as a double stove, an outer case, and a furnace or
inner stove. The fuel is burnt in the inner stove ; and
the smoke produced during the process of combustion, is
carried off by a chimney, which passes through the top
of the outer stove, and is conveyed to the outside of the
building. The outer case includes not only the furnace
or inner stove, but also a considerable space, occupied
by the air of the atmosphere, which is freely admitted
through a number of openings placed around it ; and
when any current of air is produced, it passes off from
the space between the outer case and inner stove, and is
conveyed by tubes through the body of the apartment.
But we shall first describe the different parts of which
the stove is composed, after which we shall be better
able to understand its mode of operation.
Fig. 5. exhibits a perspective view of this stove. AB
is the body, which is about three feet high, and of a
circular form. BC is a square pedestal on which the
stove is placed, and which contains the ash pit DD.
The height of the pedestal is about a foot, and it is
nearly insulated by resting on the spherical supports cc,
also of cast iron. EEE are openings in front of the
ash pit through which the air enters to support the com¬
bustion. These openings can be enlarged or diminished,
or opened and shut at pleasure. EE is the door of the
furnace through which the fuel is introduced. This
door is attached to the inner furnace, and is double. It
is one foot broad, and 11 inches high. GG is the
chimney, which passes from the furnace within, through
the outer case, and conveys the smoke out of the build¬
ing. HH are openings in the outer case, and are eight
in number, through which the air enters, and being
heated, is greatly rarefied, and passes off through the
funnel or pipe MI. This pipe communicates only with
the outer stove, and being shut at the end K, the air
rushes out from the small tubes LL, insei-ted into the
side of the pipe MI, and thus mixes with the cold air
of the church. The diameter of the outer case at the
bottom is about two feet, and the diameter of the fur¬
nace within is about 16 inches.
Fig. 6. is a section of the stove. AB is the outer case,
from which passes off the pipe or funnel CCC, by which
the heated air is conveyed through the church. DD is
the furnace in the inside, in which the fuel is burnt,
and EEE is the chimney or funnel which conveys the
smoke from the inner furnace out of the building. It
passes through the outer stove AB at F.
Fig. 7. is a plan of this stove. AB is the pedestal
on which it rests, and which contains the ash pit. CC
is the outer case, and DD is the furnace withiu, in
which are seen the transverse bars which support the
fuel.
The length of the body of the church, in which two
stoves of the form and dimensions now described are
erected, is about 60 feet, and the breadth is about 45
feet. The tubes MI are conveyed along the lower
edge of the gallery, about half the length of the church.
The fires are lighted up about four or five o’clock on
the Sunday morning, during the earlier part of the cold
season ; but as the season advances, it is usual to light
them up the night before. From this time till the con¬
gregation assemble for the afternoon service, the furnaces
J A are
Stove.
S T O [ 738 J S T O
StoTe. are kept constantly supplied with fuel. By this manage-
—V- -1 ment the air in the church is kept comfortably warm
during the coldest season of the year.
These stoves, it appears to us, are susceptible of some
improvement, both in their construction and in the
places in which they are erected. With regard to the
first circumstance, an external coating of plaster work,
or of the same kind of materials as are used for coating
the inside of chemical furnaces, would be of some use in
preventing an unnecessary wraste of heat, as well as the
disagreeable smell which is sometimes complained of,
and which is supposed to arise from the combustion of
light bodies floating in the air and drawn by the current
to the heated metal; and with regard to the last, viz.
the places in which they are erected, it is perfectly ob¬
vious that they ought to be as completely insulated as
possible, and particularly ought not to communicate
with good conductors of heat. Some of the stoves erect¬
ed in the churches of Edinburgh are faulty in this re¬
spect. But to the use of this stove there is a stronger
objection. The air that is heated has circulated through
the apartment, and has been respired and consequently
vitiated. Hence some unpleasant effects have arisen
from its use.
A stove erected by Mr A. Kilpatrick, tinsmith in
Edinburgh, is free from this serious objection. In his
stoves the whole of the air heated is conveyed from the
outside of the building. Stoves of this description
answer well for heating large halls, staircases, and
churches.
The following is the description of an improved stove
by Mr Field of Newman Street London, in which, it is
stated by the author, the various advantages of heating,
boiling, steaming, evaporating, drying, ventilating, &c.
are united 5 some of which we shall detail in his own
words.
“ Fig. 8. represents a longitudinal sectionof the stove,
showing the course of the air from its entrance into the
flues of the stove at A, to its entrance into the upper
chamber of the stove at B 3 and also the course of the
smoke from the fire-place at C, till it escapes from the
stove at D. E, E, are the doors or openings of the fire¬
place and ash-hole.
“ Fig. 9. is a similar section at right angles with the
above, exhibiting the course of the air through the cham¬
bers of the stove, from its entrance into the chamber N°
I. at B to its entrance beneath the fire-place at F. This
figure also shows sections of the flues, with the divisions
through which the air and smoke pass separately, the
smoke-flue in the centre, and the air-flues, on each side.
G, G, are doors and openings through which the articles
to be dried are introduced into the chambers.
“ When the fire is lighted, and the doors of the cham¬
bers, ash-hole, and fire-place, closed, the air by which
the fire is supplied enters at A, fig. 8. passes through the
air-flues «, u, a, a, enters the upper chamber at B, tra¬
verses and descends through the chambers N° 1, 2, 3,
and arrives beneath the fire at F, fig. 9. Having sup¬
plied the fire with oxygen, it passes through the flue with
the smoke, and escapes at 1), heating in its protracted
course the chambers and air-flues.
“ As the cold air enters the stove at A,, immediately
above a plate forming the top of the fire-place, and pur¬
sues a similar route with the fire-flue, it enters the cham¬
bers very much heated and rarefied. Hence- any moist
substance placed in the chambers evaporates in conse¬
quence, not only of the heated flues circulating round
them, but of a stream of warm rarefied air, which, while ,
it continually raises evaporation, as continually bears
away the exhaled moisture in its passage to the fire, thus
imitating the gradual and efficacious plan of nature in
drying by the sun and air. While these effects are tak¬
ing place within the stove,, part of the air which enters
at A, fig. 8. and 9. passes through air-flues on the other
side of the fire-flue, pursuesa parallel course with the first,
and gives out a current of warm air to the room at an
aperture H. This effect may be obtained in a much
higher degree, if the doors of the chambers and ash-hole
are opened r should the hand or face be then brought
near, they would be fanned with a stream of warm airy
especially from the upper chamber.
“ By means of this stove I have evaporated milk to
dryness, without burning or discolouring it; and have
dried cherries, plumes, and other fruits, so as to imitate
those which are received from abroad. I have repeat¬
edly dried colours and the most delicate substances with¬
out the slightest injury, even though the operation pro¬
ceeded quickly.
“ The height of the stove is about five feet and a half
its diameter two feet and a half, and that of the flues four
inches.. The external part is constructed of brick, and
the internal parts of thin liyegate or fire-stone, except
the top of the fire-place, which is a plate of cast iron.
Were it to he wholly formed of iron, its effects would
necessarily be more powerful.
“ Fig. 10. represents an extension of the plan, in which
stoves of this kind maybe advantageously connected with
one or more furnaces for chemical 01^ other uses. The
fire-place, brought out, either in front or on one side,
by the present positions of its crown I, forms a rever¬
beratory furnace, or will make a sand-bath by reversing
it.
Stove,
Stour¬
bridge.
“ The space occupied by the fire-place in fig. 8. may
in this be converted into apartments for evaporating sub¬
stances, or occasionally for cooling them by an opening
at K to admit cold air, while the warm air of the stove
is excluded by a register or door. The dotted lines show
the manner in which a second furnace may be connected
by an opening into the flue at L.
“ In addition to the uses already pointed out, this
stove would probably be found extremely serviceable in
drying japannersgoods, andconsuming thenoxiousfumes
and gas which arise from the oil and varnish used in this
business.
“ Since the stove is not limited to any certain dimen¬
sions, it might be adapted to the drying of malt and
hops, perhaps of herbs, corn, and seeds generally. It
might also be accommodated to the purpose of the sugar-
bakers, connected with the great fires they employ for
their boilers. It has been shown to he useful in the con¬
fectioners art, and probably it may be equally so in bak¬
ing biscuits for the navy ; nor less so in drying linen
for the laundress, dyer, calico-printer, and bleacher. I
have myself found it well accommodated for a chemical
elaboratory*.” * p*,*
STOURBRIDGE, or Sturbich, the name of a j^agl rol.
field near Cambridge, noted for its famous fair kept an-jxTiii-
nually on the yth of September, and which continues
for a fortnight. The commodities are, horses, hops,
iron, wool,, leather, cheese, &Ci. This place is also
noted
Stour- noted for an excel'ent
bridge jng an intense heat.
Sillw glass-houses, fire-bricks, &c. 5
market. PriCre*
j SIOW, the name of a market-town in Gloucester¬
shire in England, situated in W. Long. 1. 50. N. Lat.
51* 54- ^ is also the name of a fine seat of the mar¬
quis of Buckingham in Buckinghamshire. Here are the
best gardens in England, adorned with busts, statues,
obelisks, pavilions, and temples. It is two miles from
the town of Buckingham.
Stow, Joht?, the industrious historian, son of Thomas
Stow merchant-taylor of St Michael’s, Cornhill, in
London, was born about the year 1525. Of the early
part of his life we know very little, except that he was
bred to his father’s business, which in the year 1560 he
relinquished, devoting himself entirely to the study of
our ancient historians, chronicles, annals, charters, re¬
gisters, and records. Of these he made a considerable
collection, travelling for that purpose to different parts
of the kingdom, and transcribing such manuscripts as he
could not purchase. But this profession of an antiquary
being attended with no present emolument, he was ob¬
liged for subsistence to return to his trade.—It happen¬
ed, however, that his talents and necessities were made
known to Hr Parker archbishop of Canterbury •, who
being himself an antiquary, encouraged and enabled Mr
8tow to prosecute his darling study. In those times of
persecution, though Elizabeth was then upon the throne,
honest John Stow did not escape danger. His collec¬
tion of Popish records was deemed cause of suspicion.
His younger brother Thomas preferred no less than 140
articles against him before the ecclesiastical commission ;
but the proof being insufficient, he was acquitted. In
1565 he first published his Summary of the Chronicles
of England. About the year 1584116 began his Sur¬
vey of London. In 1585 he was one of the two col¬
lectors for a great muster of Limestreet ward : in the
same year he petitioned the corporation of London to
bestow on him the benefit of two freemen to enable him
to publish his survey •, and in 1589 he petitioned again
for a pension. Whether he succeeded, is not known.
He was principally concerned in the second edition of
Holinshed’s chronicle, published in 1587. He also
corrected and twice augmented Chaucer’s works, pub¬
lished in 1961 and in 1597. His survey of London
was first published in 1598. To these laborious works
he would have added his large Chronicle, or History of
England 3 hut he lived only to publish an abstract of it
under the title of Flores Historiarum. The folio vo¬
lume, which was printed after his death, with the title
of Stow's Chronicle, was taken from his papers by Ed¬
mund Howes. Having thus spent his life and fortune in
these laborious pursuits, he was at last obliged to solicit
the charitable and well disposed for relief. For this pur¬
pose, King James I. granted him, in 1603, a brief,
which was renewed in 1604, authorizing him to collect
in churches the benefactions of his fellow-citizens. He
died in April 1605, aged 803 and was buried in his
parish church of St Andrew’s Undershaft, where his
widow erected a decent monument to his memory. John
Stow was a most indefatigable antiquarian/ a faithful
historian, and an honest man.
STOWMARKET, a town of Suffolk, in England,
S T R
situated in E. Hong. 1. 6. N. Lat. 52. 16. It is a large Slow-
handsome place, situated between the rivers Gypping imukit
ami Orwell, and has the best cherries in England. It H
contained 2006 inhabitants in 1811. Strabo.
S i O WAGE, the general disposition of the several ’ *
materials contained in a ship’s hold, with regard to their
figure, magnitude, or solidity.
In the stowage ol different articles, as ballast, casks,
cases, bales, and boxes, there are several general rules
to be observed, according to the circumstances or qua¬
lities of those materials. The casks which contain any
liquid are, according to the sea phrase, to be bung-up
and bilge-free, i. e. closely wedged up in an horizontal
position, and resting on their quarters: so that the bil¬
ges where they are thickest being entirely free all round,
cannot rub against each other by the motion of the ves¬
sel. Dry goods, or such as may be damaged by the
water, are to be carefully inclosed in casks, bales, cases,
or wrappers ; and wedged off from the bottom and sides
of the ship, as well as from the bow, masts, and pump-
well. Due attention must likewise be had to their dis¬
position with regard to each other, and to the trim and
centre of gravity of the ship 3 so that the heaviest may
always he nearest the keel, and the lightest gradually
above them.
81 liABISMUS, squinting. See Medicine Index.
STRABO, a celebrated Greek geographer, philoso¬
pher, and historian, was born at Amasia, and was de¬
scended from a family settled at Gnossus in Crete. Ha
was the disciple of Xenarchus, aPeripatetic philosopher,
and at length attached himself to the Stoics. He con¬
tracted a strict friendship with Cornelius Gallus, gover¬
nor of Egypt, and travelled into several countries to ob¬
serve the situation of places, and the customs of nations.
He flourished under Augustus, and died under Tiberius
about the year 25, in a very advanced age.—He com¬
posed several works,all of which are lost except his Geo¬
graphy in 17 bpoks; which are justly esteemed very pre¬
cious remains of antiquity. The two first books are em¬
ployed in showing, that the study of geography is not
only worthy of, but even necessary to, a philosopher 3
the third describes Spain 3 the fourth, Gaul and the Bri¬
tannic isles 3 the fifth and sixth, Italy and the adjacent
isl es 3 the seventh, which is imperfect at the end, Ger¬
many, the countries of the Getse and Ulyrii, Taurica
Chersonesus, and Epirus 3 the eighth, ninth, and tenth,
Greece with the neighbouring isles 3 the four following,
Asia within Mount Taurus 3 the fifteenth and sixteenth,
Asia without Tauru«, India, Persia, Syria, Arabia; and
the seventeenth, Egypt, Ethiopia, Carthage, and other
places of Africa. Strabo’s work was published with a
Latin version by Xylander, and notes by Isaac Casauhon
(or rather by Henry Scrimzeer, from whom Casaubon
chiefly stole them), at Paris, 1620, in folio. But the
best edition is that of Amsterdam in 1707, in two vo¬
lumes folio, by the learned Theodore Jansonius ah AI-
melooveen, with the entire notes of Xylander, Casau¬
bon, Meursius, Clover, Holstenius, Salmasius, Bocbart,
Ez. Spanheim, Cellarius, and others. To this edition
is subjoined the Chrestomathice, or epitome of Strabo 3
which according to Mr Dodwell, who has written a
very elaborate and learned dissertation about it, was
made by some unknown person between the years of
Christ 676 and 996. It has been found of some use,
5 A 2 not
T O [739
species of clay capable of resist-
It is used in making pots for
and is sold at an high
S T R [ 740 ]' S T R
Strabo not only In helping to correct the original, hut in sup-
U plying in some measure the defect in the seventh book.
Strahan, [),. Dodwell’s dissertation is prefixed to this edition.
STRADA, Famianus, a very ingenious and learned
Jesuit, was born at Rome in the latter end of the 16th
century, and taught rhetoric there, in a public manner,
for fifteen years. He wrote several pieces upon the art
of oratory, and published some orations with a view oi
illustrating by example what he had inculcated by pre¬
cept. But his Prolusiones Acadenricce and his Historia
dc Bello Belgico are the works which raised his reputa¬
tion, and have preserved his memory. His history of
the war of Flanders was published at Rome j the first
decad in 1640, the second in 1647 ? ^,e 'vl10le extend¬
ing from the death of Charles V. which happened in
1558, to the year 1590. It is written in good Latin,
as all allow ; but its merit in other respects has been
variously determined. His Prolusiones Academicce show
great ingenuity, and a masterly skill in classical litera¬
ture 5 that prolusion especially in which he introduces
Lucan, Lucretius, Claudian, Ovid, Statius, and Virgil,
each of them versifying according to his own strain.
They have been often printed. We know not the year
of Strada’s birth or of his death.
STRAHAN, William, an eminent printer, was
born at Edinburgh in the year I7I5- H‘s father, who
had a small appointment in the customs, gave his son
the education which every one oi decent rank then
received in a country where the avenues to learning
were easy, and open to men of the most moderate cir¬
cumstances. After having passed through the tuition
of a grammar school, he was put apprentice to a printer;
and when a very young man, removed to a wider sphere
in that line of business, and went to follow his trade in
London. Sober, diligent, and attentive, while his
emoluments were for some time very scanty, he contri¬
ved to live rather within than beyond his income; and
though he married early, and without such a provision
as prudence might have looked for in the establishment
of a family, he continued to thrive, and to better his
circumstances. This he would often mention as an en¬
couragement to early matrimony ; and used to say, that
he never had a child born that Providence did not send
some increase of income to provide for the increase of
his household. With sufficient vigour of mind, he had
that happy flow of animal spirits that is not easily dis¬
couraged by unpromising appearances.
His abilities in his profession, accompanied with per¬
fect integrity and unabating diligence, enabled him, af¬
ter the first difficulties were overcome, to advance with
rapid success. And he was one of the most flourishing
men of the trade, when, in the year I74°> purcha¬
sed a share of the patent for king’s printer of Mr Eyre,
with whom he maintained the most cordial intimacy du¬
ring the rest of his life. Beside the emoluments arising
from this appointment, as well as from a very extensive
private business, he now drew largely from a field which
required some degree of speculative sagacity to cultivate,
on account of the great literary property which he ac¬
quired by purchasing the copy rights of the most cele¬
brated authors of the time. In this his liberality kept
pace with his prudence, and in some cases went perhaps
rather beyond it. Never had such rewards been given
to the labours of literary men as now were received from
him and his associates in those purchases of copy-rights strahnn
from authors. s——y—
Having now attained the first great object of busi¬
ness, wealth, Mr Strahan looked with a very allowable
ambition on the stations of political rank and eminence.
Politics had long occupied his active mind, which he
had for many years pursued as his favourite amusement,
by corresponding on that subject with some of the first
characters of the age. Mr Strahan’s queries to Hr
Franklin in the year 1769, respecting the discontents
of the Americans, published in the London Chronicle
of 28th July 1778, show the just conception he enter¬
tained of the important consequences of that dispute,
and his anxiety as a good subject to investigate, at that
early period, the proper means by which their grie¬
vances might be removed, and a permanent harmony
restored between the two countries. In the year 1775
he was elected a member of parliament for the borough
of Malmsbury in Wiltshire, with a very illustrious col¬
league, the Hon. C. J. Fox ; and in the succeeding
parliament, for Wootton Basset, in the same county.
In this station, applying himself with that industry
which was natural to him, he was a useful member,
and attended the house with a scrupulous punctuality.
His talents for business acquired the consideration to
which they were intitled, and were not unnoticed by
the minister.
In his political connection he was constant to the
friends to whom he had first been attached. He was
a steady supporter of that party who ivere turned out
of administration in spring 1784, and lost his seat in
the house of commons by the dissolution of parliament
with which that change was followed : a situation
which he did not shew any desire to resume on the
return of the new parliament ; arising from a feeling
of some decline in his health, which had rather suflered
from the long sittings and late hours with which the
political warfare in the preceding had been attended.
Without any fixed disease, his strength visibly declin¬
ed ; and though his spirits survived his strength, yet
the vigour and activity of his mind were considerably
impaired. Both continued gradually to decline till his
death, which happened on the 9th of July 17^5 ^,e
7 1st year of his age.
Endued with much natural sagacity, and an attentive
observation of life, he owed his rise to that station of
opulence and respect which he attained, rather to his
own talents and exertion, than to any accidental occur¬
rence of favourable or fortunate circumstances. His
mind was not uninformed by letters ; and from a habit
of attention to style, he acquired a considerable portion
of critical acuteness in the discernment of its beauties
and defects. In one branch of writing he particularly
excelled—the epistolary ; in which he not only showed
the precision and clearness of business, but possessed a
neatness as well as a fluency of expression which few let¬
ter-writers have been known to surpass. Letter-writing
■was one of his favourite amusements; and among his
correspondents were men of such eminence and talents
as well repaid his endeavours to entertain them. Among
these, as before mentioned, was the justly celebrated
Hr Franklin, originally a printer like Mr Strahan,
whose friendship and correspondence, notwitstanding
the difference of their sentiments in political matters.
S T R
strain ^ie continued to enjoy till his death. One of the latest
jl letters which he received from his illustrious and vene-
^train- rable triend contained a humorous allegory of the state
* of politics in Britain, drawn from the profession ofprint-
ing; of which, though the doctor had quitted the exer¬
cise, he had not forgotten the terms.
The judicious disposition which Mr Strahan made of
his property, affords an evident proof of his good sense
and propriety. After providing munificently for his
widow and children, his principal study seems to have
heen to mitigate the affliction of those (and many there
were) who would more immediately have felt his loss,
by bequeathing them liberal annuities for their lives j
and (recollecting that all of a profession are not equally
provident) he left 1000I. to the Company of Stationers,
the interest to be divided among infirm old printers.
As the virtuous connections of the life and the heart
are always pleasing to trace,—of Mr Strahan it may
briefly be said, that his capacity, diligence, and probi¬
ty, raised him to the head of his profession. The good
humour and obliging disposition which he owed to na¬
ture, he cultivated with care, and confirmed by habit.
His sympathetic heart beat time to the joy and sorrow
of his friends. His advice was always ready to direct
youth, and his purse open to relieve indigence. Living
in times not the purest in the English annals, he escaped
unsullied through the artifices of tx-ade and the con op¬
tion of politics. In him a strong natural sagacity, im-
pxoved bv an extensive knowledge of the world, served
only to render respectable his unaffected simplicity of
manners, and to make his Christian philanthropy more
discerning and useful. The uninterrupted health and
happiness which accompanied him for half a century in
the capital, proves honesty to be the best policy, tempe¬
rance the greatest luxury, and the essential duties of life
its most agreeable amusement. In his elevated fortune,
none of his former acquaintance ever accused him of ne¬
glect. He attained prosperity without envy, enjoyed
wealth without pride, and dispensed bounty without
ostentation.
STRAIKS, in the military art, are strong plates of
iron, six in number, fixed with large nails called straik-
nntls, on the circumference of a cannon-wheel, over the
joints of the fellows ; both to strengthen the wheel,
and to save the fellotvs from wearing on hard ways or
streets.
STRAIN, a pain occasioned by the violent exten¬
sion of some membranous or tendinous part.
Stkaix, Stress, in Mechanics, are terms indiscrimi¬
nately used to express the force which is excited in any
part of a machine or structure of any kind tending to
break it in that part. Thus every part of a rope is
equally strained by the weight which it suspends. Every
part of a pillar is equally strained by the load which it
supports. A mill axle is equally twisted and strained in
every part which lies between the part of the wheel ac¬
tuated by the moving power and the part which is re¬
sisted by the work to be performed. Every part of a
lever or joist is differently strained by a force acting on
a distant part.
It is evident that we cannot make the structure fit
for its purpose, unless the strength at every part be at
least equal to the stress laid on, or the strain excited in
that part. It is no less plain, that if we are ignorant
of the principles which determine tins strain, both in in-
S T R
tensity and direction, in relation to the magnitude and
the situation of its remote cause, the only security we
have for success is to give to every part of the assem¬
blage such solidity that we can leave no doubt of its suf¬
ficiency. But daily experience shows us that this vague
security is in many cases uncertain, if we are thus igno¬
rant. In all cases it is slovenly, unlike an artist, at¬
tended with useless expence, and in machines is attend¬
ed with a loss of power which is wasted in changing the
motions of a needless load of matter.
It must therefore greatly tend to the improvement of
all professions occupied in the erection or employment
of such structures, to have a distinct notion of the strains
to which these parts are exposed. Frequently, nay ge¬
nerally, these strains are not immediate, but arise from
the action of forces on distant parts, by which the as¬
semblage is strained, and there is a tendency to rupture
in every part. This strain is induced on every part, and
is there modified by fixed mechanical laws. These it is
our business to learn \ but our chief object in this inves¬
tigation is to determine the strength of materials which
it is necessary to oppose in every part to this strain j
and how to oppose this strength in such a manner that
it shall be exerted to the best advantage. The notions
of strain and strength therefore hardly admit of separa¬
tion ; for it is even by means of the strength of the in¬
termediate parts that the strain is propagated to, or ex¬
cited in, the part under consideration. It is proper
therefore to consider the whole together under the ar¬
ticle Strength of Materials in mechanics.
STRAINING, is the clarification of a liquor, by
passing it through a sieve or filter. The word is de¬
rived from the French, estreindre ; which is formed
from ex, “ out of,” and stringere, “ to press.”
STRAIT, a narrow channel or arm of the sea, shut
up between lands on either side, and affording a passage
out of one great sea into another.
There are three kinds of straits. I. Such as join
one ocean to another. Of this kind are the straits of
Magellan and Le Maire. 2- Those which join the
ocean to a gulf: the straits of Gibraltar and Babelman-
del are of this kind, the Mediterranean and Red sea be¬
ing only large gulfs. 3. Those which join one gulf to
another; as the straits of Caffa, which join the Palus
Masotis to the Euxine or Black sea. The passage of
straits is commonly dangerous, on account of the rapi¬
dity and opposite motion of currents. The most cele¬
brated strait in the world is that of Gibraltar, which is
about from 24 to 36 miles long, and from 15 to 24
broad, joining the Mediterranean sea with the Atlantic
ocean. The straits of Magellan, discovered in 1520
by F. Magellan, were used some time as a passage out
of the North into the South sea ; but since the year
1616, that the strait of Le Maire has been discovered,
the former has been disused; both because of its length,
which is full three hundred miles, and because the navi¬
gation thereof is very dangerous, from the waves of the
North and South seas meeting in it and clashing. The
strait at the entrance of the Baltic is called the Sound;
that between England and France, Les pas de Calais,
or the Channel. There are also the straits of Weigats,
of Jesso, of Anian, of Davis, and Hudson, &c.
STRAKES, or Streaks, in a ship, the uniform,
ranges of planks on the bottom and sides of a ship, or
the continuation of planks joined to the ends of each
other}.
r 741 i
s T R [ 742 ] S T R
Stiakcs other, ami reaching from the stem to the stern-post and
II fashion-pieces •, the lowest of these, which is called the
Strange, a-grboard streak, is let into the keel below, and into the
stem and stern post. They say also a ship heels a strake,
that is, hangs or inclines to one side the quantity of a
whole plank’s breadth.
Strikes, or Streks, in mining, are frames of boards
fixed on or in the ground, where they wash and dress
the small ore in a little stream of water, hence called
stroked ore.
ST. RALSUND, a strong and rich sea-port town of
Germany, in Hither Pomerania, formerly an important
trading-place. In 1678 it was forced to surrender to
the elector of Brandenburg, after 1800 houses had been
burnt to ashes in one night’s time. The Swedes how¬
ever recovered it, but lost it again in 1715. In 1720
it was rendered back to Sweden in a very poor condi¬
tion. In the year 1814, Stralsund, with the whole of
Swedish Pomerania, was ceded to Prussia. It is al¬
most surrounded by the sea and the lake Francen, and
has a harbour separated from the isle of Bugen by a
narrow strait. It is 15 miles north-west of Gripps-
wald, and 40 north-east of Gustrow. E. Long. 12.
28. N. Lat. 54. 17.
STRAMONIUM, a species of plant. See Datura,
Botany Index.
STB AND {Saxon'), any shore or bank of a sea or
great river. Hence the street in the west suburbs of
London, which lay next the shore or bank of the
Thames, was called the Strajid. An immunity from
custom, and all impositions upon goods or vessels by land
or water, was usually expressed by strand or stream.
SfBANDED (from the Saxon strand), is when a
ship is by tempest, or by ill steerage, run on ground,
and so perishes. Where a vessel is stranded, justices
of the peace, &c. shall command constables near the
sea-coasts to call assistance for the preservation of the
ship ; and officers of men of war are to be aiding and
assisting thereto.
STBANGE, Sir Egbert, an eminent engraver,
who carried the art to great perfection in this country,
and was distinguished not only as an artist, but highly
respected and beloved on account of his private virtues
and domestic habits. Modest as he was ingenious, he
used to say that the works of an artist should serve for
his life and monument. Plis works no doubt will per¬
petuate his name whilst any taste for the fine arts re¬
mains.
Sir Eobert Strange was born in the island of Pomona
in Orkney, July the 14th 1721 ; and died at London
July the 5th I792- He was lineally descended from
David Strange or Strang, a younger son of the family
of the Stranges or Strangs of Balcasky, in the county
of Fife, who settled in Orkney at the time of the Be-
formation. But as there were no males remaining of the
elder branch of the Stranges of Balcasky, Sir Eobert
became the male representative of it, and was found by
a legal investigation to have a right to the armorial
bearings and every other mark of honour belonging to
that ancient family.
He received his classical education at Kirkwall in
Orkney, under the care of a learned, worthy, and much
respected gentleman, Mr Murdoch Mackenzie, who has
.rendered infinite service to his country by the accurate
surveys and charts he has given of the islands of Ork- Strange,
ney, and of the British and Irish coasts. '1 v---
Originally intended for the law, Mr Strange soon be¬
came tired of that profession, and perceived that his ge¬
nius decisively led him to the arts of drawing and en¬
graving. For this purpose he was introduced to the
late Mr Bichard Cooper at Edinburgh, the only person
there who had then any taste in that line of the fine
arts. He was bound with him as an apprentice for six
years; during which time he made such progress in
his new profession, that his friends entertained the
highest expectation of his success; nor were they dis¬
appointed.
In the year 1747 he married Isabella, only daughter
of William Lumsden, son of Bishop Lumsden ; and
soon after his marriage he went to France, where with
the most ardent application he prosecuted his studies,
chiefly at Paris, under the direction of the celebrated
Le Bas, who engraved many excellent prints from the
Dutch painters. It was from Le Bas he had the first
hint of the use of the instrument commonly called the
dry needle ; but which he afterwards greatly improved
by his own genius, and which has added such superior
beauties to his engravings.
In the year 1751 Strange removed with his fa¬
mily from Edinburgh and settled at London, where he
engraved several fine historical prints, which justly ac¬
quired to him great reputation. At this period histori¬
cal engraving had made little progress in Britain, and
he may be properly considered as its father.
The admiration he always had for the works of th#
great Italian painters made him long desire to visit Ita¬
ly, the seat of the fine arts ; and the farther he advan¬
ced in life, he became the more persuaded that a jour¬
ney to that country was essential to an artist who had
the laudable ambition to excel in his profession. He
therefore undertook this journey in the year 1760. In
Italy he made many admirable drawings, several of
which he afterwards engraved. These drawings are
now in the possession of Lord Dundas.
Everywhere in Italy singular marks of attention were
bestowed on Mr Strange ; not only by great personages,
but by the principal academies of the fine arts in that
country. He was made a member of the academies
of Borne, Florence, and Bologna, and professor in the
royal academy at Parma.
To show the estimation in which his talents were held
at Lome, we cannot but record the following anecdote,
i he ceiling- of the room of the Vatican library, in
which the collection of engravings is kept, is elegant¬
ly painted by Signor Botfanelli. It represents the pro¬
gress of engraving ; and the portraits of the most emi¬
nent artists in that line are there introduced, among
which is that of our artist. Under his arm be holds a
portfolio, on which his name is inscribed. He is the only
Biitish artist on whom this honour has been conferred.
In France, where he resided many years at different
periods, his talents likewise received every mark of at¬
tention that could be bestowed on a foreigner. He was
made a member of the royal academy of painting at
Paris.
His majesty King George III. ever attentive to the
progress of the fine arts in Britain, ami sensible of the
advantages of which engraving particularly has been to
this
4
S T R
Str^npo. this country, even in a commercial light; and desirous
 r-—' to give a mark of his royal approbation of the merit of
Mr Strange, whom he considered as at the head of his
profession and the great improver of it—was graciously
pleased to confer the honour of knighthood on him the
5th of January 1787.
Such was Sir Robert Strange as an artist; nor was he
less distinguished by his truly amiable moral qualities,
which endeared him to all who had the happiness to
know him.
With regard to his works, he left fifty capital plates,
still in good condition, which are carefully preserved in
his family. They are engraved from pictures by the
most celebrated painters of the Roman, Florentine,
Lombard, Venetian, and other schools. They are hi¬
storical, both sacred and profane, poetical, allegorical.
From his earliest establishment in life, Sir Robert
carefully preserved about eighty copies of the finest and
most choice impressions of each plate he engraved ;
which, from length of time, have acquired a beauty,
mellowness, and brilliancy, easier seen than described.
He did this with a view of presenting them to the pub¬
lic at a period when age should disable him from adding
to their number. These he collected into as many vo¬
lumes, and arranged them in the order in which they
were engraved. To each volume he prefixed two por¬
traits of himself, on the same plate, the one an etching,
the other a finished proof, from a drawing by John
Baptiste Greuse. This is the last plate which he en¬
graved ; and is a proof that neither his eyes nor hand
were impaired by age. It likewise shows the use he
made both of aquafortis and the graver. Each volume,
besides a dedication to the king, contains an introduc¬
tion on the progress of engraving, and critical remarks
on the pictures from which his engravings are taken.
Th ese volumes were ready to be given to the public,
when Sir Robert’s death delayed this magnificent publi¬
cation ; a publication which does so much honour to the
artist, and to the country which gave him birth. He
died at London 5th July 1792.
The following is an authentic catalogue of his works.
Plate 1. Two Heads of the author—one an etching, the
other a finished proof, from a drawing by John Baptiste
Greuse ; 2. The Return from Market, by Wouvermans;
3. Cupid, by Vanloo; 4. Mary Magdalen, by Guido ;
5. Cleopatra, by the same ; 6. The Madonna, by the
same ; 7. The Angel Gabriel, by the same; 8. The
Virgin, holding in her hand a book, and attended by
angels, by Carlo Maratt; 9. The Virgin with the Child
asleep, by the same ; 10. Liberality and Modesty, by
Guido; II. Apollo rewarding Merit and punishing Ar¬
rogance, by Andrea Sacchi ; 12. The Finding of Ro¬
mulus and Remus, by Pietro da Cortona ; 13. Caesar re¬
pudiating Pompeia, by the same ; 14. Three Children
of King Charles I. by Vandyke ; 15. Belisarius, by Sal¬
vator Rosa; 16. St Agnes, by Dominichino ; 17. The
Judgment of Hercules, by Nicolas Poussin ; 18. Venus
attired by the Graces, by Guido ; 19. and 20. Justice
and Meekness, by Raphael ; 21. The Offspring of
Love, by Guido ; 22. Cupid Sleeping, by the same ;
23. Abraham giving up the Handmaid Hagar, by
Guercino ; 24. Esther a Suppliant before Ahasuerus,
by the same; 25. Joseph and Potiphar’s Wife, by
Guido ; 26. Venus Blinding Cupid, by Titian ; 27.
Venus, by the same;, 28.. Danae, by the same; 29.
[ 743 }
S T R
1 ortrait of King Charles 1. by Vandyke ; 30. The Ma- Strange
donna, by Correggio ; 31. St Caxilia, by Raphael; 32. H
Mary Magdalen, by Guido ; 33. Our Saviour appear- Stratburj.
ing to his Mother after his Resurrection, by Guercino ; ' “ ‘
34* 4 ^ot^er antl Child, by Parmegiano ; 35. Cupid
Meditating, by Schidoni ; 36. Laomedon King of Troy
detected by Neptune and Apollo, by Salvator Rosa ;
37" I he Heath of Hido, by Guercino; 38. Venus and
Adonis, by Titian ; 39. Fortune, by Guido; 40. Cleo¬
patra, by the same ; 41. Two Children at School, by
Schidoni ; 42. Mary Magdalen, by Correggio ; 43.
Portrait of King Charles I. attended by the marquis of
Hamilton, by Vandyke; 44. Queen Henrietta, attend¬
ed bv the Prince of Wales, and holding in her arms
the Huke of York, by the same ; 45. Apotheosis of the
Royal Children, by West ; 46. The Annunciation, by
Guido; 47. Portrait of Raphael Sancio D’Urbino, by
himself; 48. Sappho, by Carlo Holci; 49. Our Saviour
asleep, by Vandyke ; 50. St John in the Desert, by
Murillo. ’ 7
STRANGER, in Law, denotes a person who is not
privy or party to an act. Thus a stranger to a judge¬
ment is he to whom a judgment does not belong ; in
which sense the word stands directly opposed to party
or privy.
STRANGLES, in Farriery, See that article, N®
481.
STRANGURY, a suppression of urine. See Medi¬
cine Index.
STRAP, among surgeons, a sort of band used to
stretch out limbs in the setting of broken or disjointed
bones.
Strap, in a ship, the rope which is spliced about any
block, and made with an eye to fasten it anywhere on
occasion.
STRAPS, in the manege. The straps of a saddle
are small leather straps, nailed to the bows of the
saddle, with which we make the girths fast to the
saddle.
STRAPADO, or Strappado, a kind of military
punishment, wherein the criminal’s hands being tied be¬
hind him, he is hoisted up with a rope to the top of a
long piece of wood, and let fall again almost to the
ground ; so that, by the weight of his body in the
shock, his arms are dislocated. Sometimes he is to un¬
dergo three strapadoes or more.
STRASBURG, an ancient, large, handsome, and
strong city of France, which contained 50,000 inhabit
tants in 1817. It contains about 200 streets, part of
which are very narrow, and most of the houses are built
after the ancient taste. However, there are a great num¬
ber of handsome buildings, such as the hotel of the mar¬
shal of France, who is commander of the city ; the hotel
of the cardinal of Rouen, the bishop’s palace, the Jesuits
college, the royal hospital, the hotel of Hesse-Darm-
stadt, the arsenal, the town-house, and the cathedral.
It has a wooden bridge over the Rhine, which is thought
to be one of the finest in Europe , as likewise the ca¬
thedral church, whose tower is the handsomest in Ger¬
many, and the clock is greatly admired by all travel¬
lers. Some look upon it as one of the wonders of the
world, and the steeple is allowed to be the highest in
Europe. The clock not only shows the hours of the
day, but the motion of the sun, moon, and stars. A-
mong other things there is an angel, which turns an
hour-
S T R
t 744- ]
S T R
Strasburg, hour-glass every hour •, and the twelve apostles proclaim
Strata, noon, by each of them striking a blow with a hammer
» 1 on a bell. There is likewise a cock, which is a piece ot
clock-work, that crows every hour. There are 665
steps up to the tower or steeple, which is 465 feet high.
It was a free and imperial city j but the king of France
became master of it in 1681, and greatly augmented
the fortifications. The Protestants, who are numerous,
have a university in this city. Strasburg has consider¬
able manufactures of woollens, cotton yarn, hosiery,
watches, and gold smithery. The extensive plains
around it are remarkably fertile, and besides grain, pro¬
duce tobacco, safron, hemp, and fruits. 1 he town has
also a considerable commerce by means of the Rhine.
It is seated on the river 111, 35 miles north of Basil,
112 south-west of Mentz, and 255 east ol Paris. E.
Long. 7.51. N. Lat. 48. 35.
STRATA, in Natural History, the several beds or
layers of different matters Avhereof the earth is com¬
posed. See Geology.
The strata whereof the earth is composed are so very
different in different countries, that it is impossible to
say any thing concerning them that may be generally
applicable : and indeed the depths to which we can pe¬
netrate are so small, that only a very few can be known
to us at any rate j those that lie near the centre, or even
a great way from it, being lor ever hid. One reason
why we cannot penetrate to any great depth is, that as
we go down the air becomes foul, loaded with perni¬
cious vapours, inflammable air, fixed air, &c. which de¬
stroy the miners, so that there is no possibility of going
on. In many places, however, these vapours become
pernicious much sooner than in others, particularly where
sulphureous minerals abound, as in mines ol metal, coal,
&c.
But however great differences there may be among
the under strata, the upper one is in some respects the
same all over the globe, at least in this respect, that
it is fit for the support of vegetables, which the others
are not, without long exposure to the air. Properly
speaking, indeed, the upper stratum of the earth all
round, is composed of the pure vegetable mould, though
in many places it is mixed with large quantities of
other stx-ata, as clay, sand, gravel, &c. ; and hence pro¬
ceed the differences of soils so well known to those who
practise agriculture.
It has been supposed, bv some naturalists, that the
different strata of which the earth is composed were
originally formed at the creation, and having continued
in a manner immutable ever since : but this cannot pos¬
sibly have been the case, since we find that many of the
strata are strangely intermixed with each other j the
bones of animals both marine and terrestrial are fre¬
quently found at great depths in the earth ; beds of
oyster-shells are found of immense extent in several coun¬
tries $ and concerning these and other shell-fish, it is re¬
markable, that they are generally found much farther
from the surface than the bones or teeth either of ma¬
rine or terrestrial animals. Neither are the shells or
other remains of fish found in those countries adjoining
to the seas where they grow naturally, but in the most
distant regions. Mr Whitehurst, in his Inquiry into the
Original State and Formation of the Earth, has given
the following account of many different kinds of ani¬
mals, whose shells and other remains or exuvice are found
3
dies.
West Indies.
in England j though at present the living animals are
not to be found except in the East and West Indies. 1
A Catalogue of Extraneous Fossils, showing where
they were dug up ; also their native Climates. Most¬
ly selected from the curious Cabinet of Mr Neil son,
in King-street, Red-Lion Square.
Their Names, and Places where found. Native Climates.
Chambered Nautilus. SheppyT Chinese Ocean,
island; Richmond in Surrey ; other Parts
Sherbone in Dorsetshire, j of that great sea.
Teeth of Sharks SI,eppyisland,t md ^ [n_
Oxfordshire, Middlesex, Surrey, >
Northamptonshire, - - J
Sea-Tortoise, several kinds; the!
Hawksbill, Loggerhead, and >
Green species. Sheppv island, J
Mangrove Tree Oysters. | ^
bheppy island,
Coxcomb Tree Oysters. Ox¬
fordshire, Gloucestershire, Dor¬
setshire, and Hanover,
Vertebrae and Palates of the
Orbes. Sheppy island, and
many other parts of England,
Crocodile. Germany, Derby¬
shire, Nottinghamshire, Oxford¬
shire, and Yorkshire,
Alligator’s Teeth. OxiovA-1 East and WestIn-
shire, Sheppy island, - 3 dies.
The Banded Buccinum. Oxford-7 ^ InJi^
shire, and the Alps, - 3
The Dipping-Snail, and Star-1 ^
Fish, bheppy island, - 3
Strata.
J
s
}
Coast of Guinea.
East and West In¬
dies.
Tail Buccinum. Sheppy island,
Hordel Cliff, Hampshire,
East Indies.
Nothing has more perplexed those who undertake to
form theories of the earth than these appearances. Some
have at once boldly asserted, from these and other phe¬
nomena, that the world is eternal. Others have had
recourse to the universal deluge. Some, among whom
is the Count de Buffon, endeavour to prove that the
ocean and dry land are perpetually changing places ;
that for many ages the highest mountains have been
covered with water, in consequence of which the ma¬
rine animals just mentioned w'ere generated in such vast
quantities ; that the waters will again cover these moun¬
tains, the habitable part of the earth become sea, and
the sea became dry land as before, &c. Others have
imagined that they might be occasioned by volcanoes,
earthquakes, &c. which confound the different strata,
and often intermix the productions of the sea with those
of the dry land.
But for a view of the different strata so far as they
are known, as well as for a view of some of the theories
which have been proposed to account for the formation
and changes of the earth, see Geology.
Mr Forster has given an account of some of the strati
of the South-sea islands, the substance of which may be
seen in the following table.
South Georgia.
1. No soil, except in a few crevices of the rocks.
2.
» , s . T R t 745
Strata. 2. Ponderous slate, with some irony particles, in. hori-
‘"“'V zontal strata, perpendicularly intersected with veins
of quartz.
Southern Isle o/’New Zealand.
I. Fine light black mould, in some places nine inches
deep, but generally not so much.
i. An argillaceous substance, nearly related to the class
°f Talcons, turned into earth by the action of the
air.
3. The same substance farther indurated, in oblique
strata, generally dipping to the south.
Easter Island.
1. Keddish-brown dusty mould, looking as if it had
been burnt.
2. Burnt rocks, resembling slags or dross and other
volcanic matters.
Marquesas.
1. Clay mixed with mould.
2. An earthy argillaceous substance mixed with tarras
and puzzolana.
Otaheite.
The shores ai*e coral rock, extending from the reef en¬
circling these isles to the very high water-mark.
There begins the sand, formed in some places from
small shells and rubbed pieces of coral j but in others
the shores are covered with blackish sand, consisting
of the former sort mixed with black, sometimes glit¬
tering, particles of mica, and here and there some
particles of the refractory iron ores called in Eng¬
land Skim, the ferrum micaceum of Linnaeus, and
^xiA.^ihemolybdeenum spumalupi of the same author.
The plains from the shores to the foot of the hills
are covered with a very fine thick stratum of black
mould, mixed with the above-mentioned sand, which
the natives manure with shells. The first and lower
range of hills are formed of a red ochreous earth,
sometimes so intensely red, that the natives use it to
paint their canoes and cloth. The higher hills con¬
sist of a hard, compact, and stiff clayey substance,
hardening into stone when out of the reach of the sun
and air. At the top of the valleys, along the banks
of the rivers, are large masses of coarse granite stones
of various mixtures j in one place are pillars of a
gray, solid basaltes; and, in several others, fragments
of black basaltes.
Friendly Islands and New Hebrides.
The same with the above.
Mallicollo.
Yellowish clay mixed with common sand.
Tanna, a Volcanic Island.
The chief strata here are clay mixed with aluminous
earth, interspersed with lumps of pure chalk. The
strata of the clay are about six inches, deviating very
little from the hoi’izontal line.
New Caledonia and the adjacent Isles.
The shores consist of shell-sand, and particles of quartz;
the soil in the plains a black mould mixed with this
Vol. XIX. Part II. t
] S T R
sand. The sides of the hills composed of a yellow
ochreous clay, richly spangled with small particles of
cat-silver, or a whitish kind of daze, the mica argentca
of Linnasus. The higher parts of the hills consist
of a stone called by the German mvnorsgestelstein, com¬
posed of quartz and great lumps of the above cat-
silver. The latter is sometimes of an intensely red or
orange colour, by means of an iron ochre.
Strata.
“ From the above account, says Mr Forster, it ap¬
pears, I think, evidently, that all the high tropical isles
of the South sea have been subject to the action of vol¬
canoes. Pyritical and sulphureous substances, together
with a few iron-stones, and some vestiges of copper, are
no doubt found in several of them : but the mountains
of New Caledonia are the most likely to contain the
richest metallic veins; and the same opinion, I suspect*
may be formed of the mountains in New Zealand.”
In the city of Modena in Italy, and for some miles
round that place, there is the most singular arrange¬
ment of strata perhaps in the whole world. From the
surface of the ground to the depth of 14 feet, they meet
with nothing but the ruins of an ancient city. Being
come to that depth, they find paved streets, artificers
shops, floors of houses, and several pieces of inlaid work;
After these ruins they find a very solid earth, which
one would think had never been removed ; but a little
lower they find it black and marshy, and full of briars.
Signior Bamazzini in one place found a heap of wheat
entire at the depth of 24 feet; in another, he found
filbert-trees with their nuts. At the depth of about
28 feet, they find a bed of chalk, about n feet deep,
which cuts very easily; after this a bed of marshy earth
of about two feet, mixed with rushes, leaves, and
branches. After this bed comes another of chalk,
nearly of the same thickness ; and which ends at the
depth of 42 feet. This is followed by another bed of
marshy earth like the former; after which comes a new
chalk-bed, but thinner, which also has a marshy bed
underneath it. This ends at the depth of 63 feet;
after which they find sand mingled with small gravel,
and several marine shells. This stratum is usually about
five feet deep, and underneath it is a vast reservoir of
water. It is on account of this water that the soil is
so frequently dug, and the strata so well known in this
part of the world. After coming to the sandy bottom
above mentioned, the workmen pierce the ground with
a terebra or augre, when the water immediately springs
up with great force, and fills the well to the brim.
The flow is perpetual, and neither increases by rain,
nor decreases by drought. Sometimes the augre meets
with great trees, which give the workmen much trou¬
ble ; they also sometimes see at the bottom of these
wells great bones, coals, flints, and pieces of iron.
It has been asserted by some, that the specific gra¬
vity of the strata constantly increased with the depth
from the surface. But Dr Leigh, in his Natural Hi¬
story of Lancashire, speaking of the coal-pits, denies
the strata to lie according to the laws of gravitation ;
observing, that the strata there are first a bed of marie,
then free-stone, next iron-stone, then coal, or channel
mire, then some other strata, then coal again, &c.
This determined Mr Derham to make a nicer inquiry
into the matter: accordingly, in 1712, he caused di¬
vers places to be bored, laying the several strata by
J B themselves;
S T R
gfratl themselves •, and afterwards determined very carefully
jj their specific gravity. The result was, that in his yard
Strategus.. the strata were gradually specifically heavier and heavier
—v  tlle l0Wer and lower they went *, hut in another place
in his fields, he could not perceive any difference in the
specific gravities.
Acquainting the Royal Society therewith, their ope¬
rator Mr Hauksbee was ordered to try the strata of a
coal pit, which he did to the depth of 30 strata: the
thickness and specific gravity of each whereof he gives
Vol. xxvii. us in a table in the Philosophical transactions j and
P' 541- from the whole makes this inference, that it evidently
appears the gravities of the several strata are in no
manner of order, but purely casual, as if mixed by
chance. See Mineralogy, Supplement.
STRATAGEM, in the art of war, any device for
deceiving and surprising an enemy. The ancients dealt
very much in stratagems : the moderns wage war more
openly, and on the square. Frontinus has made a col¬
lection of the ancient stratagems of war.
STRATEGUS, in antiquity, an officer
among the Athenians, whereof there were two chosen
yearly, to command the troops of the state.
Plutarch says, there was one chosen from out of each
tribe ) but Pollux seems to say they were chosen indif¬
ferently out of the people. The people themselves
made the choice on the last day of the year, in a place
called Pnyx. The two strategi did not command to¬
gether, but took their turns day by day ; as we find
from Herodotus and Cornelius Nepos. Constantine the
Great, besides many other privileges granted to the
S T R
city of Athens, honoured its chief magistrate with the Strategu*
title of Msf&j ST£*TJ)y«f, Magnus l)u.v. Strawbeirj*
STRATH, in the Scottish language, signifies a long tr^e- f
narrow valley, with a river running along the bottom.
STRATHEARN, a beautiful and extensive valley
in Perthshire, hounded on the north by the lofty ridge
of mountains called the Grampians, and on the south by
the Ochils, which are rounded on the tops and covered
with verdure. It is called Strathearn from the river
Earn, which runs through the middle of it from west to
east for about 30 miles.
STRATHNAVER, a subdivision or district of the
county of Sutherland in Scotland 5 bounded on the
north by the ocean, on the east by Caithness, on the
south by Sutherland properly so called, and on the west
partly by Ross and partly by the ocean.
STRATIOTES, Water-soldier, a genus of
plants belonging to the class polyandria. See Botany
Index.
STRATO, a philosopher of Lampsacus, disciple and
successor in the school of rl heophrastus, about 248 years
before the Christian era. He applied himself with um
common industry to the study of nature j and after the
most mature investigations, he supported that nature was
inanimate, and that there was no god but nature. (See
Plastic Nature). He was appointed preceptor to Pto¬
lemy Philadelphus, who revered his abilities and learn¬
ing, and rewarded his labours with unbounded liberal¬
ity. He wrote different treatises, now lost.
STRAWBERRY. SccFragaria, Botany Jwcfev.
STBAWBEnRY-Ti'ee. See Arbutus, Botany Index.
[ 74-S 3
STRENGTH of MATERIALS,
Strength of T N Mechanics, is a subject of so much importance, that
Materials. 1 in a nation so eminent as this for invention and inge-
^ nuity in all species of manufactures, and in particular so
Importance distinguished for its improvements in machinery of every
of the sub- kind, it is somewhat singular that no writer has treated
ject* it in the detail which its importance and difficulty de¬
mands. The man of science who visits our great manu¬
factories is delighted with the ingenuity which he ob¬
serves in every part, the innumerable inventions which
come even from individual artisans, and the detei mined
purpose of improvement and refinement which he sees
in every workshop. Every cotton mill appears an a-
cadtmy of mechanical science 5 and mechanical inven¬
tion is spreading from these fountains over the whole
kingdom : But the philosopher is mortified to see this
ardent spirit so cramped by ignorance of principle, and
many of these original and brilliant thoughts obscured
and clogged with needless and even hurtful additions,
• and a complication of machinery which checks improve¬
ment even by its appearance of ingenuity. There is
nothing in which this want of scientific education, this
ignorance of principle, is so frequently observed as in
the injudicious proportion ot the parts of machines and
other mechanical structures j proportions and foims of
parts in which the strength and position are nowise re¬
gulated by the strains to which they are exposed, and S^”^iscf
and where repeated failures have been the only lessons., a ^niS’j
It cannot be otherwise. We have no means of in¬
struction, except two very short and abstracted treatises
of the late Mr Emerson on the strength of materials.
We do not recollect a performance in our language from
which our artists can get information. Treatises written
expressly on different branches of mechanical arts are to¬
tally silent on this, which is the basis and only principle
of their performances. Wko would imagine that Price’s
British Carpenter, the work of the first reputation in
this country, and of which the sole aim is to teach the
carpenter to erect solid and durable structures, does not
contain one proposition or one reason by which one form
of a thing can be shown to be stronger or weaker than
another ? We doubt very much if one carpenter in an
hundred can give a reason to convince his own mind
that a joist is stronger when laid on its edge than when
laid on its broad side. We speak in this strong manner
in hopes of exciting some man of science to publish a
system of instruction on this subject. The limits of our
Work will not admit of a detail: but we think it neces¬
sary to point out the leading principles, and to give the
traces of that systematic connection by which all the
knowledge already possessed of this subject may be
brought
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strfifegtli of brouglit together anil properly arranged. rl bis we sliall more shortly express It, excited.
Materials. now attempt in as brief a manner as we ate able.
Experi¬
ments to
ascertain
it.
* See
Birche’s
lections.
Strength of The strength of materials arises immediately or ulti-
niateriale mately from the cohesion of the parts of bodies. Our
arises from examination of this property of tangible matter has as
cohesion. yet |)een very part[a[ an<} imperfect, and by no means
enables us to apply mathematical calculations with pre¬
cision and success. The various modifications of cohe¬
sion, in its dilferent appearances of perfect softness, pla¬
sticity, ductility, elasticity, hardness, have a mighty in¬
fluence on the strength of bodiesj but are hardly suscep¬
tible of measurement. Their texture also, whether uni¬
form like glass and ductile metals, crystallized or granu¬
lated like other metals and freestone, or fibrous like tim¬
ber, is a circumstance no less important; yet even here,
although we derive some advantage from remarking to
which of these forms of aggregation a substance belongs,
the aid is but small. All we can do in this want of
general principles is to make experiments on every class
of bodies. Accordingly philosophers have endeavoured
to instruct the public in this particular. The Royal So¬
ciety of London at its very first institution made many
experiments at their meetings, as may be seen in the
first registers of the Society *. Several individuals have
added their experiments. The most numerous collection
Hooke’s*1^*11 by Muschenbroek, professor of natural philo-
Mathema- sophy Leyden. Part of it was published by himself
tical Col- in his Essais de Physique, in two vols. 4to; but the
full collection is to be found in his System of Natural
Philosophy, published after his death by Lulofs, in three
vols. 4to. This was translated from the Low Dutch
into French by Sigaud de la Fond, and published at
Paris in 1760, and is a prodigious collection of physical
knowledge of all kinds, and may almost suffice for a li¬
brary of natural philosophy. But this collection of ex¬
periments on the cohesion of bodies is not of that value
which one expects. We presume that they were care¬
fully made and faithfully narrated j but they were made
on such small specimens, that the unavoidable natural
inequalities of growth or texture produced irregularities
in the results which bore too great a proportion to the
whole quantities observed. We may make the same re¬
mark on the experiments of Couplet, Pitot, De la Hire,
Du Hamel, and others of the French academy. In
short, if we except the experimeats of Buflbn on the
strength of timber, made at the public expence on a
large scale, there is nothing to be met with from which
we can obtain absolute measures which may be employ¬
ed with confidence ; and there is nothing in the Eng¬
lish language except a simple list by Emerson, which
is merely a set of affirmations, without any narration
of circumstances, to enable us to judge of the validity
of his conclusions : but the character of Mr Emerson,
as a man of knowledge and of integrity, gives even to
these assertions a considerable value.
But to make use of any experiments, there must he
employed some general principle by which we can ge¬
neralize their results. They will otherwise be only nar¬
rations of detached facts. We must have some notion
of that intermedium, by the intervention of which an
external force applied to one part of a lever, joist, or
pillar, occasions a strain on a distant part. This can be
nothing but the cohesion between the parts. It is this
connecting force which is brought into action, or, as we
tendered
Useful by
geoerali-
' nation.
. ; . . 747
This action is modi- Strength of
fied in every part by the laws of mechanics. It is this Materials,
action which is what we call the strength of that part, v
and its effect is the strain on the adjoining parts 5 and stren5„tu
thus it is the same force, differently viewed, that consti-defined,
tutes both the strain and the strength. When we con¬
sider it in the light of a resistance to fracture, we call
it strength.
We call every thing a force which we observe to be
ever accompanied by a change of motion ; or, more
strictly speaking, we infer the presence and agency of a
force wherever we observe the state of things in respect
of motion different from what we know to be the result
of the action of all the forces which we know to act on
the body. Thus when we observe a rope prevent a body
from falling, we infer a moving force inherent in the
rope with as much confidence as when we observe it
drag the body along the ground. The immediate ac¬
tion of this force is undoubtedly exerted between the
immediately adjoining parts of the rope. The immedi¬
ate effect is the keeping the particles of the rope to¬
gether. They ought to separate by any external force
drawing the ends of the rope contrarywise $ and we a-
scrihe their not doing so to a mechanical force really op- <5
posing this external force. W hen desired to give it a Caiweg
name, we name it from what we conceive to be its ef- kn°wn oii-
fect, and therefore its characteristic, and we call it co-
HEsion. This is merely a name for the fact; but it isfJcts,6 *
the same thing in all our denominations. We know
nothing of the causes but in the effects ; and our name
for the cause is in fact the name of the effect, which is
cohesion. We mean nothing else by gravitation or
magnetism. What do we mean when we say that New¬
ton understood thoroughly the nature of gravitation, of
the force of gravitation ; or that Franklin understood
the nature of the electric force ? Nothing but this :
Newton considered with patient sagacity the general
facts of gravitation, and has described and classed them
with the utmost precision. In like manner, we shall
understand the nature of cohesion when we have dis¬
covered with equal generality the laws of cohesion, or
general facts which are observed in the appearances,
and when we have described and classed them with
equal accuracy.
Let us therefore attend to the more simple and ob¬
vious phenomena of cohesion, and mark with care every
circumstance of resemblance by which they may be clas¬
sed. Let us receive these as the laws of cohesion, cha¬
racteristic of its supposed cause, the force of cohesion.
We cannot pretend to enter on this vast i-esearch. The
modifications are innumerable: and it would require the
penetration of more than Newton to detect the circum¬
stance of similarity amidst millions of discriminating
circumstances. Yet this is the only way of discovering
which are the primary facts characteristic of the force,
and which are the modifications. The study is immense,
but it is by no means desperate; and we entertain great
hopes that it will ere long he successfully prosecuted :
but, in our particular predicament, we must content our¬
selves with selecting such general laws as seem to give
us the most immediate information of the circumstances
that must be attended to by the mechanician in his con¬
structions, that he may unite strength with simplicity,
economy, and energy.
I. Then, it is a matter of fact that all bodies are in a
5 B 2 tertifin
748
STRENGTH OF
A’l bodies
elastic.
Strength of certain degree perfectly elastic $ that is, when their form
Materials, or bulk is changed by certain moderate compressions or
1——v— ' distractions, it requires the continuance of the changing
force to continue the body in this new state j and when
the force is removed, the body recovers its original form.
We limit the assertion to certain moderate changes,: For
instance, take a lead wire of one fifteenth of an inch in
diameter and ten feet long j fix one end firmly to the
ceiling, and let the wire hang perpendicular; affix to the
lower end an index like the hand of a watch; on some
stand immediately below let there be a circle divided
into degrees, with its centre corresponding to the lower
point of the wire : now turn this index twice round, and
thus twist the wire. When the index is let go, it will
.turn backwards again, by the wire’s untwisting itself,
and make almost four revolutions before it stops $ after
which it twists and untwists many times, the index going
backwards and forwards round the circle, diminishing
however its arch of twist each time, till at last it settles
precisely in its original position. This may be repeated
for ever. Now, in this motion, every part of the wire
partakes equally of the twist. The particles are stretch¬
ed, require force to keep them in their state of extension,
and recover completely their relative positions. These
are all the characters of what the mechanician calls per¬
fect elasticity. This is a quality quite familiar in many
cases \ as in glass, tempered steel, &c. but was thought
incompetent to lead, which is generally considered as
having little or no elasticity. But we make the asser¬
tion in the most general terms, with the limitation to
moderate derangement of form. We have made the
same experiment on a thread of pipe-clay, made by
forcing soft clay through the small hole of a syringe by
means of a screw ; and we found it more elastic than
the lead wire: for a thread of one twentieth of an inch
diameter and seven feet long allowed the index to make
two turns, and yet completely recovered its first posi¬
tion.
2. But if we turn the index of the lead wire four
times round, and let it go again, it untwists again in the
same manner, but it makes little more than four turns
back again ; and after many oscillations it finally stops
in a position almost two revolutions removed from its
original position. It has now acquired a new arrange¬
ment of parts, and this new arrangement is permanent
like the former j and, what is of particular moment, it
8 is perfectly elastic. This change is familiarly known by
What is ^ie denomination of a SET. The wire is said to have
meant by TAKEN A SET. When we attend minutely to the pro-
a set. cedure of nature in this phenomenon, we find that the
particles have as it were slid on each other, still coher¬
ing, and have taken a new position, in which their con¬
necting forces are in equilibrio : and in this change of
relative situation, it appears that the connecting forces
which maintained the particles in their first situation
were not in equilibrio in some position intermediate be¬
tween that of the first and that of the last form. The
force required for changing this first form augmented
with the change, but only to a certain degree ; and
during this process the connecting forces always tended
to the recovery of this first form. But after the change
of mutual position has passed a certain magnitude, the
union has been partly destroyed, and the particles have
been brought into new situations j such, that the forces
which now connect each with its neighbour tend, not
MATERIALS.
to the recovery of the first arrangement, but to push Strength of
them farther from it, into a new situation, to which Msiteriab.
they now verge, and require force to prevent them from y~*—1
acquiring. The wire is now in fact again perfectly
elastic; that is, the forces which now connect the par¬
ticles with their neighbours augment to a certain degree
as the derangement from this new position augments.
This is not reasoning from any theory. It is narrating
facts, on which a theory is to be founded. What we
have been just now saying is evidently a description of
that sensible form of tangible matter which we call due- 9
tility. Lt has every gradation of variety, from the soft- Ductility,
ness of butter to the firmness of gold. All these bodies
have some elasticity j but we say they are not perfectly
elastic, because they do not completely recover their
original form when it has been greatly damaged. The
whole gradation may be most distinctly observed in a
piece of glass or hard sealing wax. In the ordinary
form glass is perhaps the most completely elastic body
that we know, and may be bent till just ready to snap,
and yet completely recovers its first form, and takes no
set whatever ; but when heated to such a degree as just
to be visible in the dark, it loses its brittleness, and be¬
comes so tough that it cannot be broken by any blow j
but it is no longer elastic, takes any set, and keeps it.
When more heated, it becomes as plastic as clay ; but
in this state is remarkably distinguished from clay by a
quality which we may call VISCIDITY, which is some-y, I?
thing like elasticity, of which clay and other bodies
purely plastic exhibit no appearance. This is the. joint
operation of strong adhesion and softness. When a rod
of perfectly soft glass is suddenly stretched a little, it
does not at once take the shape which it acquires after
some little time. It is owing to this, that in taking the
impression of a seal, if we take off the seal while the
wax is yet very hot, the sharpness of the impression is
destroyed immediately. Each part drawing its neigh¬
bour, and each part yielding, the prominent parts are
pulled down and blunted, and the sharp hollows are
pulled upwards and also blunted. The seal must be
kept on till all has become not only stiff but hard. n
This viscidity is to be observed in all plastic bodies observed
which are homogeneous. It is not observed in clay, be-in all be¬
cause it is not homogeneous, but consists of hard parti-
cles of argillaceous earth sticking together by their at- °
traction for water. Something like it might be made of
finely powdered glass and a clammy fluid such as tur¬
pentine. Viscidity has all degrees of goftness till it de¬
generates to ropy fluidity like that of olive oil. Perhaps
something of it may be found even in the most perfect
fluid that we are acquainted with, as we observed in the
experiments for ascertaining specific gravity.
There is in a late volume of the Philosophical Trans¬
actions a narrative of experiments, by which it appears
that the thread of the spider is an exception to our first
general law, and that it is perfectly ductile. It is there
asserted, that a long thread of gossamer, furnished with
an index, takes any position whatever; and that though
the index be turned round any number of times (even
many hundreds), it has no tendency to recover its first
form. The thread takes completely any set whatever.
We have not had an opportunity of repeating this ex¬
periment, but we have distinctly observed a phenomenon
totally inconsistent with it. If a fibre of gossamer about
an inch long be held by the end horizontally, it bends
downward
Materials.
IX
Particle*
acted on
by attrac¬
tions and
repulsions.
STRENGTH OF
Strength of downward in a curve like a slender slip of whalebone or
a hair. If totally devoid of elasticity, and perfectly
indifferent to any set, it would hang down perpendicular-,
ly without any curvature.
When ductility and elasticity are combined in differ¬
ent proportions, an immense variety of sensible modes
of aggregation may be produced. Some degree of both
are probably to be observed in all bodies of complex
constitution *, that is, which consist of particles made up
of many different kinds of atoms. Such a constitution
of a body must afford many situations permanent, but
easily deranged.
In all these changes of disposition which take place
among the particles of a ductile body, the particles are
at such distance that they still cohere. The body may
be stretched a little; and on removing the extending
force, the body shrinks into its first form. It also re¬
sists moderate compressions; and when the compressing
force is removed, the body swells out again. Now the
corpuscular fact here is, that the particles are acted on
by attractions and repulsions, which balance each other
when no external force is acting on the body, and which
augment as the particles are made, by any external
cause, to recede from this situation of mutual inactivity;
for since force is requisite to produce either the dilata¬
tion or the compression, and to maintain it, we are obli¬
ged, by the constitution of our minds, to infer that it is
opposed by a force accompanying or inherent in every
particle of dilatable or compressible matter ; and as this
necessity of employing force to produce a change indi¬
cates the agency of these corpuscular forces, and marks
their kind, according as the tendencies of the particles
appear to be toward each other in dilatation, or from
each other in compression ; so it also measures the de¬
grees of their intensity. Should it require three times
the force to produce a double compression, we must rec¬
kon the mutual repulsions triple when the compression
is doubled ; and so in other instances. We see from all
this that the phenomena of cohesion indicate some rela-
„orpuscular tion between the centres of the particles. To discover
meckaaism. this relation is the great problem in corpuscular me¬
chanism, as it was in the Newtonian investigation of the
force of gravitation. Could we discover this law of ac¬
tion between the corpuscles with the same certainty and
distinctness, we might with equal confidence say what
will be the result of any position which we give to the
particles of bodies ; but this is beyond our hopes. The
law of gravitation is so simple, that the discovery or de¬
tection of it amid the variety of celestial phenomena re¬
quired but one step; and in its own nature its possible
combinations still do not greatly exceed the powers of
human research. One is almost disposed to say that the
Supreme Being has exhibited it to our reasoning powers
as sufficient to employ with success our utmost efforts,
but not so abstruse as to discourage us from the noble
attempt. It seems to be otherwise with respect to co¬
hesion. Mathematics informs us, that if it deviates sen¬
sibly from the law of gravitation, the simplest combina¬
tions will make the joint action of several particles an
almost impenetrable mystery. M^e must therefore con¬
tent ourselves, for a long time to come, with a careful
observation of the simplest cases that we can propose,
and with the discovery of secondary laws of action, in
which many particles combine their influence. In pur¬
suance of this plan, we observe*.
t 13
The great
problem in
MATERIALS. 749
3. That whatever is the situation of the particles ofstiengtk of
a body with respect to each other, when in a quiescent Materials,
state, they are kept in these situations by the balance of' ■ '
opposite forces. This cannot be refused, nor can we p.u.tJ.fes
form to ourselves any other notion of the state of the kept in
particles of a body. Whether we suppose the ultimate their places
particles to be of certain magnitudes and shapes, touch- a t,aj;
ing each other in single points of cohesion ; or whether
we (with Boscovich) consider them as at a distance from
each other, and acting on each other by attractions and
repulsions—we must acknowledge, in the first place,
that the centres of the particles (by whose mutual di¬
stances we must estimate the distance of the particles)
may and do vary their distances from each other. What
else can we say when wTe observe a body increase in
length, in breadth, and thickness, by heating it, or
when we see it diminish in all these dimensions by an ex¬
ternal compression ? A particle, therefore, situated in the
midst of many others, and remaining in that situation,
must be conceived as maintained in it by the mutual
balancing of all the forces which connect it with its T5
neighbours. It is like a ball kept in its place by
opposite action of two springs. This illustration merits tj,is pr0p0_
a more particular application. Suppose a number of sition.
halls ranged on the table in tire angles of equilateral
triangles, and that each ball is connected with the six
which lie around it by means of an elastic wire curled
like a cork-screw; suppose such another stratum of balls
above this, and parallel to it, and so placed that each
ball of the upper stratum is perpendicularly over the
centre of the equilateral triangle below, and let these be
connected with the balls of the under stratum by similar
spiral wires. Let there be a third and a fourth, and any
number of such strata, all connected in the same manner.
It is plain that this may extend to any size and fill any
space.—Now let this assemblage of balls be firmly con¬
templated by the imagination, and be supposed to shrink
continually in all its dimensions, till the balls, and their
distances from each other, and the connecting wires, all
vanish from the sight as discrete individual objects. All
this is very conceivable. It will now appear like a solid
body, having length, breadth, and thickness ; it may be
compressed, and will again resume its dimensions; it may
be stretched, and will again shrink; it will move away
when struck ; in short, it will not differ in its sensible
appearance from a solid elastic body. Now when this
body is in a state of compression, for instance, it is evi¬
dent that any one of the balls is at rest, in consequence
of the mutual balancing of the actions of all the spiral
wires which connect it with those around it. It will
greatly conduce to the full understanding of all that fol¬
lows to recur to this illustration. The analogy or re¬
semblance betiveen the effects of this constitution of
things and the effects of the corpuscular forces is very
great; and wherever it obtains, we may safely draw con¬
clusions from what we know would be the condition of
a body of common tangible matter. We shall just give
one instructive example, and then have done with this p]€-
hypothetical body. We can suppose it of a long shape,
resting on one point; we can suppose two weights A, B,
suspended at the extremities, and the whole in equilibrio.
We commonly express this state of things by saying that
A and B are in equilibrio. This is very inaccurate. A
is in fact in equilibrio with the united action of all the
springs which connect the ball to which it.is applied
witht
16
Plate
T>XI.
fig. i.
750 STRENGTH OF
Strength of With the adjoining balls. These springs are brought in-
Materials. to action, and each is in equilibrio with the joint action
t‘r~v ■ : of all the rest. Thus through the whole extent of the
hypothetical body, the springs are brought into action in
a way and in a degree which mathematics can easily in¬
vestigate. We need not do this : it is enough for our
purpose that our imagination readily discovers that some
springs are stretched, others are compressed, and that a
pressure is excited on the middle point of support, and
the support exerts a reaction which precisely balances it;
and the other weight is, in like manner, in immediate
equilibrio with the equivalent of the actions of all the
springs which connect the last ball with its neighbours.
Now take the analogical or resembling case, an oblong
piece of solid matter, resting on a fulcrum, and loaded
with two weights in equilibrio. For the actions of the
connecting springs substitute the corpuscular forces, and
the result will resemble that of the hypothesis.
Now as there is something that is at least analogous to
a change of distance of the particles, and a concomitant
change of the intensity of the connecting forces, w’e may
express this in the same way that we are accustomed to
do in similar cases. Let A and B (fig. 1.) represent the
centres of two particles of a coherent elastic body in
their quiescent inactive state, and let us consider only
the mechanical condition of B. The. body may be
stretched. In this case the distance AB of the par¬
ticles may become AC. In this state there is something
which makes it necessary to employ a force to keep the
particles at this distance. C has a tendency towards A,
or we may say that A attracts C. We may represent
the magnitude of this tendency of C towards A, or this
attraction of A, by a line C c perpendicular to AC.
Again, the body may be compressed, and the distance
AB may become AD. Something obliges us to em¬
ploy force to continue this compression $ and D tends
Jro?n A, or A appears to repel D. The intensity of this
tendency or repulsion may be represented by another
perpendicular D d; and, to represent the different di¬
rections of these tendencies, or the different nature of
these actions, we may set D flf on the opposite side of
AB. It is in this manner that the Abbe Boscovich has
covicn re- represented the actions of corpuscular forces in his cele-
actiorfof Chrated Theory of Natural Philosophy. Newton had
corpuscular said, that, as the great movements of the solar system
were regulated by forces operating at a distance, and
varying with the distance, so he strongly suspected (valde
suspicor) that all the phenomena of cohesion, with all its
modifications in the different sensible forms of aggrega¬
tion, and in the phenomena of chemistry and physiology,
resulted from the similar agency of forces varying with
the distance of the particles. The learned Jesuit pur¬
sued this thought $ and has shown, that if we suppose an
ultimate atom of matter endowed with powers of attrac¬
tion and repulsion, varying, both in kind and degree,
with the distance, and if this force be the same in every
atom, it may be regulated by such a relation to the dis¬
tance from the neighbouring atom, that a collection of
such may have all the sensible appearance of bodies in
their different forms of solids, liquids, and vapours, ela-
tic or unelastic, and endowed with all the properties
which we perceive, by whose immediate operation the
phenomena of motion by impulse, and all the phenome¬
na of chemistry, and of animal and vegetable economy,
may be produced. He shows, that notwithstanding a
How Bos¬
covich re¬
forces.
MATERIALS.
perfect sameness, and even a great simplicity in this ato- Strength of
mical constitution, there will result from this union all MateriaU,
that unspeakable variety of form and property which di- —\r—
versify and embellish the face of nature. We shall take
another opportunity of giving such an account of this ce¬
lebrated work as it deserves. We mention it only, by
the bye, as far as a general notion of it will be of seme
service on the present occasion. For this purpose, we
just observe that Boscovich conceives a particle of any
individual species of matter to consist of an unknown
number of particles of simpler constitution j each of
which particles, in their turn, is compounded of particles
still more simply constituted, and so on through an un¬
known number of orders, till we arrive at the simplest
possible constitution of a particle of tangible matter, sus¬
ceptible of length, breadth, and thickness, and necessari¬
ly consisting of four atoms of matter. And he shows
that the more complex we suppose the constitution of a
particle, the more must thesensiblequalities of the aggre¬
gate resemble the observed qualities of tangible bodies.
In particular, he shows how a particle may be so con¬
stituted, that although it acton one other particle of the
same kind through a considerable interval, the interpo¬
sition of a third particle of the same kind may render it
totally, or almost totally, inactive } and therefore an as¬
semblage of such particles would form such a fluid as
air. All these curious inferences are made with uncon¬
trovertible evidence j and the greatest encouragement is
thus given to the mathematical philosopher to hope, that
by cautious and patient proceeding in this way, we may
gradually approach to a knowledge of the laws of co¬
hesion, that will not shun a comparison even with the
Princtpia of Newton. No step can be made in this in¬
vestigation, but by observing with care, and generalizing
with judgment, the phenomena, which are abundantly
numerous, and much more at our command than those
of the great and sensible motions of bodies. Following
this plan, we observe, iS
4. It is matter of fact, that every body has some de- Evel7
gree of compressibility and dilatability ; and wdien the
changes of dimension are so moderate that the body Jatable.
completely recovers its original dimensions on the cessa¬
tion of the changing force, the extensions or compres¬
sions are sensibly proportional to the extending or com¬
pressing forces j and therefore the connecting forces are
proportional to the distances of the particles from their 19
quiescent, neutral, or inactive positions. This seems to
have been first viewed as a law of nature by the penetra- Tere(j
ting eye of Dr Robert Hooke, one of the most eminent Dr Hooke,
philosophers of the last century. He published a cipher,
which he said contained the theory of springiness and of
the motions of bodies by the action of springs. It was
this, ceiiinosssttu a.—-When explained in his dis¬
sertation, published some years after, it was ut tensiosic
vis. This is precisely the proposition just now asserted
as a general fact, a law of nature. This dissertation is
full of curious observations of facts in support of his as¬
sertion. In his application to the motion of bodies he
gives his noble discovery of the balance spring of a
watch, which is founded on this law. The spring, as it
is more and more coiled up, or unwound, by the motion
of the balance, acts on it with a force proportional to
the distance of the balance from its quiescent position.
The balance, therefore, is acted on by an accelerating
force, which varies in the same manner as the force ot
gravity
20
\.nd con-
irmed by
he expe-
iments of
•thers.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Rrengih of gravity acting on a pendulum swinging in a cycloid.
Materials. Its vibrations therefore must be performed in equal time,
—■'V—whether they are wide or narrow. In the same disserta¬
tion Hooke mentions all the facts which John Bernoulli
afterwards adduced in support of Leibnitz’s whimsical
doctrine of the force of bodies in motion, or the doctrine
of the vires vivce ; a doctrine which Hooke might just¬
ly have claimed as his own, had he not seen its futility.
Experiments made since the time of Hooke show that
this law is strictly true in the extent to which we have
limited it, viz. in all the changes of form which will be
completely undone by the elasticity of the body. It is
nearly true to a much greater extent. James Bernoulli,
in his dissertation on the elastic curve, relates some ex¬
periments of his own, which seem to deviate considerably
from it j but on close examination they do not. The
finest experiments are those of Coulomb, published in
some late volumes of the memoirs of the Academy of
Paris. Pie suspended balls by wires, and observed their
motions of oscillation, which he found accurately cor¬
responding with this law.
This we shall find to be a very important fact in the
doctrine of the strength of bodies, and we desire the
reader to make it familiar to his mind. If we apply to
this our manner of expressing these forces by perpendi¬
cular ordinates C c, D r/ (fig. I.), we must take other
situations E, F, of the particle B, and draw E e, F f;
and we must have D d : F/=BD : BF, or C e : E e—
BC : BE. In such a supposition Y d YU c e must be a
straight line. But we shall have abundant evidence by
and bye that this cannot be strictly true, and that the
line Bee which limits the ordinates expressing the at¬
tractive forces becomes concave towards the line ABE,
and that the part B rf^is convex towards it. All that
can be safely concluded from the experiments hitherto
made is, that to a certain extent the forces, both attrac¬
tive and repulsive, are sensibly proportional to the di¬
latations and compressions. For,
5. It is universally observed, that when the dilata¬
tions have proceeded a certain length, a less addition
of force is sufficient to increase the dilatation in the same
degree. This is always observed when the body has
been so far stretched that it takes a set, and does not
completely recover its form. The like may be general-
crease its ]y observed in compressions. Most persons will recol-
jilatation. ject> tjiat jn v;0ient|y stretching an elastic cord, it be¬
comes suddenly weaker, or more easily stretched. But
these phenomena do not positively prove a diminution of
the corpuscular force acting on one particle: It more
probably arises from the disunion of some particles, whose
action contributed to the whole or sensible effect. And
in compressions we may suppose something of the same
kind 9 for when we compress a body in one direction, it
commonly bulges out in another 9 and in cases of very
violent action some particles may be disunited, whose
transverse action had formerly balanced part of the com¬
pressing force. For the reader will see on reflection,
that since the compression in one direction causes the
body to bulge out in the transverse direction 9 and since
this bulging out is in opposition to the transverse forces
of attraction, it must employ some part of the compres¬
sing force. And the common appearances are in per¬
fect uniformity with this conception of things. W hen
we press a bit of dryisl^clay, it swells out and cracks
transversely. When a pillar of wood is overloaded, it
75:
21
f^hen a
)dy is
■uch (li¬
lted, a
nail Ed¬
ition of
Tee will
swells out, and small crevices appear in the direction of strength of
the fibres. After this it will not bear half of the load. Material*.
This the carpenters call crippling 9 and a knowledge' 
of the circumstances which modify it is of great import¬
ance, and enables us to understand some very paradoxi¬
cal appearances, as will be shown by and bye.
This partial disuniting of particles formerly cohering
is, we imagine, the chief reason why the totality of the
forces which really oppose an external strain does not
increase in the proportion of the extensions and compres¬
sions. But sufficient evidence will also be given that
the forces which would connect one particle with one
other particle do not augment in the accurate pro¬
portion of the change of distance; that in extensions
they increase more slowly, and in compressions more
rapidly. _ ' ... 2*
But there is another cause of this deviation perhaps Ductiliiy
equally effectual with the former. Most bodies manifest another
some degree of ductility. Now what is this ? The fact**^?®^
is, that the parts have taken a new arrangement, in
which they again cohere. Therefore, in the passage to
this new arrangement, the sensible forces, which are the
joint result of many corpuscular forces, begin to respect
this new arrangement instead of the former. This must
change the simple law of corpuscular force, characteris¬
tic of the particular species of matter under examination.
It does not require much reflection to convince us that
the possible arrangements which the particles of abudy
may acquire, without appearing to change their nature,
must be more numerous according as the particles are of
a more complex constitution 9 and it is reasonable to
suppose that the constitution even of the most simple
kind of matter that we are acquainted with is exceed¬
ingly complex. Our microscopes show us animals so
minute, that a heap of them must appear to the naked
eye an uniform mass with a grain finer than that of the
finest marble or razor hone 9 and yet each of these has
not only limbs, but bones, muscular fibres, blood-vessels,
fibres, and a blood consisting, in all probability, of glo¬
bules organised and complex like our own. The ima¬
gination is here lost in wonder 9 and nothing is left us
but to adore inconceivable art and wisdom, and to exult
in the thought that we are the only spectators of this
beautiful scene who can derive pleasure from the view.
What is trodden under foot with indifference, even by
the half-reasoning elephant, may be made by us the
source of the purest and most unmixed pleasure. But
let us proceed to observe, 23
6. That the forces which connect the particles 0fwhfch°«m-
tangible bodies change by a change of distance, not on- neet tie
]y in degree, but also in kind. The particle B (fig. I.) particles of
is attracted by A when in the situation C or E. It istung'ble
repelled by it when at D or F. It is not affected by it^j^se b
when in the situation B. The reader is requested care-a change
fully to remark, that this is not an inference founded on of distance*
the authority of our mathematical figure. The figure
is an expression (to assist the imagination) of facts in
nature. It requires no force to keep the particles of a
body in their quiescent situations : but if they are sepa¬
rated by stretching the body, they endeavour (pardon
the figurative expression) to come together again. If
they are brought nearer by compression, they endeavour
to recede. This endeavour is manifested by the neces¬
sity of employing force to maintain the extension or con¬
densation 9 and we represent this by the different position
of
tracted and
repelled.
752 STRENGTH OF
Strength of of our lines. But tills Is not all: the particle B which
Material*. Js repelled by A when in the situation F or D, is neu-
' ^ tral when at B, and is attracted when at C or E, may
be placed at such a distance AG from A greater than
AB that it shall be again repelled, or at such a distance
AH that it shall again be attracted j and these altera¬
tions may he repeated again and again. This is curious
and important, and requires something more than a bare
24 assertion for its proof.
Light alter- Jn the article Optics we mentioned the most curious
natolyat- am| valuable observations of Sir Isaac Newton, by which
it appears that light is thus alternately attracted and re¬
pelled by bodies. The rings of colour which appear
between the object glasses of long telescopes showed,
that in the small interval of inrsoth °f an inch, there
are at least an hundred such changes observable, and
that it is highly probable that these alternations extend
to a much greater distance. At one of these distances
the light actually converges towards the solid matter of
the glass, which we express shortly, by saying that it is
attracted by it, and that at the next distance it declines
from the glass, or is repelled by it. The same thing is
more simply inferred from the phenomena of light pass*
ing by the edges of knives and other opaque bodies. We
refer the reader to the experiments themselves, the
detail being too long for this place j and wre request
him to consider them minutely and attentively, and
to form distinct notions of the inferences drawn from
them. And we desire it to be remarked, that although
Sir Isaac, in his discussion, always considers light as a
set of corpuscles moving in free space, and obeying the
actions of external forces like any other matter, the par¬
ticular conclusion in which we are just now interested
does not at all depend on this notion of the nature of
light. Should we, with Des Cartes or Huygens, sup¬
pose light to be the undulation of an elastic medium,
the conclusion will be the same. The undulations at
certain distances are disturbed by forces directed towards
the body, and at a greater distance, the disturbing forces
25 tend from the body.
Jfhc same But the same alternations of attraction and repulsion
alterna- may Jjg observed between the particles of common mat-
tions ofal- If V/e take a piece of very flat and well-polished
and repul- glass> such as 1S made for the horizon glasses of a good
iiou ob- Hadley’s quadrant, and if we wrap it round a fibre of
servable in silb as it comes from the cocoon, taking care that the
the par- £(jre nowhere cross another, and then press this pretty
tiler bodies ^iar^ on suc^ anotlier piece of glass, it will lift it up and
as glass. keep it suspended. The particles therefore of the one
do most certainly attract those of the other, and this at
a distance equal to the thickness of the silk fibre. This
is nearly the limit 5 and it sometimes requires a consider¬
able pressure to produce the effect. The pressure is
effectual only by compressing the silk fibre, and thus di¬
minishing the distance between the glass plates. This
adhesion cannot be attributed to the pressure of the at¬
mosphere, because there is nothing to hinder the air
from insinuating itself between the plates, since they are
separated by the silk. Besides, the experiment succeeds
equally well under the receiver of an air-pump. This
most valuable experiment was first made by Huygens,
who reported it to the Koyal Society. It is narrated in
the Philosophical Transactions, N° 86.
Here then is an attraction acting, like gravity, at a
distance. But take away the silk fibre, and try to make
MATERIALS.
the glasses touch each other, and we shall find a Very strcnRtf,
great force necessary. By Newton’s experiments it ap- Materials,
pears, that unless the prismatic colours begin to appear y"—
between the glasses, they are at least of an inch
asunder or more. Now we know that a very consider¬
able force is necessary for producing these colours, and
that the more We press the glasses together the more
rings of colours appear. It also appears from Newton’s
measures, that the difference of distance between the
glasses where each of these colours appear is about the
SpjCOOth part of an inch. We know farther, that
when we have produced the last appearance of a greasy
or pearly colour, and then augment the pressure, mak¬
ing it about a thousand pounds on the square inch, all
colours vanish, and the two pieces of glass seem to make
one transparent undistinguishable mass. They appear
now to have no air between them, or to he in mathe¬
matical contact. But another fact shows this conclusion
to be premature. The same circles of colours appear in
the top of a soap bubble 5 and as it grows thinner at
top, there appears an unreflecting spot in the middle.
We have the greatest probability therefore that the per¬
fect transparency in the middle of the two glasses does
not arise from their being in contact, but because the
thickness of air between them is too small in that place
for the reflection of light. Nay, Newton expressly
found no reflection where the thickness was JThs or
more of the part of an inch.
All this while the glasses are strongly repelling each
other, for great pressure is necessary for continuing the
appearance of those colours, and they vanish in succes¬
sion as the pressure is diminished. This vanishing of the
colours is a proof that the glasses are moving off from
each other, or repelling each other. But we can put
an end to this repulsion by very strong pressure, and at
the same time sliding the glasses on each other. We do
not pretend to account for this effect of the sliding mo¬
tion } but the fact is, that by so doing, the glasses will
cohere with very great force, so that we shall break
them by any attempt to pull them asunder. It com¬
monly happens (at least it did so w’ith us), that in this
sliding compression of two smooth flat plates of glass they
scratch and mutually destroy each other’s surface. It is
also worth remarking, that different kinds of glass exhi¬
bit different properties in this respect. Flint glass will
attract even though a silk fibre lies double between
them, and they much more readily cohere by this slid¬
ing pressure.
Here then are two distances at which the plates of
glass attract each other; namely, when the silk fibre is
interposed, and when they are forced together with this
sliding motion. And in any intermediate situation they
repel each other. WTe see the same thing in other solid
bodies. Two pieces of lead made perfectly clean, may j^ad and
be made to cohere by grinding them together in the jron>
same manner. It is in this way that pretty ornaments
of silver are united to iron. The piece is scraped clean*
and a small bit of silver like a fish scale is laid on. The
die which is to strike it into a flower or other ornament
is then set on it, and we give it a smart blow, which
forces the metals into contact as firm as if they were
soldered together. It sometimes happens that the die
adheres to the coin so that they cannot be separated:
and it is found that this frequently happens, when the
engraving is such, that the raised figure is not complete-
iS
Repulsion
the cause
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS
Strength of ly surrounded with a smooth flat ground. The probable
Materials, cause of this is curious. When the coin has a flat sur-
* face all around, this is produced by the most prominent
Probable part ot the die. This applies to the metal, and corn-
cause why pletely confines the air which filled the hollow of the
the die ad- die. As the pressure goes on, the metal is squeezed up
coin*t0 thC 'nt° ^ *10^°'V °f t*16 d'6 i but there is still air com¬
pressed between them, which cannot escape by any pas¬
sage. It is therefore prodigiously condensed, and exerts
an elasticity proportioned to the condensation. This
serves to separate the die from the metal when the stroke
is over. The hollow part of the die has not touched
the metal all the while, and we may say that the im¬
pression was made by air. If this air escape by any
engraving reaching through the border, they cohere in¬
separably.
We have admitted that the glass plates are in contact
when they adhere thus firmly. But we are not certain
ot this : tor if we take these cohering glasses, and touch
them with water, it quickly insinuates itself between
them. Yet they still cohere, but can now be pretty
easily separated.
It is owing to this repulsion, exerted through its pro¬
per sphere, that certain powders swim on the surface of
of some bo-wate,., and are wetted with great difficulty. Certain
ming^in'a" *nsects can rnn about on the surface of water. They
fluid spe- have brushy feet, which occupy a considerable surface 5
ciiically and if their steps are viewed with a magnifying glass,
lighter than the surface of th e wrater is seen depressed all around, re-
t emselvcs. seI11i)|jng the footsteps of a man walking on featherbeds.
This is owing to a repulsion between the brush and the
water. A common fly cannot walk in this manner on
water. Its feet are wetted, because they attract the wa¬
ter instead of repelling it. A steel needle, wiped very
clean, will lie on the surface of water, make an im¬
pression as a great bar would make on a feather bed ;
and its weight is less than that of the displaced water.
A dew drop lies on the leaves of plants without touch¬
ing them mathematically, as is plain from the extreme
brilliancy of the reflection at the posterior surface *, nay,
it may he sometimes observed that the drops of rain lie
on the surface of water, and roll about on it like balls
on a table. Yet all these substances can be wetted
that is, water can be applied to them at such distances
that they attract it.
What we said a little ago of water insinuating itself
between the glass plates without altogether destroying
their cohesion, shows that this cohesion is not the same
that obtains between the particles of one of the plates ;
that is, the two plates are not in the state of one conti¬
nued mass. It is highly probable, therefore, that be¬
tween these two states there is an intermediate state
of repulsion, nay, perhaps, many such, alternated with
attractive states.
A piece of iceis elastic, for it rebounds and rings.
Its particles, therefore, when compressed, resile ; and
when stretched, contract again. The particles are there¬
fore in the state represented by B in figure 1. acted on
by repulsive forces, if brought nearer ; and by attrac¬
tive forces, if drawn further asunder. Ice expands, like
all other bodies, by heat. It absorbs a vast quantity of
fire ; which, bv combining its attractions and repulsions
with those of the particles of ice, changes completely
the law of action, without making any sensible charige
in the distance of thb’pattifcles, ahd the ice becomes wa-
Vol. XIX. Part II. +
t 755
ter. In tins new state the particles are again in limits Strength of
between attractive and repulsive forces ; for water has Materials,
been shown, by the experiments of Canton and Zimmer- —v—
man, to be elastic or compressible. It again expands
by heat. It again absorbs a prodigious quantity of heat,
and becomes elastic vapour j its particles repelling each
other at all distances yet observed. The distance be¬
tween the particles of one plate of glass and those of
another which lies on it, and is carried by it, is a di¬
stance of repulsion ; for the force which supports the
upper piece is acting in opposition to its weight. This
distance is less than that at which it would suspend it
below it with a silk fibre interposed j for no prismatic
colours appear between them when the silk fibre is inter¬
posed. But the distance at which glass attracts water
is much less than this, for no colours appear when glass
is wetted with water. This distance is less, and not
greater, than the other 5 for when the glasses have wa¬
ter interposed between them instead of air, it is found,
that when any particular colour appears, the thickness
of the plate of water is to that of the plate of air which
would produce the same colour nearly as 3 to four. Nowr,
if a piece of glass be wetted, and exhibit no colour, and
another piece of glass be simply laid on it, no colour
will appear ; but if they are strongly pressed, the colours
appear in the same manner as if the glasses had air be¬
tween. Also, when glass is simply wetted, and the film
of water is allowed to evaporate, when it is thus reduced
to a proper thinness, the colours show themselves in
great beauty. ^
These are a few of many thousand facts, by which it Particles
is unquestionably proved that the particles ol tangible of mattel'
matter are connected by forces acting at a distance, vary-
• • . .1 «•,. J , , ? . ’ . J by forces
ing with the distance, and alternately attractive and re-actjng at a
pulsive. If we represent these forces as we have already distance.^
done in fig. 1. by the ordinates C c, D r/, E e, Fy^ &c.
of a curve, it is evident that this curve must cross the
axis at all those distances where the forces change from
attractive to repulsive, and the curve must have branches
alternately above and below the axis.
All these alternations of attraction and repulsion take
place at small and insensible distances. At all sensible
distances the particles are influenced by the attraction of
gravitation ; and therefore this part of the curve must
be a hyperbola whose equation is y— — • What is the
form of the curve corresponding to the smallest distance
of the particles? that is, what is the mutual action be¬
tween the particles just before their coming into absolute
contact ? Analogy should lead us to suppose it to he re¬
pulsion ; for solidity is the last and simplest form of bo¬
dies with which we are acquainted.—Fluids are more
compounded, containing fire as an essential ingredient.
We should conclude that this ultimate repulsion is insu¬
perable, for the hardest bodies are fhe most elastic. We
are fully entitled to sayj that this repelling force ex¬
ceeds all that we ha\;e ever yet applied to overcome it ;■
nay, there are good reasons for saying that this ultimate
repulsion, by which the particles are kept from mathe¬
matical contact, is really insuperable its own na¬
ture, and that it is impossible to produce mathematical
contact'. , . 30
We shall just mention one of these, vihich we consider Wathema-
as unanswerable. Suppose two atoms, or ultimate par-tlca*.con"
tides of matter, A and B. Ldt A be at rest, and B 1"^°S'
5-C move * ‘
754
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
strength of move up to it. with the velocity 2-, and let us suppose
Materials, that it comes into mathematical contact, and impels it
1——v—' (according to the common acceptation of the word).
Both move with the velocity I. This is granted by all
to be the final result of the collision. Now the instant
of time in which this communication happens is no part
either of the duration of the solitary motion of A, nor
of the joint motion of A and B : It is the separation or
boundary between them. It is at once the end of the
first, and the beginning of the second, belonging equal¬
ly to both. A was moving with the velocity 2. The
distinguishing circumstance therefore of its mechanical
state is, that it has a determination (however incompre¬
hensible) by which it would move for ever with the ve¬
locity 2, if nothing changed it. This it has during the
whole of its solitary motion, and therefore in the last
instant of this motion. In like manner, during the
whole of the joint motion, and therefore in the first in¬
stant of this motion, the atom A has a determination by
which it would move for ever with the velocity i. In
one and the same instant, therefore, the atom A has two
incompatible determinations. Whatever notion we can
form of this state, which we call velocity, as a distinction
of condition, the same impossibility of conception or the
same absurdity occurs. Nor can it be avoided in any
other way than by saying, that this change of A’s mo¬
tion is brought about by insensible gradations *, that is,
that A and B influence each other precisely as they
would do if a slender spring were interposed. The
reader is desired to look at what we have said in the
article Physics, § 82.
The two magnets there spoken of are good represen¬
tatives of two atoms endowed with mutual powers of
repulsion 5 and the communication of motion is accom¬
plished in both cases in precisely the same manner.
If, therefore, we shall ever be so fortunate as to dis¬
cover the law of variation of that force which connects
one ATOM of matter with another atom, and which is
therefore characteristic of matter, and the ultimate source
of all its sensible qualities, the curve whose ordinates re¬
present the kind and the intensity of this atomical force
Fig. 2. will be something like that sketched in fig. 2. The first
branch a nB will have AK (perpendicular to the axis
AH) for its assymptote, and the last branch /mo will
be to all sense a hyperbola, having AO for its assymp-
lote; and the ordinates l m M, &.c. will be propor¬
tional to
1 1
AL1’ AM2’
&c. expressing the universal gra¬
vitation of matter. It will have many branches B & C,
3i) d E, F f G, &c. expressing attractions, and alternate
repulsive branches ‘C c D, I. e 1, Gg H, &o. All these
will he contained within a distance AH, which does not
exceed a very minute fraction of an inch.
The sim- The simplest particle which can be a constituent of a
piest ex- body having length, breadth, and thickness, must consist
ticle^ n81" Qf four Sl,c*' atoms> °* which combine their influence
sots oH'our 0 1 each atoni anot*ier such Pai’ticle. It is evident that
atoms. the curve which expresses the forte that connect two
such particles must be totally different from this original
curve, this hylarchic principle. Supposing the last
known, our mathematical knowledge is quite able to dis¬
cover the firsthut when we proceed to compose a body
of particles, each of which consists of four such particles,
we may venture to say, that the compound force which
connects them is almost beyond our search, and that the
4
discovery of the primary force from an accit/ratc know-Sirennli o£
ledge of the corpuscular forces of this particular matter Materials,
is absolutely out of our power. "~v " J
All that we can learn is, the possibility, nay the cer¬
tainty of an innumerable variety of external sensible
forms and qualities, by which different kinds of matter
will be distinguished, arising from the number, the order
of composition, and the arrangement of the subordinate
particles of which a particle of this or that kind of mat¬
ter is composed. All these varieties will take place at
those small and insensible distances which are between
A and II, and may produce all that variety which we
observe in the tangible or mechanical forms of bodies,
such as elasticity, ductility, hardness, softness, fluidity,
vapour, and all those unseen motions or actions which
we observe in fusion and congelation, evaporation and
condensation, solution and precipitation, crystallization,
vegetable and animal assimilation and secretion, &c.
&c. &c. while all bodies must be, in a certain degree,
elastic, all must gravitate, and all must be incompene-
trable.
This general and satisfactory resemblance between the
appearance of tangible matter and the legitimate conse¬
quence of this general hypothetical property of an atom
of matter, affords a considerable probability that such is
the origin of all the phenomena. We earnestly recom¬
mend to our readers a careful perusal of Boscovich’s ce¬
lebrated treatise. A careful perusal is necessary for see¬
ing its value *, and nothing will be got by a hasty look
at it. The reader will be particularly pleased with the
facility and evidence with which the ingenious author
has deduced all the ordinary principles of mechanics,
and with the explanation which he has given of fluidity,
and his deduction from thence of the laws of hydrosta¬
tics. No part of the treatise is more valuable than the
doctrine of the propagation of pressure through solid
bodies. This, however, is but just touched on in the
course of the investigation of the principles of mechanics.
We shall borrow as much as will suffice for our present
inquiry into the strength of materials} and we trust that
our readers are not displeased with this general sketcli
of the doctrine (if it may be so called) of the cohesion^3^
of bodies. It is curious and important in itself, and istr;ne 0f CC)i
the foundation of all the knowledge we can acquire ofiiesionyet
the present article. We are sorry to say that it is as a new sab-
yet a new subject of study } but it is a very promisingiect-
one, and we by no means despair of seeing the whole of
chemistry brought by its means within the pale of me¬
chanical science. The great and distinguishing agent
in chemistry is heat, or fire the cause of heat} and one
of its most singular * fleets is the conversion of bodies
into elastic vapour. We have the clearest evidence
that this is brought about by mechanical forces : for it
can be opposed or prevented by external pressure, a
very familiar mechanical force. We may perhaps find
another mechanical force which will prevent fusion.
Having now made our readers familiar with the
mode of action in which cohesion operates in giving
strength to solid bodies, we proceed to consider the
strains to which this strength is opposed. 53
A piece of solid matter is exposed to four kinds of Strains to
strains, pretty different in the manner of their operation.;s
1. It may be torn asunder, as in the case of I'0Pes>0pp05od.
stretchers, king-posts, tye-beams, &c.
2.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
■Strength of 2. It may be crushed, as in the case of pillars, posts,
Materials and truss beams. ’
3. It may he broken across, as happens to a joist or
34
Matter
may be
pulled
asunder.
lever of any kind,
4. It may he wrenched or twisted, as in the case of
the axle of a wheel, the nail of a press, &c.
I. It may be pulled asunder.
L.
This is the simplest of all strains, and the others are
indeed modifications of it. To this the force of cohesion
is directly opposed, with very little modification of its
action by any particular circumstances.
When a long cylindrical or prismatic body, such as a
Pod of wood or metal, or a rope, is drawn by one end,
it must be resisted at the other, in order to bring its co¬
hesion into action. W hen it is fastened at one end, we
Cannot conceive it any other way than as equally stretch¬
ed in all its parts*, for all our observations and experi¬
ments on natural bodies concur in showing us that the
forces which connect their particles, in any way what¬
ever, are equal and opposite. This is called the third
hnu of motion ; and we admit its universality, while we
affirm that it is purely experimental (see Physics). Yet
we have met with dissertations by persons of eminent
knowledge, where propositions are maintained inconsist¬
ent with this. During the dispute about the communi¬
cation of motion, some of the ablest writers have said,
that a spring compressed or stretched at the two ends
was gradually less and less compressed or stretched from
the extremities towards the middle : but the same wri-
-ters acknowledged the universal equality of action and
reaction, which is quite incompatible with this state of
the spring. No such inequality of compression or dilata¬
tion has ever been observed ; and a little reflection will
show it to be impossible, in consistency with the equa¬
lity of action and reaction.
Since all parts are thus equally stretched, it follows,
that the strain in any transverse section is the same, as
also in every point of that section. If therefore the
body be supposed of a homogeneous texture, the cohe¬
sion of the parts is equable *, and since every part is'
equally stretched, the particles are drawn to equal dis¬
tances from their quiescent positions, and the forces
which are thus excited, and now exerted in opposition
to the straining force, are equal. This external force
may be increased by degrees, which will gradually se¬
parate the parts of the body more and more from each
other, and the connecting forces increase with this in¬
crease of distance, till at last the cohesion of some par¬
ticles is overcome. This must be immediately follow¬
ed by a rupture, because the remaining forces are now
weaker than before.
It is the united force of cohesion, immediately before
the disunion of the first particles, that we call the
STRENGTH of the section. It may also be properly
called its absolute strength, being exerted in the
simplest form, and not modified by any relation to other
circumstances.
If the external force has not produced any permanent
change on the body, and it therefore recovers its former
dimensions when the force is withdrawn, it is plain that
this strain may be repeated as often as we please, and the
truction body which withstands it once will always withstand it.
equinag Jt js evident that this should be attended to in all con-
trength.
.35
1. circum¬
stance to
>e attend-
id to in
ivery con¬
structions, and that in all our investigations on this sub- Stieii"th of
ject this should be kept strictly in view. When we treat Materii.l*.
a piece of soft clay in this manner, and with this precau- ^ v *
tion, the force employed must be very small. If we
exceed this, we produce a permanent change. The rod
of clay is not indeed torn asunder ; but it has become
somewhat more slender: the number of particles in
a cross section is now smaller *, and therefore, although
it will again, in this new form, suffer or allow an
endless repetition of a certain strain without any far¬
ther permanent change, this strain is smaller than the
former.
Something of the same kind happens in all bodies
which receive a sett by the Strain to which they are
exposed. A11 ductile bodies are of this kind. Rut there
are many bodies which are not ductile. Such bodies
break completely whenever they are stretched beyond
the limit of their perfect elasticity. Bodies of a fibrous
structure exhibit very great varieties in their cohesion. ^
In some the fibres have no lateral cohesion, as in the Great va-
case ol a rope. The only way in which all the fibresrieties in
can be made to unite their strength is, to twist them to-t‘0^es‘0H»
gether. This causes them to bind each other so fast, ^
that any one of them will break before it can be drawn
out of the bundle. In other fibrous bodies, such as
timber, the fibres are held together by some cement or
gluten. This is seldom as strong as the fibre. Ac¬
cordingly timber is much easier pulled asunder in a di¬
rection transverse to the fibres. There is, however,
every possible variety in this particular.
In stretching and breaking fibrous bodies, the visible
extension is frequently very considerable. This is not
solely the increasing of the distance of the particles of
the cohering fibre ; the greatest part chiefly arises from
drawing the crooked fibre straight. In this, too, there
is great diversity *, and it is accompanied with important
differences in their power of withstanding a strain. In
some woods, such as fir, the fibres on which the strength
most depends are very straight. Such woods are com¬
monly very elastic, do not take a sett, and break
abruptly when overstrained : others, such as oak and
birch, have their resisting fibres very undulating and
crooked, and stretch very sensibly by a strain. They
are Very liable to take a sett, and they do not break so
suddenly, but give warning by complaining, as the car¬
penters call it} that is, by giving visible signs of a de¬
rangement of texture. Hard bodies of an uniform glassy
structure, or granulated like stones, are elastic through
the whole extent of their cohesion, and take no sett, but
break at once when overloaded.
Notwithstanding the immense variety which nature
exhibits in the structure and cohesion of bodies, there
are certain general facts of which we may now avail
ourselves with advantage. In particular,
The absolute cohesion is proportional to the area ofthe abso-
the section. This must be the case where the texture is cohe-
perfectly uniform, as we have reason to think it is in S)on or
glass and the ductile metals. The cohesion of each par-
ticle being alike, the whole cohesion must be propor-a) to the
tional to their number, that is, to the area of the sec-area ofthe
tion. The same must be admitted with respect to bodies sect‘on per-
of a granulated texture, where the granulation is regu-
lar and uniform. The same must be admitted of fibroustenjjn<,
bodies, if we suppose their fibres equally strong, equally force.
5 C 2 dense.
Oi
3*
Relatirc
*tren«:th.
IS6
Streno-t!i and similarly disposed through the whole section j
Materials, and this we must either suppose, or must state the di-
v versity, and measure the cohesion accordingly.
We may therefore assevt, as a general proposition on
this subject, that the absolute strength in any part of a
body by which it resists being pulled asunder, or the
force which must be employed to tear it asunder in that
part, is proportional to the area of the section perpen-
dicular to the extending force.
Therefore all cylindrical or prismatical rods are
equally strong in every part, and will break alike in
any part } and bodies which have unequal sections vyill
always break in the slenderest part. The length of the
cylinder or prism has no effect on the strength •, and the
vulgar notion, that it is easier to break a very long rope
than a short one, is a very great mistake. Also the ab¬
solute strengths of bodies which have similar sections
are proportional to the squares of their diameters or ho¬
mologous sides of the section.
The weight of the body itself may be employed to
strain it and to break it. It is evident, that a rope may
be so long as to break by its own weight. When the
rope is hanging perpendicularly, although it is equally
strong in every part, it will break towards the upper
end, because the strain on any part is the weight of all
that is below it. Its RELATIVE STRENGTH in any
part, or power of withstanding the strain which is ac¬
tually laid on it, is inversely as the quantity below that
part.
When the rope is stretched horizontally, as in towing
a ship, the strain arising from its weight often bears a
very sensible proportion to its whole strength.
Let AEB (fig. 3.) be any portion of such a rope,
and AC, BG be tangents to the curve into which its
gravity bends it. Complete the parallelogram ACBD.
It is well known that the curve is a catenaria, and that
DC is perpendicular to the horizon *, and that DC is
to AC as the weight of the rope AEB to the strain
at A.
In order that a suspended heavy body may be equal¬
ly able in every part to carry its own weight, the sec¬
tion in that part must be proportional to the solid con¬
tents of all that is below it. Suppose it a conoidal
spindle, formed by the revolution of the curve Ace
(fig. 4.) round the axis CE. We must have AC* : a c*
— AEB sol. : c E sol. This condition requires the
logarithmic curve for Ace, of which Cc is the axis.
These are the chief general rules which can be safely
deduced from our clearest notions of the cohesion of bo¬
dies. In order to make any practical use of them, it is
proper to have some measures of the cohesion of such bo¬
dies as are commonly employed in our mechanics, and
other structures where they are exposed to this kind of
strain. These must be deduced solely from experiment.
The cohe- Therefore they must be considered as no more than ge¬
lds de n C nera^ va'ues> or as ^ie averages of many particular trials,
pends on The irregularities are very great, because none of the
variouscir- substances ai’e constant in their texture and firmness,
cumstan- Metals differ by a thousand circumstances unknown to
ees us, according to their purity, to the heat with which
they were melted, to the moulds in which they were
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Dg. 3-
rig. 4.
39
cast, and the treatment they have afterwards received, Strength of
by forging, wire-drawing, tempering, &c. Material*.
It is a very curious and inexplicable fact, that by -v-""—■'
forging a metal, or by frequently drawing it through a
smooth hole in a, steel pUte, its cohesion is greatly in¬
creased. This operation undoubtedly deranges the na¬
tural situation of the particles. They are squeezed
closer together in one direction j but it is not in the di-
rectipn in which they resist the fracture. In this direc¬
tion they are rather separated to a greater distance. The
general density, however, is augmented in all of them
except lead, which grows ra,ther rarer by wire-drawing :
but its cohesion may be more than tripled by this opera¬
tion. Gold, silver, and brass, have their cohesion nearly
tripled ; copper and iron have it more than doubled. In
this operation they also grow much harder. It is proper
to heat them to redness after drawing a little. This is
called nealing or annealing. It softens the metal again,
and renders it susceptible of another drawing without
the risk of cracking in the operation.
We do not pretend to give any explanation of this re¬
markable and very important fact, which has something
resembling it in woods and other fibrous bodies, as will
be mentioned afterwards.
The varieties in the cohesion of stqnes and other mi¬
nerals, and of vegetable and animal substances, are hard¬
ly susceptible of any description or classification.
We shall take for the measure of cohesion the uum- Cohesion
her of pounds avoirdupois which are just sufficient toand
tear asunder a rod or bundle of one inch square. Froip
this it will be easy to compute the strength correspond- meta]s
ing to any other dimension.
i.9f, Metals.
Gold, cast,
Silver, cast,
f Japan,
I Barbary,
Copper, cast, Hungary,
I Anglesea,
( Sweden,
Iron, cast,
‘Ordinary,
t 1 Stirian,
ion, tai, Best Swedish and
_Horse-nails,
Steel, bar, -! p0^’
’ ’ I Kazor temper,
' Malacca,
Banca,
Tin, cast, <[ Block,
English block,
l grain,
Lead, cast, - - -
Ilegulus of antimony,
Zinc, -
Bismuth, - - -
lbs.
C 20,000
i 24,000
C 40,000
1 43>000
19,000
22,000
31,000
34,000
37,o°o
C 42,000
i 59,000
68,000
- _ 75»ooo
Russian,84,000
- 71,000 (a)
120,000
150,000
3,100
3.600
3,800
5,200
6,500
860
1,000
2.600
- 2,900
It
(a) This was an experiment by Muschenbroek, to examine the vulgar notion that iron forged from old horse
nails was stronger than all others, and shows its falsity.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of It Is very remarkable that almost all the mixtures of
Material*, metals are more tenacious than the metals themselves.
1 he change of tenacity depends much on the proportion
of the ingredients, and the proportion which produces
the most tenacious mixture is different in the different
metals. We have selected the following from the ex¬
periments of Muschenbroek. The proportion of ingre¬
dients here selected is that which produces the greatest
strength.
41
Tenacity
of metals
increased
by mix¬
tures.
751.
2. 1 he wood next the bark, commonly called the Strength ef
white or blea, is also weaker than the rest ; and the Material*.
wood gradually increases in strength as we recede from ' 
the centre to the blea.
Two parts of gold with one of silver 28,000
Five parts of gold with one of copper 50,000
Five parts of silver with one of copper 48,500
Four parts of silver with one of tin - 41,000
Six parts of copper with one of tin - 41,000
Five parts of Japan copper with one of Ban-
ca tin - - - 57>ooo
Six parts of Chili copper with one of Ma¬
lacca tin - - - 60,000
Six parts of Swedish copper with one of Ma¬
lacca tin - r - 64,000
Brass consists of copper and zinc in an un¬
known proportion j its strength is 51,000
Three parts of block tin with one part of
lead ... 10,200
Eight parts of block tin with one part of
zinc - - - - ' 10,000
Four partg of Malacca tin with one part of
regulus of antimony - - 12,000
Eight parts of lead with one of zinc 455°°
Four parts of tin with one of lead and one
of zinc 1 - - 13,000
These numbers are of considerable use in the arts.
The mixtures of copper and tin are particularly interest¬
ing in the fabric of great guns. We see that, by mixing
copper whose greatest strength does not exceed 37,000,
with tin which does not exceed 6000, we produce a me¬
tal whose tenacity is almost double, at the same time that
it is harder and more easily wrought. It is, however,
more fusible, which is a great inconvenience. We also
see that a very small addition of zinc almost doubles the
tenacity of tin, and increases the tenacity of lead five
times ; and a small addition of lead doubles the tenacity
of tin. These are economical mixtures. This is a very
valuable information to the plumbers for augmenting
the strength of water pipes.
By having recourse to these tables, the engineer can
proportion the thickness of his pipes (of whatever metal)
to the pressures to which they are exposed.
2d, Woods.
We may premise to this part of the table the follow¬
ing general observations.
I. The v/ood immediately surrounding the pith or
trength^of heart of the tree is the weakest, and its inferiority is so
ro°^ much more remarkable as the tree is older. In this as¬
sertion, however, we speak with some hesitation- IMus-
chenbroek’s detail of experiments is decidedly in the af¬
firmative. Mr Buffon, on the other hand, says, that his
experience has taught him that the heart of a sound tree
is the strongest5 but he gives no instances. Me aie
certain, from many observations of our own, on very
large oaks and firs, that the heart is much weaker than
the exterior parts.
42
teiiaeity
3. The wood is stronger in the middle of the trunk
than at the springing of the branches or at the root; and
the wood of the branches is weaker than that of the
trunk,
4. The wood of the north side of all trees which
grow in our European climates is the weakest, and that
of the south-east side is the strongest; and the difference
is most remarkable in hedge-row trees, and such as grow
singly. The heart of a tree is never in its centre, but
always nearer to the north side, and the annual coats of
wood are thinner on that side. In conformity with
this, it is a general opinion of carpenters that timber is
stronger whose annual plates are thicker. The trachea
or air-vessels are weaker than the simple ligneous fibres.
These air-vessels are the same in diameter and number of
rows in trees of the same species, and they make the vi¬
sible separation between the annual plates. Therefore
when these are thicker, they contain a greater propor¬
tion of the simple ligneous fibres.
5. All woods are more tenacious while green, and
lose very considerably by drying after the trees are fel¬
led.
The only author who has put it in our power to
judge of the propriety of his experiments is Muschen¬
broek. He has described his method of trial minutely;
and it seems unexceptionable. The woods were all
formed into slips fit for his apparatus, and part of the slip
was cut away to a parallelepiped of ^-th of an inch
square, and therefore ^TTth of a square inch in section.
The absolute strengths of a square inch were as fol¬
lows :
Locust tree,
Juleb,
Beech, oak,
Orange,
Alder,
Elm,
Mulberry
Willow,
Ash,
Plum,
Elder,
lib.
20,100
18.500
*7>300
15.500
13,900
13,200
12.500
12,500
12,000
11,800
10,000
Pomegranate,
Lemon,
Tamarind,
Fir,
Walnut,
Pitch pine,
Quince,
CypreSs,
Poplar,
Cedar,
lib.
43
Absolute
strength of
9,75® different
9,250 k*nds of
8.750 W00l,»
8,33°
8,130
7,650
6.750
6,000
5,500
4,880
Mr Muschenbroek has given a very minute detail of
the experiments on the ash and the walnut, stating the
weights which were required to tear asunder slips taken
from the four sides of the tree, and on each side, in a re¬
gular progression from the centre to the circumference.
The number of this table corresponding to these two
timbers may therefore be considered as the average of
more than 50 trials made of each ; and he says that all
the others were made with the same care. We cannot
therefore see any reason for not confiding in the results;
yet they are considerably higher than those given by
some other writers. Mr Pitot says, on the authority of
his own experiments, and of those of Mr Parent, that
60 pounds will just tear asunder a square line of sound
oak, and that it will bear 50 with safety. This gives
8640 for the utmost strength of a square inch, which is
much inferior to Muschenhroek’s valuation.
We
758
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
•Strength of
Materials.
and of
other sub¬
stances.
We may add to these,
Ivory,
Bone,
Horn,
Whalebone,
Tooth of sea-calf,
16,270
5>25°
8>75°
7>500
4>°75
No sub- The reader will surely observe, that these numbers
stance to express something more than the utmost cohesion ; for
be strained t|ie weJghts are such as will very quickly, that is, in a
tunfabove' minute or tw0> tear ^ie ro^s asunder. It may be said
one half its in general, that two thirds of these weights will sensi-
strength. bly impair the strength after a considerable while, and
that one-half is the utmost that can remain suspended
at them without risk for ever •, and it is this last allot¬
ment that the engineer should reckon upon in his con¬
structions. There is, however, considerable difference
in this respect. Woods of a very straight fibre, such
as fir, will be less impaired by any load which is not
sufficient to break them immediately.
According to Mr Emerson, the load which may be
safely suspended to an inch square is as follows :
Iron, - - 76,400
Brass, - <■ - 35,600
Hempen rope, - - 19,600
Ivory, - 15,700
Oak, box, yew, plum-tree, - 7)85°
Elm, ash, beech, - - 6,070
Walnut, plum, - -
Red fir, holly, elder, plane, crab, 5,000
Cherry, hazel, - - 4*76°
Alder, asp, birch, willow, * 4,290
Lead, - - - 43°
Freestone, - - * 9{4
He gives us a practical rule, that a cylinder whose
diameter is d inches, loaded to one-fourth of its abso¬
lute strength, will carry as follows :
Iron, - - 135!
Good rope, - 22 (
Oak, - - *4 C
Fir, - - 9J
Cwt.
The rank which the different woods hold in this fist
of Mr Emerson’s is very different from what we find in
Muschenbroek’s. But precise measures must not be
expected in this matter. It is wonderful that in a mat¬
ter of such unquestionable importance the public has not
enabled some persons of judgment to make proper trials.
They are beyond the abilities of private persons.
II. Bodies may be crushed.
46
It is of im- It is of equal, perhaps greater, importance to know
portancc to t|ie strain which maybe laid on solid bodies without
wiU**rus'lf4 ^anKer crusfi'ng them. Pillars and posts of all kinds
bodies. S1 are exposed to this strain in its simplest form; and there
are cases where the strain is enormous, viz. where it
arises from the oblique position of the parts ; as in the
stuts, braces, and trusses, which occur very frequent¬
ly in our great works.
It is therefore most desirable to have some general
knowledge of the principle which determines the
strength of bodies in opposition to this kind of strain.
But unfortunately w7e are much more at a loss in this
than in the last case. The mechanism of nature is
much more complicated in the present case. It mustc,
1 • • 5 . . length of
be in some circuitous way that compression can have Materials
any tendency to tear asunder the parts of a solid body, ' v—
and it is very difficult to trace the steps.
II we suppose the particles insuperably hard and in
contact, and disposed in fines which are in the direction
of the external pressures, it does not appear how any
pressure can disunite the particles ; but this is a gratui¬
tous supposition. There are infinite odds against this
precise arrangement of the fines of particles 5 and the
compressibility of all kinds"of matter in some degree
shows that the particles are in a situation equivalent to
distance. This being the case, and the particles, with
their intervals, or what is equivalent to intervals, being
in situations that are oblique with respect to the pressures,
it must follow, that by squeezing them together in one
direction, they are made to bulge out or separate in other
directions. This may proceed so far that some may be
thus pushed laterally beyond their limits of cohesion.
The moment that this happens the resistance to compres¬
sion is diminished, and the body will now be crushed to¬
gether. We may form some notion of this by supposing
a number of spherules, like small shot, sticking together
by means of a cement. Compressing this in some par¬
ticular direction causes the spherules to act among each
other like so many wedges, each tending to penetrate
through between the three which fie below it: and this
is the simplest, and perhaps the only distinct, notion we
can have of the matter. We have reason to think that
theconstitutionofveryhomogeneousbodies,such as glass,
is not very different from this. The particles are cer¬
tainly arranged symmetrically in the angles ofsome re¬
gular solids. It is only such an arrangement that is con¬
sistent with transparency, and with the free passage of
light in every direction.
If this be the constitution of bodies, it appears pro-Ttah^
bable that the strength, or the resistance which they are strengtii
capable of making to an attempt to crush them to pieces,01- power
is proportional to the area of the section whose plane isof,esi5t’
perpendicular to the external force ", for each particle a
being similarly and equally acted on and resisted, the force,
whole resistance must be as their number j that is, as
the extent of the section.
Accordingly this principle is assumed by the few wri¬
ters who have considered this subject } but we confess
that it appears to us very doubtful. Suppose a number
of brittle or friable balls lying on a table uniformly ar¬
ranged, but not cohering nor in contact, and that a
board is laid over them and loaded with a weight ; we
have no hesitation in saying, that the weight necessary
to crush the whole collection is proportional to their num¬
ber or to the area of the section. But when they are
in contact (and still more if they cohere), we imagine
that the case is materially altered. Any individual ball
is crushed only in consequence of its being bulged out¬
wards in the direction perpendicular to the pressure
employed. If this could be prevented by a hoop put
round the ball like an equator, we cannot see how any
force can crush it. Any thing therefore which makes
this bulging outwards more difficult, makes a greater
force necessary. Now this effect will be produced by
the mere contact of the balls before the pressure is ap¬
plied; for the central ball cannot swell outward lateral¬
ly without pushing away the balls on all sides of it.
This is prevented by the friction on the table and upper
board,
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of^aar(^> ia at least equal to one third of the pres-
,'vIateriaK sure. ihus any interior hall becomes stronger by the
■ ~ mere vicinity ot tlie others 5 and il vve farther suppose
them to cohere laterally, we think that its strength will
be still more increased.
The analogy between these balls and the cohering
particles of a friable body is very perfect. We should
therefore expect that the strength by which it resists be¬
ing crushed will increase in a greater ratio than that of
the section, or the square of the diameter of similar sec¬
tions ; and that a square inch of any matter will bear a
greater weight in proportion as it makes a part of a
greater section. Accordingly this appears in many ex¬
periments, as will be noticed afterwards. Muschenbroek,
Euler, and some others, have supposed the strength of
columns to be as the biquadrates of their diameters.
But Euler deduced this from formulae which occurred
to him in the course of his algebraic analysis ; and he
boldly adopts it as a principle, without looking for its
foundation in the physical assumptions which he had
made in the beginning of his investigation. But some
of his original assumptions were as paradoxical, or at
least as gratuitous, as these results : and those, in parti¬
cular, from which this proportion of the strength of co¬
lumns was deduced, were almost foreign to the case j
and therefore the inference was of no value. Yet it was
received as a princip'e by Muschenbroek and by the aca¬
demicians of St Petersburgh. We make these( very few
observations, because the subject is of great practical
importance ; and it is a great obstacle to improvements
when deference to a great name, joined to incapacity or
indolence, causes authors to adopt his careless reveries as
principles from which they are afterwards to draw im¬
portant consequences. It must be acknowledged that
we have not as yet established the relation between the
dimensions and the strength of a pillar on solid mechani¬
cal principles. Experience plainly contradicts the ge¬
neral opinion, that the strength is proportional to the
area of the section ; but it is still more inconsistent with
the opinion, that it is in the quadruplicate ratio of the
diameters of similar sections. It would seem that the
ratio depends much on the internal structure of the bo¬
dy by ex-d and experiment seems the only method for ascer-
enment. , ■ • •. 1 ,1
taming its general laws.
If we suppose the body to be of a fibrous texture,
having the fibres situated in the direction of t he pressure,
and slightly adhering to each other by some kind of ce¬
ment, such a body will fail only by the bending of the
fibres, by which they will break the cement and be de¬
tached from each other. Something like this may be
supposed in wooden pillars. In such cases, too, it would
appear that the resistance must be as the number of equal¬
ly resisting fibres, and as their mutual support, jointly 5
and, therefore, as some function of the area of the sec¬
tion. The same thing must happen if the fibres are
naturally crooked or undulated, as is observed in many
woods, &c. provided we suppose some similarity in their
form. Similarity of some kind must always be supposed,
otherwise we need never aim at any general inferences.
In all cases therefore we can hardly refuse admitting
that the strength in opposition to compression is propor¬
tional to a function of the area of the section.
* As the whole length of a cylinder or prism is equally
pressed, it does not appear that the strength of a pillar
is at all affected by its length. If indeed it be supposed
4S
3 be as¬
certained
, 759
to bend under the pressure, the case is greatly changed, strength of
because it is then exposed to a transverse strain 5 and Materials.
this increases with the length of the pillar. But this ' 
will be considered with due attention under the next
class of strains.
Few experiments have been made on this species of
strength and strain. Mr Petit says, that his experiments
and those of Mr Parent, show that the force necessary for
crushing a body is nearly equal to that which will tear it
asunder. He says that it requires something more than
60 pounds on every square line to crush a piece of sound
oak. But the rule is by no means general : Glass, for
instance, will carry a hundred times as much as oak in
this way, that is, resting on it 5 but will not suspend
above four or five times as much. Oak will suspend a
great deal more than fir ; but fir will carry twice as
much as a pillar. Woods of a soft texture, although con¬
sisting of very tenacious fibres, are more easily crush¬
ed by their load. This softness of texture is chiefly ow¬
ing to their fibres not being straight but undulated, and
there being considerable vacuities between them, so that
they are easily bent laterally and crashed. When a post
is overstrained by its load, it is observed to swell sen¬
sibly in diameter. Increasing the load causes longitu¬
dinal cracks or shivers to appear, and it presently after
gives way. This is called crippling.
In all cases where the fibres lie oblique to the strain
the strength is greatly diminished, because the parts can
then be made to slide on each other, when the cohesion
of the cementing matter is overcome.
Muschenbroek has given some experiments on this
subject 5 but they are cases of long pillars, and therefore
do not belong to this place. They will be considered
afterwards.
The only experiments of which we have seen any de¬
tail (and it is useless to insert mere assertions) are those
of Mr Gauthey, in the 4th volume of Ilozier’s JoTirnul
de Physique. This engineer exposed to great pressures
small rectangular parallelopipeds, cut from a great va¬
riety of stones, and noted the weights which crushed
them. The following table exhibits the medium results
of many trials on two very uniform kinds of freestone,
one of them among the hardest and the other among the
softest used in building.
Column 1 st expresses the length AB of the section inEXpe|f.
French lines or I2ths of an inch ; column 2d expresses ments for
the breadth BC ; column 3d is the area of the section t*lis Plu-
in square lines ; column 4th is the number of ounces re-pos® ma<^e
quired to crush the piece j column 5th is the weight gtone
which was then borne by each square line of the sec¬
tion ; and column 6th is the round numbers to which
Mr Gauthey imagines that those in column 5th ap¬
proximate.
Hard Stone.
AB
8
8
8
9
9
18
18
BC
8
12
16
16
18
18
24
ABxBC
64
96
128
Weight
736
2625
4496
Soft Stone.
144
162
324
432
560
848
2928
5296
Force
11-S
27-3
35-1
39
5-3
9
12.2
12
24
36
4-
4-5
9
1.2
Little
760 strength of materials.
Strength of Little can be deduced from these experiments : The
Materials, ist and 3d, compared with the 5th and 6tb, should fur-
' " v”"1 ' nish similar results j for the ist and 5th are respective¬
ly half of the 3d and 6th : but the 3d is three times
stronger (that is, a line of the 3d) than the first, where¬
as the 6th is only twice as strong as the 5th.
It is evident, however, that the strength increases
much faster than the area of the section, and that a
square line can carry more and more weight, according
as it makes a part of a larger and larger section. In
the series of experiments on the soft stone, the individual
strength of a square line seems to increase nearly in the
proportion of the section of which it makes a part.
Mr Gauthey deduces, from the whole of his numer¬
ous experiments, that a pillar of hard stone of Givry,
whose section is a square foot, will bear with perfect
safety 664,000 pounds, and that its extreme strength is
87. ,000, and the smallest strength observed in any of
his experiments was 460,000. The soft bed of Givry
stone had for its smallest strength 187,000, for its great¬
est 311,000, and for its safe load 249,000. Good
brick will carry with safety 320,000; chalk will carry
only 9000. The boldest piece of architecture in this
respect which he has seen is a pillar in the church of
All-Saints at Angers. It is 24 feet long and 11 inches
square, and is loaded with 60,000, which is not one-
seventh of what is necessary for crushing it.
We may observe here by the way, that Mr Gauthey’s
measure of the suspending strength of stone is vastlysmall
in proportion to its power of supporting a load laid above
it. He finds that a prism of the hard bed of Givry, of
a foot section, is torn asunder by 4600 pounds; and if
it he firmly fixed horizontally in a wall, it will be broken
not satis- a weight of 56,000 suspended a foot from the wall. If
factory. it rest on two props at a foot distance, it will be broken
by 206,000 laid on its middle. These experiments a-
gree so ill with each other, that little use can be made
of them. The subject is of great importance, and well
^ deserves the attention of the patriotic philosopher.
Good ex- set °f good experiments would be very valuable, be-
periments cause it is against this kind of strain that we must guard
much want-by judicious construction in the most delicate and diffi¬
cult problems which come through the hands of the ci¬
vil and military engineer. The construction of stone
arches, and the construction of great wooden bridges,
and particularly the construction of the frames of car¬
pentry called centres in the erection of stone bridges,
are the most difficult jobs that occur. In the centres on
which the arches of the bridge of Orleans were built,
some of the pieces of oak were carrying upwards of two
tons on every square inch of their scantling. All who
saw it said that it was not able to carry the fourth part
of the intended load. But the engineer understood the
principles of his art, and ran the risk; and the result
completely justified his confidence ; for the centre did
not complain in any- part, only it was found too supple;
so that it went out; of shape while the haunches only of
the arch were laid on it. The engineer corrected this
by loading it at the crown, and thus kept it completely
in shape during the progress of the work.
In the Memoirs (old) of the Academy of Petersburgh
for 1778, there is a dissertation by Euler on this subject,
but particularly limited to the strain on columns, in
which the bending is taken into the account. Mr Fuss
lias treated-the same subject with relation to carpentry
3
in a subsequent volume. But there is little in these pa-gtmiKl}, d
pers besides a dry mathematical disquisition, proceeding Mateiialj.
on assumptions which (to speak favourably) are ex-'“““v--^
tremely gratuitous. Ihe most important consequence
of the compression is wholly overlooked, as we shall
presently see. Our knowledge of the mechanism of
cohesion is as yet far too imperfect to entitle us to a
confident application of mathematics. Experiments
should be multiplied. ^
1 he only way we can hope to make these experiments How iliey
useful is to pay a careful attention to the 7?ianner inaretobe
which the fracture is produced. By discovering the ge-^“Je use*
neral resemblances in this particular, we advance a step1*1’
in our power of introducing mathematical measurement.
Thus, when a cubical piece of chalk is slowly crushed
between the chaps of a vice, we see it uniformly split in
a surface oblique to the pressure, and the two parts then
slide along the surface of fracture. This should lead us
to examine mathematically what relation there is be«<
tween this surface of fracture and the necessary force;
then we should endeavour to determine experimentally
the position of this surface. Having discovered some
general law or resemblance in this circumstance, we
should try what mathematical hypothesis will agree with
this. Having found one, we may then apply our simplest
notions of cohesion, and compare the result of our com¬
putations with experiment. We are authorised to say,
that a series of experiments has been made in this way,
and that their results have been very uniform, and there¬
fore satisfactory, and that they will soon he laid before
the public as the foundations of successful practice in
the construction of arches.
III. A Body may be broken across.
The most usual, and the greatest strain, to which ma-n is of im-
terials are exposed, is that which tends to break themportance
transversely. It is seldom, however, that this is done intokuow .
a manner perfectly simple ; for when abeam projects™!^*™8
horizontally from a wall, and a weight is suspended from ^ body
its extremity, the beam is commonly broken near thetraiisyerse-
Wall, and the intermediate part has performed the func-1)’.
tions ol a lever. It sometimes, though rarely, happens
that the pin in the joint of a pair of pincers or scissars
is cut through by the strain ; and this is almost the otw
ly case of a simple transverse fracture. Being so rare,
we may content ourselves with saying, that in this case
the strength of the piece is proportional to the area of
the section.
Experiments wepe made for discovering the resistances Experi-
made by bodies to this kind of strain in the followingnle”ts
manner: Two iron bars were disposed horizontally at
an inch distance; a third hung perpendicularly between
them, being supported by a pin made of the substance to
be examined. This pin was made of a prismatic form,
so as to fit exactly the holes in the three bars, which
were made very exact, and of the same size and shape.
A scale was suspended at the lower end of the perpen¬
dicular bar, and loaded'till it tore out that part of the
pin which filled the middle hole. This weight was evi-’
dently the measure of the lateral cohesion of two sections.
The side-bars were made to grasp the middle bar pretty
strongly between them, that there might be no distance'
imposed between the opposite pressures; This Would
have combined the energy of a leveY with the purely
transverse pressure. For the same reasortut was neces*
sary
Utrenffth o
JVlaterials
.55
Tiieir re¬
sult.
5®
The
strength
of a lever.
F'g- 5*
fsary that the internal parts of the holes should be no
^ smaller than the edges. Great irregularities occurred
in our first experiments from this cause, because the pins
were somewhat tighter within than at the edges 5 but
when this was corrected they were extremely"regular.
We employed three sets of holes, viz. a circle, a square
(which was occasionally made a rectangle whose length
was twice its breadth), and an equilateral triangle. We
found in all our experiments the strength exactly pro¬
portional to the area of the section, and quite independ¬
ent of its figure or position, and we found it considerably
above the direct cohesion $ that is, it took considerably
more than twice the force to tear out this middle piece
than to tear the pin asunder by a direct pull. A piece
of fine freestone required 205 pounds to pull it directly
asunder, and 575 to break it in this way. The differ¬
ence was very constant in any one substance, but varied
from four-thirds to six-thirds in different kinds of matter,
being smallest in bodies of a fibrous texture. But indeed
we could not make the trial on any bodies of consider¬
able Cohesion, because they required such forces as our
apparatus could not support. Chalk, day baked in the
sun, baked sugar, brick, and freestone, were the strong¬
est that wre could examine.
But the more common case, where the energy of a
lever intervenes, demands a minute examination.
Let DABC (fig. 5.) he a vertical section of a pris¬
matic solid (that is, of equal size throughout), project¬
ing horizontally from a wall in which it is firmly fix¬
ed : and let a weight P he hung on it at B, or let any
power P act at B in a direction perpendicular to
AB. Suppose the body of insuperable strength in
every part except in the vertical section DA, perpen¬
dicular to its length. It must break in this section on¬
ly. Let the cohesion be uniform over the whole of this
section j that is, let each of the adjoining particles of
the two parts cohere with an equal force J.
There are two ways in which it may break. The part
ABCD may simply slide down along the surface of
fracture, provided that the power acting at B is equal
to the accumulated force which is exerted by every par¬
ticle of the section in the direction AD.
But suppose this effectually prevented by something
that supports the point A. The action at P lends to make
the body turn round A (or round a horizontal line pas¬
sing through A at right angles to AB) as round a joint.
This it cannot do without separating at the line DA.
In this case the adjoining particles at D or at E will be
separated horizontally. But their cohesion resists this
separation. In order, therefore, that the fracture may
happen, the energy or momentum of the power P, ac¬
ting by means ol the lever AB, must be superior to the
accumulated energies of the particles. I he energy of
each depends not only on its cohesive force, hut also on
its situation j for the supposed insuperable firmness of
the rest of the body makes it a lever turning round the
fulcrum A, and the cohesion of each particle, such as
D or E, acts by means of the arm DA or EA. The
energy of each particle will therefore be had by multi¬
plying the force exerted by it in the instant of fracture
by the arm of the lever by which it acts.
Let us therefore first suppose, that in the instant of
fracture every particle is exerting an equal forceyi -The
energy of D will be/xDA, and that of E will be/X
EA and that of the whole will be the stun of all these
VpL. XIX. Part II. i
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
products. Let the depth DA of the section he called d,
and let any undetermined part of it EA he called x, and
then the space occupied by any particle will be .r.
I he cohesion of tins space may be represented by f x,
and that of the whole byy'd. The energy by which
each element x of the line DA, or d, resists the frac¬
ture, will hefx x, and the whole accumulated energies
will be fx^xx. This we know to be or
f d X t d. It is the same therefore as if the cohesion
of the whole section had been acting at the point G,
which is the middle of DA.
The reader who is not familiarly acquainted with this
fluxionary calculus may arrive at the same conclusion in
another way. Suppose the beam, instead of projecting
horizontally from a wall, to be hanging from the ceiling,
in which it is firmly fixed. Let us consider how the
equal cohesion of every part operates in hindering the
lower part fi-om separating from the upper by opening
round the joint A. The equal cohesion operates just as
equal gravity would do, but in the opposite direction.
Now we know, by the most elementary mechanics, that
the effect of this will he the same as if the whole weight
were concentrated in the centre of gravity G of the line
DA, and that this point G is in the middle of DA.
Now the number of fibres being as the length d of the
line, and the cohesion of each fibre being —J\ the co¬
hesion of the whole line is fxd ovfd.
The accumulated energy therefore of the cohesion m
the instant of fracture is J'dx^d. Nowr this must be
equal or just inferior to the energy of the power employ¬
ed to break it. Let the length AB be called /; then
P X ^ is the corresponding energy of the power. This
gives d—p l for the equation of equilibrium cor¬
responding to the vertical section ADCB.
Suppose now that the fracture is not permitted at
DA, but at another section § x more remote from B.
The body being prismatic, all the vertical sections are
equal ; and therefore j d 4 d is the same as before. But
the energy of the power is by this means increased, be¬
ing now' = P X B instead of P X BA : Hence we see
that when the prismatic body is not insuperably strong
in all its parts, but equally strong throughout, it must
break close at the wall, where the strain or energy of
the power is greatest. We see, too, that a power which
is just able to break it at the wall is unable to break it
anywhere else ; also an absolute cohesion/"r/, which can
withstand the power p in the section DA, will not with¬
stand it in the section 5#, and will withstand more in
the section d' a'.
This teaches us to distinguish between absolute and
relative strength. The relative strength of a section has
a reference to the strain actually exerted on that section.
This relative strength is properly measured by the power
which is just able to balance or overcome it, when
applied at its proper place. Now since we had fd 4 d
—pi, we have/)—^ for the measure of the strength
of the section DA, in relation to the power applied at
B.
If the solid is a rectangular beam, whose breadth is b,
it is plain that all the vertical sections are equal, and
that AG or ^d is the same in all. Therefore the equa-
5 D tie*
761
Strength of
M ateriafs.
•62
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
strength oftion expressing the equilibrium between the momentum
Materials, of the external force and the accumulated momenta of
v cohesion will beX t
The product d b evidently expresses the area of the
section of fracture, which we may call s, and we may
express the equilibrium thus,/? cl, and 2 l: cfcz
fs: p. '
Now /s is a proper expression of the absolute cohe¬
sion of the section of fracture, and /? is a proper measure
of its strength in relation to a power applied at B. We
may therefore say, that twice the length of a rectangular
beam is to the depth as the absolute cohesion to the rela¬
tive strength.
Since the action of equable cohesion is similar to the
action of equal gravity, it follows, that whatever is the
figure of the section, the relative strength will be the
same as if the absolute cohesion of all the fibres were
acting at the centre of gravity of the section. Let g
be the distance between the centre of gravity of the sec¬
tion and the axis of fracture, we shall have/? l—fsg,
and / : g—fs : /?. It will be very useful to recollect this
analogy in words : “ The length of a prismatic beam of
any shape is to the height of the centre of gravity above
the lower side, as the absolute cohesion to the strength
relative to this length.
Because the relative strength of a rectangu lar m
. f b d^ d fbd*.
js  ^ or" , it loilows, that the relative strengths
of different beams are proportional to the absolute cohe¬
sion ol the particles, to the breadth, and to the square of
the depth directly, and to the length inversely j also in
prisms whose sections are similar, the strengths are as the
cubes of the diameters.
Such are the more general results of the mechanism
, of this transverse strain, in the hypothesis that all the
ofeouaTco-Particles are exerting equal forces in the instant of frac¬
ture. We are indebted for this doctrine to the cele¬
brated Galileo j and it was one of the first specimens of
the application of mathematics to the science of nature.
We have not included in the preceding investigation
that action of the external force by which the solid is
drawn sidewise, or tends to slide alongthesurface of frac¬
ture. We have supposed a particle E to be pulled only
in the direction E e, perpendicular to the section of frac¬
ture, by the action of the crooked lever BAE. But it
is also pulled in the direction EA; and its reaction is
in some direction : E, compounded of s f, by which it
resists being pulled outwards ; and t e by which it resists
being pulled downwards. We are but imperfectly ac¬
quainted with the force £ e, and only know that their
accumulated sum is equal to the force p $ but in all im¬
portant cases which occur in practice, it is unnecessary to
attend to this force j because it is so small in compari¬
son of the forces in the direction Ee, as we easily conclude
from the usual smallness of AD in comparison of AB.
The hypothesis of equal cohesion, exerted by all the
hypothesis particles in the instant of fracture, is not conformable to
IbrmTble to ,iature : *or we ^now51*131 wl1t;n a f°rce is applied trans-
nature. versely at B, the beam is bent downwards, becoming
convex on the upper side ; that side is therefore on the
Stretch. The particles at D are farther removed from
each other than those at E, and are therefore actually
exerting greater cohesive forces. We cannot say with
certainty and precision in what proportion each fibre is
extended. It seems most probable that the extensions
57.
A'certain
ed on the
of equal co
he&ion;
53
but that
are proportional to the distances from A. We shall sun- ..
i • i i u i a.t ii , 1 strength at
pose tins to be really the case. Now recollect the ge- Materials
neral law which we formerly said was observed in all v—J
moderate extensions, viz., that the attractive forces ex¬
erted by the dilated particles were proportional to their
dilatations. Suppose now that the beam is so much bent
that the particles at D are exerting their utmost force,
and that -tins fibre is just ready to break or actually
breaks. It is plain that a total fracture must immedi¬
ately ensue $ because the force which was superior to
the full cohesion of the particle atD, and a certain por¬
tion of the cohesion of all the rest, will be more than su¬
perior to the full cohesion of the particle next within
D, and a smaller portion of the cohesion of the remain¬
der.
Now let F represent, as before, the foil force of the
exterior fibre D, which is exerted by it in the instant of
its breaking, and then the force exerted at the same in¬
stant by the fibre E will be had by this analogy, AD :
AE,
the fibre
E is /X X7
and the force really exerted by
The force exerted by a fibre whose thickness is x is
therefore-"-—— ; but this force resists the strain by acting
by means of the lever EA or x. Its energy or momen-
fx'
turn is therefore
d
and the accumulated momen-
59
ta of all the fibres in the line AE will beyx sum of
A?
—-j-- This, when x is taken equal to d, will express the
momentum of the whole fibres in the line AD. This,
therefore, is f — , or f \ d*, or f dXyf- Now f d
expresses the absolute cohesion of the whole line AD.
The accumulated momentum is therefore the same as if
the absolute cohesion of the whole line were exerted at
one-third of AD from A.
From these premises it follows that the equation ex-The
pressing the equilibrium of the strain and cohesion is/?/slreB?th
z=fdXydi and hence we deduce the analogy, “
thrice the length is to the depth, so is the absolute co* principles.
hesion to the relative strength.','>
This equation and this proportion will equally apply
to rectangular beams whose breadth is b; for we shall
then have/? l=f b dXyd-
We also see that the relative strength is proportional
to the absolute cohesion of the particles, to the breadth,
and to the square of the depth directly, and to the length
inversely : for p is the measure of the force with which
. . . . , fb did fbd* _ .
it is resisted, and p—  —2—, . In this re-
. 3;
spect therefore this hypothesis agrees with the Galilean ;
but it assigns to every beam a smaller proportion of the
absolute cohesion of the section of fracture, in the pro¬
portion of three to two. In the Galilean hypothesis
this section has a momentum equal to one half of its ab¬
solute strength, but in the other hypotheses it is only
one-third. In beams of a different form the proportion
may be different.
As this is a most important proposition, and the foun¬
dation
’ . STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
-’Sn-engtli oTrnany practical maxims, we are anxious to have
Materials, it clearly comprehended, and its evidence perceived by
~ v all. Our i—1 11 r • i i ^
60
The same
view.
Fig. <>.
all. Our better informed readers will therefore indulge
us while we endeavour to present it in another point of
view, where it will lie better seen by those who are not
familiarly acquainted with the fluxionary calculus.
Fig. 6. A is a perspective view of a three-sided
presented” b^am Projecting horizontally from a wall, and loaded
in another a w.e,ght at B jUf* sufficient to break it. DABC
point of is a vertical plane through its highest point D, in the
direction of its length, a 13 a is another vertical section
perpendicular to AB. The piece being supposed of in¬
superable strength everywhere except in tbe section
a D a, and the cohesion being also supposed insuperable
along the line a A o, it can break nowhere but in this
section, and by turning round a A a as round a hinge.
Make D d equal to AI3, and let 33 d represent the ab¬
solute cohesion of the fibre at D, which absolute cohe¬
sion we expressed by the symbol/. Let a plane ada
be made to pass through a a and d, and let d a' a' be
another cross section. It is plain that the prismatic so¬
lid contained between the two sections a D a and a'd a'
will represent the full cohesion of the whole section of
fracture ; for we may conceive this prism as made up of
lines such as F/ equal and parallel to D c/, represent¬
ing the absolute cohesion of each particle such as F.
The pyramidal solid rfD a a, cut off by the plane da a,
will represent the cohesions actually exerted by the dif¬
ferent fibres in the instant of fracture. For take any
point E in the surface of fracture, and draw E e paral¬
lel to AB, meeting tbe plane ada in e, and let e AE
be a vertical plane. It is evident that 13 r/ is to E <? as
AD to AE ; and therefore (since the forces exerted by
the different fibres are as their extension, and their ex¬
tension as their distances from the axis of fracture) Ee
will represent the force actually exerted by the fibre in
E, while D is exerting its full force D d. In like
manner, the plane FF//’expresses the cohesion exerted
by all the fibres in the line FF, and so on through
the whole surface. Therefore the pyramid daaT) ex¬
presses the accumulated exertion of the whole surface of
fracture.
Farther, suppose the beam to be held perpendicular
to the horizon with the end B uppermost, and that the
weight of the prism contained between the two sections
a D a and a'd a' (now horizontal) is just able to over¬
come the full cohesion of the section of fracture. The
Weight of the pyramid dY) a a will also be just able to
overcome the cohesions actually exerted by the different
fibres in the instant of fracture, because the weight of
each fibre, such as E e, is just superior to the cohesion
actually exerted at E.
Let o be the centre of gravity of the pyramidal so¬
lid, and draw o O perpendicular to the plane aYi a.
The whole weight of the solid d Y) a a may be conceiv¬
ed as accumulated in the point o, and as acting on the
point O, and it will have the same tendency to separate
the two cohering surfaces as when each fibre is hanging
by its respective point. For this reason the point O
may be called the centre of actual effort of the unequal
forces of cohesion. The momentum therefore, or ener¬
gy by which tire cohering surfaces are separated, will
be properly measured by the weight of the solid dY)aa
multiplied by OA; and this product is equal to the
product of the weight p multiplied by BA, or by /.
Tims suppose that the cohesion along the line AD only Strength of
is considered. The whole cohesion will be represented Materials,
by a triangle AD d. Do? represents / and AD is d,
and AD is x. Therefore AD d is Yf d- The centre
of gravity o of the triangle AD d is in the intersection
of a line drawn from A to the middle of D o? with a
line drawn from d to the middle of AD j and therefore
the line o 0 will make AO~^- of AD. Therefore the
actual momentum of cohesion is fX\dX*d, =fxdx
T d, ~f dx\d, or equal to the absolute cohesion acting
(l ^
by means of the lever If the section of fracture is
, . 3
a rectangle, as in a common joist, whose breadth a a
is “ b, it is plain that all the vertical lines will be
represented by triangles like AD d; and the whole ac¬
tual cohesion will be represented by a wedge whose
bases are vertical planes, and which is equal to half of
the parallelepiped ADxDcf'Xac'j and will therefore
he — i fbd; and the distance AO of its centre of
gravity from the horizontal line AA' will be \ of AD.
The momentum of cohesion of a joist will therefore be
Ifbdx xd, orfbd^d, as we have determined in the
other way.
The beam represented in the figure is a triangular
prism. The pyramid Yiaad is y of the prism aaDda'al.
If we make s represent the surface of tbe triangle a Da,
the pyramid is of/,9. The distance AO of its centre
of gravity from the horizontal line A A' is 4- of AD, or
x d. Therefore the momentum of actual cohesion is
t/s'X4 = fs d; that is, it is the same as if the
full cohesion of all the fibres were accumulated at a
point I whose distance from A is ^th of AD or d; or
(that we may see its value in every point of view) it is
£th of the momentum of the full cohesion of all the fi¬
bres when accumulated at the point D, or acting at the
distance n7—AD.
This is a very convenient way of conceiving the mo¬
mentum of actual cohesion, by comparing it with the
momentum of absolute cohesion applied at the distance
AD from the axis of fracture. The momentum of the
absolute cohesion applied at D is to the momentum of
actual cohesion in the instant of fracture as AD to Af.
Therefore the length of AI, or its proportion to AD,
is a sort of index of the strength of the beam. We shall
call it the Index, and express it by the symbol/.
Its value is easily obtained. The product of the ab¬
solute cohesion by Al must be equal to that of the ac¬
tual cohesion by AO. Therefore say, “ as the prisma¬
tic solid aaD da!a1 is to the pyramidal solid aaY) d,
so is AO to AI.” We are assisted in this determina¬
tion by a very convenient circumstance. In this hypo¬
thesis of tbe actual cohesions being as the distances of
the fibres from A, the point O is the centre of oscilla¬
tion or percussion of the surface D c a turning round
the axis aa: for the momentum of cohesion of the line
FF is FF X F/X EA=FF x EAa, because F/is equal
to EA. Now AO, by the nature of tbe centre of gra¬
vity, is equal to the sum of all these momenta divided
by the pyramid aaDd; that is, by the sum of all the
FF X Ff; that is, by the sum of all tbe FFxEA.
sum of FF X E A*
Therefore AO=r  F-rdF—rr-r—, which is just the
sum of FI X EA J
value of the distance of the centre of percussion of the
triangle flaD from A : (See Rotation). Moreover,
5 D z if
764
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength ofif G be the centre of giavity or the triangle a D a, we
Materials, shall have DA to GA as the absolute cohesion to the
^ *" 1 -' sum of the cohesions actually exerted in the instant of
fracture , for, by the nature of this centre of gravity,
. „ . t SUmofFFxEA , ,
AG is equal to   , and the sum or r r X
sum 01 r r
AG is equal to the sum of FF X FA. But the sum of
all the lines FF is the triangle a D a, and the sum of all
the FF X FA is the sum of all the rectangles YF fj';
that is, the pyramid dD a a. Therefore a prism whose
base is the triangle a D a, and whose height is AG, is
equal to th£ pyramid, or will express the sum of the ac¬
tual cohesions; and a prism, whose base is the same tri¬
angle, and whose height is D d or D a, expresses the
absolute cohesion. Therefore DA is to GA as the ab¬
solute cohesion to the sum of the actual cohesions.
Therefore we have DA : GA=OA : I A.
Therefore, whatever be the form of the beam, that
is, whatever be the figure of its section, find the centre
of oscillation O, and the centre of gravity G of this
•ection. Call their distances from the axis of fracture 0
at D, E, &c. are as the ordinates D </', E c', &c. of any Strennh „f
curve line A d d'. We are supposed to know the form MateiiaU.
of this curve, and that of the solid which is bounded by l—-y—1/
the vertical plane through AD, and by the surface
which passes through this curve A d dl perpendicularly
to the length of the beam. We know the place of the
centre of gravity of this curve surface or solid, and can
draw a line through it parallel to AB, and cutting the
surface of fracture in some point O. This point is also
the centre of eflbrt of all the coliesions actually exerted ;
and the product of AO and of the solid which expresses
the actual cohesions will give the momentum of cohesion
equivalent to the former fs Or we may find an
index AI, by making AI a fourth proportional to the
full cohesion of the surface of fracture, to the accumula¬
ted actual cohesions, and to AO ; and then fs x i
(—AI) will be the momentum of cohesion; and we
shall still have I for the point in which all the fibres
may be supposed to exert their full cohesion f, and to
produce a momentum of cohesion equal to the real mo¬
mentum of the cohesions actually exerted, and the rela-
and Sr Then AI or i- °-j, and the momentum of co- tive itrength of tlie beam wi]1 stiU be p=.f^01.ffI2
6t
How the
Jelative
strength
way be de-
termincd
by any
other hypo-
tkesis.
• • ® £
hesion is /"s X —r, where s is the area of fracture.
d
This index is easily determined in all the cases which
generally occur in practice. In a rectangular beam AI
ii 4^ A I) ; in a cylinder (circular or elliptic) AI is
•j jths of AD, &c. &c.
In this hypothesis, that the cohesion actually exerted
by each fibre is as its extension, and that the extensions
©f the fibres are as their distances from A (fig. 5.),
it is plain that the forces exerted by tbe fibres D, E,
&c. will be represented by tbe ordinates D f/, E e, &c.
to a straight line A.d. And vve learn from the princi¬
ples of Rotation that the centre of percussion O is in
the ordinate which passes through the centre of gravity
of the triangle AD d, or (if we consider the whole sec¬
tion having breadth as well as depth) through the cen¬
tre of gravity of the solid hounded by the planes DA,
d A; and we found that this point O was the centre of
e ffort of the cohesions actually exerted in the instant of
fracture, and that I was the centre of an equal momen¬
tum, which would he produced if all the fibres were ac-
eumulated there and exerted their full cohesion.
Th is consideration enables us to determine, with equal
facility and neatness, the strength of a beam in any hy¬
pothesis of forces. The above hypothesis was introdu
ced with a cautious limitation to moderate strains, which
produced no permanent change of form, or no sett as
the artists call it: and this suffices for all purposes of
practice, seeing that it would be imprudent to expose
materials to more violent strains. But when we com¬
pare this theory with experiments in which the pieces
are really broken, considerable deviations may be ex¬
pected, because it is very probable that in the vicinity
of rupture the forces are no longer proportional to the
extensions.
That no doubt may. remain as to the justness and
completeness of the theory, wTe must show how the rela¬
tive strength may be determined in any other hypothe¬
sis. • Therefore suppose that it has been established by.
experiment on any kind of solid matter, that the forces
actually exerted in the instant of fracture by the fibres
l dl
Ibus, if the forces be as the squares of the extensions
(still supposed to be as the distances from A), the curve
Ac'd! will be a common parabola, having AB for its
axis and AD for the tangent at its vertex. The area
KY) d' will be -yd ADxDi/; and in the case of a
rectangular beam, AO will be |ths AD, and AI will
be 4th of AD.
We may observe here in general, that if the fortes
actually exerted in the instant of fracture be as any
power q of the distance from A, the index AI will be
A E> c , ,
= —;— for a rectangular beam, and the momentum of
? + 2
cohesion will always be {cceterisparibus) as the breadth
and as the square of the depth ; nay, this will be the
case whenever the action of the fibres D and E is ex¬
pressed by any similar functions aid and x. This is evi¬
dent to every reader acquainted with the fluxionary cal¬
culus.
As far as we can judge from experience, no simp]®
algebraic power of the distance will express tbe actual
coliesions of the fibres. No curve which has either AD
or AB for its tangent will suit. The observations which
we made in the beginning show, that although the curve
of fig. 2. must be sensibly straight in the vicinity of the
points of intersection with the axis, in order to agree
with our observations which show the moderate exten¬
sions to be as the extending forces, the curve must be
concave towards the axis in all its attractive branches,
because it cuts it again. Therefore the curve A d df
of fig. 5. must make a finite angle with AD or AB,
and it must, in ail probability, be also concave towards
AD in the neighbourhood of d'. It may however
be convex in some part of the intermediate arch. We
have made experiments on the extensions of different
bodies, and find great diversities in this respect: But
in all, the moderate extensions were as the forces, and
this with great accuracy till the body took a sett, and
remained longer than formerly when the extending force
w as removed.
We must now remark, that this correction of the Ga-
lll sail hypothesis of equal forces was suggested by the
bending
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS;
6z
Bcruoulli’s
problem ol
the elastic
• nr ve.
'StreTu;th «' bending which is observed in all bodies which are strain-
Miiterials. ed transversely. Because they are bent, the fibres on
the convex side have been extended. We cannot say
in what proportion this obtains in the different fibres.
Our most distinct notions of the internal equilibrium
between the particles render it highly probable that
their extension is proportional to their distance from
that fibre which retains its former dimensions. But by
whatever law this is regulated, we see plainly that the
actions of the stretched fibres must follow the propor¬
tions of some function of this distance, and that there¬
fore the relative strength of a beam is in all cases sus¬
ceptible of mathematical determination.
We also see an intimate connection between the strain
and the curvature. This suggested to the celebrated
James Bernoulli the problem of the Elastic Curve,
i. e. the cutve into which an extensible rigid body will
be bent bv a transverse strain. His solution in the Acta
Lipsice 1694 and 1695, a very beautiful specimen of
mathematical discussion ; and we recommend it to the
perusal of the curious reader. He will find it vejy per¬
spicuously treated in the first volume of his works, pub-
lished after his death, where the wide steps which he
had taken in his investigation are explained so as to be
easily comprehended. His nephew Daniel Bernoulli
has given an elegant abridgment in the Petersburg
Memoirs for 1729. The problem is too intricate to be
fully discussed in a work like ours j but it is also too
intimately connected with our present subject to be en¬
tirely omitted. We must content ourselves with show¬
ing the leading mechanical properties of this curve,
from which the mathematician may deduce all its geo¬
metrical properties.
Wiien a bar of uniform depth and breadth, and of a
mechanical given length, is bent into an Rich oi a cucle, the ex¬
property tension of the outer fibres is proportional to tire curva¬
ture ; for, because the curves formed by the inner and
outer sides of the beam are similar, the circumferences
are as the radii, and the radius of the inner circle is to
the difference of the radii as the length of the inner cir¬
cumference is to the difference of the circumferences.
The difference of the radii is the dept h of the beam, the
difference of the circumferences is the extension of the
outer fibres, and the inner circumference is supposed to
be tbe primitive length ol the beam. Now the second
and third quantities ol the above analogy, viz. tne depth
and length of the beam, are constant quantities, as is
also their product. Therefore the product of the inner
radius and the extension of the outer fibre is also a con¬
stant quantity, and the whole extension of the outer fibre
is inversely as tbe radius ol curvature, or is directly as
the curvature of the beam.
The mathematical reader will readily see, that ifito
whatever curve the elastic bar is bent, the whole exten¬
sion of the outer fibre is equal to the length of a similar
curve, having the same proportion to the thickness of
the beam that the length of the beam has to the radius
of curvature.
Now let ADCB (fig. 7-) a ro(1’ of Ull!‘
form breadth and thickness, firmly fixed 111 a verti¬
cal position, and bent into a curve AEFB by a weight
W suspended at B, and of such magnitude that the ex¬
tremity B has its tangent perpendicular to the action oi
the weight or parallel to the horizon. Suppose too
that the extensions are proportional to the extending
765
63
Its leadin
described.
e;
forces. From any two points E and F draw the hori- Sirengtli of*
zontal ordinates EG, FH. It is evident that the exte- Materials,
rior fibres of the sections E e and F^are stretched by " «
forces wbicb are in tbe proportion ol EG to FH (these
being the long arms of the levers, and the equal thick¬
nesses E e, F/ being the short aims). Therefore (by
the hypothesis) their extensions are in the same propor¬
tion. But because tbe extensions are proportional to
some similar functions of the distance from the axes of
fracture E and F, the extension of any fibre in the sec¬
tion E e is to the contemporaneous extension of the simi¬
larly situated fibre in the section F/j as the extension of
the exterior fibre in tbe section E e is to the extension
of the exterior fibre in the section F^: therefore the
whole extension of E ^ is to the whole extension of Y f
as EG to FH, and EG is to EH as tbe curvature in E
to the curvature in F.
Here let it be remarked, that this proportionality of
the curvature to the extension of the fibres is not limited
to the hypothesis of the proportionality of the extensions-
to the extending forces. It follows from the extension
in tbe different sections being as some similar function
of tbe distance from the axis of fracture j an assumption
which cannot be refused.
This then is the fundamental property of the elastic
curve, from which its equation, or relation betrveen the
abscissa and ordinate, maybe deduced in the usual lorms,
and all its other geometrical properties. These are
foreign to our purpose \ and we shall notice only such
properties as have an immediate relation to the strain
and strength of the different parts of a flexible body,
and which in particular serve to explain some difficul¬
ties, in the valuable experiments ol M. Buffon on the
Strength of Beams. 64
We observe, in tbe first place, that the elastic curve It is not
cannot be a circle, but is gradually more incurvated as cb'c^e'
it recedes from the point of application B ot the strain¬
ing forces. At B it has no curvature •, and if the bar
were extended bejond B there would be no curvature
there. In like manner, when a beam is supported at
the ends and loaded in the middle, the curvature is
greatest in the middle ; hilt at the props, or beyond
them,, if the beam extend farther, there is no curvature.
Therefore when a beam projecting 20 feet from a wall
is bent to a certain curvature at the. wall by a weight
suspended at the end, and a beam of the same size pro¬
jecting 20 feet is bent to tire very same curvature at the
wall by a greater weight at 10 feet distance, the figure
and the mechanical state of the beam in the vicinity of
the wall is different in these two cases, though the cur¬
vature at the very wall is the same in both. In the first ^
case every part of the beam is incurvated 5 in the second,
all beyond the 10 feet is without curvature. In the first
experiment the curvature at the distance of five feet
from the wall is three-fourths of the curvature at the
wall; in the second, the curvature at the same place
is but one-half of that at the wall. This must weaken,
the long beam in this whole interval ol five leet, be¬
cause the greater curvature is the result of a greater
extension of the fibres. _
In the next place, we may remark, that there is a jrvel.y
certain determinate curvature for every beam which has a cer-
cannot be exceeded without breaking it; for there is>uideter-
a c<
puts
1 tain separation of two adjoining particles that• *
an end to their cohesion. A fibre can therefore
;66
STRENGTH OF
strain is
greatest
■Strength of be extended only a certain proportion of its length.
Materials. The ultimate extension of the outer fibres must bear
' ¥ a certain determinate proportion to its length, and
this proportion is the same with that of the thickness
(or what we have hitherto called the depth) to the
radius of ultimate curvature, which is therefore deter-
66 minate.
And when A beam of uniform breadth and depth is therefore
breldfhandra0St *nCU1 vate^ vv*iere t*ve stra>11 greatest, and will
depth is t>reak in the most incurvated part. But by changing
most incur- its form, so as to make the strength of its different sec-
■vated tions in the ratio of the strain, it is evident that the cur-
where the Vature may be the same throughout, or may be made to
strain is . rr<i • • J , .
vary according to any law. Ibis is a remark worthy
of the attent ion of the watchmaker. The most delicate
problem in practical mechanics is so to taper the balance¬
spring of a watch that its wide and narrow vibrations
may be isochronous. Hooke’s principle ut tensio sic vis
is not sufficient when we take the inertia and motion of
the spring itself into the account. The figure into
which it bends and unbends has also an influence. Our
readers will take notice that the artist aims at an accu¬
racy which will not admit an error of -g~5Tooth, and
that Harrison and Arnold have actually attained it in
several instances. The taper of a spring is at present
a nostrum in the hands of each artist, and he is careful
not to impart his secret.
Again, since the depth of the beam is thus propor¬
tional to the radius of ultimate curvature, this ultimate
or breaking curvature is inversely as the depth. It may
be expressed by
When a weight is hung on the end of a prismatic
57
To what
the curva-
me curva- , ., w , , *
ture is pro- beam> the curvature is nearly as the weight and tb«
portional. length directly, and as the breadth and the cube of the
b dx
depth inversely ; for the strength is — f . Let us
3 ^
suppose that this produces the ultimate curvature —.
d
Now let the beam be loaded with a smaller weight w,
and let the curvature produced be C, we have this ana-
, rbdz I 1 l U,
logy/—:W=-:C, and C=l^.
It is evident
that this is also true of a beam supported at the ends and
loaded between the props ; and we see how to deter¬
mine the curvature in its different parts, whether
arising from the load, or from its own weight, or from
both.
When a beam is thus loaded at the end or middle,
68 the loaded point is pulled down, and the space through
Reflection, which it is drawn may be called the DF.flection. This
may be considered as the subtense of the angle of con¬
tact, or as the versed sine of the arch into which the
beam is bent, and is therefore as the curvature when
^ the length of the arches is given (the flexture being mo¬
derate), and as the square of the length of the arch
when the curvature is given. The deflection therefore
is as the curvature and as the square of the length of
the arch jointly j that, is, as X /*, or as The
J o d* J bd3
deflection from the primitive shape is therefore as the
bending weight and the cube of the length directly, and
as the breadth and cube of the depth inversely.
In beams just ready to break, the curvature is as the
MATERIALS.
depth inversely, and the deflection is as the square ofstmigth 0[.
the length divided by the depth 5 for the ultimate cur- Matemk.
vature at the breaking part is the same whatever is the 1 v——'
length; and in this case the deflection is as the square
of the length.
We have been the more particular in our consideration The theo-
of this subject, because the resulting theorems afford usrems resuit-
the finest methods of examining the laws of corpuscular1”? <ronl
action, that is, for discovering the variation of the force
of cohesion by a change of distance. It is true it is not '5,,^
the atomical law, or Hylarchic Principle as it may tbods of ex-
justly be called, which is thus made accessible, but theaminin£
specific law of the particles of the substance or kind ofthe laws of
matter under examination. But even this is a very great
point; and coincidences in this respect among the dif¬
ferent kinds of matter are of great moment. We may
thus learn the nature of the corpuscular action of diffe¬
rent substances, and perhaps approach to a discovery of
the mechanism of chemical affinities. For that chemi¬
cal actions are insensible cases of local motion is unde¬
niable, and local motion is the province of mechanical
discussion ; nay, we see that these hidden changes are
produced by mechanical forces in many important cases,
for we see them promoted or prevented by means purely
mechanical. The conversion of bodies into elastic va¬
pour by heat can at all times be prevented by a sufficient
external pressure. A strong solution of Glauber’s salt
will congeal in an instant by agitation, giving out its
latent heat ; and it will remain fluid for ever, and retain
its latent heat in a close vessel which it completely fills.
Fven water will by such treatment freeze in an instant
by agitation, or remain fluid for ever by confinement.
We know that heat is produced or extricated by fric¬
tion, that certain compounds of gold or silverwith saline
matters explode with irresistible violence by the smallest
pressure or agitation. Such facts should rouse the ma¬
thematical philosopher, and excite him to follow out the
conjectures of the illustrious Newton, encouraged by the
ingenious attempts of Boscovich ; and the proper begin¬
ning of this study is to attend to the laws of attraction
and repulsion exerted by the particles of cohering bodies,
discoverable by experiments made on their actual exten¬
sions and compressions. The experiments of simple ex¬
tensions and compressions are quite insufficient, because
the total stretching of a wire is so small a quantity, that
the mistake of the 1000th part of an inch occasions an
irregularity which derang es any progression so as to
make it useless. But by the bending of bodies, a disten¬
sion of T^th of an inch may be easily magnified in the
deflection of the spring ten thousand times. We know
that the investigation is intricate and difficult, but not
beyond the reach of our present mathematical attain¬
ments ; and it will give very fine opportunities of em¬
ploying all the address of analysis. In the 17th century
and the beginning of the 18th this was a sufficient ex¬
citement to the first geniuses of Europe. The cycloid,
the catenaria, the elastic curve, the velaria, the caustics,
were reckoned an abundant recompense for much study ;
and James Bernoulli requested, as an honourable monu¬
ment, that the logarithmic spiral might be inscribed on
his tombstone. The reward for the study to which we
now presume to incite the mathematicians is the almost
unlimited extension of natural science, important in
every particular branch. To go no further than our
present subject, a great deal of important practical know¬
ledge
7° _
Bernoulli
calls in
question
this law,
. STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strang Bespoobrtg the strength of bodies is derived from
MatoiaR the aingk observation, that in the moderate extensions
'-^v- winch happen before the parts are overstrained, the forces
ace nearly in the proportion of the extensions or separa¬
tions of the particles. To return to oar subject.
. Jaines Bernoulli, in his second dissertation on the dlas-
tac curve, calls in question this law, and accommodates
Jus investigation to any hypothesis concerninsj the rela¬
tion of the. forces and extensions. He relates some ex¬
periments ot lute strings where the relation was consi¬
derably different. Strings of three feet long,
Stretched by 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 pds.
Were lengthened 9, 17, 23, 27, 30 lines.
But this is a most exceptionable form of the experiment.
The strings were twisted, and the mechanism of the
extensions is here exceedingly complicated, combined
with compressions and with transverse twists, &c. We
made experiments on fine slips of the gum caoutchouc,
and on the juice of the berries of the white bryony, of
which a single grain will draw to a thread of two feet
long, and again return into a perfectly round sphere.
We measured the diameter of the thread by a micro¬
scope with a micrometer, and thus could tell in every
state of extension the proportional number of particles in
the sections. We found, that through the whole range
in which the distance of the particles was changed in
767
must be some fulcrum, some support, on which the vir-Strength of
tual lever BAD may press, that it may tear asunder the Materials,
stretched fibres. This fulcrum must sustain both the V—Y—-'
pressure arising from the cohesion of the distended fibres,
and also the action of the external force, which imme¬
diately tends to cause the prominent part of the beam to
slide along the section DA. Let BAD (fig. 5.) be
considered as a crooked lever, of which A is the ful¬
crum. Let an external lorce be applied at B in the di¬
rection BP, and let a force equal to the accumulated
cohesion of AD be applied at O in the direction oppo¬
site to AB, that is, perpendicular to AO5 and let these
two forces be supposed to balance each other by the in¬
tervention of the lever. In the first place, the force at
O must be to the fore’e at B as AB to AO : Therefore,
if we make AK equal and opposite to AO, and AL
equal and opposite to AB, the common principles of
mechanics inform us that the fulcrum A is affected in
the same manner as if the two forces AK and AL were
immediately applied to it, the force AK being equal to
the weight P, and AL equal to the accumulated cohe¬
sion actually exerted in the instant of fracture. The ful¬
crum is therefore really pressed in the direction AM, the
diagonal of the parallelogram, and it must resist in the
direction and with the force MAj and this power of re¬
sistance, this support, must be furnished by the repul¬
sive forces exerted by those particles only which are in a
the proportion ot 13 to L the extensions did not sensibly /State of actual compression. The force AK, which is
deviate from the proportion of the forces. The same equal to the external force P, must be resisted in the di-
tlnng was observed in the caoutchouc as long as it per¬
fectly recovered its first dimensions. And it is on the
authority of these experiments that we presume to an¬
nounce this as a law of nature.
Dr Robert Hooke was undoubtedly the first who at¬
tended to this subject, and assumed this as a law of na-
71
which was
first assu-
Dr Hooke. ture* Mariotte indeed was the first who expressly used
it for determining the strength of beams : this he did
about the 1679, correcting the simple theory of Galileo.
Leibnitz indeed, in bis dissertation in the Acta Erudi-
torum 1684 de JlcsistentiaSolidornm^mtuAuceJi this con¬
sideration,and wishes to he considered as the discoverer ;
and he is always acknowledged as such by the Bernoullis
and others who adhered to his peculiar doctrines. But
Mariotte had published the doctrine in the most express
terms long before ; and Bulfinger, in the Comment.
Petropol. 1729, completely vindicates his claim. But
Hooke was unquestionably the discoverer of this law.
It made the foundation of his theory of springs, announ¬
ced to the Royal Society about the year 1661, and read
in 1666. On this occasion he mentions many things on
the strength of bodies as quite familiar to his thoughts,
which are immediate deductions from this principle j
and among these all the facts which John Bernoulli so
vauntingly adduces in support of Leibnitz’s finical dog¬
mas about the force of bodies in motion j a doctrine
which Hooke might have claimed as his own, had he
72 not perceived its frivolous inanity.
Though But even with this first correction of Mariotte, the
corrected mechanism of transverse strain is not fully nor justly ex-
ofte it^oes P^a'ne^' The force acting in the direction BP (fig. 5.),
nor pioper- and bending the body ABCD, not only stretches the
ly expum fibres on the side opposite to the axis of fracture, but
die media- compresses the side AB, which becomes concave by the
”‘S,U 01 strain. Indeed it cannot do the one without doing the
stami' lSe other: For in order to stretch the fibres at D, there
rection KA by the lateral cohesion of the whole parti¬
cles between D and A (the particle D is not only drawn
forward but downward). This prevents the part CDAB
from sliding down along the section DA. 72
This is fully verified by experiment. If we attemptas 15 Mly
to break a long slip of cork, or any such very compressi-VCI,fie.<1 by
ble body, we always observe it to bulge out on the con- mcaT'
cave side before it cracks on the other side. If it is a
body of fibrous or foliated texture, it seldom fails splin¬
tering oft on the concave side ; and in many cases this
splintering is very deep, even reaching half way through
the piece. In hard and granulated bodies, such as a
piece of freestone, chalk, dry clay, sugar, and the like,
we generally see a considerable splinter or shiver fly off
from the hollow side. If the fracture be slowly made
by a force at B gradually augmented, the formation of
the splinter is very distinctly seen. It forms a triangu¬
lar piece like a\b, which generally breaks in the mid¬
dle. We doubt not but that attentive observation would
show that the direction of the crack on each side of I is
not very different from the direction AM and its corre¬
spondent on the other side. This is by no means a cir¬
cumstance of idle curiosity, but intimately connected
with the mechanism of cohesion. 74
Let us see what consequences result from this state 0f ^onse<lue,1"
the ease respecting the strength of bodies. LetDAKC‘nes
(fig. 8.) represent a vertical section of a prism of com- thc state
pressible materials, such as a piece of timber. Suppose of the case,
it loaded with a weight P hung at its extremity. Sup-Dg. 8.
pose it of such a constitution that all the fibres in AD
are in a state of dilatation, while those in AA are in a
state of compression. In the instant of fracture the par¬
ticles at D and E are withheld by forces Dc/, E e, and
the particles at A and E repel, resist, or support, with
forces A^, Ee.
Some line, such as de will limit all these ordi¬
nates,
'768
Strength oi'na^9> which represent the forces actually exerted in the
Materia]?, instant of fracture. If the forces be as the extensions
‘ v~~' and compressions, as we have great reason to believe,
d e A and A s 5 will be two straight lines. They will
form one straight line d AS, if the forces which resist a
certain dilatation are equal to the forces which resist an
equal compression. But this is quite accidental, and is
not strictly true in any body. In most bodies which
have any considerable firmness, the compressions made
by any external force are not so great as the dilatations
which the same force would produce; that is, the repul¬
sions which are excited by any supposed degree of com¬
pression are greater than the attractions excited by the
same degree of dilatation. Hence it will generally fol¬
low, that the angle r/AD is less than the angle 5 A A,
and the ordinates D of, E c, &c. are less than the cor¬
responding ordinates A E f, &c.
But whatever be the nature of the line r/ A 3, we are
certain of this, that the whole area AD d is equal to the
whole area A A 5: for as the force at B is gradually in¬
creased, and the parts between A and D are more ex¬
tended, and greater cohesive forces are excited, there is
always such a degree of repulsive forces excited in the
particles between A and A that the one set precisely
balances the other. The force at B, acting perpendi¬
cularly to AB, has no tendency to push the whole piece
closer on the part next the wall or to pull it away.
The sum of the attractive and repulsive forces actually
excited must therefore be equal. These sums are repre¬
sented by the two triangular areas, which are therefore
equal.
The greater we suppose the repulsive forces corre¬
sponding to any degree of compression, in comparison
with the attractive forces corresponding to the same de¬
gree of extension, the smaller will A A be in compa¬
rison of AD. In a piece of cork or sponge, A A may
chance to be equal to AD, or even to exceed it ; but
in a piece of marble, A A will perhaps be very small in
comparison of AD.
Now it is evident that the repulsive forces excited
between A and A have no share in preventing the frac¬
ture. They rather contribute to it, by furnishing a ful¬
crum to the lever, by whose energy the cohesion of the
particles in AD is overcome. Hence we see an im¬
portant consequence of the compressibility of the body.
Its power of resisting this transverse strain is diminish¬
ed bv it, and so much the more diminished as the stuff
is more compressible.
This is fully verified by some very curious experi¬
ments made by Du Hamel. He took 16 bars of w’il-
low 2 feet long and 4 an inch square, and supporting
them by props under the ends, he broke them by weights
hung on the middle. He broke 4 of them by weights
of 40, 41, 47, and 52 pounds : the mean is 45. He
then cut four of them -yd through on the upper side, and
filled up the cut with a thin piece of harder wood stuck
in pretty tight. These w’ere broken by 48, 54, 50, and
52 pounds ; the mean of which is 51. He cut other
four t through, and they were broken by 47, 49, 50, 46;
the mean of which is 48. The remaining four were cut
•yds ; and their mean strength was 42.
Another set of his experiments is still more remark¬
able.
Six battens of willow 36 inches long and square
were broken by 525 pounds at a medium.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Six bars were cut y-d through, and the cut filled with Strength of
a wedge of hard wood stuck in with a little force: these Materials,
broke with 551. y—j
Six bars were cut half through, and the cut was filled
in the same manner: they broke with 542.
Six bars were cut ^ths through: these broke with 530.
A batten cut -^ths through, and loaded till nearly
broken, was unloaded, and the wedge taken out of the
cut. A thicker wedge was put in tight, so as to make
the batten straight again by filling up the space left by
the compression of the wood : this batten broke with
J77 pounds.
From this it is plain that more than -yds of the thick¬
ness (perhaps nearly ^ths) contributed nothing to the
strength.
The point A is the centre of fracture in this case;
and in order to estimate the strength of the piece, we
may suppose that the crooked lever virtually concerned
in the strain is DAB. We must find the point I, which
is the centre of effort of all the attractive forces, or that
point where the full cohesion of AD must be applied, so
as to have a momentum equal to the accumulated mo¬
menta of all the variable forces. We must in like man¬
ner find the centre of effort i of the repulsive or sup¬
porting forces exerted by the fibres lying between A
and A.
It is plain, and the remark is important, that this last
centre of effort is the real fulcrum of the lever, although
A is the point where there is neither extension nor con¬
traction ; for the lever is supported in the same manner
as if the repulsions of the whole line A A were exerted
at that point. Therefore let S represent the surface of
fracture from A to D, andy’represent the absolute cohe¬
sion of a fibre at D in the instant of fracture. We shall
75
An impor¬
tant conse¬
quence of
the com-
pressiliility
of body
fully pro¬
ved.
have^8 X I + f or ^: I + 2 =./S : p; that is, the
length AB is to the distance between the two centres
of effort I and /, as the absolute cohesion of the section
between A and D is to the relative strength of the sec¬
tion.
It would be perhaps more accurate to make A1 and
A i equal to the distances of A from the horizontal lines
passing through the centi'es of gravity of the triangles
d AD and § A A. It is only in this construction that the
points I and z’are the centres of real effort of the accu¬
mulated attractions and repulsions. But l and deter¬
mined as we have done, are the points where the full,
equal, actions may be all applied, so as to produce the
same momenta. The final results are the same in both
cases. The attentive and duly informed reader will see
that Mr Bulfinger, in a very elaborate dissertation on the
strength of beams in the Comment. Jdeiropolitan. 1729,
has committed several mistakes in his estimation of the
actions of the fibres. We mention this because his rea¬
sonings are quoted and appealed to as authorities by
Muschenbroek and other authors of note. The subject
has been considered by many authors on the continent,
w e recommend to the reader’s perusal the very minute
discussions in the Memoirs of the Academy of Paris for
1702 by Varignon, the Memoirs for 1708 by Parent,
and particularly that of Coulomb in the Mem. per ks
Spavons Etrangers, tom. vii.
It is evident from what has been said above, that if
S and s represent the surfaces of the sections above and
below A, and if G and g are the distances of their cen¬
tres of gravity from A, and O and 0 the distances of their
centres
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of Centres of oscillation, and D and d their whole depth
Materials. . . /'S,G,0 fvp-
the momentum of cohesion will be"7 — ‘
D ^ d
:pl.
It (as is most likely) the forces are proportional to
the extensions and compressions, the distances AI and
Af, which are respectively =and are re¬
spectively ~ ^ DA, and ^ A A j and when taken toge¬
ther are ~ ^ D A. I f, moreover, the extensions are
equal to the compressions in the instant of fracture, and
the body is a rectangular prism like a common joist or
beam, then D A and A A are also equal ; and there¬
fore the momentum of cohesion is^^ X id X y d, zz
* zzfbd X id zz pi. Hence we obtain this
to the depth as
is to its relative
. 75
This conse-
ther ex¬
plained
6
analogy, “ Six times the length is
the absolute cohesion of the section
strength.”
Thus we see that the compressibility of bodies has a
quenee far-very great influence on their power of withstanding a
transverse strain. Weseethat in this most favourable sup¬
position of equal dilatations and compressions, the strengh
is reduced to one half of the value of what it would have
been had the body been incompressible. This is by no
means obvious ; for it does not readily appear how com¬
pressibility, which does not diminish the cohesion of a
single fibre, should impair the strength of the whole. The
reason, however, is sufficiently convincing when pointed
out. In the instant of fracture a smaller portion of the
section is actually exerting cohesive forces, while a part
of it is only serving as a fulcrum to the lever, by whose
means the strain on the section is produced. We see too
that this diminution of strength does not so much depend
cn the sensible compressibility, as on its proportion to the
dilatability by equal forces. When this proportion is
small, A A is small in comparison of AD, and a greater
portion of the whole fibre is exerting attractive forces.
The experiments already mentioned, of Du Hamel de
Monceau, on battens of willow, show that its compressi¬
bility is nearly equal to its dilatability. But the case is
not very different in tempered steel. I he famous Har¬
rison, in the delicate experiments which he made while
occupied in making his longitude watch, discovered that
a rod of tempered steel was nearly as much diminished
in its length as it was augmented by the same external
force. But it is not by any means certain that this is
the proportion of dilatation and compression which ob¬
tains in the very instant of fracture. W e rather imagine
that it is not. The forces are nearly as the dilatations
till very near breaking ; but we think that they dimi¬
nish when the body is just going to break. But it seems
certain that the forces which resist compression increase
faster than the compressions, even before fracture. We
know incontestably that the ultimate resistances to com¬
pression are insuperable by any force which we can em¬
ploy. The repulsive forces therefore (in their whole ex¬
tent) increase faster than the compressions, and are ex¬
pressed by an assymptotic branch of the Boscovician
curve formerly explained. It is therefore probable, es¬
pecially in the more simple substances, that they increase
faster even in such compressions as frequently obtain in
the breaking of hard bodies. We are disposed to think
that this is always the case in such bodies as do not fly
off in splinters on the concave side j but tins must be
Vol. XIX. Part II.
, . . 769
understood with the exception of the permanent changes s. ...
which may be made by compression, when the bodies are Materials,
crippled by it. Ibis always increases the compression 1 -,
itself, and causes the neutral point to shift still more to¬
wards D. 1 he effect of this is sometimes very great
and fatal.
Experiment alone can help us to discover the propor¬
tion between the dilatability and compressibility of bo¬
dies. I he strain now under consideration seems the best
calculated for this research. Thus if we find that a
piece of wood an inch square requires 12,000 pounds to
tear it asunder by a direct pull, and that 200 pounds
will break it transversely by acting 10 inches from the
section of fracture, we must conclude that the neutral
point A is in the middle of the depth, and that the at¬
tractive and repulsive forces are equal. Any notions
that we can form of the constitution of such fibrous bo¬
dies as timber, make us imagine that the sensible com-
piessions, including what arises from the bending up of
the compressed fibres, is much greater than the real cor¬
puscular extensions. One may get a general conviction
of this unexpected proposition by reflecting on what
must happen during the fracture. An undulated fibre
can only be drawn straight, and then the corpuscular
extension begins j but it may be bent up by compres¬
sion to any degree, the corpuscular compression being
little affected all the while. I his observation is very im¬
portant j and though the forces of corpuscular repulsion
may be almost insuperable by any compression that ive
can employ, a sensible compression may be produced by
forces not enormous, sufficient to cripple the beam. Of
this we shall see very important instances .afterwards.
It deserves to be noticed, that although the relative The
strength of a prismatic solid is extremely different in the portional
three hypotheses now considered, yet the proportional st.ren?ths ^
strengths of different pieces follow the same ratio ;
namely, the direct ratio of the breadth, the direct ratio JowThe' '
of the square of the depth, and the inverse ratio of the same ra-
length. In the first hypothesis (of equal forces) thetio-
strength of a rectangular beam was*^^-, in the second
(of attractive forces proportioned to the extensions) it
77
pro-
jbd'
31
and in the third (equal attractions and re¬
pulsions proportional to the extensions and compressions)
.. fbd* fb dl
it was"-^-, or more generally7—where m expres¬
ses the unknown proportion between the attractions and
repulsions corresponding to an equal extension and com¬
pression. s
Hence we derive a piece of useful information, which The ^
is confirmed by unexceptionable experience, that the ?trengtil of
strength of a piece depends chiefly on its depth, that is, a piece <?c"
on that dimension which is in the direction of the strain, fy on'itj^k
A bar of timber of one inch in breadth and two inches depth,
in depth is four times as strong as a bar of only one
inch deep, and it is twice as strong as a bar two inches
broad and one deep ; that is, a joist or lever is always
strongest when laid on its edge. ^ncj \here-
There is therefore a choice in the manner in which fore a
the cohesion is opposed to the strain. The general aimc^0*cc
must be to put the centre of effort I as far from the ful- ^ fl)aa_
crum or the neutral point A as possible, so as to give the which the
greatest energy or momentum to the cohesion. Thus, if cohesion i«
a triangular bar projecting from a wall is loaded with a opposed t«
5E weightthestraifl*
7/0
Strength of
Materials.
So
The strong¬
est joist lias
not the
greatest
quantity of
timber.
Fig. 9.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
weight at itsextremity, it will bear thrice as much when
one of the sides is uppermost as when it is undermost.
The bar of fig. 6. would be three times as strong if
the side AB were uppermost and the edge DC under¬
most.
Hence it follows that the strongest joist that can be
cut out of a round tree is not the one which has the
greatest quantity of timber in it, but such that the pro¬
duct of its breadth by the square of its depth shall be
the greatest possible. Let ABCD (fig. 9.) be the sec¬
tion of this joist inscribed in the circle, AB being the
breadth and AD the depth. Since it is a rectangular
section, the diagonal BD is a diameter of the circle, and
BAD is a right-angled triangle. Let BD be called
c, and BA be called .r; then AD is — /Ju
Now we must have AB X AD*, or
a* x—H, a maximum. Its fluxion aa x-
is
x x
x.
or
made = o, or a*
•3 x1 x must be
If therefore we
81
A hollow
tube strong¬
er than a
solid rod
containing
the same
quantity of
matter,
Fig. 10.
3 a*, or x* = —.
3
make DE =r \ DB, and draw EC perpendicular to BD,
it will cut the circumference in the point C, which de¬
termines the depth BC and the breadth CD.
Because BD : BC r= CD : CE, we have the area of
the section BC'CDrrBD’CE. Therefore the different
sections having the same diagonal BD are proportional
to their heights CE. Therefore the section BCDA is
less than the section Be Dev, whose four sides are equal.
The joist so shaped, therefore, is both stronger, lighter,
and cheaper.
The strength of ABCD is to that of a B c D as
10,000 to 9186, and the weight and expence as 10,000
to 10,607 so that ABCD is preferable to a B c D in
the proportion of 10,607 to 9186, or nearly X 1 5 to 100.
From the same principles it follows that a hollow tube
is stronger than a solid rod containing the same quan¬
tity of matter. Let fig. 10. represent the section of a
cylindric tube, of which AFand BE are the exterior and
interior diameters, and C the centre. Draw BD per¬
pendicular to BC, and join DC. Then, because BD*=r
CD2—CB*, BD is the radius of a circle containing the
same quantity of matter with tin ring. If we estimate
the strength by the first hypothesis, it is evident that
the strength of the tube will be to that of the solid cy¬
linder, whose radius is BD, asBD* X AC toBD* X BD;
that is, as AC to BD : for BD2 expresses the cohesion
of the ring of the circle, and AC and BD are equal to
distances of the centres of effort (the same with the
centres of gravity) of the ring and circle from the axis
of the fracture.
The proportion of these strengths will be different in
the other hypotheses, and is not easily expressed by a
general formula; but in both it is still more in favour
of the ring or hollow tube.
The following very simple solution will be readily
understood by the intelligent reader. LetO be the centre
of oscillation of the exterior circle, o the centre of oscil¬
lation of the inner circle, and w the centre of oscillation
of the ring included between them. Let M be the
quantity of surface of the exterior circle, m that of the
inner circle, and ^ that of the ring.
M-FO—w.Fo ? FC* -F EC*
We have Fw
and the strength of the ring “
_ 5
7 mmm “
fp x E tu
4FC
and the
strength of the same quantity of matter in the form of a Strength of
solid cylinder isf p X f BD ; so that the strength of the Materials,
ring is to that of the solid rod of equal weight as F w
to 4 BD, or nearly as FC to BD. This will easily ap-
1 ,1 • 1 • sum of vv.r* „
pear by recollecting that I U is rz —— (see Bo-
v» . I* C
tat ion), and that the momentum of cohesion is
fm • FC Ca fm-Yo .
* j-rz = lor the inner circle, &c.
21C 2
Emerson has given a very inaccurate approximation
to this value in his Mechanics, 4X0. §2
This property of hollow tubes is accompanied also and more
with greater stillness ; and the superiority in strengthsU^‘
and stiffness is so much the greater as the surrounding
shell is thinner in proportion to its diameter. s
Here we see the admirable wisdom of the Author ofiJencethe
nature in forming the bones of animal limbs hollow, wisdom of
The bones of the arms and legs have to perform the^0CTn
office of levers, and are thus opposed to very great trans-
verse strains. By this form they become incomparably i10i!0T
stronger and stiller, and give more room for the insertion
of muscles, while they are lighter and therefore more
agile ; and the same Wisdom has made use of this hol¬
low lor other valuable purposes of the animal economy.
In like manner the quills in the wings of birds acquire
by their thinness the very great strength which is neces¬
sary, while they are so light as to give sufficient buoy¬
ancy to the animal in the rare medium in which it must
live and fly about. The stalks of many plants, such as
all the grasses, and many reeds, are in like manner hol¬
low, and thus possess an extraordinary strength. Our
best engineers now begin to imitate nature by making
many parts of their machines hollow, such as their axles
of cast iron, &c. ; and the ingenious Mr Kamsden now
makes the axes and framings of his great astronomical
instruments in the same manner.
In the supposition of homogeneous texture, it is plain
that the fracture happens as soon as the particles at D
are separated beyond their utmost limit of cohesion.
Tii is is a determined quantity, and the piece bends till
this degree ol extension is produced in the outermost
fibre. It follows, that the smaller we suppose the dis¬
tance between A and D, the greater will be the curva¬
ture which the beam will acquire before it breaks.
Greater depth therefore makes a beam not only stronger
but also stiller. But if the parallel fibres can slide on
each other, both the strength and the stiffness will be
diminished. Therefore if, instead of one beam DaKC pjg, 5.
(fig. 8.) we suppose two, DABC and AaKB, not coher- 84
ing, each of them will bend, and the extension of the Bow a.
fibres AB of the under beam will not hinder the com-
pression of the adjoining fibres AB of the upper beam.i,eam may
The two together therefore will not be more than twice be foimed.
as strong as one of them (supposing DAzr A A) instead
of being four times as strong; and they will bend as much
as either of them alone would bend by.half the load.
This may be prevented, if it were possible to unite the
two beams all along the seam AB, so that the one shall
not slide on the other. This may be done in small
works, by gluing them together with a cement as strong
as the natural lateral cohesion of the fibres. If this can¬
not be done (as it cannot in large works), the sliding is
prevented by joggling the beams together ; that is,
by cutting down several rectangular notches in the up¬
per side of the lower beam, and making similar notches
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Fig. ix.
Fig. 12.
§5
How
strength
may be
combined
with plia¬
bleness.
Fig. 13.
S6
Maxim's of
construc¬
tion.
Strength of in the under side of the upper beam, and filling up the
Materials, square spaces with pieces of very hard wood firmly dri¬
ven in, as represented in fig. 11, Some employ iron
bolts by way of joggles. But when the joggle is much
harder than the wood into which it is driven, it is very
apt to work loose, by widening the hole into which it is
lodged. The same thing is sometimes done by scarfing
the one upon the other, as represented in fig. 12.5
but this wastes more timber, and is not so strong, be¬
cause the mutual hooks which this method form on each
beam are very apt to tear each other up. By one or
other of these methods, or something similar, may a
compound beam be formed, of any depth, which will
be almost as stift and strong as an entire piece.
On the other hand, we may combine strength with
pliableness, by composing our beam of several thin planks
laid on each other, till they make a proper depth, and
leaving them at full liberty to slide on each other. It
is in this manner that coach-springs are formed, as is re¬
presented in fig. 13. In this assemblage there must be
no joggles nor bolts of any kind put through the planks
or plates ; for this would hinder their mutual sliding.
They must be kept together by straps which surround
them, or by something equivalent.
The preceding observations show the propriety of
some maxims of construction, which the artists have de¬
rived from long experience.
Thus, if a mortise is to he cut out of a piece which
is exposed to a cross strain, it should be cut out from
that side which becomes concave by the strain, as in
Fi". 14. and 14. but by no means as in fig. 15.
ijt If a piece is to be strengthened by the addition of
another, the added piece must be joined to the side
Fig. 16. and which grows convex by the strain, as in fig. 16. and
I7- I?-
Before we go any farther, it will be convenient to re-
cal the reader’s attention to the analogy between the
strain on a beam projecting from a wall and loaded at
the extremity, and a beam supported at both ends and
loaded in some intermediate point. It is sufficient on
this occasion to read attentively what is delivered in the
article Roof, N° 19.—We learn there that the strain
Fig- 17. on the middle point C (fig. 17. of the present article)
of a rectangular beam AB, supported on props at A
and B, is the same as if the part CA projected from a
wall, and were loaded with the half of the weight W
suspended at A. The momentum of the strain is there¬
fore ^Wx iAB, -WX | AR—p^l, or P—. The
momentum of cohesion must be equal to tins in e\eiy
hypothesis. ....
Having now considered in sufficient detail the circum¬
stances which a fleet the strength of any section of a solid
body that is strained transversely, it is necessary to take
notice of some of the chief modifications of the strain it¬
self. We shall consider only those that occur most fre¬
quently in our constructions.,
The strain depends on the external force, and also on
87 the lever by which it acts. _ . .
The Strain It is evidently of importance, that since the strain is
depends on exeEted in any section by means of the cohesion of the
the exter- g intervening between the section under considera-
nal force. and the point of application of the external force,
the body must be able in all these intervening parts to
propagate or excite the strain in the remote section. In
77
every part it must be able to resist the strain excited in Strength o
that part. It should therefore be equally strong j and Materials,
it is useless to have any part stronger, because the piece ''"“'"v '
will nevertheless break where it is not stronger through¬
out ; and it is useless to make it stronger (relatively to
its strain) in any part, for it will nevertheless equally
fail in the part that is too w'eak.
Suppose then, in the first place, that the strain arises
from a weight suspended at one extremity, while the
other end is firmly fixed in a wall. Supposing also the
cross sections to be all rectangular, there are several
ways of shaping the beam so that it shall be equally
strong throughout. Thus it may be equally deep in
every part, the upper and under surfaces being horizon¬
tal planes. The condition will be fulfilled by making
all the horizontal sections triangles, as in fig. 18. The Fig. iS.
two sides are vertical planes meeting in an edge at the
extremity L. For the equation expressing the balance
of strain and strength is pl=fb d2. Thereforce since d*
is the same throughout, and alsoja, we must have f
and b (the breadth AD of any section ABCD) must be
proportional to / (or AL), which it evidently is.
Or, if the beam be of uniform breadth, we must have
dl everywhere proportional to /. This will be obtained
by making the depths the ordinates of a common para¬
bola, of which L is the vertex and the length is the
axis. The upper or under side may be a straight line,
as in fig. 19. or the middle line may be straight, and Fig. 19.
then both upper and undersurfaces will be curved. It is
almost indifferent what is the shape of the upper and
under surface;, provided the distances between them in
every part be as the ordinates of a common parabola.
Or, if the sections are all similar, such as circles,
squares, or any other similar polygons, we must have
o;* or proportional to /, and the depths or breadths
must be as the ordinates of a cubical parabola. gj
It is evident that these are also the proper forms for And on the
a lever moveable round a fulcrum, and acted on by a form of the
force at the extremity. The force comes in the place
of the weight suspended in the cases already considered 5 a(!ts
and as such levers always are connected with another
arm, we readily see that both arms should be fashioned
in the same manner. Thus in fig. 18. the piece of tim¬
ber may be supposed a kind of steelyard, moveable
round a horizontal axis OP, in the front of the wall,
and having the two weights Band *-in equilibrio. The
strain occasioned by each at the section in which the
axis OP is placed must be the same, and each arm OL
and O A must be equally strong in all its parts. The
longitudinal sections of each arm must be a triangle, a
common parabola, or a cubic parabola, according to the
conditions previously given.
And, moreover, all these forms are equally strong :
For any one of them is equally strong in all its parts,
and they are all supposed to have the same section at the
front of the wall or at the fulcrum. They are not, how¬
ever, equally stiff. The first, represented in fig. 18. will
bend least upon the whole, and the on# formed by the
cubic parabola will bend most. But their curvature at
the very fulcrum will be the same in all.
It is also plain, that if the lever is of the second or
third kind, that is, having the fulcrum at one extremi¬
ty, it must still be of the same shape for in abstract
mechanics it is indifferent which of the three points is
considered as the axis of motion. In every lever ftie
5 E 2 two
Sp
The exter¬
nal strain¬
ing force
orer the
to earn.
90
To make a
beam
strong
which pro¬
jects from
a wall.
772 STRENGTH OF
Strength of two forces at the extremities act in one direction, and
Materials, the force in the middle acts in the opposite direction, and
the great strain is always at that point. Therefore a
lever such as fig. 18. moveable round an axis passing ho¬
rizontally through A, and acting against an obstacle at
OP, is equally able in all its parts to resist the strains
excited in those parts.
The same principles and the same construction will
apply to beams, such as joists, supported at the ends L
and A (fig. 18.), and loaded at some intermediate part
OP. This will appear evident by merely inverting the
directions of the forces at these three points, or by re¬
curring to the article Hoofs, N° 19.
Hitherto we have supposed the external straining
force as acting only in one point of the beam. But it
maybe^dis- may uniformly distributed all over the beam. To
tributed make a beam in such circumstances equally strong in
all its parts, the shape must be considerably different
from the former.
Thus suppose the beam to project from a wall.
If it be of equal breadth throughout, its sides being
vertical planes parallel to each other and to the length,
the vertical section in the direction of its length must be
a triangle instead of a common parabola; for the weight
uniformly distributed over the part lying beyond any
section, is as the length beyond that section : and since
it may all be conceived as collected at its centre of gra¬
vity, which is the middle of that length, the lever by
which this load acts or strains the section is also propor¬
tional to the same length. The strain on the section
(or momentum of the load) is as the square of that
length. The section must have strength in the same
proportion. Its strength being as the breadth and the
square of the depth, and the breadth being constant,
the square of the depth of any section must be as the
square of its distance from the end, and the depth must
be as that distance ; and therefore the longitudinal ver¬
tical section must be a triangle.
But if all the transverse sections are circles, squares,
or any other similar figures, the strength of every sec¬
tion, or the cube of the diameter, must be as the square
of the lengths beyond that section, or the square of its
distance from the end; and the sides of the beam must
be a semicubical parabola.
If the upper and under surfaces are horizontal planes,
it is evident that the breadth must be as the square of
the distance from the end, and the horizontal sections
may be formed by arches of the common parabola, ha¬
ving the length for their tangent at the vertex.
By recurring to the analogy so often quoted between
a projecting beam and a joist, we may determine the
proper form of joists which are uniformly loaded through
their whole length.
This is a frequent and important case, being the of¬
fice of joists, rafters, &c.; and there are some circum¬
stances which must be particularly noticed, because they
are not so obvious, and have been misunderstood. When
a beam AB (fig. 20.) is supported at the ends, and a
weight is laid on any point P, a strain is excited in
every part of the beam. The load on P causes the
beam to press on A and B, and the props react with
forces equal and opposite to these pressures. The load
at P is to the pressures at A and B as AB to PB and
PA, and the pressure at A is to that at B as PB to
PA $ the beam therefore is in the same state, with re-
91 .
The strain
spoil a
beam sup¬
ported at
both ends.
Fig. 20.
MATERIALS.
spect to strain in every part of it, as if it were resting Strength of
on a prop at P, and were loaded at the ends with Materials,
weights equal to the two pressures on the props : and v~—-'
observe, these pressures are such as will balance each
other, being inversely as their distances from P. Let P
represent the weight or load at P. The pressure on the
PA
prop P must be This is therefore the re¬
action of the prop B, and is the weight which we may
suppose suspended at B, when we conceive the beam
resting on a prop at P, and carrying the balancing
weights at A and B.
The strain occasioned at any other point C, by the
load P at P, is the same with the strain at C, by the
PA
weight PXxri hanging at B, when the beam rests on
AxS
P, in the manner now supposed ; and it is the same if
the beam, instead of being balanced on a prop at P,
had its part AP fixed in a wall. This is evident. Now
we have shown at length that the strain at C, by the
P A PA
weight P X Yj> hanging at B, is P X ^ X BC. We
desire it to be particularly remarked that the pressure at
A has no influence on the strain at C, arising from the
action of any load between A and C; for it is indiffer¬
ent how the part AP of the projecting beam PB is sup¬
ported. The weight at A just performs the same office
with the wall in which we suppose the beam to be fix¬
ed. We are thus particular, because we have seen
even persons not unaccustomed to discussions of this
kind puzzled in their conceptions of this strain.
Now let the load P be laid on some point p between
C and B. The same reasoning shows us that the point
is (with respect to strain) in the same state as if the
beam were fixed in a wall, embracing the part p B, and
a weight = Px v-n were hung on at A, and the strain
A. x>
at C is P X X AC.
AB
92
In general, therefore, the strain on any point C, ail- a general
sing from a load P laid on another point P, is propor- proposi¬
tional to the rectangle of the distances of P and C from li0IU
, , , T • x. PAxCB
the ends nearest to each, it is F X  ril 1 or
AB
P x ^ V>—~, according as the load lies between C
and A or between C and B.
Cor. 1. The strains which a load on any point P
occasions on the points C, c, lying on the same side of
P, are as the distances of these points from the end B.
In like manner the strains on E and e are as £A and
e A.
Cor. 2. The strain which a load occasions in the part
on which it rests is as the rectangle of the parts on each
side. Thus the strain occasioned at C by a load is to
that at D by the same load as AC X CB to AD X DB.
It is therefore greatest in the middle. 95
Let us now consider the strain on any point C arising The strain
from a load uniformly distributed along the beam. Letai^nS]oaj
AP be represented by x, and l3 p by x, and the whole distributed
weight on the beam by a. Then along the
beam.
The weight on P p is
AB’
Pressure
Materials. Pressure on B by the weight oxiVp=:a^— x -r-^r
i ^ _ t AB AB
Or - - - -
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS. 773
II. If* the beam is necessarily loaded at some given Strength of
Pres, on B by whole wt. on ACrza
Strain at C by the weight on ACzra
AB2
UC1
Strain at C by the weight on BC=a
Do. by whole wt. on AB=a
AC*
AC* ~a2 AB*
AC* x BC
2 AB1 ‘
BC* x AC
2 AB2
AC*x BC + BC2
X AC
ACxBCxAC+CB
1 2 AB2 ’
2 AB2
ACxBC
2 AB ‘
of reputa¬
tion.
Thus we see that the strain is proportional to the
rectangle of the parts, in the same manner as if the
load a had been laid directly on the point C, and is in¬
deed equal to one-half of the strain which would be pro¬
duced at C by the load a laid on there.
Mistakes in It was necessary to be thus particular, because we see
this subject in some elementary treatises of mechanics, published by
committed authors of reputation, mistakes which are very plausible,
by authors an(j m;s|f aij tlie learner. It is there said, that the pres¬
sure at B from a weight uniformly diffused along AB
is the same as if it were collected at its centre of gra¬
vity, which would be the middle of AB ; and then the
strain at C is said to be this pressure at B multiplied
by BC. But surely it is not difficult to see the differ¬
ence of these strains. It is plain that the pressure of
gravity downwards on any point between the end A and
the point C has no tendency to diminish the strain at
C, arising from the upward reaction of the prop B 5
whereas the pressure of gravity between C and B is al¬
most in direct opposition to it, and must diminish it.
We may however avoid the fluxionary calculus with
safety by the consideration of the centre of gravity, by
supposing the weights of AC and BC to be collected at
their respective centres of gravity ; and the result of
this computation will be the same as above . and we
may use either method, although the weight is not uni¬
formly distributed, provided only that we know in what
manner it is distributed.
This investigation is evidently of importance in the
practice of the engineer and architect, informing them
what support is necessary in the different parts of their
constructions. We considered some cases of this kind
in the article Roofs. .
   It is now easy to form a joist, so that it shall have
jui«t which the same relative strength in all its paits.
may have 'J-q niabe it equally able in all its parts to carry a
Id given weight laid on any point C taken at random, or
Sgiia uniformly diffnaed over the whole length, the strength
all it*parts, of the section at the point C must be as ACxCB.
Therefore
1. If the sides are parallel vertical planes, the square
of the depth (which is the only variable dimension) or
CD2, must be as ACXCB, and the depths must be or¬
dinates of an ellipse. ,
2. If the transverse sections are similar, we must
make CD3 as AC X CB. u i n 0
3. If the upper and under surfaces are parallel, the
breadth must be as AC X CB.
m 95
To form a
<)6
point C, and we would have the beam equally able in Materials,
all its parts to resist the strain arising from the weight'
at C, we must make the strength of every transverse
section between C and either end as its distance from
that end. Therefore,
1. If the sides are parallel vertical planes, we must
make CD2 : EF2=AC : AE.
2. If the sections are similar, then CD3: EF3—AC :
AE.
3. If the upper and under surfaces are parallel, then,
breadth at C : breadth at E=:AC : AE.
The same principles enable us to determine the strain q'he strain
and strength of square or circular plates, of different ex-and
tent, but equal thickness. This may be comprehendedstl'en8'th
in this general proposition. square or
ox* circiiiciT
Similar plates of equal thickness supported all round piates of
will carry the same absolute weight, uniformly distri-different
buted, or resting on similar points, whatever is their extent, but
extent. _ _ > Aicknts
Suppose two similar oblong plates of equal thickness, may
and let their lengths and breadths be L, /, and B, b. termined
Let their strength or momentum of cohesion be C, c, from the
and the strains from the weights W, wt be S, s. same priu-
Suppose the plates supported at the ends only, andcli)i;s’
resisting fracture transversely. The strains, being as the
weights and lengths, are as WL and W, but their co¬
hesions are as the breadths ; and since they are of equal
relative strength, we have WL : tW~B : b, and WL b
—1 R and L : l—W B : W&: but since they are of
similar shapes L : /=B : b, and therefore w=\Y.
The same reasoning holds again when they are also
supported along the sides, and therefore holds when they
are supported all round (in which case the strength is
doubled).
And if the plates are of any other figure, such as
circles or ellipses, we need only conceive similar rect¬
angles inscribed in them. These are supported ail
around by the continuity of the plates, and therefore
will sustain equal weights 5 and the same may be said
of the segments which lie without them, because the
strengths of any similar segments are equal, their
lengths being as their breadths.
Therefore the thickness of the bottoms of vessels hold¬
ing heavy liquoi's or grains should be as their diameters,
and as the square root of their depths jointly.
Also the weight which a square plate will bear is to
that which a bar of the same matter and thickness will
bear as twice the length of the bar to its breadth. 97
There is yet another modification of the strain which The strain
tends to break a body transversely, which is of very fre-of a beam
auent occurrence, and in some cases must be very care-ainsin£from
fully attended to, \iz. the strain arising trom its own v
weight.
When a beam projects from a wall, every section is
strained by the weight of all that projects beyond it.
This may be considered as all collected at its centre of
gravity. Therefore the strain on any section is in the
joint ratio of the weight of what projects beyond it,
and the distance of its centre of gravity from the sec-
tion. .
The determination of this strain and of the strength
necessary for withstanding it must be more complicated
than the former, because the form of the piece which re¬
sults from this adjustment of strain and strength influ¬
ence a-
eisrbt.
774-
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
93
General
principle
respecting
it.
Fig. zr.
Strength of ences the strain. The general principle must evidently
Materials. ^ that the strength or momentum of cohesion of every
section must he as the product of the weight beyond it
multiplied by the distance of its centre of gravity. For
example :
Suppose the beam DLA (fig. 21.) to project from
the wall, and that its sides are parallel vertical planes,
so that the depth is the only variable dimension. Let
LB—a; and B b—ij. The element B£cC is ~yx.
Let G be the centre of gravity of the part lying with¬
out B b, and g be its distance from the extremity L.
Then x—g is the arm of the lever bv which (he strain
is excited in the section B£. Let B£ or y be as some
power m of LB ; that is, let y—xm. Then the con-
tents of L B is  7—. The momentum of gravity
Tound a horizontal axis at L \sy x x—xw+'x,
A?***
whole momentum round the axis is
and the
The distance
772-j- 2
of the centre of gravity from L is had by dividing this
#772+*
momentum bv the whole weight, which is  —. '1 he
° 772-j- 1
And the distance of the centre
xy,m-\~\
quotient or^- is
x X *»+1
772-}- 2
of gravity from the section B £ is #
772 -}- 2
X X w_}_2—xy, tn + 1
772 -}- 2
’ 772 -j— 2
on the section B£ is had by multiplying
#772+*
The product is
Therefore the strain
by
Ttl -j— 1 ^ VI —2
This must be as the
772 + 2 X ™ + 1
square of the depth, or as y1. But y is as #m, and y as
,^*772. Therefore we have 772-j-2—2777, and m— 2 j that
is, the depth must be as the square of the distance from
the extremity, and the curve L£A is a parabola touch-
99 ing the horizontal line in L.
A aaH 11 is eas>’ t0 see t,iat a cono*J f°rmed t,ie station
a^ein of this figure round DL will also be equally able in
every sec- every section to bear its own weight,
tion to bear neC(] not prosecute this farther. When the figure
its own the piece ;s g;venj there is no difficulty in finding the
1 strain *, and the circumstance of equal strength to resist
The1 more this strain 13 c1,iefly a mattcr of curiosity,
a beam ’ . It is evident, from what has been already said, that a
projects, projecting beam becomes less able to bear its own weight,
the as it projects farther. Whatever may be (he strength of
aWbearS t*ie sect‘?n 11^7 ^ie length may be such that it will
its own break by its own weight. If we suppose two beams A and
weight, B of the same substance and similar shapes, that is, hav¬
ing their lengths and diameters in the same proportion ;
and further suppose that the shorter can just bear its own
weight •, then the longer beam will not be able to do the
same : For the strengths of the sections are as the cubes
of the diameters, while the strains are as the biquadrates
of the diameters •, because the weights are as the cubes,
and the levers by which these weights act in producing
the strain are as the lengths or as the diameters.
These considerations show us, that in all cases where
strain is affected by the weight of the parts of the ma¬
chine or structure of any kind, the smaller bodies are
more able to withstand it than the greater j and there Strength of
seems to be bounds set by nature to the size of machines Materials,
constructed of any given materials. Even when the
weight of the parts of the machine is not taken into the smau ^)0.
account, we cannot enlarge them in the same proportion dies more
in all their parts. Thus a steam-engine cannot be doubled a^e t0
in all its parts, so as to be still efficient. The pressure ”^stai.lc*
on the piston is quadrupled. If the lift of the pump be j)roc]uceci
also doubled in height while it is doubled in diameter, by the
the load will be increased eight times, and will therefore we>ght of
exceed the power. The depth of lift therefore, must re-t.
main unchanged ; and in this case the machine will be grcat ^
of the same relative strength as before, independent of dies,
its own weight. For the beam being doubled in all its
dimensions, its momentum of cohesion is eight times
greater, which is again a balance for a quadruple load
acting by a double lever.—But if we now consider the
increase of the weight of the machine itself, which must
be supported, and which must be put in motion by the
intervention of its cohesion, we see that the large ma¬
chine is weaker and less efficient than the small one.
There is a similar limit set by nature to the size of
plants and animals formed of the same matter. The
cohesion of an herb could not support it if it were in¬
creased to the size of a tree, nor could an oak support it¬
self if 40 or 50 times bigger, nor could an animal of the
make of a long-legged spider be increased to the size of
a man ; the articulations of its legs could not support it.
Hence may be understood the prodigious superiority E\en .sn5aI*
r 1 r 1 0 1 •!• a animals are
ol the small animals both in strength ami agility. A reniarkable
man by falling twice his own height may break his firm-for strength
est bones. A mouse may fall 20 times its height without and agility,
risk ; and even the tender mite or wood-louse may fall
unhurt from the top of a steeple. But their greatest
superiority is in respect of nimbleness and agility. A
flea can leap above $00 times its own length, while the
strength of the human muscles could not raise the trunk
from the ground on limbs of the same construction.
The angular motions of small animals (in which con¬
sists their nimbleness or agility) must be greater than
those of large animals, supposing the force of the mus¬
cular fibre to be the same in both. For supposing them
similar, the number of equal fibres will be as the square
of their linear dimensions 5 and the levers by which they
act are as their linear dimensions. The energy therefore
of the moving force is as thecubeof thesedimensions. But
the momentum of inertia, or/jp. r*, is as the 4th power:
Therefore the angular velocity of the greater animals is
smaller. The number of strokes which a fly makes with
its wings in a second is astonishingly great j yet, being
voluntary, they are the effects of its agility.
We have hitherto confined our attention to the sim¬
plest form in which this transverse strain can be produ¬
ced. This was quite sufficient for showing us the me¬
chanism of nature by which the strain is resisted ; and
a very slight attention is sufficient for enabling us to re¬
duce to this every other wav in which the strain can be
produced. We shall not take up the reader’s time with
the application of the same principles to other cases of
this strain, hut refer him to what has been said in the
article Roofs. In that article we have shown the ana-
logy between the strain on the section of a beam projec¬
ting from a wall and loaded at the extremity, and the
strain
rig- 2j»
103
Effects of
external
force,
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of strain on the same section of a beam simply resting on
Materials, supports at the ends, and loaded at some intermediate
' point or points. The strain on the middle C of a beam
AB (fig. 22.) so supported, arising from a weight laid
on there, is the same with the strain which half that
weight hanging at B would produce on the same section
C if the other end of the beam were fixed in a wall.
If therefore 1000 pounds hung on the end of a beam
projecting 10 feet from a wall will just break it at the
wall, it will require 4000 pounds on its middle to break
the same beam resting on two props 10 feet asunder.
We have alsoshown in thatarticlethe additional strength
which will be given to this beam by extending both
ends beyond the props, and there framing it firmly into
other pillars or supports. We can hardly add any thing
^ftheU*~t° l,as been sa*cI i'1 that article, except a few ob-
^ ° C servations on the effects of the obliquity of the external
force. We have hitherto supposed it to act in the di¬
rection BP (fig. 8.) perpendicular to the length of the
beam. Suppose it to act in the direction BP', oblique
to BA. In the article Roof we supposed the strain to
be the same a= if the force p acted at the distance AB',
but still perpendicular to AB : so it is. But the strength
of the section A A is not the same in both cases •, for by
the obliquity of the action the piece DCKa is pressed
to the other. We are not sufficiently acquainted with
the corpuscular forces to say precisely what will he the
effect of the pressure arising from this obliquity ; but we
can dearly see, in general, that the point A, which in
the instant of fracture is neither stretched nor compres¬
sed, must now be farther up, or nearer to D 5 and there¬
fore the number of particles which are exerting cohe¬
sive forces is smaller, and therefore the strength is di¬
minished. Therefore, when we endeavour to proportion
the strength of a beam to the strain arising from an ex¬
ternal force acting obliquely, we make too liberal al¬
lowance by increasing this external force in the ratio of
AB to AB. We acknowledge our inability to assign
the proper correction. But this circumstance is of very
great influence. In many machines, and many fram¬
ings of carpentry, this oblique action of the straining
force is unavoidable 5 and the most enormous strains to
which materials are exposed are generally of this kind.
In the frames set up for carrying the ringstones of arch¬
es, it is hardly possible to avoid them : for although the
judicious engineer disposes his beams so as to sustain only
pressures in the direction ol their lengths, tending either
to crush them or to tear them asunder, it frequently hap¬
pens that, by the settling of the work, the pieces come
to check and bear on each other transversely, tending
to break each other across. rlhis we have remarked
upon in the article Roofs, with respect to a truss by
Mr Price (see Roofs, N° 40, 41, 45.). Now when a
cross strain is thus combined with an enormous pressure
in the direction of the length of the beam, it is in the
utmost danger of snapping suddenly across. Phis is one
great cause of the carrying away of masts. They are
compressed in the direction of their length by the united
force of the shrouds, and in this state the transverse ac¬
tion of the wind soon completes the fracture.
When considering the compressing strains to which
materials are exposed, we deferred the discussion of the
strain on columns, observing that it was not, in the eases
which usually occur, a simple compression, but was com¬
bined with a transverse strain, arising from the bending
4
104
File strain
n co-
imns.
„ 775
of the column. When the column ACB (fig. 23.) rest- Streno-th of
ing on the ground at R, arid loaded at top with a Materials.
weight A, acting in the vertical direction AB, is bent —v—-*
into a curve ACB, so that the tangent at C is perpen- Flg' 2^'
dicular to the horizon, its condition somewhat resembles
that of a beam firmly fixed between B and C, and
strongly pulled by the end A, so as to bend it between
C and A. Although we cannot conceive how a force
acting on a straight column AB in the direction AB
can bend it, we may suppose that the force acted first
in the horizontal direction A b till it was bent to this
degree, and that the rope was then gradually removed
from the direction A ^ to the direction AB, increasing
the force as much as is necessary for preserving the
same quantity of flexure. IO _
The first author (we believe) who considered this im- Obsei va-
portant subject with scrupulous attention was the ce- t(ons on
lehrated Euler, who published in the Berlin Memoirs F'u*erfs
for 1757 h*s Theory of the Strength of Columns. The 'of
general proposition established by this theory is, that columns,
the strength of prismatical columns is in the direct qua¬
druplicate ratio of their diameters, and the inverse du¬
plicate ratio of their lengths. He prosecuted this sub¬
ject in the Petersburg!! Commentaries for 1778, confirm¬
ing his former theory. We do not find that any other
author has bestowed much attention on it, ail seeming
to acquiesce in the determinations of Euler, and to con¬
sider the subject as of very great difficulty, requiring the
application of the most refined mathematics. Muschen-
broek has compared the theory with experiment ; but
the comparison has been very unsatisfactory, the differ¬
ence from the theory being so enormous as to afford no.
argument for its justness. But the experiments do not
contradict it, for they are so anomalous as to afford no
conclusion or general rule whatever.
To say the truth, the theory can be considered in no
other light than as a specimen of ingenious and very art ¬
ful algebraic analysis. Euler was unquestionably the first
analyst in Europe for resource and address. He knew
this, and enjoyed his superiority, and without scruple ad¬
mitted any physical assumptions which gave him an op¬
portunity of displaying his skill. The inconsistency of
his assumptions with the known laws of mechanism gave
him no concern ; and when his algebraic processes led
him to any conclusion which would make his readers
stare, being contrary to all our usual notions, he frankly
owned the paradox, but went on in his analysis, saying,
“ Sed anuhjsi magis fidendum.'1'1 Mr Robins has given
some very risible instances of this confidence in his ana¬
lysis, or rather of his confidence in the indolent submis¬
sion of his readers. Nay, so fond was he of this kind
of amusement, that after having published an Untenable-
Theory of Light and Colours, he published several Me¬
moirs, explaining the aberration of the heavenly bodies,
and deducing some very wonderful consequences, fully
confirmed by experience, from the Newtonian prin¬
ciples, which were opposite and totally inconsistent with
his own theory, merely because the Newtonian theory
gave him “ occasionem analyseos promove mice." We
are thus severe in our observations, because his theory
of the strength of columns is one of the strongest in¬
stances of this wanton kind of proceeding, and because
his followers in the Academy of St Petersburgh, such
as Mr Fuss, Lexill, and others, adopt his conclusions,
and merely echo his words. Since the death of Daniel
Bernoulli^
776 STRENGTH OF
Strength offiernoulli, no member of that academy has controverted
Materials, any thing advanced by their Professor subliinis geome-
v trice, to whom they had been indebted for their places
and for all their knowledge, having been (most of them)
his amanuenses, employed by this wonderful man dur¬
ing his blindness to make his computations and carry on
his algebraic investigations. We are not a little surpris¬
ed to see Mr Emerson, a considerable mathematician,
and a man of very independent spirit, hastily adopting
the same theory, of which we doubt not but our readers
will easily see the falsity.
Euler considers the column ACB as in a condition
Fig. 23. precisely similar to that of an elastic rod bent into the
curve by a cord AB connecting its extremities.—In this
he is not mistaken.—But he then draws CD perpendi¬
cular to AB, and Considers the strain on the section C
as equal to the momentum or mechanical energy of the
weight A acting in the direction DB upon the lever
kcD, moveable round the fulcrum c, and tending to
tear asunder the particles which cohere along the sec¬
tion c C x. This is the same principle (as Euler ad¬
mits) employed by James Bernoulli in his investigation
of the elastic curve ACB. Euler considers the strain
on the section c * as the same with what it would su¬
stain if the same power acted in the horizontal direction
EF on a point E as far removed from C as the point D
is. We reasoned in the same manner (as has been ob¬
served) in the article R00FS, where the obliquity of ac¬
tion was inconsiderable. But in the present case, this
substitution leads to the greatest mistakes, and has ren¬
dered the whole of this theory false and useless. It
would be just if the column were of materials which
are incompressible But it is evident, by what has been
Said above that by the compression of the parts the real
fulcrum of the lever shifts away from the point r, so
much the more as the compression is greater. In the
great compressions of loaded columns, and the almost
unmeasurable compressions of the' truss beams in the
centres of bridges, and other cases of chief importance,
the fulcrum is shifted far over towards k, so that very
few fibres resist the fracture by their cohesion} and these
few have a very feeble energy or momentum, on account
of the short arm of the lever by which they act. This is
a most important, consideration in carpentry, yet makes
no element of Euler’s theory. The consequence of this
is, that a very small degree of curvature is sufficient to
cause the column or strutt to snap in an instant, as is
well known to every experienced carpenter. The expe¬
riment by Muschenbroek, which Euler makes use of in
order to obtain a measure of strength in a particular in¬
stance, from which he might deduce all others by his
theorem, is an incontestable proof of this. The force
which broke the column is not the twentieth part of
what is necessary for breaking it by acting at E in the
direction EF. Euler takes no notice of this immense dis¬
crepancy, because it must have caused him to abandon the
106 speculation with which he wTas then amusing himself.
This theo- The limits of this work do not afford room to enter
17 false and minutely upon the refutation of this theory ; but we can
useless. easily show its uselessness, by its total inconsistency with
common observation. It results legitimately from this
theory, that if CD have no magnitude, the weight A
can have no momentum, and the column cannot be broken
—-True,—it cannot be broken in this way, snapped by a
MATERIALS.
transverse fracture, if it do not bend j but we know Very Strrngtii of
well that it can be crushed or crippled, and we see this Materials,
frequently happen. This circumstance or event does not
enter into Euler’s investigation, and therefore the theory
is imperfect at least and useless. Had this crippling been
introduced in the form of a physical assumption, every
topic of reasoning employed in the process must have
been laid aside, as the intelligent reader will easily see.
But the theory is not only imperfect, but false. The or¬
dinary reader will be convinced of this by another le¬
gitimate consequence of it. Fig. 24. is the same Fig. 24,
with fig. 106. of Emerson's Mechanics, where this sub¬
ject is treated on Euler’s principles, and represents a
crooked piece of matter resting on the ground at F, and
loaded at A with a weight acting in the vertical direc¬
tion AF. It results from Euler’s theory that the strains
at h, B, D, E, &c. are as be, BC, DI, EK, &c. There¬
fore the strains at G and H are nothing; and this is as¬
serted by Emerson and Euler as a serious truth ; and the
piece may be thinned ad infinitum in these two places,
or, even cut through, without any diminution of its
strength. The absurdity of this assertion strikes at first
hearing. Euler asserts the same thing with respect to a
point of contrary flexure. Farther discussion is (we ap¬
prehend) needless. 107
This theory must therefore be given up. Yet these Jet Euler’*
dissertations of Euler in the Petersburgh Commentaries
deserve a perusal, both as very ingenious specimens ofseiveaper.
analysis, and because they contain maxims of practicensal.
which are important. Although they give an erroneous
measure of the comparative strength of columns, they
show the immense importance of preventing all bend¬
ings, and point out with accuracy where the tendencies
to bend are greatest, and how this may be prevented by
very small forces, and what a prodigious accession of
force this gives the column. There is a valuable paper
in the same volume by Fuss on the Strains on framed
Carpentry, which may also be read with advantage.
It will now be asked, what shall be substituted in place
of this erroneous theory ? what is the true proportion of
the strength of columns ? We acknowledge our inability Ic2
to give a satisfactory answer. Such can be obtained only A newtke-
by a previous knowledge of the proportion between thery cannot
j r o. i ii ip be siibstittt-
extensions and compressions produced by equal forces,^ . ^
by the knowledge of the absolute compressions produ-of
cible by a given force, and by a knowledge ol the de-ui] many
gree of that derangement of parts which is termed crip- experiments
plingi These circumstances are but imperfectly knownbe linade,
to us, and there lies before us a wide field of experi¬
mental inquiry. Fortunately the force requisite for crip¬
pling a beam is prodigious, and a very small lateral sup¬
ports sufficient to prevent that bending which puts the
beam in imminent danger. A judicious engineer will
always employ transverse bridles, as they are called, to
stay the middle of long beams, which are employed as
pillars, strutts, or truss beams, and are exposed, by their
position, to enormous pressures in the direction of their
lengths. Such stays may be observed, disposed with
great judgment and economy, in the centres employed
by Mr Perronet in the erection of his great stone arches.
He was obliged to correct this omission made by his in¬
genious predecessor in the beautiful centres of the bridge
of Orleans, which we have no hesitation in affirming to
be the finest piece of carpentry in the world.
2
Streuglli of
Alatei'ials.
109
Table of
experi¬
ments made
by JBelidor.
It cniy remains on this head to compare these theo-
reiical deductions with experiment,
Experiments on the transverse strength of bodies are
easily made, and accordingly are very numerous, espe¬
cially those made on timber, which is the case most com¬
mon and most interesting. But in this great number of
experiments there are very few from which we can draw
much practical information. The experiments have in
general been made on such small scantlings, that the
unavoidable natural inequalities bear too great a propor¬
tion to the strength of the whole piece. Accordingly,
when we compare the experiments of different authors,
w7e find them differ enormously, and even the experi¬
ments by the same author are very anomalous. The
completest series that we have yet seen is that detailed
by Belidor in Ins Science des IngeniciiT's. I'hey are con¬
tained in the following table. 1 he pieces were sound,
even-grained oak. The column ^contains the breadths
of the pieces in inches j the column d contains their
depths ; the column / contains their lengths ; column p
contains the weights (in pounds) which broke them
when hung on their middles j and m is the column of
averages or mediums.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
The ends lying loose.
The ends firmly fixed.
; ’
Loose.
Loose.
Loose.
Fixed.
Loose.
Loose.
no
Corollaries
educed
om them.
By comparing Experiments rst and 3d* the strength
appears proportional to the breadth.
Experiments 3d and 4th shew the strength propor¬
tional to the square of the depth.
Vol. XIX. Part II. t
Experiments 1st and 3th shew the strength nearly in
the inverse proportion of the lengths, but with a sensible
deficiency in the longer pieces.
Experiments 3th and yth shew the strengths propor¬
tional to the breadths and the square of the depth.
Experiments 1st and 7th shew the same thing, com¬
pounded with the inverse proportion of the length :
the deficiency relative to the length is not so remark¬
able here.
Experiments 1st ami 2d, and experiments 5th and
6th, shew the increase of strength, by fastening the ends,
to be in the proportion of 2 to 3. The theory gives the
proportion of 2 to 4. But a difference in the manner
of fixing may produce this deviation from the theory,
which only supposed them to be held down at places
beyond the props, as when a joist is held in the walls,
and also rests on two pillars between the walls. (See
what is said on this subject in the article RooT, § 19.) ;
where note, that there is a mistake, when it is said that
a beam supported at both ends and loaded in the middle,
will carry twice as much as if one end were fixed in
the wall and the weight suspended at the other end.
Ihe reasoning employed there shows that it will carry
four times as much.
Ihe chief source of irregularity in such experiments
is the fibrous, or rather plated texture of timber. It
consists of annual additions, whose cohesion with each
other is vastly weaker than that of their own fibres. Let
fig. 25. represent the section of a tree, and ABCD,
abed the sectibn of two battens that are to be cut out
of it for experiment, and let AD and a d be the depths,
and DC, dc the breadths. The batten ABCD will be
the strongest, for the same reason that an assemblage of
planks set edgewise will form a stronger joist than planks
laid above each other like the plates of a coach-spring.
M. Buffon found by many trials that the strength of
ABCD was to that of abed (in oak) nearly as 8 to 7.
The authors of the different experiments were not care¬
ful that their battens had their plates all disposed simi¬
larly with respect to the strain. But even with this
precaution they would not have afforded sure grounds
of computation for large works ; for great beams oc¬
cupy much, if not the whole, of the section of the tree;
and from this it has happened that their strength is less
than in proportion to that of a small lath or batten.
In short, we can trust no experiments but such as have
been made on large beams. These must be very rare,
for they are most expensive and laborious, and exceed
the abilities of most of those who are disposed to study
this matter.
But we are not wholly without such authority. M.
Buffon and M. Du Hamel, two of the first philosophers
and mechanicians of the age, were directed by govern¬
ment to make experiments on this subject, and were sup¬
plied with ample funds and apparatus. The relation of
their experimeats is to be found in the Memoirs of the
French Academy for 1740, 1741, 1742, 1768 ; as also
in Du Hamel’s valuable performances sur PExploita¬
tion des Arbres, et sur la Conservation cT le Transport .
de Bois. We earnestly recommend these dissertations ,
to the perusal of our readers, as containing much useful ,
information relative to the strength of timber, and the
best methods of employing it. We shall here give an
abstract of M. Buffon’s experiments.
777
Strength of
Materials.
Fig.
He
77®
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
bars of
sound oak.
Strength of He relates a great number which he had prosecuted
Materials, during two years on small battens. He found that the
' ' v odds of a single layer, or part of a layer, more or less,
Mr Buf- or even a different disposition of them, had such in-
fon’* expe- fluence that he was obliged to abandon this method,
riments on and to have recourse to the largest beams that he
was able to break. The following table exhibits one
series of experiments on bars of sound oak, clear of
knots, and four inches square. This is a specimen of
all the rest.
Column ist is the length of the bar in clear feet be¬
tween the supports.
Column 2d is the weight of the bar (the 2d day after
it was felled) in pounds. Two bars were tried of each
length. Each of the first three pairs consisted of two
cuts of the same tree. The one next the root was
always found the heaviest, stiffest, and strongest. In¬
deed M. Buffon says that this was invariably true,
that the heaviest was always the strongest j and he re¬
commends it as a certain (or sure) rule for the choice of
timber. He finds that this is always the case when the
timber has grown vigorously, forming very thick annual
layers. But he also observes that this is only during
the advances of the tree to maturity j for the strength of
the different circles approaches gradually to equality
during the tree’s healthy growth, and then it decays in
these parts in a contrary order. Our tool-makers assert
the same thing with respect to beech: yet a contrary
opinion is very prevalent; and wood with a fine, that is,
a small grain, is frequently preferred. Perhaps no per¬
son has ever made the trial with such minuteness as
M. Buffon, and we think that much deference is due to
his opinion.
Column 3d is the number of pounds necessary for
breaking the tree in the course of a few minutes.
Column 4th is the inches which it bent down before
breaking.
Column 5th is the time at which it broke.
The experiments on other sizes were made in the
same way. A pair at least of each length and size was
taken. The mean results are contained in the following
table. The beams were all square, and their sizes in
inches are placed at the head of the columns, and their
lengths in feet are in the first column.
7
8
9
10
12
J4
16
18
20
22
24
28
5312
455°
4025
3612
2987
“525
9787
8308
7!25
6075
5300
4350
37°°
3225
2975
2162
*775
18950
lS52S
i3T5°
11250
9100
7475
6362
5562
4950
32200
26050
22350
I9475
16175
i3225
IIOOO
9245
8375
8
47649
3975°
32800
27750
23450
J9775
*6375
13200
11487
Strength of
Materials
M. Buffon had found by numerous trials that oak-
timber lost much of its strength in the course of drying
or seasoning; and therefore, in order to secure unifor¬
mity, his trees were all felled in the same season of th«
year, were squared the day after, and tried the third day.
Trying them in this green state, gave him an opportu¬
nity of observing a very curious and unaccountable phe¬
nomenon. When the weights were laid briskly on, nearly
sufficient to break the log, a very sensible smoke was
observed to issue from the two ends with a sharp hissing
noise. This continued all the while the tree was bending
and cracking. This shows that the log is affected or
strained through its whole length } indeed this must be
inferred from its bending through its whole length. It
a!«so shows us the great effects of the compression. It
is a pity M. Buffon did not take notice whether this
smoke issued from the upper or compressed half of the
section only, or whether it came from the whole. ,I9
We must now make some observations on these ex-Obserra^
periments, in ’order to compare them with the
which we have endeavoured to establish.
M. Buffon considers the experiments with the 5*inch^)j^
bars as the standard of comparison, having both extend¬
ed these to greater lengths, and having tried more pieces
of each length.
Our theory determines the relative strength of bars of
the same section to be inversely as their lengths. But
(if we except the five experiments in the first column)
we find a very great deviation from this rule. Thu*
the 5-inch bar of 28 feet long should have half the
strength of that of 14 feet, or 2650 j whereas it is but
1775. The bar of 14 feet should have half the strength
of that of 7 feet, or 5762 ; whereas it is but 5300. In
like manner, the fourth of 11525 is 2881 $ but the real
strength of the 28 feet bar is 1775. We have added a
column A, which exhibits the strength which each of
the 5-inch bars ought to have by the theory. This de¬
viation is most distinctly seen in fig. 26. where BK is ^
the scale of lengths, B being at the point 7 of the scale and
K at 28. The ordinate CB is =11525, and the other
CB
ordinates HE, GK, &c. are respectively rr -j~——
The lines HE, GH, &c. are made =4350, ills,
expressing the strengths given by experiment. The 10
feet bar and the 24 feet bar are remarkably anomalous.
But all are deficient, and the defect has an evident pro¬
gression from the first to the last. The same thing may
be shown of the other columns, and even of the first,
though
theory tion» oa Ms
J Btffon’t
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength of though It is very small in that column. It may also be
Material*, observed in the experiments of Belidor, and in all that
we have seen. We cannot doubt therefore of its being
a law of nature, depending on the true principles of co¬
hesion, and the laws of mechanics.
But it is very puzzling, and we cannot pretend to
give a satisfactory explanation of the difficulty. The
only effect which we can conceive the length of a beam
to have, is to increase the strain at the section of fracture
by employing the intervening beam as a lever. But we
do not distinctly see what change this can produce in
the mode of action of the fibres in this section, so as
either to change their cohesion or the place of its centre
of effort : yet something of this kind must happen.
We see indeed some circumstances which must contri¬
bute to make a smaller weight sufficient, in Mr Buffon’s
experiments, to break a long beam, than in the exact in¬
verse proportion of its length.
In-the first place, the weight of the beam itself aug¬
ments the strain as much as if half of it were added in
form of a weight. Mr Buffon has given the weights of
every beam on which he made experiments, which is
very nearly 74 pounds per cubic foot. But they are
much too small to account for the deviation from the
theory. The half weights of the 5-inch beams of 7, 14,
and 28 feet length are only 45, 92, and 182 pounds ;
which makes the real strains in the experiments 11560,
5390, and 1956 *, which are far from having the pro¬
portions of 4, 2, and I.
Buffon says thathealthy trees are universally strongest
at the root end j therefore, when we use a longer beam,
its middle point, where it is broken in the experiment, is
in a weaker part of the tree. But the trials of the 4_iuch
beams show that the difierence from this cause is almost
insensible.
The length must have some mechanical influence
which the theory we have adopted has not yet explained.
It may not however be inadequate to the task. J he
very ingenious investigation of the elasticcurve by .Tames
Bernoulli and other celebrated mathematicians is perhaps
as refined an application of mathematical analysis as we
know. Yet in this investigation it was necessary, in
order to avoid almost insuperable difficulties, to take the
simplest possible case, viz. where the thickness isexceed-
ingly small in comparison writh the length. If the thick¬
ness be considerable, the quantities neglected in the cal¬
culus are too great to permit the conclusion to be accu¬
rate, or very nearly so. Without being able to define
the form into which an elastic body of considerable
thickness will he bent, we can say with confidence, that
in an extreme case, where the compression in the con¬
cave side is very great, the curvature differs consider¬
ably from the Bernoullian curve. But as our investiga¬
tion is incomplete and very long, we do not offer it to
the reader. The following more familiar considerations
will, wc apprehend, render it highly probable that the
relative strength of beams decreases faster than in the in¬
verse ratio of their length. The curious observation by
•reaseslast Mr Buffon of the vapour which issued with a hissing
” S,r„ “ „„ise from tile ends of a beam of preen oak, w ule it was
the invene breaking by the load on its middle, shows that the whole
length of the piece was affected : indeed it must be,
since it is bent throughout. We have shown above, that
a certain definite curvature of a beam of a given form is
always accompanied by rupture. Now suppose the beam
”3
Probable
that the
relative
•trengtb of
beams de¬
ratio of
their
length.
779
A of 10 feet long, and the beam B of 20 feet long, Strength of
bent to the same degree, at the place of their fixture in Materials,
the wall $ the weight which hangs on A is nearly dou- -y——J
ble of that which must hang on B. The form of any
portion, suppose 5 feet, of these two beams, immediately
adjoining to the wall, is considerably different. At the
distance of 5 feet the curvature of A is -J- of its curva¬
ture at the wall. The curvature of B in the correspond¬
ing point is ^ths of the same curvature at the wall.
Through the whole of the intermediate 5 feet, therefore,
the curvature of B is greater than that of A. This must
make it weaker throughout. It must occasion the fibres
to slide more on each other (that it may acquire this.
greater curvature), and thus affect their lateral union j
and therefore those which are stronger will not assist
their weaker neighbours. To this we must add, that in
the shorter beams the force with which the fibres are
pressed laterally on each other is double. This must im¬
pede the mutual sliding of the fibres which wc mention¬
ed a little ago; nay, this lateral compression may change
the law of longitudinal cohesion (as will readily appear
to the reader who is acquainted with Boscovieh’s doc¬
trines), and increase the strength of the very surface of
fracture, in the same way (however inexplicable) as it
does in metals when they are hammered or drawn into
wire.
The reader must judge how far these remarks are
worthy of his attention. The engineer will carefully
keep in mind the important fact, that a beam of qua¬
druple length, instead of having |-th of the strength, has
only about ^th j and the philosopher should endeavour
to discover the cause of this diminution, that he may
give the artist a more accurate rule of computation.
Our ignorance of the law by which the cohesion of We cannot
the particles changes by a change of distance, hinders us^*sc®Terth®
from discovering the precise relation between the curva-P1^.018®,
, , 0 1 , iation be-
ture and the momentum ot cohesion’, and all we can do tween the
is to multiply experiments, upon which we may establish curvature
some empirical ru\es for calculating the strength of solids. and
Those from which we must reason at present are too
and too anomalous to he the foundation of such an em¬
pirical formula. We may, however, observe, that Mr
Buffon’s experiments gave us considerable assistance in
this particular : For if to each of the numbers of the co¬
lumn for the 5-inch beams, corrected by adding half the
weight of the beam, we add the constant number 1245,
we shall have a set of numbers which are very nearly re¬
ciprocals of the lengths. Let 1245 ^ called c, and let
the weight which is known by experiment to be neces¬
sary for breaking the 5-inch beam of the length a be
called P. We shall have — -c=p. Thus the
weight necessary for breaking the 7 foot bar is 11560.
This added to 1245, and the sum multiplied by 7, gives
F+6-Xtf= 89635. Let/be i8j then —1245
= 3725, ~p, which differs not more than ^Vtli from
what experiment gives us. This rule holds equally well
in all the other lengths except the 10 and 24 foot beams,
which are very anomalous. Such a formula is abun¬
dantly exact for practice, and will answer through a
much greater variety of length, though it cannot be ad¬
mitted as a true one j because, in a certain very great
length, the strength will he nothing. For other sizes
5 F 2 the
780
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
btreii.-th ofthp constant number must change in the proportion of
Mau ri tls. ^ or perhaps of p.
^ ' ’The next comparison which we have to make with
Tlclation ^ie theory is the relation between the strength and the
between square of the depth of the section. This is made by
t’a strength comparing with each other the numbers in any horizon-
nnd tiie^ (aj ]jne 0f thp tahle. In making this comparison we
the depth the numbers of the five-inch bars uniformly greater
of the sec- than the rest. We imagine that there is something pe-
>liun. culiar to these bars: They are in general heavier than
in the proportion of their section, hut not so much so as
to account for all their superiority. We imagine that
this set of experiments, intended as a standard for the
rest, has been made at one time, and that the season has
had a considerable influence. The fact however, is that
if this column be kept out, or uniformly diminished
about one-sixteenth in their strength, the different sizes
will deviate very little from the ratio of the square of
the depth, as determined by theory. There is however
a small deficiency in the bigger beams.
We have been thus anxious in the examination of
these experiments, because they are the only ones which
have been related in sufficient detail, and made on a
proper scale for giving us data from which we can de¬
duce confidential maxims for practice. They are so
troublesome and expensive that we have little hopes of
seeing their number greatly increased 5 yet surely our
navy board would do an unspeakable service to the pub¬
lic by appropriating a fund for such experiments under
the management of some man of science.
There remains another comparison which is of chief
tlic"t!jT*1 uLe ‘mP0r 1 ance’ nametyt proportion between the abso-
colit-sion LUTE COHESION and the RELATIVE STRENGTH. It may
and the re- be guessed, from the very nature of the thing, that this
must be very uncertain. Experiments on the absolute
strength must be confined to very small pieces, by reason
of the very great forces which are required for tearing
them asunder. The values therefore deduced from them
must he subject to great inequalities. Unfortunately we
have got no detail of any experiments ; all that we have
to depend on is two passages of Muschenbroek’s Essais
dc Physique ; in one of which he says, that a piece of
sound oak T2o7cths of an inch square is torn asunder by
1150 pounds ; and in the other, that an oak plank 12
inches broad and one thick will just suspend 189163
pounds. These give for the cohesion of an inch square
15,755 and 15,763 pounds. Bouguer, in his 'Fruite du
JSfavire, says that it is very well known that a rod of
sound oak one-fourth of an inch square will be torn
asunder by lOOO pounds. This gives 16000 for the
cohesion of a square inch. We shall take this as a
round number, easily used in our computations. Let us
compare this with M. BufFon’s trials of beams four
inches square. *
The absolute cohesion of this section is 16,000 X 16
= 256,000. Did every fibre exert its whole force in
the instant of fracture, the momentum of cohesion would
be the same as if it had all acted at the centre of gravity,
of the section at 2 inches from the axis of fracture, and
is therefore. 512,000. The 4-inch beam, 7 feet long,
was broken by 5312 pounds hung on its middle. The
half of this, or 2656 pounds, would have broken it, if
suspended at its extremity, projecting 3^- fbet, or 42
inches from a wall The momentum of this strain is
therefore 2656 X 42, =ni5j2. Now this is in equi-
115
Proportion
between
iative
slrenoth.
librio with the actual momentum of cohesion, which is Strength of
therefore 111552, instead oi 512000. The strength is Materials,
therefore diminished in the proportion of 512000 to *t-—^
1x1552, or very nearly of 4,59 to 1.
As we are quite uncertain as to the place cf the cen¬
tre of efiort, it is needless to consider the full cohesion as
acting at the centre of gravity, and producing the mo¬
mentum 512,000', and we may convert the whole into
a simple multiplier m of the length, and say, as m times
the length is to the depth, so is the absolute cohesion of the
section to the relative strength. Therefore let the abso¬
lute cohesion of a square inch be called /j the breadth b,
the depth d, and the length / (all in inches), the relative
strength, or the external force p, which balances it, is.
fbd* . . fbd*
9787’ 0r 10 rouiul numl3ers ""7 ' ? 101' rn — 2 x 4,59.
This great diminution of strength cannot be wholly,
accounted for by the inequality of the cohesive forces
exerted in the instant of fracture j for in this case we
know that the centre of effort is at -^d of the height in a
rectangular section (because the forces really exerted are
as the extensions of the fibres). The relative strength,
would be'^—and p would have been 8127 instead
3 1
of 2656.
W e must ascribe this diminution (which is three times
greater than that produced by the inequality of the co¬
hesive forces) to the compression of the under part of
the beam ; and we must endeavour to explain in what
manner this compression produces an effect which seems
so little explicable by such means.
As we have repeatedly observed, it is a matter of ‘
nearly universal experience that the forces actually ex¬
erted by the particles of bodies, when stretched or com¬
pressed, are very nearly in the proportion of the distan¬
ces to which the particles are drawn from their natural
positions. Now, although we are certain that, in enor¬
mous compressions, the forces increase faster than in this
proportion, this makes no sensible change in the present
question, because the body is broken before tbe com¬
pressions have gone so far ; nay, we imagine that the
compressed parts are crippled in most cases even before
the extended parts are torn asunder. Muschenbroek as¬
serts this with great confidence with respect to oak, on
the authority of his own experiments, lie says, that al¬
though oak will suspend half as much again as fir, it.
will not support, as a pillar, two-thirds of the load which
fir will support in that form.
W e imagine therefore that the mechanism in the
present case is nearly as follows :
Let the beam DCKA (fig. 27.) be loaded at its ex- pjg. 27.
trefiiity with the weight P, acting in the direction KP
perpendicular to DC. Let D A be tbe section of frac¬
ture. Let DA be about one-tbird of D A. A will be
the particle or fibre which is neither extended nor com¬
pressed. Make A D cfcrDA : A A. The triangles
DAf/, A Aci, will represent the accumulated attracting
and repelling forces. Make AI and A DA and
t A A. The point I will be that to which the full co¬
hesion D d or f of the particles in AD must be applied,
so as to produce the same momentum which the variable
forces at 1, I), &c. really produce at their several points
of application. In like manner, i is the circle of senii-
lar cflort of the repulsive;forces excited by the compres¬
sion
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength ofsion between A au«i A, and it is the real fulcrum of a It
Materials, bended lever I f K, by which the whole effect is produ-
ced. The effect is the same as if the full cohesion of
the stretched fibres in AD were accumulated in I, and
the full repulsion of all the compressed fibres in A A
were accumulated in i. The forces which are balanced
in the operation are the weight P, acting by the arm
k i, and the full cohesion of A D acting by the arm I i.
The forces exerted by the compressed fibres between
A and A only serve to give support to the lever, that it
may exert its strain.
We imagine that this does not differ much from the
real procedure of nature. The position of the point A
may be different from what we have deduced from Mr
Uuffon’s experiments, compared with Muschenbroek’s
value of the absolute cohesion of a square inch. If this
last should be only 12000, DA must be greater than
we have here made it, in the proportion of 12000 to
78t
: is most convenient to measure the breadth and depth Strengtli of
Oi the beam in inches, and its length in feet. Since, Materials.
then, a beam four inches square and seven feet between   w—^
the supports is broken by 5312 pounds, we must con-A
elude that a batten one inch square and one foot between practical
the supports will be broken by 581 pounds. Then the rule may be
strength ot any other beam of oak, or the weight whiclrdc^uced
will just break it when hung on its middle, is 581 ^
b d
~l
Jbuffbn’s
experi¬
ments.
16000. For I i must still be made — y A A, supposing
the forces to he proportional to the extensions and com
pressions. There can be no doubt that a part only of
the cohesion of D A operates in resisting the fracture in
all substances which have any compressibility 5 and it is
confirmed by the experiments of Mr Du Hamel on wil¬
low, and the inferences are by no means confined to that
species of timber. We say therefore, that when the
beam is broken, the cohesion of AD alone is exerted,
and that each fibre exerts a force proportional to its ex¬
tension ; and the accumulated momentum is the same as
if the full cohesion of A D were acting by the lever I i
yd of D A.
It may he said, that if only one-third of the cohesion
of oak be exerted, it may he cut two-thirds through
without weakening it. But this cannot be, because the
cohesion of the whole is employed in preventing the la¬
teral slide so often mentioned. We have no experiments
to determine that it viay not be cut through one-third
without loss of its strength.
This must not be considered as a subject of mere spe¬
culative curiosity. It is intimately connected with all
the practical uses which we can make of this knowledge ;
for it is almost the only way that we can learn the com¬
pressibility of timber. Experiments on the direct cohe¬
sion are indeed difficult, and exceedingly expensive if
we attempt them in large pieces. But experiments on
compression are almost impracticable. The most in¬
structive experiments would be, first to establish, by a
great number of trials, the transverse force of a moderate
batten j and then to make a great number of trials of
the diminution of its strength, by cutting it through on
the concave side. This would very nearly give us the
proportion of the cohesion which really operates in resist¬
ing fractures. Thus if it be found that one half of the
beam may be cut on the under side without diminution
of its strength (taking care to drive in a slice of harder
wood), we may conclude that the point A is at the
middle, or somewhat above it.
Much lies before the curious mechanician, and we
are as yet very far from a scientific knowledge of the
strength of timber.
In the mean time, we may derive from these experi¬
ments of Boffon a very useful practical rule, without re¬
lying on any value of the absolute cohesion ol oak. Me
see that the strength is nearly as the breadth, as the
equate of the depth, and as the inverse of the length.
But we have seen that there is a very considerable de¬
viation from the inverse proportion of the lengths, and
ive must endeavour to accommodate our rule to this de¬
viation. We found, that by adding 1245 to each of
the ordinates or numbers in the column of the five inch
bars, we had a set of numbers very nearly reciprocal of
the lengths ; and if vrc make a similar addition to the
other columns in the proportion of the cubes of the sixes,
we have nearly the same result. The greatest error (ex¬
cept in the case of experiments which are very irregu¬
lar) does not exceed y^th of the whole. Therefore,
for a radical number, add to the 5312 the number 640,
which is to 1245 very nearly as 4s to 5s. This gives
5952. The 64th of this is 93, which corresponds to a
bar of one inch square and seven feet long. Therefore
93 X 7 " ill be the reciprocal corresponding to a bar of
one foot. This is 651. Take from this the present
empirical correction, which is —or 10, and there
b 4
remains 641 for the strength of the bar. This gives us
b d*
for a general rule/?= 651 —  10 b d*.
Example. Required the weight necessary to break an
oak beam eight inches square and 20 feet between the
8 8*^
props,^”631 X —^ 10x8x8k This is 11545,
20
whereas the experiment givps 11487. The error is very
small indeed. The rule is most deficient in comparison
with the five inch bars, which we have already said ap¬
pear stronger than the rest.
The following process is easily remembered by such
as are not algebraists.
Multiply the breadth in inches twice by the depth,
and call this product f. Multiplyy by 651, and divide
by the length in feet. From the quotient take 10 times
f The remainder is the number of pounds which will
break the beam.
We are not sufficiently sensible of our principles to be
confident that the correction 10^ should he in the pro¬
portion cf the section, although we think it most pro¬
bable. It is quite empirical, founded on Buffon’s expe¬
riments. Therefore the safe way of using this rule is to
suppose the beam square, by increasing or diminishing
its breadth till equal to the depth. Then find the
strength by this rule, and diminish or increase it for the
change which has been made in its breadth. Thus,
there can he no doubt that the strength of the beam gi¬
ven as an example is double of that of a beam of the
same depth and half the breadth.
The reader cannot but observe that all this calcula¬
tion relates to the very greatest weight which a beam
will hear for a very few minutes. Mr Buffon uniformly
found that two thirds of this weight sensibly impaired
its strength, and frequently broke at the end of two
or
782
Strength ofor three months. One-half of this weight brought the
Materials, beam to a certain bend, which did not increase after
v the first minute or two, and may be borne by the beam
for any length of time. But the beam contracted a
bend, of which it did not recover any considerable por¬
tion. One-third seemed to have no permanent effect on
the beam } but it recovered its rectilineal shape com¬
pletely, even after having been loaded several months,
provided that the timber was seasoned when first load-
fed j that is to say, one-third of the weight which would
quickly break a seasoned beam, or one-fourth of what
would break one just felled, may lie on it forever with¬
out giving the beam a sett.
We have no detail of experiments on the strength of
other kinds of timber : only Mr Buffon says, that fir
has about T^ths of the. strength of oak ; Mr Parent
makes it x£ths j Emerson, -yds, &c.
We have been thus minute in our examination of the
mechanism of this transverse strain, because it is the
greatest to which the parts of our machines are exposed.
We wish to impress on the minds of artists the necessity
of avoiding this as much as possible. They are improv¬
ing in this respect, as may be seen by comparing the
centres on which stone arches of great span are now
turned with those of former times. They were formerly
a load of mere joists resting on a multitude of posts,
which obstructed the navigation, and were frequently
losing their shape by some of the posts sinking into the
ground. Now they are more generally trusses, where
the beams abutt on each other, and are relieved from
transverse strains. But many performances of eminent
artists are still very injudiciouslyexposed to cross strains.
We may instance one which is considered as a fine work,
viz. the bridge at Walton on Thames. Here every
beam of the great arch is a joist, and it hangs together
by framing. The finest piece of carpentry that We have
seen is the centre employed in turning the arches of the
bridge at Orleans, described by Perronet. In the whole
there is not one cross strain. The beam, too, of Horn-
blower’s steam-engine, described in that article, is very
t*8 scientifically constructed.
Strata pro- jy ^he last species of strain which We are to exa-
twistlng. 011116 is that produced by twisting. This takes place in
all axles which connect the working parts of machines.
Although we cannot pretend to have a very distinct
conception of that modification of the cohesion of a bo¬
dy by which it resists this kind of strain, we can have
no doubt that, when all the particles act alike, the re¬
bec ef par- sistance must be proportional to the number. There¬
fore if we suppose the two parts ABCD, ABLE (fig.
28.), of the body EFCD to be of insuperable strength,
but cohering more weakly in the common surface AB,
and that one part ABCD is pushed laterally in the di¬
rection AB, there can be no doubt that it will yield on¬
ly there, and that the resistance will be proportional to
the surface.
In like manner, we can conceive a thin cylindrical
tube, of which KAH (fig. 29.) is the section, as coher¬
ing more weakly in that section than anywhere else.
Suppose it to be grasped in both hands, and the two
parts twisted round the axis in opposite directions, as we
would twist the two joints of a flute, it is plain that it
will first fail in this section, which is the circumference
of a circle, and the particles of the two parts which are
contiguous to this circumference will be drawn from
”9
The resist¬
ance must
be propor¬
tional to
the num-
ticles.
Fig. *8.
Fig. ap.
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
each other laterally. The total resistance will be as Strensth of
the number of equally resisting particles, that is, as the Material*,
circumference (for the tube being supposed very thin, —v"——'
there can be no sensible difference between the dilata¬
tion of the external and internal particles). We can
now suppose another tube within this, and a third with¬
in the second, and so on till we reach the centre. If
the particles of each ring exerted the same force (by
suffering the same dilatation in the direction of the cir¬
cumference), the resistance of each ring of the section
Would be as its circumference and its breadth (supposed
indefinitely small), and the whole resistance would be as
the surface ; and this would represent the resistance of
a solid cylinder. But when a cylinder is twisted in this
manner by an external force applied to its circumference,
the external parts will suffer a greater circular extension
than the internal j and it appears that this extension
(like the extension of a beam strained transversely) will
be proportional to the distance of the particles from the
axis. Wre cannot say that this is demonstrable, but wo
can assign no proportion that is more probable. This
being the case, the forces simultaneously exerted by each
particle will be as its distance from the axis. There¬
fore the whole force exerted by each ring will be as the
square of its radius, and the accumulated force actually
exerted will be as the cube of the radius j that is, the
accumulated force exerted by the whole cylinder, whose
radius is CA, is to the accumulated force exerted at the
same time by the part whose radius is CE, as CA3 to CE3.
The whole cohesion now exerted is just two-thirds of
what it would be if all the particles were exerting the
same attractive forces which are just now exerted by the
particles in the external circumference. This is plain
to any person in the least familiar with the fluxionary cal¬
culus. But such as are not may easily see it in this way.
Let the rectangle AC c a be set upright on the sur¬
face of the circle along the line CA, and revolve round
the axis C c. It will generate a cylinder whose height
is C c or A cr, and having the circle KAH for its base.
If the diagonal C n be supposed also to revolve, it is
plain that the triangle cCo will generate a cone of the
same height, and having for its base the circle described
by the revolution of c a, and the point C for its apex.
The cylindrical surface generated by A o will express
the whole cohesion exerted by the circumference AHK,
and the cylindrical surface generated by V. e will repre¬
sent the cohesion exerted by the circumference ELM,
and the solid generated by the triangle CA a will re¬
present the cohesion exerted by the whole circle AHK,
and the cylinder generated by the rectangle ACc a will
represent the cohesion exerted by the same surface if
each particle had suffered the extension A a.
Now it is plain, in the first place, that the solid ge¬
nerated by the triangle e EC is to that generated by
a AC as EC3 to AC3. In the next place, the solid ge¬
nerated by o AC is twm-thirds of the cylinder, because
the cone generated by r C « is one third of it.
We may now suppose the cylinder twisted till the par¬
ticles in the external circumference lose their cohesion.
There can be no doubt that it will now be wrenched
asunder, all the inner circles yielding in succession.
Thus we obtain one useful information, viz. that a body
of homogeneous texture resists a simple twist with two-
thirds of the force with W’hich it resists an attempt to
force one part laterally from the other, or with one-third
part
STRENGTH OF
Strength of part 0f the force which will cut it asunder by a square-
Cat! edg?d t001- For t0 drive » square-edged tool through
i2o a. lead, for instance, is the same as forcing a
With what piece of the lead as thick as the tool laterally away from
force a ho- the two pieces on each side of the tool* Experiments
dy of a ho- 0f t^Jg not seem difficult an(j t| „ive
moaeneous c i * i* j * * ^
texture re- us very use*ul mlormation.
sieU a sim- When two cylinders AHK. and BNO are wrenched
pie twist, asunder, we must conclude that the external particles of
IrI 6110,1 316 ^,St pUt bey°nd tl,elr 1Imits cohesion, are
Mertedir e<lually extended, and are exerting equal forces. Hence
MATERIALS.
78.?
breaking ^ follows, that in the instant of fracture the sum total
two cylin- of the forces actually exerted are as the squares of the
ders are as diameters.
of the dia!* For draw‘ng the diagonal C e, it is plain that Ee,=z
mtari. exPresses fche distension of the circumference ELM,
and that the solid generated by the triangle CE e ex¬
presses the cohesion exerted by the surface of the circle
ELM, when the particles in the circumference sufler
the extension Ee equal to A a. Now the solids gene¬
rated by CAa and QEe being respectively two-thirds
of the corresponding cylinders, are as the squares of the
jj, diameters.
Relative Having thus ascertained the real strength of the sec-
strength of tion, and its relation to its absolute lateral strength, let
the section ug exam[r,e its strength relative to the external force em-
-ternal force P,oyeu to break, it. Inis examination is very simple in
employed the case under consideration. The straining force must
to break it. act by some lever, and the cohesion must oppose it by act¬
ing on some other lever. The centre of the section may
be the neutral point, whose position is net disturbed.
Let F be the force exerted laterally by an exterior
particle. Let a be the radius of the cylinder, and x the
indeterminate distance of any circumference, and x the
indefinitely small interval between the concentric arches j
that is, let x be the breadth of a ring and x its radius.
The forces being as the extensions, and the extensions
as the distances from the axis, the cohesion actually ex¬
erted at any part of any ring will be f~~~' The force
exerted by the whole ring (being as the circumference
x*x
—. The momentum of co-
a
or as the radius) will bef-
hesion of a ring, being as the force multiplied by its le¬
ver, will beyAL. The accumulated momentum will
be the sum or fluent of f J that is, when xzzUy it
* ft.
ter*
will be —
M3 U
The resist- Hence we learn that the strength of an axle, by which
•ance of the it resists being wrenched asunder by a force acting at a
axie is as given distance from the axis, is as the cube of its dia-
the cube of 6 .
But farther, \ f a1 is —J a* X za' Now re¬
presents the full lateral cohesion ot the section. I he
momentum therefore is the same as if the full lateral co¬
hesion were accumulated at a point distant from the axis
by one-fourth of the radius or one-eighth of the diame¬
ter of the cylinder.
Therefore let F be the number of pounds which mea-
*ures the lateral cohesion of a circular inch, d the dia¬
meter of the cylinder in inches, and l the length of the
3
lever by which the straining force p is supposed to act, Strength of
we shall have F X1 d*=p /, and F P,=:p. Materials.
O /
We see in general that the strength of an axle, by
which it resists being wrenched asunder by twisting, is
as the cube of its diameter.
We see also that the internal parts are not acting so-
powerfully as the external. If a hole be bored out of
the axle of half its diameter, the strength is diminished
only one-eighth, while the quantity of matter is diminish¬
ed one-fourth. Therefore hollow axles are stronger than
solid ones containing the same quantity of matter. Thus i,4
let the diameter he 5 and that of the hollow 4: then Hollow
the diameter of another solid cylinder having the sameaxles mo,•
ftliantitir ral + L *L^ *.,1— ^ nni j .1 /•DTODer tbll34
quantity of matter with the tube is 3. The strength
the solid cylinder of the diameter 5 may be expressed **
by 53 or 125. Of this the internal part (of the diame¬
ter 4) exerts 64 j therefore the strength of the tube is
125—64, =61. But the strength of the solid axle of
the same quantity of matter and diameter 3 is 3s, or 27,
which is not half of that of the tube. ^ liS
Engineers, therefore, have of late introduced this im- ncw
provement in their machines, and the axles of cast iron generally
are all made hollow when their size will admit it. They us*d‘
have the additional advantage of being much stifler, and
of affording much better fixture for the flanches, which
are used for connecting them with the wheels or levers
by which they are turned and strained. The superio-
nty of strength of hollow tubes over solid cylinders is
much greater in this kind of strain than in the former or
transverse. In this last case the strength of this tube
would be to that of the solid cylinder of equal weight as
61 to 32 and a half nearly.
The apparatus which we mentioned on a former oc¬
casion for trying the lateral strength of a square inch of
solid matter, enabled us to try this theory of twist with
all desirable accuracy. The bar which hung down
from the pin in the former trials was now placed in a
horizontal position, and loaded with a weight at the ex- raff
tremity. Thus it acted as a powerful lever, and enabled T^® rsti«
us to wrench asunder specimens of the strongest mate-of rcsi*1"
• t itt <• t . .. » . s> ance to
rials. We found the results perfectly conformable to tihting
the theory, in as far as it determined the proportional to the sim-
strength of different sizes and forms : hut we found the pie lateral
ratio of the resistance to twisting to the simple lateral rcsistanc»
resistance considerably different; and it was some time lP|CaM.
beiore we discovered the cause.
We had here taken the simplest view that is possible
of the action of cohesion in resisting a twist. It is fre¬
quently exerted in a very different way. When, for in¬
stance, an iron axle is joined to a wooden one by being
driven into one end of it, the extensions of the different
circles of particles are in a very different proportion. A-
little consideration will show that the particles in imme¬
diate contact with the iron axle are in a state of violent
extension j so are the particles of the exterior surface of k
the wooden part, and the intermediate parts are less
strained. It is almost impossible to assign the exact pro¬
portion of the cohesive forces exerted in the different
parts. Numberless cases can be pointed out where parts
of the axle are in a state of compression, and where it is
still more difficult to determine the state of the other
particles. We must content ourselves with the deduc¬
tions made from this simple case, which is fortunately
the most common.. In the experiments just now men¬
tioned
784
STRENGTH OF MATERIALS.
Strength oftioncd tbe centre of the circle is by no means the ncu-
Alateriiits. tral point, and it is very difficult to ascertain its place :
Lbut when this consideration occurred to us, we easily
But'when freeil ^ie experiments from this uncertainty, by extend-
theexpert- the lever to both sides, and by means ot a pulley ap-
ment was plied equal force to each arm, acting in opposite direc-
altereu, it tions. Thus the centre became the neutral point, and
raAeKact" the resistance to twist was found to be two-thirds of the
simple lateral strength.
We beg leave to mention here that our success in these
experiments encouraged us to extend them much farther.
We hoped by these means to discover the absolute co-
lv the
same.
128
Experi¬
ments on
and*vrax^'lies'on many substances, which tvould have required
satisfacto¬
ry ; but
those, on
timber ir¬
regular.
an enormous apparatus and a most unmanageable force
to tear them asunder directly. But we could reason with
confidence from the resistance to twist (which we could
easily measure), provided that we could ascertain the
proportion of the direct and the lateral strengths. Our
experiments on chalk, finely prepared clav, and white
bees-wax (of one melting and one temperature), were
very consistent and satisfactory. But w'e have hitherto
found great irregularities in this proportion in bodies of
a fibrous texture like timber. These are the most im¬
portant cases, and we still hope to be able to accomplish
our project, and to give the public some valuable infor¬
mation. This being our sole object, it was our duty to
mention the method which promises success, and thus
excite others to the task 5 and it will be no mortifica¬
tion to us to be deprived of the honour of being ihe first
who thus adds to the stock of experimental knowledge.
When the matter of the axle is of the most simple
texture, such as that of metals, we do not conceive that
the length of the axle has any influence on the fracture. SirenMYof
It is otherwise if it be of a fibrous texture like timber : Materials,
the fibres are bent before breaking, being twisted into
spirals like a cork screw. The length of the axle has
somewhat of the influence of a lever in this case, and it
is easier wrenched asunder if long. Accordingly we
have found it so j but we have not been able to reduce
this influence to calculation. i:9
Our readers are requested to accept of these endea- Concluding
vours to communicate information on this important and reina™s-
difficult subject. We are duly sensible of their imper¬
fection, hut flatter ourselves that wre have in many in¬
stances pointed out the method which must be pursued
for improving our knowledge on this subject j and we
have given the English reader a more copious list of ex¬
periments on the strength of materials than he will meet
with in our language. Many useful deductions might
be made from these premises respecting the manner of
disposing and combining the strength of materials in our
structures. The best form of joints, mortises, tenons,
scarphs ; the rules for joggling, tabling, faying, fishing,
&c. practised in the delicate art of mast making, are all
founded on this doctrine : but the discussion of these
would be equivalent to writing a complete treatise of
carpentry. We hope that this will be executed by some
intelligent mechanician, for there is nothing in our lan¬
guage on this subject but what is almost contemptible j
yet there is no mechanic art that is more susceptible of
scientific treatment. Such a treatise, if well executed,
could not fail of being wrell received by the public in
this age of mechanical improvement.
S TB,
Strength- STRENGTHENERS, or Corroborants, such
cn|5rs medicines as are supposed to add to the firmness of the
sJ- solids. See Materia Medica-ZW<?.r.
iSTRETCHING, in Navigation, is generally under¬
stood to imply the progression of a ship under a great
surface of sail, when close hauled. The difference be¬
tween this term and standing, consists apparently in the
quantity of sail; which in the latter may be very mo¬
derate ; but stretching generally signifies excess ; as, we
saw the enemy at daybreak stretching to the southward
under a croud of sail, &c. Falconer.
STRETTO, in Italian music, is sometimes used to
signify that the measure is to be snort and concise, and
consequently quick. In this sense it stands opposed to
Largo.
STRIATED LEAF, among botanists, one that has a
number of longitudinal furrows on its surface.
STRIKE, a measure of capacity, containing four bu¬
shels. Also an instrument used in measuring corn.
STRTX, the Owl 5 a genus of birds belonging to the
order of accipitres. See Ornithology Index.
The -bubo, or great eared owl inhabits inaccessible
rocks and desert places, and preys on hares and feather¬
ed game. Its appearance in cities was deemed an un¬
lucky omen ; Rome itself once underwent a lustration
because one of them strayed into the capitol. The an¬
cients had them in the utmost abhorrence ; and thought
them, like the screech-owls, the messengers of death.
Pliny styles it bubo funebris, and noetis monstrum.
S T R
Solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo stria
Scepe queri et longas in ftetum dueere voces. ViRC. II
Stroking.
Perch’d on the roof, the bird of night complains, 1- - y——J
In lengthen’d shrieks and dire funereal strains.
STROBILES, in Fotany, a pericarp formed from
an amentum by the hardening of the scales.
STROKING, or rubbing gently with the hand, a
method which has been employed by some persons for
curing diseases.
Mr Greatrakes or Greatrix, the famous Irish stroker,
is said to have performed many wonderful cures. He
gives the following account of his discovery of this art, gee Brief
and of the success with which he practised it. “ Shout Account of
1662 1 had an impulse (says he), or a strange persuasion ^fr Vakn-
in my own mind (of which I am not able to give any Creat'
rational account to another), which did vex-y frequently
suggest to me, that there was bestowed on me the gift4X0.
of curing the king’s evil *, which, for the extraordinari-
ness of it, I thought fit to conceal for some time $ hut at
length I communicated this to my wife, and told her,
that I did verily believe that God had given me the
blessing of curing the king’s evil; for whether I were
in private or public, sleeping or waking, still I had the
same impulse. But her reply to me was, that she con¬
ceived this was a strange imagination *, yet, to prove the
contrary, a few days after there was one William Ma¬
ther of Salterbridge in the parish of Lismore, who
brought his son William to my house, desiring my wife
to
STRUNGT11 of MA I ERIALS.
PLATEDXI.
STRENGTH of iVLVTEJ IL\LS.
Fig. 12.
fL/l'/jE
OC
£
Fig. 21.
■ij
c
Fig. 22.
mm vmm -
H
■ 1—J~ - I —1—1
rr~
16.
i—n ,
 1
r—L 1 J
74.
Fig. 15.
a
4* i
Stroking
II
Stroraboli
S T it [ 785 ]
to cure him, who was a person ready to afford her cha- the surface of the sea.
S T R
nty to her neighbours, according to her small skill m
j chirurgery. On which my wife told me, there was one
that had the king’s evil very grievously in the eyes,
cheek, and throat; whereupon I told her, that she
should now see whether this was a bare fancy or imagi¬
nation, as she thought it, or the dictates of God’s Spirit
on ray heart. 1 hen I laid my hands on the places af¬
fected, and prayed to God for Jesus sake to heal him j
and bid the parent two or three days afterwards to bring
the child to me again, which accordingly he did; and I
then saw the eye was almost quite whole ; and the node,
which was almost as big as a pullet’s egg, was suppu¬
rated ; and the throat strangely amended 5 and, to be
brief (to God’s glory I speak it) within a month dis¬
charged itself quite, and was perfectly healed, and so
continues, God be praised.”
Then there came to him one Margaret Mackshane of
Ballinecly, in the parish of Lismore, who had been af¬
flicted with the evil above seven years, in a much more
violent degree j and soon after, his fame increasing, he
cured the same disease in many other persons for three
years. He did not meddle all this time with any other
distemper 5 till about the end of these three years, the
ague growing epidemical, he found, as formerly, that
there was bestowed on him the gift of curing that dis¬
ease. He cured Colonel Phaire, of Cahirmony in the
county of Corke, of an ague, and afterwards many other
persons of different distempers, by stroking j so that his
name was wonderfully cried up, as if some divine per¬
son had been sent from above. January 1665-6, he
came over to England, at the request of the earl of Or¬
rery 5 in order to ^cure the lady of the lord-viscount
Conway, of Ragley in Warwickshire, who had for many
years laboured under a most violent headache. He
staid at Ragley three weeks or a month ; and though
he failed in his endeavours to relieve that lady, he
cured vast numbers of people in those parts and at Wor¬
cester.
Though we are no friends to the marvellous, nor be¬
lieve it possible that either the king’s evil or ague can be
cured by stroking or friction of any kind, whether gentle
or severe, we have no hesitation to acknowledge that
many cures might be performed by Mr Greatrakes.
Every reflecting person who reads the foregoing account
which he gives of himself will see that he was an enthu¬
siast, and believed himself guided by a particular revela¬
tion*, and such is the credulity of mankind, that his pre¬
tensions Avere readily admitted, and men croAvded Avith
eagerness to be relieved of their diseases. Rut it is Avell
known to physicians, that in many cases the imagination
has accomplished cures as Avonderful as the force of me¬
dicine. It is owing chiefly to the influence of imagina¬
tion that we have so many accounts from people of ve¬
racity of the wonderful effects of quack medicines. We
are perfectly assured that these medicines, by their na¬
tural operation, can never produce the effects ascribed
to them ; for there is no kind of proportion between
the medicine and the effect produced, and often no con¬
nection between the medicine and the disease.
STROMATEUS, a genus of fishes belonging to the
order of apodes. See ICHTHYOLOGY Index.
STROMBOLI, the most northern of the Lipari
islands. It is a volcano, Avhich constantly discharges
much fire and smoke. It rises in a conical form above
.VoI.. XIX. Part IE f
On the east side it has three or Sttotnboli
four little craters ranged near each other, not at the |j
summit, but on the declivity, nearly at tivo-thirds of its Stl'.vPG-
height. But as the surface of the volcano is very rug-
ged and intersected Avith holloiv Ways, it may be natu¬
rally concluded, that at the time of some great eruption,
the summit and a part of this side fell in, as must have
happened also at Vesuvius j consequently, the common
chimney is at this day on the declivity, although al-
Avays in the centre of the whole base. It is inhabited
notivitbstanding its fires j but care is taken to avoid the
proximity of the crater, which is yet much to be feared.
“ 1 was assured (says M. de Luc) by an Englishman,
who, like me, had the curiosity to visit these isles, that
the fine weather having invited him and his company
to land at Stromboli, they ascended a volcano, Avhose
craters at that time threw out nothing; but that while
they were attentively viewing them, unapprehensive of
any danger, they were suddenly saluted by such a fu¬
rious discharge, as to be obliged to retreat with preci¬
pitation, and not Avithout one of the company being
Avounded by a piece of scoria.” Of all the volcanoes
recorded in history, Stromboli seems to be the only one
that burns without ceasing. Etna and Vesuvius often
remain quiet for many months, and even years, with¬
out the least appearance of fire ; but Stromboli is ever
at Avork, and for ages past has been looked upon as
the great lighthouse of those seas. E. Long. 15. 20.
N. Lat. 38. 50.
S TROMBUS, a genus of shell-fish. See Coxcho-
LOGY Index.
STRONGOLI, a tmvn of the kingdom of Naples,
with a bishop’s see. It is situated on a rugged moun¬
tain, is about three miles from the sea, and seven north
from St Severiuo. It is supposed to be the ancient Jde-
telia, which made a conspicuous figure in the second
Punic war by its obstinate resistance against Hannibal.
Near its Avails Marcellus the rival of Hannibal Avas slain
in a skirmish. E. Long. 17. 26. N. Lat. 39. 20.
STRONTITES, or Strontian Earth, so called
from having been discovered at Strontian in Argyle-
shire i 1 Scotland. See Chemistry Index.
STROPHE, in ancient poetry, a certain number of
verses, including a perfect sense, and making the first
part of an ode. See Poetry, N° 130.
STRUMiE, scrophulous tumours arising on the neck
and throat, constituting Avhat is commonly called the
king's evil. See Medicine Index.
STRUMPFIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class syngenesia. See Botany Index.
STRUTHIO, a genus of birds belonging to the or¬
der of gralloe. See Ornithology Index.
STRUTHLOLA, a genus of plants belonging to the
class of tetrandria. See Botany Index.
STRYCHNOS, a genus of plants belonging to the
class pentandria, and in the natural system ranging un¬
der the 28th order, Luridce. See Botany Index.
STRYMON, in Ancient Geography, formerly Cono-
•zus ; a river constituting the ancient limits of Macedo¬
nia and Thrace ; rising in Mount Scombrus (Aristotle).
Authors difler as to the modern name of this river.
STRYPE, John, AA'as descended from a German fa¬
mily, born at London, and educated at Cambridge. He
Avas vicar of Low Layton in Essex, and distinguished *
himself by his compilations of Lives and Memoirs ; in
5 G which
S T U
[ 786 ]
S T U
Strype,
Stuart.
which, as Dr Birch remarks, his fidelity and industry
will always give a value to his writings, however desti¬
tute they may be of the graces of style. He died in
1737, after having enjoyed his vicarage near 68 years.
STUART, Dr Gilbert, was born at Edinburgh
in the year 1742. His father Mr George Stuart was
professor of humanity in the university, and a man of
considerable eminence for his classical taste and litera¬
ture. For these accomplishments he was probably in¬
debted in no small degree to his relation the celebrated
Ruddiman,with whombothheand his son conversed fami¬
liarly, though they afterwards united to injure his fame.
Gilbert having finished his classical and philosophical
studies in the grammar-school and university, applied
himself to jurisprudence, without following, or probably
intending to follow, the profession of the law. For that
profession he has been represented as unqualified by in¬
dolence j by a passion which at a very early period of
life he displayed for general literature or by boundless
dissipation :—and all these circumstances may have con¬
tributed to make him relinquish pursuits in which he
could hope to succeed only by patient perseverance and
strict decorum of manners. That he did not waste his
youth in idleness, is, however, evident from an Histori¬
cal Dissertation concerning the Antiquity of the British
Constitution, which he published before he had completed
his twenty-second year, and which had so much merit as
to induce the university of Edinburgh to confer upon the
author, though so young a man, the degree of LL.D.
After a studious interval of some years, he produced
a valuable work, under the title of A View of Society
in Europe,in its Progress from Rudeness to Refinement-,
or, Inquiries concerning the History of Laws, Govern¬
ment, and Manners. He had read and meditated with
patience on the most important monuments of the mid¬
dle ages ; and in this volume (which speedily reached a
second edition) he aimed chiefly at the praise of origina¬
lity and invention, and discovered an industry that is sel¬
dom connected with ability and discernment. About
the time of the publication of the first edition of this
performance, having turned his thoughts to an acade¬
mical life, he asked for the professorship of public law
in the university of Edinburgh. According to his own
account he had been promised that place by the mini¬
ster, but had the mortification to see the professorship
bestowed on another, and all his hopes blasted by the in¬
fluence of Dr Robertson, whom he represented as under
obligations to him.
To the writer of this article, who was a stranger to
these rival candidates for historical fame, this part of
the story seems very incredible j as it is not easy to
conceive how it ever could be in the power of Dr
Stuart to render to the learned Principal any essen¬
tial service. It was believed indeed by many, who ob¬
served that the illiberal jealousy not unfrequent in
the world of letters, was probably the source of this
opposition ; which entirely broke the intimacy of two
persons who, before that time, were understood to
be on the most friendly footing with each other. In¬
gratitude, however, is as likely to have been the vice of
Dr Stuart as of Dr Robertson *, for we have been told
* Chalmers by a writer *, who, at least in one instance, has com-
in his life pletely proved what he affirms, that “ such was Gilbert
<tf Rudih- Stuart’s laxity of principle as a man, that he considered
ingratitude as one of the most venial sins y such was his
conceit as a writer, that he regarded no one’s merits but Stnari,
his own; Such were his disappointments, both as a writer Stucco,
and a man, that he allowed his peevishness to sour into
malice, and indulged his malevolence till it settled in
corruption.”
Soon after this disappointment, Dr Stuart went to
London, where he became from 1768 to 1774 one of
the writers of the Monthly Review. In 1772 Dr Adam,
rector of the high-school at Edinburgh, published a La¬
tin Grammar, which he intended as an improvement of
the famous Ruddiman’s. Stuart attacked him in a pam¬
phlet under the name of Bus/iby, and treated him with
much severity. In doing this, he was probably actuated
more by some personal dislike of Dr Adam than by re¬
gard for the memory of his learned relation 5 for on
other occasions he showed sufficiently that he had no re¬
gard to Ruddiman’s honour as a grammarian, editor, or
critic.
In 1774 he returned to his native city, and began the
Edinburgh Magazine and Review, in which he discussed
the liberty and constitution of England, and distinguish¬
ed himself by an inquiry into the character of John Knox
the reformer, whose principles he reprobated in the
severest terms. About this time he revised and publish¬
ed Sullivan’s Lectures on the Constitution of England.
Soon after he turned his thoughts to the history of Scot¬
land, and published Observations concerning its Public
Law and Constitutional History y in which he examined
with a critical care the preliminary book to Dr Robert¬
son’s History. His next work was The History of the
Reformation y a book which deserves praise for the easy
dignity of the narrative, and for stict impartiality. His
last great work, The History of Scotland from the Esta¬
blishment of the Reformation to the Death of Queen
Mary, which appeared in 1782, has been very gene¬
rally read and admired. His purpose was to vindicate
the character of the injured queen, and expose the
weakness of the arguments by which Dr Robertson had
endeavoured to prove her guilty ; but though the style
of this work is his own, it contains very little matter
which was not furnished by Goodall and Tytler -, and it
is with the arms which these two writers put into his
hands that Dr Stuart attacked his great antagonist.
In 1782 he once more visited London, and engaged
in the Political Herald and English Review ; but the
jaundice and dropsy increasing on him, he returned by
sea to his native country, where he died in the house of
his father on the 13th of August 1786.
In his person Dr Stuart was about the middle size and
justly proportioned. His countenance was modest and
expressive, sometimes glowing with sentiments of friend¬
ship, of which he was truly susceptible, and at others
darting that satire and indignatiou at folly and vice which
appear in some of his writings. He was a boon com¬
panion ; and, with a constitution that might have stood
the shock of ages, he fell a premature martyr to intem¬
perance. His talents were certainly great, and his wri¬
tings are useful y but he seems to have been influenced
more by passion than prejudice, and in his character
there was not much to be imitated.
STUCCO, in building, a composition of white mar¬
ble pulverised, and mixed with plaster of lime y and the
whole being sifted and wrought np with water, is to be
used like common plaster: this is called by Pliny mar-
moratum opusr and albarivm opus.
A
s T U [ 787 ] S T U
Stucco. A patent was granted to Mr B. Higgins fin* invent-
"v mg a new kind of stucco, or water cement, more firm
and durable than any heretofore. Its composition, as
extracted from the specification signed by himself, is
as follows : “ Drift-sand, or quarry (a) sand, which
consists chiefly of hard quartzose flat-faced grains with
sharp angles j whith is the freest, or may be most easily
freed by washing, from clay, salts, and calcareous, gyp¬
seous, oro ther grains less hard and durable than quartz}
which contains the smallest quantity of pyrites or heavy
metallic matter inseparable by washing} and which suf¬
fers the smallest diminution of its bulk in washing in the
following manner—is to be preferred before any other.
And where a coarse and a fine sand of this kind, and
corresponding in the size of their grains with the coarse
and fine sands hereafter described, cannot be easily
procured, let such sand of the foregoing quality be cho¬
sen as may be sorted and cleansed in the following man¬
ner :
“ Let the sand be sifted in streaming clear water,
through a sieve which shall give passage to all such
grains as do not exceed one-sixteenth of an inch in dia¬
meter} and let the stream of water and the sifting be re¬
gulated so that all the sand, which is much finer than
the Lynn-sand commonly used in the London glass¬
houses, together with clay and every other matter speci¬
fically lighter than sand, may be washed away with the
stream, whilst the purer and coarser sand, which passes
through the sieve, subsides in a convenient receptacle,
and whilst the coarse rubbish and rubble remain on the
sieve to be rejected.
“ Let the sand which thus subsides in the receptacle
be washed in clean streaming water through a finer
sieve, so as to be further cleansed and sorted into two
parcels} a coarser, which will remain in the sieve which Stuec®.
is to give passage to such grains of sand only as are less 1 y 
than one-thirtieth of an inch in diameter, and which is
to be saved apart under the name ot coarse-sand) and a
finer, which will pass through the sieve and subside
in the water, and which is to be saved apart under the
name of jhie sand.—Let the coarse and the fine sand be
dried separately, either in the sun or on a clean iron-
plate, set on a convenient surface, in the manner of a
sand-heat (b).
“ Let lime be chosen (c) which is stone-lime, which
heats the most in slaking, and slakes the quickest when
duly watered } which is the freshest made and closest
kept } rvhich dissolves in distilled vinegar with the least
effervescence, and leaves the smallest residue insoluble,
and in this residue the smallest quantity of clay, gyp¬
sum or martial matter.
“ Let the lime chosen according to these important
rules be put in a brass-wired sieve to the quantity of 14
pounds. Let the sieve be finer than either of the fore*
going ; the finer, the better it will be : let the lime be,
slaked (d) by plunging it in a butt filled with soft wa¬
ter, and raising it out quickly and suffering it to heat
and fume, and by repeating this plunging and raising
alternately, and agitating the lime, until it be made to
pass through the sieve into the water} and let the part
of the lime which does not easily pass through the sieve
be rejected : and let fresh portions of the lime be thus
used, until as many (e) ounces of lime have passed
through the sieve as there are quarts of water in the
butt. Let the water thus impregnated stand in the butt
closely covered (f) until it becomes clear} and through
wooden (g) cocks placed at different heights in the
butt, let the clear liquor be drawn off as fast (h) and
as
(a) “ This is commonly called pit-sand.
(b) .“ The sand ought to be stirred up continually until it is dried, and is then to be taken off} for otherwise
the evaporation will be very slow, and the sand which lies next the iron-plate, by being overheated, will be dis¬
coloured.
(c) “ The preference given to stone-lime is founded on the present practice in the burning of lime, and on the
closer texture of it, which prevents it from being so soon injured by exposure to the air as the more spongy chalk-
lime is} not on the popular notion that stone-lime has something in it whereby it excels the best chalk in the ce¬
menting properties. The gypsum contained in lime-stone remains unaltered, or very little altered, in the lime,
after the burning} but it is not to be expected that clay or martial matter should be found in their native state in.
well-burned lime } for they concrete or vitrify with a part of the calcareous earth, and constitute the hard grains
or lumps which remain undissolved in weak acids, or are separable from the slaked lime by sifting it immediately
through a sieve.
(d) “ This method of impregnating the water with lime is not the only one which may be adopted. It is, how¬
ever, preferred before others, because the rvater clears the sooner in consequence of its being warmed by the slaking
lime } and the gypseous part of the lime does not diffuse itself in the water so freely in this way as it does when the
lime is slaked to fine powder in the common method, and is then blended with the water} for the gypseous part of
the lime slakes at first into grains rather than into fine powder, and will remain on the sieve after the pure lime has
passed through, long enough to admit of the intended separation } but Avhen the lime is otherwise slaked, the gyp¬
seous grains have time to slake to a finer powder, and passing through the sieve, dissolve in the water along with
the lime. I have imagined that other advantages attended this method of preparing the lime-water, but I cannot
yet speak of them with precision.
(e) “ If the water contains no more acidulous gas than is usually found in river or rain Avater, a fourth part of
this quantity of lime, or less, will be sufficient.
(f) “ The calcareous crust Avhich forms on the surface of the Avater ought not to be broken, for it assists in ex¬
cluding the air, and preventing the absorption of acidulous gas whereby the lime-water is spoiled.
(g) “ Brass cocks are apt to colour a part of the liquor.
(h) “ Lime-water cannot be ;kept many days unimpaired, in any vessels that are not perfectly air-tight. If
the liquor be draAvn off before it clears, it will contain whiting, which is injurious ; and if it be not instantly
5 G 2 used
s T U [ 78s 1 S T U
SMSco. ^ iow as t^e lime subsides, for use. Tins clear liquor
—I call the cementing liquor (1). The freer the water is
from saline matter, the better will be the cementing li¬
quor made with it.
“ Let 56 pounds of the aforesaid chosen lime be sla¬
ked, by gradually sprinkling on it, and especially on
the unslaked pieces, the cementing liquor, in a close
.^k) clean place. Let the slaked part be immediately
(l) sifted through the last-mentioned fine brass-wired
sieve : Let the lime which passes be used instantly, or
kept in air-tight vessels, and let the part of the lime
which does not pass through the sieve be rejected (m).—
This finer rich r part of the lime which passes through
th e sieve I call purified lime.
“ Let bone-ash be prepared in the usual manner, by
grinding the whitest burnt bones, but let it be sifted, to
be much finer than the bone-ash commonly sold for ma¬
king cupels.
“The most eligible materials for making my cement
being thus prepared, take 56 pounds of the coarse sand
and 42 pounds of the fine sand ; mix them on a large
plank of hard wood placed horizontally ; then spread
the sand so that it mav stand to the height of six inches,
with a Hat surface ou the plank •, wet it with the ce¬
menting liquor •, and let any superfluous quantity of the
liquor, which the sand in the condition described cannot
retain, flow away off the plank. To the wettest sand
add 14 pounds of the putrefied lime in several succesive
portions, mixing and beating them up together in the
mean time with the instruments generally used in mak¬
ing fine mortar : then add 14 pounds of the bone-ash in
successive portions, mixing and beating all together.
The quicker and the more perfectly these materials are
mixed and beaten together, and the sooner the cement
thus formed is used, the better (n) it will be. This I
call the icatei'-cement coarse-grained^ which is to be ap¬
plied in building, pointing, plastering, stuccoing, or StncW
other work, as mortar and stucco now are ; with this
difference chiefly, that as this cement is shorter than
mortar or common stucco, and dries sooner, it ought to
he worked expeditiously in all cases • and in stuccoing,
it ought to be laid on by sliding the trowel upwards on
it ; that the materials used along with this cement in
building, or the ground on which it is to he laid in stuc¬
coing, ought to he well wetted with the cementing li¬
quor in the instant of laying on the cement j and that
the cementing liquor is to be used when it is necessary
to moisten the cement, or when a liquid is required to
facilitate the floating of the cement.
“ When such cement is required to he of a finer tex¬
ture, take 98 pounds of the fine sand, wet it with the
cementing liquor, and mix it with the purified lime and
the hone ash in the quantities and in the manner above
described; with this difl’erence only, that 15 pounds of
lime, or (o) thereabouts, are to be used instead of 14
pounds, if the greater part of the sand be as fine as
Ly nn-sand. This I call water-cement fine grained. It
is to he used in giving the last coating, or the finish to
any work intended to imitate the finer grained stones
or stucco. But it may be applied to all the uses of the
water-cement coarse-grained, and in the same man¬
ner.
“ When for any of the foregoing purposes of point¬
ing, building, &c. such a cement is required much
cheaper and coarser grained, then much coarser clean
sand than the foregoing coarse sand, or well-washed fine
rubble, is to be ptovided. Of this coarse sand or rubble
take 56 pounds, of the foregoing coarse sand 28 pounds,
and of the fine sand 14 pounds; and after mixing these,
and wetting them with the cementing liquor in the fore¬
going manner, add 14 pounds, or somewhat less, of
the (p) purified lime, and then 14 pounds or somewhat
less
used after it is drawn limpid from the butt into open vessels, it will grow turbid again, and deposit the lime
changed to whiting by the gas absorbed from the air. The calcareous matter which subsides in the butt resembles
whiting the more nearly a« the lime has been more sparingly employed ; in the contrary circumstances, it ap¬
proaches to the nature of lime; and in the intermediate state, it is fit for the common composition of the plasterers
for inside stucco.
(1) “At the time of writing this specification, I preferred this term before that of lime water, on grounds
which I had not sufficiently examined.
(k) “ The vapour which arises in the slaking of lime contributes greatly to the slaking of these pieces which lie
in its way; and an unnecessary waste of the liquor is prevented, by applying it to the lime heaped in a pit or in a
vessel, which may restrain the issue of the vapour, and direct it through the mass. If more of the liquor be u*ed
than is necessary to slake the lime, it will create error in weighing the slaked powder, and will prevent a part of it
from passing freely through the sieve. The liquid is therefore to be used sparingly, and the lime which has
escaped its action is to he sprinkled apart with fresh liquor.
(l) “ When the aggregation of the lumps of lime is thus broken, it is impaired much sooner that it is in the
former state, because the air more freely pervades it.
(m) “ Because it consists of heterogenous matter or of ill-burnt lime ; which last will shake and pass through
the sieve, if the lime be not immediately sifted after the slaking, agreeable to the text.
(n) “ These proportions are intended for a cement made with sharp sand, for incrustation in exposed situations,
where it is necessary to guard against the effects of hot weather and rain. In general, halt this quantity of bone-
ashes will be found sufficient; and although the incrustation in this latter case will not harden deeply so soon, it
will be ultimately stronger, provided the weather be favourable.
“ The injuries which lime and mortar sustain by exposure to the air, before the cement is finally placed in a
quiescent state, are great; and therefore our cement is the worse for being long beaten, but the better as it is quickly
beaten until the mixture is effected, and no longer.
(of “ The quantity of bone-ashes is not to be increased with that of the lime ; but it is to be lessened as the
exposure and purposes of the work will admit.
(>p) “ Because less lime is necessary, as the sand is coarser,.
s T U [ 789 ] S T U
Suicco. 5ess ^ie bone-ash, mixing them together in the man-
—v'"— '' ner already described. When my cement is required to
be white, white sand, white lime, and the whitest bone-
ash are to be chosen. Gray sand, and gray bone-ash
formed of half-burnt bones, are to be chosen to make
the cement gray •, and any other colour of the cement
is obtained, either by choosing coloured sand, or by the
admixture of the necessary quantity of coloured talc in
powder, or of coloured, vitreous, or metallic powders,
of other durable colouring ingredients commonly used
in paint.
“ To the end that such a water-cement as I have
described may be made as useful as it is possible in all
circumstances ; and that no person may imagine that
my claim and right under these letters-patent may be
eluded by divers variations, which may be made in the
foregoing process without producing any notable defect
in the cement ; and to the end that the principles of
this art, as well as the art itself, of making my cement,
may be gathered from this specification and perpetuated
to tiie public *, I shall add the following observations:
“ This my water-cement, whether the coarse or fine¬
grained, is applicable in forming artificial stone, by ma¬
king alternate layers of the cement and of flint, hard
stone, or brick, in moulds of the figure of the intended
stone, and by exposing the masses so formed to the open
(q.) air to harden.
“ When such cement is required for water (r) fences,
two-thirds of the prescribed quantity of bone-ashes are
to be omitted ; and in the place thereof an equal mea¬
sure of powdered terras is to be used ; and it the sand
employed be not of the coarsest sort, more terras must
be added, so that the terras shall be by weight one-sixth
part of the weight of the sand.
“ When such a cement is required of the finest grain
(s) or in a fluid form, so that it may be applied with a
brush, flint powder, or the powder of any quartose or
hard earthy substance, may be used in the place of Stucc*.
sand j but in a quantity smaller, as the flint or other ’ v 
powder is finer; so that the flint-powder, or other such
powder, shall not be more than six times the weight of
the lime, nor less than four times its weight. The
greater the quantity of lime within these limits, the
more will the cement be liable to crack by quick dry¬
ing, and vice versa.
“ Where such sand as I prefer cannot be convenient¬
ly procured, or where the sand cannot be conveniently
washed aud sorted, that sand which most resembles the
mixture of coarse and fine sand above prescribed, may
be used as I have directed, provided due attention is
paid to the quantity of the lime, which is to be greater
(T) as the quantity is finer, and vice versa.
“ Where sand cannot be easily procured, any durable
stony body, or baked earth grossly powdered (u), and
sorted nearly to the sizes above prescribed for sand, may
be used in the place of sand, measure for measure, hut
not weight lor weight, unless such gross powder be as
heavy specifically as sand.
“ Sand may be cleansed from every softer, lighter,
and less durable matter, and from that part of the sand
which is too fine, bv various methods preferable (x)t.
in certain circumstances, to that which I have de¬
scribed.
“ Water mav be found naturally free from fixable gas,
selenite, or clay ; such water may, without any notable
inconvenience, be used in the place of the cementing
liquor; and water approaching this state will not require
so much lime as I have ordered to make the cementing
liquor; and a cementing liquor sufficiently useful may
be made by various methods of mixing lime and water
in the described proportions, or nearly so.
“ When stone lime cannot be procured, chalk-lime,
or shell lime, which best resembles stone-lime, in the
characters above written of lime, may be used in the
manner
(<l) “ But they must not be exposed to the rain until they are almost as strong as fresh Portland stone; and
even then they ought to be sheltered from it as much as the circumstances will admit. These stones may be made
very hard and beautiful, with a small expence of bone-ash, by soaking them, after they have diied thoroughly and
hardened, in the lime liquor, and repeating this process twice or thrice, at distant intervals of time. I he like
effect was experienced in incrustations. ... 1111 . r
(r) “ In my experiments, mortar made with terras-powder, in the usual method, does not appear to form s©
strong a cement for water-fences as that made, according to the specification, with coarse sand ; and I see no
more reason for avoiding the use of sand in terras-mortar, than there would be for rejecting stone from the em¬
bankment. The bone-ashes meant in this place are the dark gray or black sort. I am not yet fully satisfied
about the operation of them in this instance. f j, f ,
fs>) “ The qualities and uses of such fine calcareous cement are recommended chiefly for the purpose of smooth-
ino- and finishing the stronger cruslaceous works, or for washing walls to a lively and uniform colour. lor this
last intention, the mixture must be as thin as new cream, and laid on briskly with a brush, m dry weather; and
a thick and durable coat is to be made by repeated washing ; but is not to be attempted by using a ickcr 1-
quor; for the coat made with this last is apt to scale, whilst the former endures the weather much longer than
any other thin calcareous covering that has been applied in tb.s way. Fine yellow-ochre is the cheapest colour¬
ing ingredient for such wash, when it is required to imitate Bath-stone, or the warm-white stones.
Vt'I “ If sea-sand be well washed in fresh water, it is as good as any other round sand.
(u) “ The cement made with these and the proper quantities of purified lime and lime-water, are inferior to
the best as the grains of these powders are more perishable and bottle than those of sand. Ihey will not there-
fore be employed, unless for the sake of evasion, or for want of sand : in this latter case, the finer powder ought
t0 Sv* Tht'anTthe next paragraph is inserted with a view to evasions, as well as to suggest the easier and
cheaper methods which may be adopted in certain circumstances, by artists who understand the pi maples whica;
I: endeavour to teach.
S T U
t 79® 1
S T U
Stucco
It
Stukely.
manner described, except that fourteen pounds and a
half of chalk-lime will he required in the place of four¬
teen pounds of stone-lime. The proportion of lime which
I have prescribed above may be increased without incon¬
venience, when the eement or stucco is to be applied
where it is not liable to dry quickly j and in the con¬
trary circumstance, this proportion may be diminished;
and the defect of lime in quantity or quality may be
very advantageously supplied (y), by causing a consi¬
derable quantity of the cementing liquor to soak into
the work, in successive portions, and at distant intervals
of time, so that the calcareous matter of the cementing
liquor, and the matter attracted from the open air, may-
fill and strengthen the work.
“The powder of almost every well-dried or burnt ani¬
mal substance may be used instead of bone-ash; and seve¬
ral earthy powders, especially the micaceous and the me¬
tallic ; and the elixated ashes of divers vegetables whose
earth wilbnot burn to lime ; and the ashes of mineral
fuel, which are of the calcareous kind, but will not
burn to lime, will answer the ends of bone-ash in some
degree.
“ The quantity of bone-ash described may be lessened
without injuring the cement,in those circumstances espe¬
cially which admit the quantity of lime to be lessened,
and in those wherein the cement is not liable to dry
quickly. And the art of remedying the defects of lime
may be advantageously practised to supply the deficiency
of bone ash, especially in building, and in making arti¬
ficial stone with this cement.”
STUD, in the manege, a collection of breeding horses
and mares.
STUDDING-sails, certain light sails extended, in
moderate and steady breezes, beyond the skirts of the
principal sails, where they appear as wings upon the
vard-arms.
STUFF, in commerce, a general name for all kinds
of fabrics of gold, silver, silk, wool, hair, cotton, or
thread, manufactured on the loom ; of which number
are velvets, brocades, mohairs, satins, taffetas, cloths,
serges, &c.
STUK.ELY, Dr William, a celebrated antiqua¬
rian, descended from an ancient family in Lincolnshire,
was born at Holbech in 1687, and educated in Bennet
college, Cambridge. While an under graduate, he often
indulged a strong propensity to drawing and designing;
but made physic his principal study, and first began to
practise at Boston in his native country. In 1717 he
removed to London, where, on the recommendation of
Dr Mead, he was soon after elected a fellow of the
Boyal Society; he was one of the first who revived that
of the antiquarians in 1718, and was their secretary for
many years duringhisresidence in town. In 1729116 took
holy orders by the encouragement of Archbishop Wake;
and was soon after presented by Lord-chancellor King
with the living of All-Saints in Stamford. In 1741 he
became one of the founders of the Egyptian society,
which brought him acquainted with the benevolent duke
of Montague, one of the members ; who prevailed on
him to leave Stamford, and presented him to the living
of St George the Martyr, Queen Square. He died of a ^ Stnkely
stroke of the palsy in 1765. In his medical capacity,j )j
his Dissertation on the Spleen was well received ; andl Sturmius.
his Itinerarium Curiosum, the first fruit of bis juvenile -r
excursions, was a good specimen of what was to be ex¬
pected from his riper age. His great learning, and pro¬
found researches into the dark remains of antiquity,
enabled him to publish many elaborate and curious
works: his friends used to call him the arch-druid of
his age. His discourses, intitled Palceographia Sacra,'
on the vegetable creation, bespeak him a botanist, phi¬
losopher, and divine.
STUM, in the wine-trade, denotes the unfermented
juice of the grape after it has been several times racked
off and separated from its sediment. The casks are for
this purpose well matched or fumigated with brimstone
every time, to prevent the liquor from fermenting, as it
would otherwise readily do, and become wine. See
Must.
STUPIDITY. The Greek word pug'OTYis corre¬
sponds most with our English word stupidity or foolish-
ness, when used to express that state of mind in which
the intellects are defective. The immediate causes are
said to be, a deficiency of vital heat, or a defect in the
brain. Stupid children sometimes become sprightly
youths; but if stupidity continues to the age of puber¬
ty, it is hardly ever removed. If stupidity follows up¬
on a violent passion, an injury done to the head, or other
evident cause, and if it continues long, it becomes in¬
curable. But the stupidity which consists in a loss of
memory, and succeeds a lethargy, spontaneously ceases
when the lethargy is cured.
STUPOR, a numbness in any part of the body, whe¬
ther occasioned by ligatures obstructing the blood’s mo¬
tion, by the palsy, or the like.
STUPPA, or Stufe, in Medicine, is a piece of cloth
dipped in some proper liquor, and applied to an affected
part.
STURDY, a distemper to which cattle are subject,
called also the turning evil. See Farriery Index.
STURGEON. See Accipenser, Ichthyology
Index.
STURMIUS, John, a learned philologer and rhe¬
torician, was born at Sleida in Eisel near Cologne in
1507. He studied at first in his native country wu'th the
sons of Count de Manderscheid, whose receiver his fa¬
ther was. He afterwards pursued his study at Liege in
the college of St Jerome, and then went to Louvain in
1524. Five years he spent there, three in learning and
two in teaching. He set up a printing-press with Rudger
Rescius professor of the Greek tongue, and printed seve¬
ral Greek authors. He went to Paris in 1529, where
he was highly esteemed, and read public lectures on the
Greek and Latin writers, and on logic. He married
there, and kept a great number of boarders : but as he
liked what were called the new opinions, he was more
than once in danger; and this undoubtedly was the rea¬
son why he removed to Strasburg in 1537, in order to
take possession of the place offered him by the magi¬
strates. The year following he opened a school,’which
became
(y) ‘ This practice is noticed, as the remedy which may be used for the defects arising from evasive mea¬
sures, and as the method of giving spongy incrustations containing bone-ashes the greatest degree of hardness.”
STY
Sturmius became famous, and by bis means obtained of Maximi*
lian II. the title of an university in 1566. He was
very well skilled in polite literature, wrote Latin with
great purity, and was a good teacher. His talents were
not confined to the school ; for he was frequently in¬
trusted with deputations in Clermany and foreign coun¬
tries, and discharged these employments with great
honour and diligence. He showed extreme charity to
the refugees on account of religion : He not only la¬
boured to assist them by his advice and recommenda¬
tions ; but he even impoverished himself for them. He
died in his 82d year, after he had been for some time
blind. He published many books; the principal of
which are, 1. Partitiones Dialecticce. 2. De Educa-
tione Principum. 3. De Nobilitate Anglicana. 4.
Lingua Latina resolvenda Patio. 5. Excellent Notes
on Aristotle’s and Hermogenes’s Rhetoric, &c.
He ought not to be confounded with John Sturmius,
a native of Mechlin, and physician and professor of ma¬
thematics at Louvain, who also wrote several works.
STURNUS, the Starling ; a genus of birds be¬
longing to the order of passeres. See Ornithology
Index.
STYE, or Stythe, in the eye. See Crithe.
STYLE, a word of various significations, originally
deduced from stylos, a kind of bodkin wherewith the
ancients wrote on plates of lead, or on wax, &c. and
which is still used to write on ivory-leaves and paper
prepared for that purpose, &c.
Style, in dialling, denotes the gnomon or cock of a
dial raised on the plane thereof to project a shadow.
Style, in Botany. See Botany.
Style, in language, is the peculiar manner in which
a man expresses his conceptions. It is a picture of the
ideas which rise in his mind, and of the order in which
they are there produced.
The qualities of a good style may be ranked under
two heads; perspicuity and ornament. It will readily
be admitted, that perspicuity ought to be essentially
connected with every kind of writing; and to attain it,
attention must be paid, first to single words and phrases,
and then to the construction of sentences. When con¬
sidered with respect to words and phrases, it requires
these three qualities ; purity, propriety, and precision.
When considered with regard to sentences, it requires a
clear arrangement of the words and unity in the sense ;
to which, if strength and harmony be added, the style
will become ornamented.
One of the most important directions to be observed
by him who wishes to form a good style, is to acquire
clear and precise ideas on the subject concerning which
he is to write or speak. To this must he added fre¬
quency of composition, and an acquaintance with the
style of the best authors. A servile imitation, however,
of any author is carefully to be avoided ; for he who
copies, can hardly avoid copying faults as well as beau¬
ties. A style cannot be proper unless it he adapted to
the subject, and likewise to the capacity of our hearers,
if we are to speak in public. A simple, clear, and una¬
dorned style, such as that of Swift, is fittest for intricate
disquisition ; a style elegant as Addison’s, or impetuous
like Johnson’s, is most proper for fixing the attention on
truths, which, though known, are too much neglected.
We must not be inattentive to the ornaments of style, if
L 791 ]
STY
but he is a contemptible writer, who looks not beyond
the dress of language, who lays not the chief stress upon
his matter, and who does not regard ornament as a se¬
condary and inferior recommendation. For further ob-
servations on the different kinds of style, see Oratory
N® 99, &c.
Style, in Jurisprudence, the particular form or man¬
ner of proceeding in each court of jurisdiction, agreeable
to the rules and orders established therein: thus we say,
the style of the court of Rome, of chancery, of parlia¬
ment, of the privy-council, &c.
Style, in Music, denotes a peculiar manner of sing-
mg, playing, or composing; being properly the manner
that each person has of playing, singing, or teaching ;
which is very different both in respect of different ge¬
niuses, or countries, nations, and of the different matters,
places, times, subjects, passions, expressions, &c. Thus
we say, the style of Palestrina, of Lully, of Corelli, of
Handel, &c.; the style of the Italians, French, Spa¬
niards, &c.
Old Style, the Julian method of computing time, as
the
New Style is the Gregorian method of computation.
See Kalendar.
STYLEPHORUS chordatus, a genus of fishes be-
longing to the order of apodes. See Ichthyology In~
de.v, and Transactions of the Linnaean Society, vol. i.
STYLET, a small dangerous kind of poniard which
may be concealed in the hand, chiefly used in treacher¬
ous assassinations. The blade is usually triangular, and
so small that the wound it makes is almost impercep¬
tible.
STYLITES, Pillar Saints, in ecclesiastical hi¬
story, an appellation given to a kind of solitaries, who
stood motionless upon the tops of pillars, raised for this
exercise of their patience, and remained there for several
years, amidst the admiration and applause of the stupid
populace. Of these we find several mentioned in an¬
cient writers, and even as low as the twelfth centurv,
when they were totally suppressed.
The founder of the order was St Simeon Stylites, a
famous anchoret in the fifth century, who first took up
his abode on a column six cubits high ; then on a se¬
cond of twelve cubits, a third of twenty-two, a fourth
of thirty-six, and on another of forty cubits, where he
thus passed thirty-seven years of his life. The tops of
these columns were only three feet in diameter, and
were defended by a rail that reached almost to the gir¬
dle, somewhat resembling a pulpit. There was no ly¬
ing down in it. The faquirs, or devout people of the
East, imitate this extraordinary kind of life to this day.
STYLOCERALOIDES, j The names of differ-
STYLO-Glossus,
Stylo-Hyoidceus,
STYLO-Pharyngceus,
STYLO IDES,
STYLOSANTHES, a genus of plants belonging
to the diadelphia class, and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 3 2d order-, Papilionacea. See Botany
Index.
STYPTIC, in Pharmacy, a medicine which by its
astringency stops haemorrhagies, &c. See Materia
Medic a Index.
| ent muscles in the hu-
^ man body. See Table
j of the Muscles under
J Anatomy.
STYRAX, the Storax-tree, a genus of plants be-
wish that our labours should be read and admired ; longing to the class rfmwr/rz'a,. and in the natural system
% ranging
Style
n
Sty rax.
S U A t 792 ] SUB
Styrax ranging under the 18th order, Bicorncs. See Botany
|| and Materia Medic a Index.
Su.ibia. STYX, in Fabulous History, a celebrated river of
' 1 ■"v—' ' roUnd which it flows nine times. The gods held
the waters of the Styx in such veneration, that to swear
by them was reckoned an oath altogether inviolable.
If any of the gods had perjured themselves, Jupiter
obliged them to drink the waters of the Styx, which
lulled them for one whole year into a senseless stupidi¬
ty, for the nine following years they were deprived of
the ambrosia and the nectar of the gods, and after the
expiration of the years of their punishment, they were
restored to the assembly of the deities, and to all their
original privileges. It is said that this veneration was
shown to the Styx, because it received its name from the
nymph Styx, who with her three daughters assisted
Jupiter in his war against the Titans.
Styx was a river which it was necessary for depart¬
ed shades to pass before they could enter the infernal
regions ; and it was the office of Charon to ferry them
Transas- over in a boat which was kept for that purpose. The
0/gi10Stg 0f those who had not been honoured with the
Royal So- sepUJtuie were obliged to wander an hundred
Edinburgh, years before Charon could admit them into his boat to
vol. ii. convey them before the judges of Hades. What could
have given rise to this fable of Charon and his boat, it
is not very material to inquire. Mythological writers
have said, that the Greeks learned it from the Egyp¬
tians, which is indeed probable enough ; that the Egyp¬
tians framed both this, and some other fables relating to
the dead, from certain customs peculiar to their country j
that in particular there was, not far from Memphis, a
famous burying-place, to which the dead bodies were
conveyed in a boat across the lake Acherusia •, and that
Charon was a boatman who had long officiated in that
service. The learned Hr Blackwell says, in his life of
Homer, that, in the old Egyptian language, Charoni
signified “ ferryman.”
SUABIA, a circle of Germany, bounded on the north
by the circle of Franconia and that of the Lower Rhine j
on the west by the circle of the Lower Rhine and Al¬
sace ; on the south by Switzerland ; and on the east by
the circle of Bavaria. Of all the circles of the empire,
Suabia is the most divided ; it contains four ecclesiastic
and thirteen lay principalities, nineteen independent
prelacies and abbeys, twenty-six earldoms and lordships,
and thirty-one free cities. The prime directors of the
circle, as they are termed, were formerly the bishop of
Constance and the duke of Wirtemberg. But this circle
has suffered similar changes with neighbouring states.
The mixture of the various forms of government and
religious sects ; the oppression exercised by the great on
the poor $ the game constantly played by the emperor,
who possesses many pieces of detached country in Suabia,
which depend not on the circle, and can, in consequence
of his privileges as archduke of Austria, extend his pos¬
sessions in it by various ways ; are circumstances (says
Baron Riesbeck) which give the cultivation of the coun¬
try, and the character of the inhabitants, a most extra¬
ordinary cast. In several of the post towns where you
stop, you see the.highest degree of cultivation in the
midst of the most savage wildness ; a great degree of
knowledge and polish of manners, mixed with the gros¬
sest ignorance ai.d super ititinn } traces of liberty, under
the deepest oppression j national pride, together with
5
Baron
Riesbeck's
Travt Is
through
Germany,
vol. i.
the contempt and neglect of the native country j in Suabia
short, all the social qualities in striking contrast and ||
opposition to each other. Those parts of Suabia which ^bduple
belong to the great potentates, such as Wirtemberg, , Ratio-
Austria, and Baden, are certainly the most improved.
The whole of Suabia may comprehend about nine hun¬
dred German square miles, and two millions ef people.
More than half of these are subjects of the three above-
mentioned princes, though they are not proprietors of
near one half of the lands.
SUARES, Francis, a Jesuit, was born in Granada
in Spain, in January 1548. He was a professor of theo¬
logy at Alcala, Salamanca, Rome, and Coimbra in
Portugal. He died at Lisbon in 1617 with the great¬
est resignation •, “ I never thought (said he) that it was
so easy to die.” His memory was astonishing, he could
repeat the whole of his voluminous works by heart.
His writings fill 23 folio volumes, and are mostly on
theological and moral subjects. His Treatise of Law?
has been reprinted in this country. His Defence of the
Catholic Faith against the Errors of England was writ¬
ten at the request of Pope Paul V. This book was
publicly burnt at London by order of James I. When
Suares heard it, he is said to have exclaimed, “ O that
I too could seal with my blood the truths which 1 have
defended with my pen ”
SUBAH, the general name of the viceroyships, or
greater governments, into which the Mogul empire was
divided, consisting of several provinces. The jurisdic¬
tion of a subahdar, the same as subahship, subaedaree,
or nizamut.
SUBAHDAR, the viceroy, lord-lieutenant, or go¬
vernor, holding a subah ; the same as nabob or nazim.
Also the black commander of a company of seapoys.
SUBALTERN, a subordinate officer, or one who
discharges his post under the command and subject to
the direction of another j such are lieutenants, sub¬
lieutenants, cornets, and ensigns, who serve under the
captain.
SUBCLAVIAN, in Anatomy, is applied to any
thing under the armpit or shoulder, whether artery,
nerve, vein, or muscle.
SUBDEACON, an inferior minister, who anciently
attended at the altar, prepared the sacred vessels, deli¬
vered them to the deacons in time of divine service, at¬
tended the doors of the church during communion-ser¬
vice, went on the bishop’s embassies with his letters or
messages to foreign churches, and was invested with
the first of the holy orders. They were so subordinate
to the superior rulers of the church, that, by a canon
of the council of Laodicea, they were forbidden to sit
in the presence of a deacon without his leave. Accord¬
ing to the canons, a person must be twenty-two years
of age to be promoted to the order of subdeacon. See
Deacon.
SUB DOM INANT, in Music, a name given by M.
Rameau to the fourth note of the tone, which of conse¬
quence is the same interval from the tonic when des¬
cending as the dominant in rising. This denomination
arises from the affinity which this author finds by inver¬
sion between the minor mode of the subdominant and
the major mode of the tonic.
SUB DUPLE ratio, is when any number or quan¬
tity is contained in another twice. Thus 3 is said to
be subduple of 6, as 6 is duple of 3. See Ratio.
SUBDUPLICATE,
-Subihipli-
cate
th
SUB [793] SUB
e rafin nf RATIO of any two quantities, is out the tongue, afterwards forfeitures of goods 5 and i
t ratio ot their square roots. n™, o .,,..1 : :   ... j ... 6 ’ . ,
See
iltackst.
Commmt.
vol, ii.
SUBER, the specific name of the Cork-tree,
Quercus, Botany Index,
SUBJECT, a person under the rule and dominion of
a sovereign prince or state.
Subject is also used for the matter of an art or sci¬
ence, or that which it considers, or whereon it is em¬
ployed : thus the human body is the subject of medi¬
cine.
. SUBINFEUDATION, was where the inferior lords,
in imitation of their superiors, began to carve out and
grant to others minuter estates than their own, to be
held of themselves j and were so proceeding downwards
in infinitum, till the superior lords observed, that by this
method of subinfeudation they lost all their feudal pro¬
fits, of wardships, marriages, and escheats, which fell
into the hands of these mesne or middle lords, who were
the immediate superiors of the terre-tenant, or him who
occupied the land. This occasioned the stat. of Westm.
3. or quia emptores, 18 Edvv. I. to be made; which di¬
rects, that, upon all sales or feoffments of lands, the feof¬
fee shall hold the same, not of his immediate feofler,
but of the chief lord of the fee of whom such feoffer
himself held it. And from hence it is held, that all
manors existing at this day must have existed by imme¬
morial prescription ; or at least ever since the 18 Edvv.
1. when the statute of (quia emptores was made.
SUBITO, in the Italian music, is used to signify that
a thing is to be performed quickly and hastily ; thus we
meet with volti snbito, turn over the leaf quickly.
SUBJUNCTI\ E, in Grammar. See Grammar.
SUBLIMATE, a chemical preparation, consisting
of quicksilver united with muriatic acid. See Mer¬
cury, Chemistry Index.
SUBLIMATION, in Chemistry, the condensing and
collecting, in a solid form, by means of vessels aptly
constructed, the fumes of bodies raised from them by
the application of a proper heat.
SUBLIME, or Sublimity. See the article Gran¬
deur and Sublimity.
SUBLINGUAL artery. See Anatomy.
Sublingual Glands, in Anatomy, two glands under
the tongue, placed one on each side thereof.
SUBMULTIPLE, in Geometry, &c. A submul-
tiple number, or quantity, is that which is contained a
certain number of times in another, and which, there¬
fore, repeated a certain number of times, becomes ex¬
actly equal thereto. Thus 3 is a submultiple of 21.
In which sense a submultiple coincides with an aliquot
part.
Submultiple llatio, is that between the quantity
contained and the quantity containing. Thus the ratio
of 3 to 21 is submultiple. In both cases submultiple is
the reverse of multiple: 21, e. gr. being a multiple of
3, and the ratio of 21 to 3 a multiple ratio.
SUBORDINARIES. See Heraldry, Chap. III.
Sect. II.
SUBORDINATION, a relative term, expressing
an inferiority betwixt one person and another.
SUBORNATION, in Law, a secret, underhand,
preparing, instructing, or bringing in a false witness j
and from hence subornation of perjury is the preparing
or corrupt alluring to perjury. The punishment for this
crime was formerly death, then banishment or cutting
Vol. XIX. Part 1L
is now a fine and imprisonment, and never more to be
received as evidence. The statute 2 Geo. II. c. 29.
superadded a power for the court to order the offender
to be sent to the house of correction for a term not ex¬
ceeding seven years, or be transported for the same pe¬
riod.
SUBPOENA, in Law, a writ whereby common
persons are called into chancery, in such cases where the
common law hath provided an ordinary remedy 5 ami
the name of it proceeds from the words therein, which
charge the party called to appear at the day and place
affirmed,pcena centum librarum, &c. The sub¬
poena is the leading process in the courts of equity ; and
by statute, when a bill is filed against any person, pro¬
cess of subpoena shall be taken out to oblige the defen¬
dant to appear and answer the bill, &c.
Subpoena ad testificandum, a writ or process to bring
in witnesses to give their testimony. If a witness on
being served with this process does not appear, the court
will issue an attachment against him ; or a party, plain-
till or defendant, injured by his non-attendance, may
maintain an action against the witness. See Blackst.
Com. vol. viii. p. 369.
Subpoena, in Equity, a process in equity, calling on
a defendant to appear and answer to the complainant’s
bill. See statute 5th Geo. II. c. 25. which enacts, that
where the party cannot be found to be served with a
subpoena, and absconds (as is believed) to avoid being
served, a day shall be appointed him to appear to the
bill of the plaintiff; which is to be inserted in the Lon¬
don Gazette, read in the parish church where the de¬
fendant last lived, and fixed up at the Royal Exchange :
and if the defendant doth not appear upon that day, the
bill shall be taken pro confesso.
SUBREPT1TIOUS, a term applied to a letter, li¬
cence, patent, or other act, fraudulently obtained of a
superior, by concealing some truth which, had it been
known, would have prevented the concession or grant.
SUBROGATION, or Subrogation, in the civil
law, the act of substituting a person in the place, and
intitling him to the rights, of another. In its general
sense, subrogation implies a succession of any kind, -whe¬
ther of a person to a person, or of a person to a thing.
There are two kinds of subrogation : the one conven¬
tional, the other legal. Conventional subrogation is a
contract whereby a creditor transfers his debt, with all
appurtenances thereof, to the profit of a third person.
Zeya/subrogation is that which the law makes in favour
of a person who discharges an antecedent creditor; in
which case there is a legal translation of all rights of
the ancient creditor to the person of the new one.
SUBSCRIPTION, in general, signifies the signature
put at the bottom of a letter, writing, or instrument.
In commerce, it is used for the share or interest
which particular persons take in a public stock or a trad¬
ing company, by writing their names, and the shares
they require, in the backs or register thereof.
Subscription to articles of faith is required of the
clergy of every established church, and of some churches
not established. Whether such subscription serves any
good purpose, in a religious or theological view, is a very
doubtful question. It may be necessary in an establish¬
ment, as a test of loyalty to the prlnc and of attachment
to the constitution, civil and ecclesiastica', but it cannot
f 5 H produce
Subscrip¬
tion
a
Snbolaled.
SUE [794
produce uniformity of opinion. As all language is more
or less ambiguous, it becomes difficult, if not impossible,
to determine in what sense the words ol long established
creeds are to be interpreted j and we believe that the
clergv of the churches of England and Scotland seldom
consider thefnselves as fettered by the Thirty-nine Arti¬
cles, or the Confession of Faith, when composing instruc¬
tions either for their respective parishes or for the pub¬
lic at large. See Independents.
Subscription, in the commerce of books, signifies an
engagement to take a certain number of copies of a
book, intended to be printed, and a reciprocal obligation
of the bookseller or publisher, to deliver the said copies,
on certain terms. These subscriptions, which had their
rise in England about the middle of the 17th century,
were lately very frequent in France and Holland, and
are now very common among ourselves.
SUBSEQUENT, something that comes after an¬
other, particularly with regard to the order ot time.
SUBSIDY, in Law, signifies an aid or tax granted
to the king by parliament, for the necessary occasions of
the kingdom j and is to be levied on every subject of
ability, according to the rate or value of his lands or
goods : but this word, in some of our statutes, is con¬
founded with that of customs. See Tax.
SUBSTANCE, the subjects to which we suppose
qualities belong. Thus gold is the substance to which
the qualities of ductility, yellowness, density, &.c. be¬
long. See Metaphysics, N° 145.
SUBSTANTIAL, in the schools, something be¬
longing to the nature of substance.
SUBSTANTIVE, in Grammar. See Grammar.
SUBSTITUTE, a person who officiates for another
in his absence.
SUBSTITUTION, in the Civil Law, a disposition
of a testament, whereby the testator substitutes one heir
for another, who has only the usufruct, and not the pro¬
perty of the thing, left him.
SUBSTRACTION, or Subtraction, in Arithme¬
tic, the second rule, or rather operation, in arithmetic,
whereby we deduct a less litrmber from a greater, to
learn their precise difference. See Arithmetic and
Algebra.
SUBTANGENT OF a CURVE, the line that deter¬
mines the intersection of a tangent with the axis ; or that
determines the point wherein the tangent cuts the axis
prolonged.
SUBTENSE, formed from sub “under,” and tench
“ I stretch,” in Geometry, a right line which is opposite
to an angle, and drawn between the two extremities of
the arc which measures that angle.
SUBTERRANEOUS, whatever is under ground :
thus naturalists speak of subterraneous fires, subterra¬
neous damps, &c.
Subterraneous Cavern. See Quarries.
SUBTILE, in Physics, an appellation given to what¬
ever is extremely small, fine, and delicate ; such as the
animal spirits, the effluvia of odorous bodies, &c. are
supposed to be.
SUBULARIA, Rough-leaved Alysson, or Awl-
wort, a genus of plants belonging to the class tetrady-
namia, and in the natural order ranging under the 39th
order Siliquosce. See Botany Index-
SUBULATED, something shaped like an awl.
a,
] sue
SUCCEDANEUM, in Pharmacy, denotes a drug Succpda.
substituted in the place of another. iicum
SUCCESSION, in Metaphysics, the idea which we Suceesooi,
get by reflecting on the ideas that follow one another in 'r~mJ
our mind ", and from the succession of ideas we get the
idea of time. See Metaphysics, N° 93. and 209.
Succession, in Law. See Descent.
Succession to the Crown. See Hereditary Right.
—From the days of Egbert, the first sole monarch of
England, even to the present, the four cardinal maxims
mentioned in that article have ever been held con¬
stitutional canons of succession. It is true, as Sir Wil¬
liam Blackstone observes, this succession, through fraud
or force, or sometimes through necessity, when in hostile
times the crown descended on a minor or the like, has
been very frequently suspended; but has generally at last
returned back into the old hereditary channel, though
sometimes a very considerable period has intervened.
And even in those instances where this succession has
been violated, the crown has ever been looked upon as
hereditary in the wearer of it. Of which the usurpers
themselves were so sensible, that they for the most part
endeavoured to vamp up some feeble show of a title by
descent, in order to amuse the people, while they gained
the possession of the kingdom. And, when possession
was once gained, they considered it as the purchase or
acquisition of a new state of inheritance, and transmit¬
ted, or endeavoured to transmit it, to their own posterity
by a kind of hereditary right of usurpation. (See
Blackst. Com. vol. i. 197—217.). From the historical
view there given, it appears that the title to the crown
is at present hereditary, though not quite so absolutely
hereditary as formerly : and the common stock or ances¬
tor, from whom the descent must be derived, is also dif¬
ferent. Formerly the common stock was King Egbert;
then William the Conqueror ; afterwards, in James I.’s
time, the two common stocks united ; and so continued
till the vacancy of the throne in 1688: now it is the
Princess Sophia, in whom the inheritance was vested by
the new king and parliament Formerly, the descent
was absolute, and the crown went to the heir without any
restriction : but now, upon the new settlement, the in¬
heritance is conditional ; being limited to such heirs on¬
ly, of the body of the Princess Sophia as are Protes¬
tant members of the church of England, and are mar¬
ried to none but Protestants.
And in this due medium consists the true constitu¬
tional notion of the right of succession to the imperial
crown of these kingdoms. The extremes between which
it steers are each of them equally destructive of those
ends for which societies were formed and kept on foot.
When the magistrate, upon every succession, is elected
by the people, and may by the express provision of the
laws be deposed (if not punished) by his subjects, this
may sound like the perfection of liberty, and look well
enough when delineated on paper; but in practice will
be ever productive of tumult, contention, and anarchy.
And, on the other hand, divine indefeasible hereditary
right, when coupled with the doctrine of unlimited pas¬
sive obedience, is surely of all constitutions the most tho¬
roughly slavish and dreadful. But when such an here¬
ditary right as our laws have created and vested in the
royal stock, is closely interwoven with those liberties
which are equally the inheritance of the subject; this
union
^ ^ ^ t 795 ] SUE
• COnSti.t“ti»"- » theory the most beau- age, and to have ™tte„ it at uiue.
Saokliiu
tiful of any, in practice the most approved, and, we trust,
J in duration the most permanent.
In France the succession to the monarchy was limited
to heirs male (see Salic) 5 but in Navarre the crown
was inherited by the heir of line, whether male or fe¬
male. I he case stands thus: Philip the fourth, king
of f ranee, surnamed the Fair, in the year 1285 espoused
Jane queen of Navarre in her own right j and as kino-
consort of this latter kingdom added the title of Navarre
to his former one of France. Louis X. son and heir of
1 hilip and Jane (surnamed Hutm or the Boisterous'),
succeeded to both crowns. By Margaret his first wife,
who had been crowned queen of Navarre, he left one
daughter, Joan or Jane. His second wife Clementina was
pregnant at the time ol his decease, and was delivered
ot a posthumous son, whom most of the French annalists
recognize as John I. of France, though he lived no
longer than three weeks. On his death the kingdom of
France passed to Philip V. surnamed the Long, and
that of Navarre (to which the Salic law could by no
construction extend) to Joanna the only child and heir
of Louis and Margaret. From Joanna, in lineal suc¬
cession, the kingdom of Navarre passed to Jane d’Al-
bret, mother of Henry IV. of France, and wife of An¬
thony of Vendosme, who as king consort wore the crown
of Navarre. On the accession of Henry to the kingdom
of France, the two monarchies were united, and the four
■ucceeding princes assumed the joint title.
SUCCINIC ACID, an acid extracted from amber by
sublimation in a gentle heat, and which rises in a con¬
crete form into the neck of the subliming vessel. See
Chemistry Index.
SUCCINUM, Amber, in Mineralogy, a species of
bitumen classed under the inflammable substances. See
Mineralogy Index.
SUCCORY. See Cichorium, Botany Index.
SUCCOTH, in Ancient Geography, a town which
lay between the brook Jabbok and the river Jordan,
where Jacob iixed his tents. There was another Suo-
coth, where the Israelites first encamped after their de¬
parture from Rameses towards the Red sea. Succoth
signifies tents.
SUCCUBUS, a terrp used by some writers for a dse-
mon who assumes the shape of a woman, and as such lies
with a man ; in which sense it stands opposed to incubus,
which was a daemon in form of a man, that lies with a
woman. But the truth is, the succubus is only a species
of the nightmare. See MEDICINE, N° 329.
SUCCULA, in Mechanics, an axis or cylinder, with
staves in it to move it round ; but without any tympa¬
num or peritrochium.
SUCCULENT plants, among botanists, such whose
leaves are thick and full of juice.
SUCKER. See Cyclopterus, Ichthyology In¬
dex.
SUCKERS, in Gardening, the same with Offsets.
SUCKING-fish. See Echeneis, Ichthyology
Index.
SUCKLING, Sir John, an English poet and dra¬
matic writer, was the son of Sir John Suckling, comp¬
troller of the household to King Charles I. and born at
Witham in Essex in 1613. He discovered an uncom¬
mon propensity to the acquiring of languages, insomuch
that he is reported to have spoken Latin at five years of
When he grew Sucklin*
up, he travelled j but seems to have affected nothing j]
more than the character of a courtier and fine gentle- Siietonii*.
man; which he so far attained, that he was allowed to ‘
have the peculiar happiness of making every thing he
did become him. In his travels he made a campaign
under the great Gustavus Adolphus j and his loyalty,
if not his valour, appeared in the beginning of our civil
wars j for, after his return to England, he raised a troop
of horse for the king’s service entirely at his own charge;
and mounted them so completely and richly, that they
are said to have cost him i2,oool. This troop, with
Sir John at its head, behaved so ill in the engagement
with the Scots, upon the English borders, in 1639, as
occasion the famous lampoon composed by Sir John
Mennis ; “ Sir John he got him an ambling nag,” &c.
I his ballad, which was set to a brisk tune, was much
sung by the parliamentarians, and continues to be sung
to this day. This disastrous expedition, and the ridicule
that attended it, was supposed to have hastened his death;
being seized by a fever, of which he died, at 28 years of
age. He was a sprightly wit, and an easy versifier, but
no great poet. His works, consisting of a few poems,
letters, and plays, have nevertheless gone through seve¬
ral editions.
SUC1ION, the act of sucking or drawing up a fluid,
as air, water, milk, or the like, by means of the mouth
and lungs ; or, in a similar manner, by artificial means.
See Pneumatics and Hydrodynamics.
SUDATORY, a name given by the ancient Roman*
to their hot or sweating rooms ; sometimes also called
Laconica.
SUDEROE. See Ferro-Islands.
SUDORIFIC, an appellation given to any medicine
that causes or promotes sweat.
SUESSIONES, a branch of the Remi, a people of
Gallia Belgica, (Pliny) ; called sometimes iSWsMwes, in
the lower age Suessi; situated between the Remi to the
east, the Nervii to the north, the Veromandui to the
west, and the Meldoe to the south, in the tract now call¬
ed le Soissonois.—Suessiones, Suessones, and Suessonte,
the name of their city in the lower age; thought to have
been formerly called Noviodunum (Caesar) ; now call¬
ed Sots sons.
SUET, Sevum, or Sebum, in Anatomy, the solid fat
found in several animals, as sheep, oxen, &c. but not in
the human species. See the article Fat It is of th£
sevum that tallow is made.
SUETONIUS Tranquillus, Caius, a famous La¬
tin historian, was born at Rome, and became secretary
to the emperor Adrian, about the 118th year of the
Christian era ; but that post was taken from him three
years after, when several persons fell under that prince’s
displeasure for not showing the empress Sabina all the
respect she deserved. During his disgrace he composed
many works, which are lost. Those now extant are his
History of the XII first Emperors, and a part of his
treatiseof the UlustriousGrammarians and Rhetoricians.
Pliny the Younger was his intimate friend, and per¬
suaded him to publish his hooks. His History of the
XII Roman Emperors has been much commended by
most of our polite scholars. He represents, in a conti¬
nued seriesof curious and interesting particulars,without
any digressions or reflections, the actions of the emperors,
without omitting their vices, which he exposes with all
5 H 2 theiff
SUE [ 796 ] SUE
Suetoniis tlieir deformity, and with the same freedom mentions
11 the good qualities ©f the very same persons ; hut the
Siiez horrid dissoluteness and obscene actions he relates of Ti-
herius, Caligula, Nero, &c, have made some say, that
he wrote the lives of the emperors with the same licen¬
tiousness with which they lived. The edition of this
history procured bv Grsevius at Utrecht in 1672, with
the excellent Commentaries of Torrentius and Casaubon,
and the notes of some other learned critics, is much es¬
teemed. Burrnan also published an edition in 2 vols.
4to, with notes.
SUE VI, the Catti or Ghattiof Csesar (Strabo), placed
on the Rhine : the reason of Caesar’s calling them thus
does not appear, though considerably distant from the
proper Suevi or Alemanni.
Sueyi, (Tacitus), a common name of the people si¬
tuated between the Elbe and the Vistula, distinguished
otherwise by particular names 3 as in Ptolemy, Suevi
Angeli, Suevi Scnnnnes.
SUEVUS, in Ancient Geography, a river of Ger¬
many, thought to be the same with the ^ iadrus or Oder,
emptying itself at three mouths into the Baltic, the mid¬
dlemost of which is called Swine ov Swcne ; which last
comes nearer the name Suevus.
SUEZ, a small sea-port town, situated near the nor¬
thern extremity of the Red sea, and about 30 hours jour¬
ney east from Cairo. The country around it is a sandy
plain, without the smallest spot of verdure. The only
water which can be druuk is brought from El-Naba, or
the spring, at the distance of three hours journey 3 and
it is so brackish, that without a mixture ofrumitis in¬
supportable to Europeans. The town itself is a collec¬
tion of miserable ruins, the khans being the only solid
buildings; yet from March till June, the season when
the Jidda and Yambo fleet arrives, the town becomes
crowded 3 but after its departure nobody remains ex-
Volney's cept the governor, who is a Mamlouk, 12 or 14 per-
Travels, sons who form his household, and the garrison. The
vol. i. fortress is a defenceless heap of ruins, which the Arabs
consider as a citadel, because it contains six brass four-
pounders, and two Greek gunners, who turn their heads
aside when they fire. The harbour is a wretched quay,
where the smallest boats are unable to reach the shore,
except at the highest tides. There, however, the mer¬
chandise is embarked, to convey it over the banks of
sand to the vessels which anchor in the road. This road,
situated a league from the town, is separated from it by
a shore which is left dry at low water 3 it has no works
for its defence, so that the vessels which M. Volney tells
us he has seen there, to the number of 28 at a time,
might be attacked without opposition ; for the ships
themselves are incapable of resistance, none having any
other artillery than four rusty swivels.
Suez has always been, notwithstanding its local disad¬
vantages, a place of great trade, on account of its geo¬
graphical situation. It was by the gulf of Suez that the
commodities of India were formerly conveyed to Eu¬
rope, till the discovery of the passage by the Cape of
Good Hope converted that trade into a new channel.
As the isthmus of Suez, which separates the Red sea
from the Mediterranean, is not more than 57 miles, it
has been frequently proposed to join these two seas to¬
gether by a canal. As there are no mountains nor re¬
markable inequalities of surface, this plan would at first
view appear easy to be executed. But though the dif¬
ference of levels w'oukl not prevent a junction, the great Suez;.
difficulty arises from the nature of the corresponding' y—
coasts of the Mediterranean and the Red sea, which are
of a low and sandy soil, where the waters form lakes,
shoals, and morasses, so that vessels cannot approach
within a considerable distance. It will therefore be
found scarcely possible to dig a permanent canal amid
these shifting sands : not to mention, that the shore is
destitute of harbours, which must be entirely the work
of art. The country besides has not a drop of fresh wa¬
ter, and, to supply the inhabitants, it must be brought as
far as from the Nile.
The best and only method therefore of effecting this
junction, is that which has been already successfully
practised at different times3 which is, by making the
river itself the medium of communication, for which ti>«
ground is perfectly wTell calculated 3 for Mount Mokat-
tum.suddenly terminating in the latitude of Cairo, forms
only a low and semicircular mound, round which is a
continued plain from the banks of the Nile as far as the
point of the Red sea. The ancients, who early under¬
stood the advantage to he derived from this situation,
adopted the idea of joining the two seas by a canal con¬
nected with the river. Strabo * observes, that this was * Lib. xtL
first executed under Sesostris, who reigned about the
time of the Trojan war 3 and this work was so conside¬
rable as to occasion it to be remarked, “ that it was 100
cubits (or 170 feet) wide, and deep enough for large
vessels.” After the Greeks conquered the country, it
was restored by the Ptolemies, and again renewed by
Trajan. In short, even the Arabs themselves followed
these examples. “ In the time of Omar ebn-el-Kattab
(says the historian El Makin), the cities of Mecca, and
Medina suffering from famine, the caliph ordered Amrou
governor of Egypt to cut a canal from the Nile to Kol-
zoum, that the contributions of corn and barley appoint¬
ed for Arabia might be conveyed that way.”
This canal is the same which runs at present to Cairo,
and loses itself in the country to the north-east of Ber-
ket-el-Hadj, or the Lake of the Pilgrims.
The place on the west coast of the gulf of Suez,
where the children of Israel are supposed to have enter¬
ed it, is called Badea, about six miles to the north of
Cape Korondel, on the other side of the gulf, as we are
informed in a letter from the ingenious Edward Wort-
ley Montague, F. R. S. to Dr Watson, containing an
account of his journey from Cairo to the Written Moun¬
tains in the desert of Sinai. Opposite to Badea is a
strong current which sets to the opposite shore, about
south-east, with a whirlpool called Birque Pharaone, the
well or pool of Pharaoh, being the place where his host
is said to have been destroyed. We are told by the
same gentleman, that the Egyptian shore from Suez to
Badea is so rocky and steep, that there was no entering
upon the gulf but at one of these two places.
The British nation, we believe, never attempted te
carry on commerce with any of the ports of the Red sea
beyond Jidda, till, on the suggestion of Air Bruce, in
1776, some British merchants at Bengal equipped two
or three vessels for Suez, laden with piece-goods of Ben¬
gal and coast manufactures. The command of the ves¬
sels was committed to Captain Greig, a meritorious sea¬
man 3 and the management of the goods was entrusted
to Mr Straw, a gentleman distinguished for his mercan¬
tile knowledge. The sale turned out to advantage ; but
such
S U F
Soctt
II
Suliolk,
Gough's
edition of
€amden's
Britannia.
such great expences were incurred in making presents
to the bey 01 Cairo and Suez, as to consume the whole
profits gained by the sale of the cargo. The great pur¬
pose of the expedition was, however, accomplished, as a
firman was obtained from the government of Cairo to
trade by the way of Suez. In consequence of this, three
ships went to Suez the following year, and as many in
l yyS. 1 he opening of this trade alarmed the jealousy
at the East India Company ; they applied to our go¬
vernment, and orders were given to relinquish this pro¬
mising commerce. Ihese orders reached Egypt sooner
than Bengal, and the consequence was fatal to the un¬
fortunate adventurers who visited Suez thatyear (i 779).
By a plan concerted between the beys, a large body of
Bedouin Arabs attacked the caravan passing from Suez
to Cairo with goods valued at 12 lacks of rupees. The
goods were plundered, the Europeans were stripped and
left naked in the desert, exposed to the burning rays of
the sun, without a drop of water to quench their thirst,
or food to support life. Most of them died, and some
of their bodies were afterwards found mangled and dis¬
figured by wolves. We have been favoured with a par¬
ticular account of the sufferings of our countrymen by a
correspondent, which, we are sorry, we have not room
to insert. Those who wish to obtain a more full ac¬
count may consult the Annual Register for 1781 or
1782.
SUFFETULA, in Ancient Geography, a town of
Africa, in the dominions of Carthage j probably so call¬
ed from Suffetes, the title of the magistrates of that
city. It is now called Spaitla, in the kingdom of Tunis,
and has many elegant remains of antiquity. There are
three temples in a great measure entire; one of them of
the Composite order, the other two Corinthian. “ A
beautiful and perfect capital of the Composite order
(says Mr Bruce), the only perfect one that now exists,
is designed in all its parts in a very large size; and with
the detail of the rest of the ruin, is a precious monu¬
ment of what that order was, now in the collection of
the king.” The town itself (he says) is situated in the
most beautiful spot in Barbary, surrounded by great
numbers of juniper-trees, and watered by a pleasant
stream, which sinks under the earth at that place,
without appearing any more.
SUFFOCATION, the privation of the function of
respiration or breathing. See the articles Browning,
Hanging, &c.
SUFFOLK, a county of England. Its name is con¬
tracted from Southfolk, so called from its situation in
regard to Norfolk. It is bounded on the west by Cam-
bridge-shire ; on the south by Essex, from which it is
parted by the river Stour ; on the east by the German
ocean ; and on the north by Norfolk, separated from it
by the Lesser Ouse and the Waveney. From west to
east it is 52 miles in length, about 20 at a medium in
breadth, and 196 in circumference. It contains 22
hundreds, 29 market-towns, 575 parishes ; and in 1811
the number of houses was 37,58^ and inhabitants
234,211. The whole is divided into two parts, viz. the
Liberty of St Edmund, and the Geldable ; the former
of which contains the west parts ol the county, and the
other the east ; and there is a grand jury for each at
the assizes. The air is reckoned as wholesome and plea¬
sant as any in the kingdom ; nor is it otherwise upon
the sea coast, which is free from salt marshes,- The soil;
f 797 ]
S U G
except to the west and upon the sea-coast, is very rich, Suffolk
being a compound of clay and marie. Towards the sea [|
there are large heaths and tracts of sand ; but these Su8ai-
produce hemp, rye, and pease, and feed great flocks of' v 
sheep. About Newmarket the soil is much the same ;
but in high Suffolk or the woodlands, besides wood,
there are very rich pastures, where abundance of cattle
are fed. In other parts of the county, as about Bury,
there is plenty of corn. As this county is noted for the
richness of its pastures, so is it for butter and cheese,
especially the former, which is said to be remarkably
good ; so that being packed up in firkins, it is sold for
all uses both by sea and land, and conveyed to many
parts of England, especially to London. The inland
parts of the county are well supplied with wood for fuel,
and those upon the sea-coast with coals from Newcastle.
Hie manufactures of the county are chiefly w'oollen and
linen cloth. It lies in the diocese of Norwich, has twro
archdeacons, viz. of Sedbury and Suffolk; gives title of
earl to a branch of the Howards ; sends two members
to parliament for the county, and tw'O for each of the
following places, Ipswich, Dunwich, Grford, Aldbo-
xough, Sudbury, Eye, and St Edmund’s-Bury. The
county is extremely well watered by the following ri¬
vers, viz. the Lesser Ouse, the Waveney, the Blithe,.
the Deben, the Orwell or Gipping, and the Stour. See
Suffolk, Supplement.
SUFFRAGAN, an appellation given to simple bi¬
shops with regard to archbishops, on whom they depend,
and to whom appeals lie from the bishops courts.
Suffragan is likewise the appellation given to a bi¬
shop, who is occasionally appointed to reside in a town
or village, and assist the diocesan.
SUFFRAGE, denotes a vote given in an assembly,
where something is deliberated on, or where a person is
elected to an office or benefice.
SUFFRUTEX, among botanists, denotes an under¬
shrub, or the lowest kind of woody plants, as lavender.
SUGAR, a solid sweet substance obtained from the
juice of the sugar-cane ; or, according to chemists, an
essential salt, capable of crystallization, of a sweet and
agi’eeable flavour, and contained in a greater or less
quantity in almost every species of vegetables, but most
abundant in the sugar-cane. z
As the sugar-cane is the principal production of the Value cf
West Indies, and the great source of their riches; as it*ugaI'>
is so important in a commercial view, from the employr-
ment which it gives to seamen, and the wealth which it
opens for merchants ; and besides now is become a ne¬
cessary of life—it may justly be esteemed one of themost
valuable plants in the world. The quantity consumed
in Europe is estimated at nine millions sterling, and the
demand would probably be greater if it could be sold at
a reduced price. Since sugar then is reckoned so pre¬
cious a commodity, it must be an object of desire to all
persons of curiosity and research, to obtain some general
knowledge of the history and natui’e of the plant by
which it is produced, as well as to understand the pro¬
cess by which the juice is extracted and refined. We
will therefore first inquire in what countries it origi¬
nally flourished, and when it was brought into general
use, and became an article of commerce.
From the few remains of the Grecian and Roman au¬
thors which have survived the ravages of time, we can
find no proofs that the juice of the sugar-cane was known.
at
S U G t 798 ] S U G
Sugar, at a very early period. There can be no doubt, how-
v""1 * ever, that in those countries where it was indigenous its
* value was not long concealed. It is not improbable
unknown that it was known to the ancient Jews; for there is
to the an- some reason to suppose, that the Hebrew word nap,
•ieat Jews, which occurs frequently in the Old Testament, and is
by our translators rendered sometimes calamus, and
sometimes sweet cane, does in fact mean the sugar-cane.
The first passage in which we have observed it men¬
tioned is Exod. xxx. 23. where Moses is commanded to
make an ointment with myrrh, cinnamon, kene, and
cassia. Now the kene does not appear to have been a
native of Egypt, nor of Judea 5 for in Jeremiah vi, 20.
it is mentioned as coming from a far country. “ To
what purpose cometh there to me incense from Sheba,
and the sweet cane from a far country ?” This is not
true of the calamus aromaticus, which grows spontane¬
ously in the Levant, as well as in many parts of Eu-
Account rope. If the cinnamon mentioned in the passage of
of it by Exodus quoted above was true cinnamon, it must have
Creek and COme from the East Indies, the only country in the world
^or*aU aU* fr°m which cinnamon is obtained. There is no diffi¬
culty therefore in supposing that the sugar-cane was ex¬
ported from the same country. If any credit be due to
etymology, it confirms the opinion that kene denotes the
sugar-cane ; for the Latin word canna and the English
word cane are evidently derived from it. It is also a
* 13V* curious fact, that sachar or shekel'*, in Hebrew signi¬
fies inebriation, from which the Greek word <r«tK^aeg,
“ sugar,” is undoubtedly to be traced.
The sugar cane was first made known to the western
parts of the world by the conquests of Alexander the
f Lib. xv. Great. Strabo + relates that Nearchus his admiral
found it in the East Indies in the year before Christ
325. It is evidently alluded to in a fragment of Theo¬
phrastus, preserved in Photius. Varro, who lived A. C.
t Lib. xvii. 68, describes it in a fragment quoted by Isidorus J as
eaP' 3’ . . a fluid pressed from reeds of a large size, which was
^Matthioh sweeter tlian honey §. Dioscorides, about the year 35
kxv*' CaP before Christ, says, “ that there is a kind of honey
called saccharon, which is found in India and Arabia
Felix. It has the appearance of salt, and is brittle
when chewed. If dissolved in water, it is beneficial to
the bowels and stomachic, is useful in diseases of the
bladder and kidneys, and when sprinkled on the eye,
removes those substances that obscure the sight.” This
is the first account we have of its medical qualities.
Galen often prescribed it as a medicine. Lucan re¬
lates, that an oriental nation in alliance with Pompey
used the juice of the cane as a common drink.
Quique bibunt tenera dulces ab arundine succos.
Lib. III. 237.
Pliny says it was produced in Arabia and India, but
that the best came from the latter country. It is also
mentioned by Arrian, in his Periplus of the Red sea,
by the name of (sachar) as an article of com-
* Nat Hist mt‘rce from Ini**a 10 ^ sea* -‘fL.lian *, Tertul-
f Dc Judi- lian an^ Alexander Aphrodisaeus mention it as a
cio Dei. species of honey procured from canes (a).
t Lib. ii.
Prob. 79.
That the sugar-cane is an indigenous plant in some gUgar<(
parts of the East Indies, we have the strongest reason to —v—j
believe 5 for Thun berg found it in Japan, and has ac- 4
cordingly mentioned it as a native of that country in his ^^n*tjTe
Flora Japonica, published in 1784. Osbeck also found *‘ast
it in China in 1751. It may indeed have been trans¬
planted from some other country ; but as it does not ap¬
pear from history that the inhabitants of Japan or China
ever carried on any commerce with remote nations, it
could only be conveyed from some neighbouring coun¬
try. Marco Polo, a noble Venetian, who travelled in¬
to the east about the year 1250, found sugar in abun¬
dance in Bengal. Vasco de Gama, who doubled the
Cape of Good Hope in 1497, relates, that a consider¬
able trade in sugar was then carried on in the kingdom
of Calicut. On the authority of Hioscorides and Pliny,
too, we should be disposed to admit, that it is a native
of Arabia, did we not find, on consulting Niebuhr’s
Travels, that that botanist has omitted it when enume¬
rating the most valuable plants of that country. If it
be a spontaneous production of Arabia, it must still flou¬
rish in its native soil. Mr Bruce found it in Upper
Egypt. If we may believe the relation of Giovan
Lioni, a considerable trade was carried on in sugar in
Nubia in 1500 : it abounded also at Thebes, on the
Nile, and in the northern parts of Africa, about the
same period. ^
There is reason to believe that the sugar-cane was in-Introduced
troduced into Europe during the crusades; expeditions into Europe
which, however romantic in their plan, and unsuccessful
in their execution, were certainly productive of many *
advantages to the nations of Europe. Albertus Aquen-
sis, a monkish writer, observes, that the Christian sol¬
diers in the Holy Land frequently derived refreshment
and support during a scarcity of provisions by sucking
the canes. This plant flourished also in the Morea, and
in the islands of Rhodes and Malta; from which it was
transported into Sicily. The date of this transaction it
is not easy to ascertain ; but we are sure that sugar was
cultivated in that island previous to the year 1166 ; for
Lafitau the Jesuit, who wrote a history of the Portu¬
guese discoveries, mentions a donation made that year to
the monastery of St Bennet, by William the Second,
king of Sicily, of a mill for grinding sugar-canes, with
all its rights, members, and appurtenances.
From Sicily, where the sugar-cane still flourishes on
the sides of Mount Hybla, it was conveyed to Spain,
Madeira, the Canary and Cape de Verd islands, soon D’OrvUlc’*
after they were discovered in the 15th century. Travels.
An opinion has prevailed, that the sugar-cane is not^ 6 .
a native of the western continent, or its adjacent islands somc
the West Indies, but was conveyed thither by the Spa-notan#-
niards or Portuguese soon after the discovery of Americative of A-
by Columbus. From the testimony of Peter Martyr, ^n^eri^ej[
the third book of his first decade, composed during Co-Jn^|e|<
lumbus’s second voyage, which commenced in 1493 and
ended in 1495, it appears, that the sugar-cane was
known at that time in Hispaniola. It may be said, that
it was brought thither by Columbus ; but for tins asser¬
tion we have found no direct evidence ; and though we
had
(a) For a more minute account of the history of sugar in the early and middle ages, a paper of the Manches¬
ter Transactions, in vol. iv. by Dr Falconer, may be consulted.
* Tom. iii.
This opi-
»iou op¬
posed by
Iv.ibat.
From tcsti
meny.
S U G [
had direct evidence, tliis would not prove that the suoar-
cane was not an indigenous plant of the West Indies.
I here are authors of learning who, after investigating
this subject with attention, do not hesitate to maintain,
that it is a native both ol the islands and of the conti¬
nent of America.
I. Labat has supported this opinion with much ap¬
peal ance of truth * •, and, in particular, he appeals to
the testimony of Ihomas Gage, an Englishman, who
visited New Spain in 1625- Gage enumerates sugar-
canes among the provisions with which the Charaibes of
Guadaioupe supplied his ship. “ Now (says Labat) it
is a ract that the Spaniards bad never cultivated an inch
of ground in the smaller Antilles. Their ships com¬
monly touched at those islands indeed for wood and wa¬
ter •, and they left swine in the view of supplying with
fresh provisions such of their countrymen as might call
there in future j but it would be absurd in the highest
degree to suppose, that they would plant sugar-canes,
and at the same time put bogs ashore to destroy them.
“ Neither had the Spaniards any motive for bestow¬
ing this plant on islands which they considered as of no
kind of importance, except for the purpose that has been
mentioned ; and to suppose that the Charaibes might
have cultivated, after their departure, a production of
which they knew nothing, betrays a total ignorance of
the Indian disposition and character.
“ But (continues Labat) we have surer testimony,
and such as proves, beyond all contradiction, that the
sugar-cane is the natural production of America. For,
besides the evidence of Francis Ximenes, who, in a
Treatise on American Plants, printed at Mexico, asserts,
that the sugar cane grows without cultivation, and to
an extraordiuary size, on the banks of the river Plate,
we are assured by Jean de Lery, a Protestant minister,
who was chaplain in 1556 to the Dutch garrison in the
fort of Coligny, on the river Janeiro, that be himself
found sugar-canes in great abundance in many places on
the hanks of that river, and in situations never visited by
the Portuguese. Father Hennepen and other voyagers
bear testimony in like manner to the growth of the cane
wear the mouth of the Mississippi 5 and Jean de Laet to
its spontaneous production in the island of St Vincent.
It is not fol- the plant itself, therefore, hut for the secret
of making sugar from it, that the West Indies are in¬
debted to the Spaniards and Portuguese ; and these to
the nations of the east.”
Such is the reasoning of Labat, which the learned
Lafitau has pronounced incontrovertible 5 and it is
greatly strengthened by recent discoveries, the sugar¬
cane having been found in many of the islands of the
S U G
ocean by our late illustrious navigator Captain Sugar.
799 1
Pacific
Cook.
1 he sugar-cane, or saccharum officinarum of botanists, 9
is a jointed reed, commonly measuring (the flag part not ^es,cr,^tl0*
included) from three feet and a half to seven feet in
height, but sometimes rising to 12 feet. When ripe it
is of a fine straw colour inclining to yellow, producing
leaves or blades, the edges of which are finely and
sharply serrated, and terminating in an arrow decorated
with a panicle. The joints in one stalk are from 40 to
60 in number*, and the stalks rising from one root are
sometimes very numerous. The young shoot ascends
from the earth like the point of an arrow; the shaft of
which soon breaks, and the two first leaves, which had
been inclosed within a quadruple sheath of seminal
leaves, rise to a considerable height (b). jo
As the cane is a rank succulent plant, it must require Soil most
a strong deep soil to bring it to perfection, perhaps in-favourabl#
deed no soil can be too rich for this purpose. The soil10 *ts
which experience has found to he most favourable to tIle8roWtll,
cultivation of it in the West Indies is the dark gray
loam of St Christopher’s, which is so light and porous as
to be penetrable by the slightest application of the hoe.
The under stratum is gravel from 8 to 12 inches deep.
Canes planted in particular spots in this island have been
known to yield 8000 pounds of Muscovado sugar from
a single acre. The average produce of the island for a
series of years has been 16,000 hogsheads of 16 cwt.
which is one half only of the whole cane-land, or 8500
acres. When annually cut, it gives nearly two hogs¬
heads of 16 cvvt. per acre for the whole of the land in
ripe canes.
Next to the ashy loam -of St Christopher’s is the soil
which in Jamaica is called brick-mould; not as resem¬
bling a brick in colour, hut as containing such a due
mixture of clay and sand as is supposed to render it well
adapted for the use of the kiln. It is a deep, warm, and
mellow7, hazel earth, easily worked; and though its sur¬
face soon grows dry after rain, the understratum retains
a considerable degree of moisture in the driest weather j
with this advantage too, that even in the wettest season
it seldom requires trenching. Plant-canes, by which is
meant canes of the first growth, have been know'n in
very fine seasons to yield two tons and a half of sugar
per acre. After this may be reckoned the black mould
of several varieties. The best is the deep black earth ^Edwartf*
Barbadoes, Antigua, and some other of the windward History of
islands; but there is a species of this mould in Jamaica^
that is but little, if any thing inferior to it, which
abounds with limestone and flint on a substratum of
soapy marie. Black mould on clay is more common;
but
(b) “ A field of canes, when standing, in the month of November, when it is in arrow or full blossom (says
Mr Beckford in his descriptive Account of the Island of Jamaica), is one of the most beautiful productions that
the pen or pencil can possibly describe* It in common rises from three to eight feet or more in height ; a dif¬
ference of growth that very strongly marks the difference of soil or the varieties of culture. It is when ripe of a
bright and golden yellow ; and where obvious to the sun, is in many parts very beautifully streaked with red :
the top is of a darkish green ; but the more dry it becomes, from either an excess of ripeness or a continuance of
drought, of a russet yellow, with long and narrow leaves depending ; from the centre of which shoots up an ar¬
row like’ a silver wand from two to six-feet in height; and from tlm summit of which grows out a plume of white
feathers, which are delicately fringed with a lilac dye; and indeed is, in its appearance, not not much unlike the
tuft that adorns this particular and elegant tree.
S U G [ 800 ] S U G
Sugar. but as tbe mould Is generally shallow, and the clay stiff
■—-v—■" 1 and retentive of water, this last sort of land requires
great labour, both In ploughing and trenching, to ren¬
der it profitable. When manured and properly pulve¬
rized, it becomes very productive. It is unnecessary to
attempt a minute description of all the other soils which
are found in these islands. There is, however, a pecu¬
liar sort of land on the north side of Jamaica, chiefly in
the parish of Trelawney, that cannot be passed over un¬
noticed, not only on account of its scarcity but its value *,
few soils producing finer sugars, or such as answer so
well in the pan ; an expression signifying a greater re¬
turn of refined sugar than common. The land alluded
to is generally of a red colour *, the shades of which,
however, vary considerably from a deep chocolate to a
rich scarlet 5 in some places it approaches to a bright
yellow, but it is everywhere remarkable, when first
turned up, for a glossy or shining surface, and if wetted
stains the fingers like paint.
Proper sea* As in every climate there is a season more favourable
son for for vegetation than others, it is of great importance that
planting it. plants for seed be committed to the ground at the com¬
mencement of this season. As the cane requires a great
deal of moisture to bring it to maturity, the properest
season for planting it is in the months of September and
October, when the autumnal rains commence, that it
may be sufficiently luxuriant to shade tbe ground before
the dry weather sets in. Thus the root is kept moist,
and the crop is ripe for the mill in the beginning of the
ensuing year. Canes planted in the month of Novem¬
ber, or later in the season, lose the advantage of the au¬
tumnal rains ; and it often happens that dry weather in
the beginning of the ensuing year retards their vegeta¬
tion until the vernal or May rains set in, when they
sprout both at the roots and the joints •, so that by the
time they are cut the field is loaded with unripe suckers
instead of sugar-canes. A January plant, however, com¬
monly turns out well ; but canes planted very late in the
spring, though they have the benefit of the May rains,
seldom answer expectation 5 for they generally come in
unseasonably, and throw the ensuing crops out of regular
rotation. They are therefore frequently cut before they
are ripe; or if the autumnal season sets in early, are cut
in w'et weather, which has probably occasioned them to
spring afresh; in either case the effect is the same : The
juice is unconcocted, and all the sap being in motion,
the root is deprived of its natural nourishment, to the
great injury of the ratoon. The chief objection to a
fall plant is this, that the canes become rank and top-
heavy, at a period when violent rains and high winds
are expected, and are therefore frequently lodged be-
j2' fore they are fit to be cut.
Method of The sugarcane is propagated by the top-shoots, which
plaoting are cut from the tops of the old canes. The usual me¬
thod of planting in the West Indies is this : The quan¬
tity of land intended to be planted, being cleared of
weeds and other incumbrances, is first divided into seve- Su^ar.
ral plats of certain dimensions, commonly from 1 5 to 1 v——*
20 acres each ; the spaces between each plat or division
are left wide enough for roads, for the conveniency of
carting, and are called intervals. Each plat is then
subdivided, by means of a line and wooden pegs, into
small squares of about three feet and a half. Sometimes
indeed the squares are a foot larger; but this circum¬
stance makes but little difference. The negroes are
then placed in a row* in the first line, one to a square,
and directed to dig out with their hoes the several
squares, commonly to the depth of five or six inches.
The mould which is dug up being formed into a bank
at the lower side, the excavation or cane-hole seldom
exceeds 15 inches in width at the bottom, and two feet
and a half at the top. The negroes then fall back to
the next line, and proceed as before. Thus the several
squares between each line are formed into a trench of
much the same dimensions with that which is made by
the plough. An able negro will dig from too to 120
of these holes for his day’s work of ten hours ; but if the
land has been previously ploughed and lain fallow, the
same negro will dig nearly double the number in the
same time (c).
The cane-holes or trench being now completed, whe¬
ther by the plough or by the hoe, and the cuttings se¬
lected for planting, which are commonly the tops of the
canes that have been ground for sugar (each cutting
containing five or six gems), two of them are sufficient
for a cane hole of the dimensions described. These, be¬
ing placed longitudinally in the bottom of the hole, are
covered with mould about two inches deep ; the rest of
the bank being intended for future use. In 12 or 14 j
days the young sprouts begin to appear; and as soon as anc} ciean-
they rise a few inches above the ground, they are, oringit.
ought to be, carefully cleared of weeds, and furnished
with an addition of mould from the basks. This is
usually performed by the hand. At the end of four or
five months the banks are wholly levelled, and the spaces
between the rows carefully hoe-ploughed. Frequent
cleanings, while the canes are young, are indeed so essen¬
tially necessary, that no other merit in an overseer can
compensate for the want of attention in this particular.
A careful manager will remove at the same time all the
lateral shoots or suckers that spring up after the canes
begin to joint, as they seldom come to maturity, and
draw nourishment from the original plants. 14
“ In the cultivation of other lands, in Jamaica espe-The pJough
cially (says Mr Edwards, the elegant historian of the1”'^1*
West Indies, whose superior excellence has induced us ajvautagc.
frequently to refer to him in the course of this article),
the plough has been introduced of late years, and in
some lew cases to great advantage; but it is not every
soil or situation that will admit the use of the plough ;
some lands being much too stony, and others too steep;
and I am sorry I have occasion to remark, that a prac¬
tice
(c) As the negroes wmrk at this business very unequally, according to their different degrees of bodily strength,
it is sometimes the practice to put two negroes to a single square ; but if the land has not had the previous assist¬
ance of the plough, it'commonly requires the labour of 50 able negroes for 13 days to hole 20 acres. In Jamaica,
some gentlemen, to ease their own slaves, have this laborious part of the planting business performed by job work.
The usual price for holing and planting is 61. currency per acre (equal to 4I. 7s. sterling). The cost of falling
and clearing heavy wood-land is commonly as much more.
Sugar.
JEdwards's
History of
the TVest
Indies,
vol. ii.
r5
Canes na¬
med ac¬
cording to
the age of
their roots.
16
Manures
employed.
S U G [ 80
tice commonly prevails in Jamaica, on properties where
this auxiliary is used, which would exhaust the finest
lands in the world. It is that of ploughing, then cross-
ploughing, round-ridging, and harrowing the same lands
from year to year, or at least every other year, without
affording manure: accordingly it is found that this me¬
thod is utterly destructive of the ratoon or second growth,
and altogether ruinous. It is indeed astonishing that
any planter of common reading or observation should
be passive under so pernicious a system. Some gentle¬
men, however, of late manage better : their practice is
to break up stift and clayey land, by one or two plough-
ings, early in the spring, and give it a summer’s fallow.
In the autumn following, being then mellow and more
easily worked, it is holed and planted by manual labour
after the old method, which has been already described.
Eut in truth, the only advantageous system of plough¬
ing in the West Indies is to confine it to the simple ope¬
ration of holing, which may certainly be performed with
much greater facility and dispatch by the plough than
by the hoe j and the relief which, in the case of stiff
and dry soils, is thus given to the negroes, exceeds all
estimation, in the mind of a humane and provident own¬
er. On this subject I speak from practical knowledge.
At a plantation of my own, the greatest part of the
land which is annually planted is neatly and sufficiently
laid into cane-holes, by the labour of one able man,
three boys, and eight oxen, with the common single¬
wheeled plough. The ploughshare indeed is somewhat
■wider than usual; but this is the only difference, and
the method of ploughing is the simplest possible. By
returning the plough back along the furrow, the turf is
alternately thrown to the right and to the left, forming
a trench seven inches deep, about two feet and a half
wide at the top, and one foot wide at the bottom. A
space of 18 or 20 inches is left between each trench, on
which the mould being thrown by the share, the banks
are properly formed, and the holing is complete. Thus
the land is not exhausted by being too much exposed
to the sun j and in this manner a field of 20 acres
is holed with one plough, and with great ease, in 13
days. The plants are afterwards placed in the trench
as in the common method, where manual labour alone
is employed.
In most parts of the West Indies it is usual to hole
and plant a certain proportion of the cane-land, com¬
monly one-third, in annual rotation. Canes of the first
year’s growth are called plant canes, as has been alrea¬
dy observed. The sprouts that spring from the roots of
the canes that have been previously cut for sugar are
called ratoons ; the first yearly returns from their roots
are calledratoons; the second year’s growth second
ratoons.
Mr Edwards informs us, that the manure generally
used is a compost formed, 1st, Of the vegetable ashes
drawn from the fires of the boiling and still houses.
2dly, Feculencies discharged from the still house, mixed
up with rubbish of buildings, white-lime, &c. 3l^y»
liefuse, or field-trash (i.e.), the decayed leaves and stems
of the canes 5 so called in contradistinction to cane-trash,
reserved for fuel, ^thly, Dung, obtained from the
horse and mule stables, and from moveable pens, or small
inclosures made by posts and rails, occasionally shilted
upon the lands intended to be planted, and into which
the cattle are turned at night. Jtbly, Good mould, col-
Vol. XIX. Part II. f
I ] S U G
lected from gullies and other waste places, and thrown Snrar
into the cattle-pens. . ‘ .
T. he sugar-cane is liable to be destroyed by monkeys, 17
rats, and insects. The upland plantations suifer greatly Tl,e s,)Sar'
from monkeys 5 these creatures, which now abound in
the mountainous parts of St Christopher’s, were first monkeys,7
brought thither by the French, when they possessed half
that island 5 they come down from the rocks in silent
parties by night, and having posted centinels to give the
alarm if any thing approaches, they destroy incredible
quantities of the cane, by their gambols as well as their
greediness. It is in vain to set traps for these creatures,
however baited ; and the only way to protect the plan¬
tation, and destroy them, is to set a numerous watch,
well armed with fowling-pieces, and furnished with dogs.
The negroes will perform this service cheerfully, for
they are very fond of monkeys as food. The celebrated Grainger'?
l ather Labat says, they are very delicious, but the History of
white inhabitants of St Kitt’s never eat them. Swgw-
The low-land plantations suffer as much by rats as cane- ^
those on the mountains do from monkeys j but the rats, rats 1
no more than the monkeys, are natives of the place •, ’
they came with the shipping from Europe, and breed in
the ground under loose rocks and bushes : the field ne¬
groes eat them greedily, and they are said to be publicly
sold in the markets at Jamaica. To free the plantations
from these vermin, the breed of wild cats should be en¬
couraged, and snakes suffered to multiply unmolested j
they may also be poisoned with arsenic, and the rasped
root of the cassava made into pellets, and plentifullv
scattered over the grounds. This practice, however, is
dangerous ; for as the rats when thus poisoned become
exceeding thirsty, they run in droves to the neighbour¬
ing streams which they poison as they drink, and the
cattle grazing on the banks of these polluted Waters
have frequently perished by drinking after them : It is
safer therefore to make the pellets of flour, kneaded with
the juice of the nightshade, the scent of which will
drive them away though they will not eat it. There is
an East Indian animal called mangoes, which bears a,
natural antipathy to rats ; if this animal was introduced
into our sugar islands, it would probably extirpate the
whole race of these noxious vermin. The formica om-
nivora of Linnaeus, the carnivorous ant, which is called
in Jamaica the j'afle',s ant, would soon clear a sugar r
plantation of rats.
The sugar-cane is also subject to a disease which no ami in¬
foresight can obviate, and for which human wisdom has sects,
hitherto in vain attempted to find a remedy. This dis¬
ease is called the blast, and is occasioned by a species
of aphis. When this happens, the fine, broad, green
blades become sickly, dry, and withered y, soon after they
appear stained in spots ; and if these spots are carefully
examined, they rvill be found to contain innumerable
eggs of an insect like a bug, which are soon quickened,
and cover the plants with the vermin : the juice of the
canes thus affected becomes sour, and no future shoot
issues from the joints. Ants also concur with the bugs
to spoil the plantation, and against these evils it is hard
to find a remedy. 20
The crops of sugar-canes do not ripen precisely at the Time at
same period in all the colonies. In the Danish, Spanish, which the
and Dutch settlements, they begin in January, and con-croP riren\-
tinue till October. This method does not imply any
fixed season for the maturity of the sugar-cane. The
51 plan**
s U G [ 802 j S U G
Sugar, plant, however, like others, must have its progress; and
’ (' v it hath been justly observed to be in flower in the months
U ay mil s 0f November and December. It must necessarily follow,
the East ^rom l*ie custora these nations have adopted of continu-
and IVest ing to gather their crops for 10 months without inter-
indies, mission, that they cut some canes which are not ripe
vot. iv. enough, and others that are too ripe, and then the fruit
hath not the requisite qualities. The time of gathering
them should be at a fixed season, and probably the
months of March and April are the fittest for it ; be¬
cause all the sweet fruits are ripe at that time, while the
sour ones do not arrive at a state of maturity till the
months of July and August.
The English cut their canes in March and April ;
but they are not induced to do this on account of their
ripeness. The drought that prevails in their islands ren¬
ders the rains which fall in September necessary to their
planting ; and as the canes are 18 months in growing,
this period always brings them to the precise point of
21 maturity (d).
festivity! ° * t'me croP ‘n ^5e Sl1gar islands (says Mr Ed-
Edwards, wards) is the season of gladness and festivity to man and
vol. iv. beast. So palatable, salutary, and nourishing, is the
p. 226. juice of the cane, that every individual of the animal
creation, drinking freely of it, derives health and vigour
from its use. The meagre and sickly among the negroes
exhibit a surprising alteration in a few weeks after the
mill is set in action. The labouring horses, oxen, and
mules, though almost constantly at work during this sea¬
son, yet, being indulged with plenty of the green tops
of this noble plant, and some of the scummings from the
boiling-house, improve more than at any other period of
the year. Even the pigs and poultry fatten on the re¬
fuse. In short, on a well-regulated plantation, under a
humane and benevolent director, there is such an ap¬
pearance during crop-time of plenty and busy cheer¬
fulness, as to soften, in a great measure, the hardships
of slavery, and induce a spectator to hope, when the
miseries of life are represented as insupportable, that
they are sometimes exaggerated through the medium of
22 fancy.”
when cut8 ^16 P^ants lje‘n£ cut> ^le branches at the top are
are sent to g‘ven to tbe cattle for food ; the top-shoot, which is full
the mill, of eyes, is preserved for planting. The canes are cut in¬
to pieces about a yard long, tied up in bundles, and
carried in carts to the mill, where they are bruised, and
the juice is extracted from them. The mill consists
principally of three upright iron-plated rollers or cylin¬
ders, from 30 to 40 inches in length, and from 20 to
25 inches in diameter ; and the middle one, to which
the moving power is applied, turns the other two by
means of cogs. Between these rollers, the canes (being
previously cut short, and tied into bundles) are twice
compressed; for having passed through the first and se¬
cond rollers, they are turned round the middle one by
a circular piece of frame-work or screen, called in Ja- svar,
maica the Dumb-returner, and forced back through the l——;
second and third ; an operation which squeezes them
completely dry, and sometimes even reduces them to
powder. The cane juice is received in a leaden bed,
and thence conveyed into a vessel called the receiver.
The refuse, or macerated rind of the cane (which is call¬
ed cane-trash, in contradistinction to field-trash), serves
for fuel to boil the liquor.
The juice as it flows from the mill, taken at a me-The juke
dium, contains eight parts of pure water, one part 0fextracted
sugar, and one part consisting of coarse oil and mucila-hom tlum
ginous gum, with a portion of essential oil. „4
As this juice has a strong disposition to fermentation, Ve^sdsused
it must be boiled as soon as possible. There are some fo1' purify-
water-mills that wall grind with great ease canes suffi- in& 11 are»
cient for 30 hogsheads of sugar in a week. It is neces¬
sary to have boiling vessels, or clarifiers, that will cor¬
respond in dimensions to the quantity of juice flowing
from the receiver. These clarifiers are commonly three
in number, and are sometimes capable of containing
1000 gallons each ; but it is more usual to see them of
300 or 400 gallons each. Besides the clarifiers which
are used for the first boiling, there are generally four
coppers or boilers. The clarifiers are placed in the
middle or at one end of the boiling-house. If at one
end, the boiler called the teache is placed at the other,
and several boilers (generally three) are ranged between
them. The teache is ordinarily from 70 to 100 gallons,
and the boilers between the clarifiers and teache dimi¬
nish in size from the first to the last. Where the clari¬
fiers are in the middle, there is usually a set of three
boilers on each side, which constitute in effect a double
boiling-house. On very large estates this arrangement
is found useful and necessary. The objection to so great
a number is the expence of fuel ; to obviate which, in
some degree, the three boilers on each side of the clari¬
fiers are commonly hung to one fire.
The juice runs from the receiver along a wooden gut- The clari-
ter lined with lead into the boiling-house, where it is fier>
received into one of the clarifiers. ’When the clarifier
is filled, a fire is lighted, and a quantity of Bristol quick¬
lime in powder, which is called temper, is poured into
the vessel. The use of the lime is to unite with the su¬
perabundant acid, which, for the success of the process,
it is necessary to get rid of. The quantity sufficient to
separate the acid must vary according to the strength of
the quicklime and the quality of the liquor. Some
planters allow a pint of lime to every 100 gallons of li¬
quor; but Mr Edwards thinks that little more than half
the quantity is a better medium proportion, and even
then, that it ought to be dissolved in boiling water, that
as little of it as possible may be precipitated. The heat
is suffered gradually to increase till it approaches within
a few degrees of the heat of boiling water, that the im¬
purities
(D) The account given in the text concerning the time when the sugar-canes are collected, we have taken from
the Abbe RaynaPs History of the Trade and Settlements of the East and West Indies; but Mr Cazaud observes,
that in February, March, and April, all the canes, whatever be their age, are as ripe as the nature of the soil ever ph(i0,(i
allows them to be. He says farther, that the dryness of the weather, and not the age of the canes, which increases Transact!
from January to April, is the cause that in January 400 gallons of juice commonly yield 48 gallons of sugar and vol. Ixis.
molasses, one with another; in February from 56 to 64; in March from 64 to 72; in April sometimes 80; after
which period the sugar ferments, and even burns, when the refiner is not very expert at his business.
I
Sngar. purities may l>e
^ v~“ were suffered to
again incorporate with it. It is known to be sufficiently
heated when the scum begins to rise in blisters, which
break into white froth, and appear generally in about
40 minutes. T he fire is then suddenly extinguished by
means of a damper, which excludes the external air, and
the liquor is allowed to remain about an hour undisturb¬
ed, during which period the impurities are collected in
scum on the surface. 1 he juice is then drained off ei¬
ther by a syphon or a cock ; the scum, being of a tena¬
cious gummy nature, does not flow out with the liquor,
but remains behind in the clarifier. The liquid juice is
conveyed from the clarifier by a gutter into the evapo¬
rating boiler, commonly termed the grand copper ; and
if it lias been obtained from good canes it generally ap-
26 pears transparent.
coppers* ^ie ev»porating boiler, which should be large
' enough to receive the contents of the clarifier, the liquor
is allowed to boil ; and as the scum rises it is taken off.
The scumming and evaporation are continued till the
liquor becomes finer and thicker, and so far diminished
in bulk that it may be easily contained in the second
copper. When put into the second copper, it is nearly
of the colour of Madeira wine ; the boiling and scum¬
ming are continued, and if the impurities be consider¬
able, a quantity of lime-water is added. This process is
carried on till the liquor be sufficiently diminished in
quantity to be contained in the third copper. After
being purified a third time, it is put into the fourth cop¬
per, which is called the tcache, where it is boiled and
evaporated till it is judged sufficiently pure to be re¬
moved from the fire. In judging of the purity of the
liquor, many of the negroes (says Mr Edwards) guess
solely by the eye (which by long habit they do with
great accuracy), judging by the appearance of the grain
on the back of the ladle : but the practice most in use is
to judge by what is called the touch; i. e. taking up
with the thumb a small portion of the hot liquor from
the ladle ; and, as the heat diminishes, drawing with
the fore-finger the liquid into a thread. This thread
will suddenly break, and shrink from the thumb to the
suspended finger, in different lengths, according as the
liquor is more or less boiled. The proper boiling height
for strong muscovado sugar is generally determined by
a thread of a quarter of an inch long. It is evident,
that certainty in this experiment can he attained only
by long habit, and that no verbal precepts will furnish
any degree of skill in a matter depending wholly on
constant practice.
After being The juice being thus purified by passing through the
clarified it clarifier and four coppers, it is poured into coolers,
^nulated which are usually six in number. The removal from
an, "treed t'16 teache to the cooler is called striking. The cooler
from its is a shallow wooden vessel seven feet long, from five to
molasses, six wide, about 11 inches deep, and capable of contain¬
ing a hogshead of sugar. As the liquor cools, the su¬
gar grains, that is, collects into an irregular mass of im¬
perfect crystals, separating itself from the melasses. It
is then removed from the cooler, and conveyed to the
curing house, where the melasses drain from it. For
receiving them there is a large cistern, the sloping sides
of which are lined with boards. Directly above the ci¬
stern a frame of joi-t-work without boarding is placed,
on which empty hogsheads without heads are ranged.
thoroughly separated. But if the liquor
boil with violence, the imnnrlties nrnnl,l
I he bottoms of these hogsheads are pierced with 8 or Sugar.
10 holes, in each of which the stalk of a plantain leaf y——y—
is fixed so as to project six or eight inches below the
joists, and rise a little above the top of the hogshead.
The hogshead being filled with the contents "of the
cooler, consisting of sugar and melasses, the melasses be¬
ing liquid, drain through the spongy stalk, and drop in¬
to the cistern. After the melasses are drained off, the
sugar becomes pretty dry and fair, and is then called
muscovado or raw sugar.
Vve have described the process for extracting sugar,
which is generally adopted in the British West India
islands, according to the latest improvements ; and have
been anxious to present it to our readers in the simplest
and most perspicuous form, that it might be intelligible
to every person ; and have therefore avoided to mention
the observations and proposed amendments of those who
have written on this subject. Had w'e done so, we
should have swelled the present article to too great a
size, without accomplishing the purpose which we have
in view ; for our intention is not to instruct the plant¬
ers, hut to give a distinct account of the most approved
methods which the planters have generally adopted.
But though we judge it useless to trouble our readers
with all the little varieties in the process which different
persons employ, wre flatter ourselves it will not be dis¬
agreeable to learn by what methods the French make 2S
their sugar purer and whiter than ours. A quantity of Method of
sugar from the cooler is put into conical pans or earthen I,u,‘fyin£
pots, called by the Ytench formes, having a small per- ^
foration at the apex, which is kept closed. Each cone,
reversed on its apex, is supported in another earthen
vessel. The syrup is stirred together, and then left to
crystallize. At the end of 15 or 16 hours, the hole in
the point of each cone is opened, that the impure syrup
may run out. The base of the sugar loaves is then ta- ^tiaptat s
ken out, and white pulverized sugar substituted in its ^
stead 5 which being w'ell pressed down, the whole is co¬
vered with clay moistened with water. This water fil¬
ters through the mass, carrying the syrup with it which
was mixed with the sugar, but which by this manage¬
ment flows into a pot substituted in the place of the first.
This second fluid is called fne syrup. Care is taken to
moisten and keep the clay to a proper degree of softness
as it becomes dry. The sugar loves are afterwards ta¬
ken out, and dried in a stove, for eight or ten days ; af¬
ter which they are pulverized, packed and exported to
Europe, where they are still farther purified. The rea¬
son assigned why this process is not universally adopt¬
ed in the British sugar islands is this, that the water
which dilutes and carries away the melasses dissolvesand
carries with it so much of the sugar, that the difference
in quality does not pay for the difference in quantity.
The French planters probably think otherwise, upwards
of 400 of the plantations of St Domingo having the ne¬
cessary apparatus for claying and actually carrying on
the system. ^
The art of refining sugar was first made known to the The art of
Europeans by. a Venetian, who is said to have received r< ^n’ng EU~
100,000 crowns for the invention. This discoverv wa> '^t|lo"a
made before the new world was explored ; but whether yeIjetjiin-
it was an invention of the person who first communica¬
ted it, or whether it was conveyed from China, where
it had been known for a considerable time before, can¬
not now perhaps be accurately ascertained. We find no
5 1 2 mention
S U G [ 804 1 S U G
Sucjar. mention made of the refining of sugar in Bi itain till the
1  ' year 1659, though it probably was practised several
Anderson's years before. For in the Portuguese island of St Tho-
^Cnunrle raas in I^24 there were 74 sugar ingenios, each having
upwards of 200 slaves. The quantity of raw sugar im¬
ported into England in 1778 amounted to 1,403,995
cwts. : the quantity imported into Scotland in the same
year was 117,281; cwts. j the whole quantity imported
into Great Britain in 1787 was 1,926,741 cwts.
lu refining The sugar which undergoes the operation of refining
it is mixed in Europe is either raw sugar, sometimes called musco-
witli lime- vado, or cassonado, which is raw sugar in a purer state.
The rawr sugar generally contains a certain quantity of
Mood and melasses as well as earthy and feculent substances. The
exposed to cassonado, by the operation of earthing, is freed from
heat. its melasses. As the intention of refining these sugars is
to give them a higher degree of whiteness and solidity,
it is necessary for them to undergo other processes.
The first of these is called clarification. It consists in
dissolving the sugar in a certain proportion of lime-wa¬
ter, adding a proper quantity of bullock’s blood, and
‘ , exposing it to heat in order to remove the impurities
which still remain. The heat is increased very gradual¬
ly till it approach that of boiling water. By the assist¬
ance of the heat, the animal matter which was thrown
in coagulates, at the same time that it attracts all the
solid feculent and earthy matter, and raises it to the sur¬
face in the appearance of a thick foam of a brownish co¬
lour. As the feculencies are never entirely removed by
a first process, a second is necessary. The solution is
therefore cooled to a certain degree by adding some
water; then a fresh quantity of blood, but less consider¬
able than at first, is poured in. The fire is renewed,
and care is taken to increase the heat gently as before.
The animal substance seizes on the imparities which re¬
main, collects them on the surface, and they are then
skimmed olf. The same operation is repeated a third
nnd even a fourth time, but no addition is made to the
liquor except water. If the different processes have
been properly conducted, the solution will be freed from
every impurity, and appear transparent. It is then con¬
veyed by a gutter into an oblong basket about 16 inches
deep, lined with a woollen cloth ; and after filtering
through this cloth, it is-received in a cistern or copper
^1 which is placed below. *
Then freed The solution being thus clarified, it undergoes a se-
from its re-concl general operation called evaporation. Fire is ap-
mauung p]JecJ to the copper into which the solution was received,
impurities 1 , . . .
by evapo- ant‘ ^'ie J1(]i:i|d 18 boiled till it has acquired the proper
ration. degree of consistency. A judgment is formed of this
by taking up a small portion of the liquid and drawing
it into a thread. When, after this trial, it is found suf¬
ficiently viscous, the fire is extinguished, and the liquid
is poured into coolers. It is then stirred violently by
an instrument called an oar, from the resemblance it
bears to the oar of a boat. This is done in order to di¬
minish the viscosity, and promote what is called the gra~
nulation, that is, the forming of it into grains or imper¬
fect crystals. When the liquid is properly mixed and
cooled, it is then poured into moulds of the form of a
sugar loaf. These moulds are ranged in rows. The
small ends, which are lowest, are placed in pots ; and
they have each of them apertures stopped up with linen
for filtering the syrup, which runs from the moulds into
the pots. The liquor is then taken out slowly in ladle¬
fuls from the coolers, and poured into the moulds^
When the moulds are filled, and the contents still in a  v—
fluid state, it is necessary to stir them, that no part may 32
adhere to the moulds, and that the small crystals which After"*r^
are just formed may be equally diffused through the
whole mass. When the sugar is completely crystalli-
zed, the linen is taken away from the apertures in the syrup is
moulds, and the syrup, or that part which did not cry-drained
stallize, descends into the pots in which the moulds are**0111*1,
placed. After this purgation the moulds are removed
and fixed in other pots, and a stratum of fine white clay
diluted with water is laid on the upper part of the loaf,
The water descending through the sugar by its cwn
weight, mixes with the syrup which still remains in the
body of the loaf, and washes it away. When the clay
dries, it is taken off, and another covering of moist clay
put in its place ; and if it be not then sufficiently wash- ^
ed, a third covering of clay is applied. After the justly ex¬
loaves have stood some days in the moulds, and have ac-posed to a
quired a considerable degree of firmness and solidity, ccrtain de-
they are taken out, and carried to a stove, where they of
are gradually heated to the 50° of Reaumur (64° of
Fahrenheit), in order to dissipate any moisture which
may be still confined in them. After remaining in the
stove eight days, they are taken out; and after cutting
off all discolouring specks, and the head if still wet, they
are wrapped in blue paper, and are ready for sale. The
several syrups collected during the different parts of the
process, treated its the same manner which we have just
described, afford sugars of inferior quality ; and the last
portion, which no longer affords any sugar, is sold by
the name of melasses.
The beauty of refined sugar, when formed into loaves, wjjat
consists in whiteness, joined to a smallness of grain ; in the beauty
being dry, hard, and somewhat transparent. The pro-of sllgar
cess which we have described above refers to sugar oncej^^1®*^
refined •, but some more labour is necessary to produce t]jer ^5^
double refined sugar. The principal difference in the ed.
operation is this, the latter is clarified by white of eggs
instead of blood, and fresh water in place of lime-
water.
Sagar-candy is the true essence of the cane formed flow sugar-
into large crystals by a slow process. When the syrup candj is
is well clarified, it is boiled a little, but not so much asniat^e'
is done for the proof mentioned in the process for mak¬
ing common sugar. It is then placed in old moulds, ha¬
ving their lower ends stopped with linen, and crossed at
little distances with small twigs to retain the sugar as it
crystallizes. The moulds are then laid in a cool place.
In proportion as the syrup cools, crystals are formed. In
about nine or ten days the moulds are carried to the
stove, and placed in a pot; but the linen is not remo¬
ved entirely, so that the syrup falls dotvn slowly in
drops. When the syrup has dropped away, and the
crystals of the sugar-candy are become dry, the moulds
are taken from the stove and broken in pieces, to disen¬
gage the sugar, which adheres strongly to the sides of
the mould. If the syrup has been coloured with co¬
chineal, the crystals take a slight taint of red; if in- -
digo has been mixed, they assume a bluish colour. If it
be desired to have the candy perfumed, the essence of
flowers or amber may be dropped into the moulds along
with the syrup.
Having now given some account of the method
usually employed for refining sugar, it will not be im¬
proper
s U G
r
Sugar.
36
Chemical
qualities
of sugar.
37 .
Its uses in
medicine,
&c.
3s
irds the
itest
ntity of
rish-
it of
kind
proper to say a few things concerning its nature and its
' uses.
Sugar is soluble in water, and in a small degree in al¬
cohol. When united with a small portion of water, it
becomes fusible 5 from which quality the art of preserv¬
ing is indebted for many of its preparations. It is phos¬
phoric and combustible ; when exposed to fire emitting
a blue flame if the combustion be slow, and a white
flame if the combustion be rapid. By distillation it pro¬
duces a quantity of phlegm, acid, oil, gas, and char¬
coal. Bergman, in treating sugar with the nitrous acid,
obtained a new acid, now known by the name of the
oxalic acid; but he has omitted to mention the principles
sof which sugar is composed. Lavoisier, however, has
supplied this omission •, and after many experiments has
assigned three principles in sugar, hydrogen, oxygen,
and carbone. If the juice expressed from the sugar cane
be left to itself it passes into the acetous fermentation ;
and during the decomposition of the sugar, which is con¬
tinued for three or four months, a great quantity of glu¬
tinous matter is separated. This matter when distilled
gives a portion of ammoniac. If the juice be exposed
to the spirituous fermentation, a wine is obtained ana¬
logous to cyder. If this wine, after being kept in bot¬
tles a-year, be distilled, we obtain a portion of eaa de
vie.
The uses to which sugar are applied are indeed nume¬
rous and important : It can he made so solid as in the
art of preserving to receive the most agreeable colours
and the greatest variety of forms. It can be made so
fluid as to mix with any soluble substance.-—It preserves
the juice and substance of fruits in all countries and in
all seasons. It affords a delicious seasoning to many
kinds of food. It is useful in pharmacy, for it unites
with medicines, and removes their disagreeable flavour :
it is the basis of all syrups. M. Macquer has shown in
a very satisfactory manner how useful sugar would be if
employed in fermenting wines. Sugar has also been
found a remedy for the scurvy, and a valuable article
of food in cases of necessity. M. Imbert de Lennes,
first surgeon to the late duke of Orleans, published the
following story in tie Gazette de Sante, which confirms
this assertion. A vessel laden with sugar bound from
the West Indies was becalmed in its passage for several
days, during which the stock of provisions was exhaust¬
ed. Some of the crew were dying of the scurvy, and
the rest were threatened with a still more terrible death.
In this emergency recourse was had to the sugar. I he
consequence was, the symptoms of the scurvy went ofl,
the crew found it a wholesome and substantial aliment,
and returned in good health to France.
“ Sugar (says Dr Rush) aft'ords the greatest quantity
of nourishment in a given quantity of matter of any sub¬
stance in nature 5 of course it may be preserved in less
room in our houses, and may be consumed in less time
than more bulky and loss nourishing aliment. It has
this peculiar advantage over most kinds of aliment, that
it is not liable to have its nutritious qualities aflected by
time or the weather; hence it is preferred by the In¬
dians in their excursions from home. I hey mix a cer¬
tain quantity of maple sugar, with an equal quantity of
Indian corn, dried and powdered, in its milky state.
This mixture is packed in little baskets, which are fre¬
quently wetted in travelling, without injuring the sugar.
A few spoonfuls of it mixed with half a pint of spring
Sn-ar.
4°
805 ] S U G
water afford them a pleasant and strengthening meal.
From the degrees of strength and nourishment which
are conveyed into animal bodies by a small bulk of su- Tratisac-
gar, it might probably be given to horses with great
advantage, when they are used in places or under cir- philosophi-
cumstances which make it difficult or expensive to sup cal Society,
port them with more bulky or weighty aliment. AToI-iii-
pound of sugar with grass or hay has supported the
strength and spirits of a horse during a whole day’s la¬
bour in one of the West India islands. A larger quan¬
tity given alone has fattened horses and cattle, during
the war before last in Hispaniola, for a period of seve¬
ral months, in which the exportation of sugar, and the
importation of grain, were prevented by the want of
ships.
“ The plentiful use of sugar in diet is one of the best An excel-
preventives that has ever been discovered of the diseases lent anti-
which are produced by worms. Nature seems to have^0!6 a~
implanted a love for this aliment in all children, as if it^!^
were on purpose to defend them from those diseases. Dr
Rush knew a gentleman in Philadelphia, who early
adopted this opinion, and who, by indulging a large fa¬
mily of children in the use of sugar, has preserved them
all from the diseases usually occasioned by worms.
“ Sir John Pringle has remarked, that the plague and proha-
has never been known in any country where sugar com-b!y against
poses a material part of the diet of the inhabitants. Dr the plague
Rush thinks it probable that the frequency of ma!ig-majjgnant
nant fevers of all kinds has been lessened by this diet, feYers.
and that its more general use would defend that class
of people who are most subject to malignant fevers from
being so often affected by them.
“ In the numerous and frequent disorders of the
breast, which occur in all countries where the body is
exposed to a variable temperature of weather, sugar af¬
fords the basis of many agreeable remedies. It is useful
in weaknesses, and acrid defluxions upon other parts of
the body. Many facts may he adduced in favour of
this assertion. Dr Rush mentions only one, which, from
the venerable name of the person whose case furnished it, ^ f
cannot fail of commanding attention and credit. Upon jjas „1Teni
my inquiring of Dr Franklin, at the request of a friend relief from
(says our respectable author), about a year before be the .pain of
died, whether he had found any relief from the pain oftllc st01ie*
the stone from the blackberry jam, of which he took
large quantities, he told me that he had, but that he
believed the medicinal part of the jam resided wholly in
the sugar ; and as a reason for thinking so, he added,
that he often found the same relief by taking about half
a pint of a syrup, prepared by boiling a little brown su¬
gar in water, just before he went to bed, that he did
from a dose of opium. It has been supposed by some of
the early physicians of our country, that the sugar ob¬
tained from the maple-tree is more medicinal than that
obtained from the West India sugar-cane : but this opi¬
nion I believe is without foundation. It is preferable
in its qualities to the West India sugar only from its su¬
perior cleanliness.
“ Cases may occur in which sugar may be required in
medicine, or in diet, by persons who refuse to be benefit¬
ed, even indirectly by the labour of slaves. In such cases ^
the innocent maple sugar will always be preferred. It Not hart*
has been said, that sugar injures the teeth ; but this opi-ful to the
nion now has so few advocates, that it does not deserve teeth,
a serious refutation,”
In
S U G
Sugar. In the account which we have given above of the me-
' v thod of cultivating and manufacturing sugar, we have
had in our eye the plantations in the \Vest Indies, where
skives alone are employed ; but we feel a peculiar plea-
43 sure in having it in our power to add a short description
Sugar ma- 0f t|)e metl10t( use(l ;n t|le £ast [11(yes because their
jiuiaclured . c J i , r ’ ....
in the East suSar 18 manutachired by tree men, on a plan which is
Indies by much more economical than what is followed in the
freemen, West Indies. The account which we mean to give is
an extract from the report of the committee of Privy-
council for trade on the subject of the African slave-
trade, drawn up by Mr Botham. We shall give it in
the author’s own words.
“ Having been for two years in the English and
French West India islands, and since conducted sugar
estates in the East Indies-, before the abolition of the
44 slave-trade uTas agitated in parliament, it may be desir-
su,1(ejt able to know that sugar of a superior quality and infe-
niid at a ? r‘or price to that in our islands is produced in the East
lower Indies j that the culture of the cane, the manufacture
price. of the sugar and arrack, is, with these material ad¬
vantages, carried on by free people. China, Bengal,
the coast ot Malabar, all produce quantities of sugar
and spirits; but as the most considerable growth of the
cane is carried on near Batavia, I shall explain the im¬
proved manner in which sugar estates are there conduct¬
ed. The proprietor of the estate is generally a wealthy
45 Dutchman, who has erected on it substantial mills,
How sugar boiling and curing houses. He rents this estate to a
managed at Ulinese» 'w,1° reSK‘es on it ns a supermtendant; and this
-Batavia. renter (supposing the estate to consist of 300 or more
acres) relets it to free men in parcels of 50 or 60 on
these conditions : ‘ That they shall plant it in canes,
and receive so much per pecul of 133^ pounds for every
pecul of sugar that the canes shall produce.”
When crop time comes on, the superintendant collects
a sulEcient number of persons from the adjacent towns
or villages, and takes olf his crop as follows. To any
set of tradesmen who bring their carts and buffaloes he
agrees to give such a price per pecul to cut all his crop
of canes, carry them to the mill and grind them. A
second to boil them per pecul. A third to clay them
and basket them for market per pecul. So that by
this method of conducting a sugar estate the renter
knows to a certainty what the produce of it will cost
him per pecul. He has not any permanent or unne¬
cessary expence; for when the crop is taken off, the
taskmen return to their several pursuits in the towns
and villages they came from ; and there only remain
the cane planters who are preparing the next vear’s
crop. This, like all other complex arts, by being di¬
vided into several branches, renders the labour cheaper
and the urork more perfectly done.
Only clayed sugars are made at Batavia; these aie
in quality equal to the best sort from the West Indies,
and are sold so low from the sugar estates as eighteen
shillings sterling per pecul of 1334-lbs. This is not
the selling price to the trader at Batavia, as the go¬
vernment there is arbitrary, and sugar subject to duties
imposed at will. The Shabander exacts a dollar per
pecul on all sugar exported. The price of common
labour is from gd. to tod. per day. By the method
of carrying on the sugar estates, the ’taskmen gain
considerably more than this, not only from working ex¬
traordinary hours, but from being considered artists
S u G
in their several branches. They do not make spirits Sugar,
on the sugar estates. The meksses is sent for sale to v—-*■
Batavia, where one distillery may purchase the pro¬
duce of an hundred estates. Here is a vast saving and
reduction of the price of spirits ; not as in the West
Indies, a distillery, for each estate; many centre in one,
and arrack is sold at Batavia from 21 to 25 rixdollars
per leaguer of 160 gallons ; say 8d. per gallon.” 4s
'l he Sugar Maple, (the acer saccharinum of Lin-Description
naeus), as well as the sugar-cane, produces a great^ie iU§ar
quantity of sugar. This tree grows in great numbersmal,le•
in the western counties of all the middle states of the
American union. Ihose which grow in New York
and Pennsylvania yield the sugar in a greater quanti¬
ty than those which grow on the waters of the Ohio.—
Ihese trees are generally found mixed with the beech,
hemlock, white and water ash, the cucumber tree,
linden, aspen, butter nut, and wild cherry trees. They
sometimes appear in groves covering five or six acres in
a body, but they are more commonly interspersed with
somi or all oi the forest trees which have been men¬
tioned. From 30 to 50 trees are generally found upon
an acre of ground. They grow only in the richest
soils, and frequently in stony ground. Springs of theMilowjlhi-
purest water abound in their neighbourhood. They are,c«/ Society,
when fully grown, as tall as the white and black oaks,''ol« hi-
and from two to three feet in diameter. They put
forth a beautiful white blossom in the spring before
they show a single leaf. The colour of the blossom
distinguishes them from the acer rubrum, or the com¬
mon maple, which affords a blossom of a red colour.
rIhe w'ood of the sugar maple-tiee is extremely inflam¬
mable, and is preferred upon that account by hunters
and surveyors for fire-wood. Its small branches are so
much impregnated with sugar as to afford support to
the cattle, horses, and sheep of the first settlers, during
the winter, before they are able to cultivate forage for
that purpose. Its ashes afford a great quantity of pot¬
ash, exceeded by few, or perhaps by none, of the trees
that grow in the woods of the United States. The
tree is supposed to arrive at its full grow th in the woods
in twenty years. ^
It is not injured by tapping; on the contrary, theTbe often-
oftener it is tapped, the more syrup is obtained from it. ef this tree
In this respect it follows a law of animal secretion. A
single tree had not only survived, but flourished aftersynip-sob-
forty two tappings in the same, number of years. The tained iroia
effects of a yearly discharge of sap from the tree, in im-’t.
proving and increasing the sap, are demonstrated from
the superior excellence of those trees which have been
perforated in an hundred places, by a small wood-pecker
which feeds upon the sap. Hie trees, after having been
wounded in this way, distil the remains of their juice on
the ground, and afterwards acquire a black colour. The
sap ot these trees is much sweeter to the taste than that
wduch is obtained from trees yvh;ch have not been pre¬
viously wounced, and it affords more sugar. ^9
I* rom twenty-three gallons and one quart of sap, pro-WhaUiwin-
cured in twenty-four hours from only two of these dark1^ ot S"P
coloured trees, Arthur Noble, Esq. of the state ofNew-^J,^!^.
Aork, obtained four pounds and thirteen ounces of good tain quan-
grained sugar. tity oi su-
A tree ot an ordinary size yields in a good season fromS‘u‘•
twenty to thirty gallons ot sap, from which are made
iioni five to six pounds oi sugar. To this there are some-
. times
[ 806 ]
Su^ar.
. 49
This quan-
the wood
in the
spring
months
S U G [ g
times remarkable exceptions. Samuel Lowe, Esq. a
justice °1 peace m Montgomery county, in the state of
JNew York, informed Arthur Noble, Esq. that he had
made twenty pounds and one ounce of sugar between
the 14th and 23d of April, in the year 1789, from a
single tree that had been tapped for several successive
years beiore.
tity mi^ht r°tm t!le .inflae"ce which culture has upon forest and
be increa- 0 er ^Iees> it has been supposed, that by transplanting
sed by cul- the sugar maple-tree into a garden*or by destroying
ture. such other trees as shelter it from the rays of the sun, the
quantity of the sap might be increased, and its quality
much improved. A farmer in Northampton county, in
the state of Pennsylvania, planted a number of these
trees above twenty years ago in his meadow, from three
gallons of the sap of which he obtains every year a pound
of sugar. It was observed formerly, that it required five
or six gallons of the sap of the trees which grow in the
The .S.°p t0 thfe sa"“
stils from .f1.16,83? distlls from the wood of the tree. Trees
which have been cut down in the winter for the support
of the domestic animals of the new settlers, yield a con¬
siderable quantity of sap as soon as their trunks and
limbs feel the rays of the sun in the spring of the year.
It is in consequence of the sap of these trees being equal¬
ly diffused through every part of them, that they live
tbice }ears after they are girdled, that is, after a circu¬
lar incision is made through the bark into the substance
of the tree for the purpose of destroying it. It is re¬
markable that grass thrives better under this tree in a
meadow, than in situations exposed to the constant ac¬
tion of the sun. The season for tapping the trees is in
February, March, and April, according to the weather
which occurs in these months.
M arm days and frosty nights are most favourable to
>> waun a pientjfui discharge of sap. The quantity obtained in
a day from a tree is from five gallons to a pint, accord¬
ing to the greater or less heat of the air. Mr Lowe
informed Arthur Noble, Esq. that he obtained near
three and twenty gallons of sap in one day (April 17.
1789) from the single tree which was before mention¬
ed. Such instances of a profusion of sap in single trees
are however not very common.
sapisdrain-. ^liei'e *s always a suspension of the discharge of sap
ed from thel*1 t*16 night if a frost succeed a warm day. The perfo-
ration in the tree is made with an axe or an auger. The
latter is preferred from experience of its advantages.
The auger is introduced about three quarters of an inch,
and in an ascending direction (that the sap may not be
frozen in a slow current in the mornings or evenings),
and is afterwards deepened gradually to the extent of
51'
Is increased
da)s and
frosty
nights.
How the
°7 ] S U G
two inches. A spout is introduced about half an inch Swat
into the hole made by this auger, and projects from }\
three to twelve inches from the tree. The spout is ge-Sugillation.
nerally made of the sumach or elder, which usually
grows in the neighbourhood of the sugar trees. The
tree is first tapped on the south side; when the discharge
ot its sap begins to lessen, an opening is made on the
norln side, from which an increased discharge takes
place. The sap flows from four to six weeks, according
to the tempera ure ot the weather. Troughs large e-
nough to contain three or four gallons, made of white
pine, 01 white ash, or ot dried water ash, aspen, linden,
poplar, or common maple, are placed under the spout to
receive the sap, which is carried every day to a large
receiver, made of either ot the trees before mentioned.
Irom this receiver it is conveyed, after being strained,
to the boiler. 6 *
Me understand that there are three modes of reducing Is reduced
the sap to sugar; by evaporation, by freezing, and by1.0 suSar
boiling ; of which the latter is most general, as being1 “T
the most expeditious. We are farther assured, that tl)em°
piOiit of the maple tree is not confined to its sugar. It
affords most agreeable melasses, and an excellent vine-
gai. Ihe sap which is suitable lor these purposes is ob¬
tained alter the sap which affords the sugar has ceased to
ow, so that t!ie manufactories of these different pro¬
ducts ot the maple tree, by succeeding, do not interfere
with each other. Ihe melasses may be made to com¬
pose the basis of a pleasant summer beer. The sap of
the maple is moreover capable ot affording a spirit; but
we hope this precious juice will never be prostituted to
this ignoble purpose. Should the use of sugar in diet
become more general in this country (says Dr Rush) it
may tend to lessen the inclination or supposed necessity
for spirits, for I have observed a relish for sugar in
diet to be seldom accompanied by a love for strong
drink.
Ihere are several other vegetables raised in our owns ^
country which afford sugar; as beet-roots, skirrets, pars-cS
neps, potatoes, celeri, red cabbage stalks, the young many other
shoots ot Indian wheat. The sugar is most readily 0b-veSetll'-):es'
tained from these, by making a tincture of the subject
in rectified spirit of wine ; which, when saturated by
heat, will deposit the sugar upon standing in the cold.
Sugar of Milk. See Milk, Chemistry Index.
And of Sugar. See Chemistry Index.
SUGILLATION, in Medicine, an extravasation of
blood in the coats of the eye, which at first appears of a
reddish colour, and afterwards livid or black. If the
disorder is great, bleeding and purging are proper, as
are also discutients.
END OF THE NINETEENTH VOLUME.
DIRECTIONS for placing the PLATES of VOLUME XIX*
Part I.
Plate CCCCLXXVIII. to face Page 72
CCCCLXXIX. ... 96
CCCCLXXX.—CCCCLXXXIII. - 224
CCCCLXXXIV.—CCCCXCV. - 308
CCCCXCVI. - - - 316
Part II.
CCCCXCVII.
CCCCXCVIII.
CCCCXCIX.
D.
DI.—DIV.
DV.
DVI.
DVII. & DVIII.
DIX.
DX.
DXI. & DXII.
422
482
560
614
672
680
684
696
698
736
784
\